Months pass. Things fall into a comfortable pattern again. I workout, go to classes, have sessions with Clients. I even keep up contact with Sonia and Paige, texting them almost daily.
The clientele has become pretty established, with a lot of repeat Clients, who I've come to know well. There are a couple of instances where a new Client only has one session with me, but decides to go back to a male or female Talent. One Client just couldn't get past seeing a woman with a dick. We called an end to the session pretty early. I quickly learned to not take any of that too personally.
Soon, I was getting to the point where I was meeting so many Clients that it was getting difficult to keep facts between one another straight. I couldn't remember who said what, or even if we'd had sex prior. Eventually, I called upon Melissa to help me with a note-taking system. We established a routine where we'd spend the mornings relaying info to each other so she could track and organize them for me.
"How did your session last night with Bridget go?" Melissa asks, as I wash down my daily Cocktail pill with a gulp of water. We staked out a table in the cafeteria.
"Good. She came twice. No ejaculation." Our shorthand got very no nonsense.
Melissa taps rapidly on her tablet. "Positions?"
"Standing missionary, against the wall. Then reverse cowboy."
More typing. "Her favorites."
"She's taking her daughter to DisneyWorld in April," I recall. "Her ex is being a dick about it."
She nods without looking up. "Anything else?"
I take a gulp of my protein shake. Strawberry. "Not that I can think of."
Melissa nods again. She taps around on her screen. "Okay then. Tonight..."
I glance up at the ceiling. "Stephanie, right?"
"Yes. You've had two sessions with her before. The last time you met, her work was getting stressful. You should ask about it."
"Got it." I nod.
Melissa continues, "She likes her hair pulled, and pulled very hard right as she climaxes. She's also a dirty talker."
"She likes being called
good girl,
right?"
"Correct."
As I begin to take another swig of my shake, I notice a subtle smirk on Melissa's face. "What?"
"Nothing, Mistress." She lowers her head. "It's just that you used to hate the shakes."
I look down at the insulated tumbler. "Oh. l guess I got used to them," I say, shrugging. "I didn't exactly have the greatest eating habits before. I feel a lot better now overall. Hey, what do you know? Healthy food is actually good for you!"
I narrow my eyes at her. "Although, if you wanted to bring me a doughnut every once in a while I wouldn't be upset about it."
Melissa chuckles. "Duly noted, Mistress."
***
I only attend a Heels class when I want the dedicated time to practice. I devote more time to Self-Defense class. It helps me feel calmer and more confident. My Mental Health therapy has also tapered to sporadic check-ins. My random flashes of panic and fear subsided a lot over time as well.
Sleep is still tough at times. The errant nightmare about Fabien will still crop up now and again. My body is always distorted in some way. Once my breasts were balloon animals. Not just flesh in the shape of balloon animals, but actually replaced by them. Adhered to my chest were brightly colored balloons in the shapes of a bird and a cat. I figure it's best to not try to unpack that.
After a few weeks of attending Support class, I finally muster the courage to speak about the Fabien incident. I still felt reluctant to talk about it, but the guilt of being the only one who wasn't sharing became too much to bear. Most of the story has become known to the general populace anyway. Although I leave out the part about the caged sex at the end of the night. It does feel unburdening after I speak. Almost as if the negative aura is diluted as I open the experience up to others.
Remaining on my schedule is the all-male class on interacting with women. I feel strange being in there after my transition, but Sreeni hypothesizes that I might be there more for the others' benefit rather than mine.
My hair is finally down past my shoulders. It has a natural wave near the ends, which shouldn't have surprised me since that's how my sister's hair is. Server Chelsea even talks me into doing highlights. As long as they're subtle, I stipulate. I usually let it fall naturally, tying it into a ponytail during workouts. I haven't mastered the art of tying buns or braids.
Even with the apartment, I continue to spend most of my free time in Eden socializing with the other Talent. There are board game nights, movie watching parties and karaoke, but it's all mainly an excuse to chat with each other. Occasionally the conversation will drift into sharing funny or weird encounters with Clients, with everyone trying to one-up one another. But these are rare since it's frowned upon to discuss anything about our Clients, let alone laugh at them.
A group of Talent regularly get together to have rowdy watch parties of whatever reality TV show they're obsessed with. I try to take part, but I'm just not interested in the shows. Or the football games that Ryan and Julia will spearhead. Still, it feels nice to be included. Like I'm in a tight knit group.
Sreeni is one that I feel like I see less of in the evenings. Either she's with a Client or takes nights off, outside of Eden. But the nights that we do spend together are usually quiet. Sometimes we just sit in the same area and read. It's nice to know that we can be around each other and not even feel the need to fill the space with conversation.
Once, I broached the topic of her frequent absences from Eden, but she brushed it off quickly.
"It's just easier to de-stress outside. I really just spend most evenings in my bathtub. I made
sure
there was a giant bathtub in my apartment," she said laughingly.
Overall, it's funny to realize how normalized this life has become.
***
One person I almost never encounter anymore is Mistress Elizabeth. It seems to be common that no one sees much of her. She becomes almost mythic in my mind. The general assumption is that she's tied up in important business all the time. After discovering her early morning exercise routine, I marvel at how she manages to juggle all the aspects of her business. It makes me realize her night off-- when I first encountered her-- was an extreme rarity.
However, on one occasion where I was on bartending duty, Mistress Elizabeth entered-- accompanied by a man in a suit!
Her dress was vibrant red and shimmered with sparkles as she moved. The neckline was a low scoop, showing off her cleavage. The hemline was long and flowing, allowing brief glimpses of her thighs and calves, encased in flesh tones stockings. Her heels were glittering silver, tapering to a small opening that revealed the tips of her red hued toenails. Her pale blonde hair was straight, like a glorious waterfall. Her eyelashes were alluringly long and black. A pop of bright red drew my eyes to her perfect mouth.
She directed the man-- olive skinned with a dark beard-- over to her usual corner booth. Then she approached me, flashing a gleaming smile.
It was then that I realized I was frozen and slack jawed at the sight of her.
"Evening," she greeted me brightly.
"Holy shit, you look stunning."
She threw her head back in a laugh, causing flutters to cascade down my body. Her effect on me is as powerful as ever.
"This old thing?" she asked playfully.
"Is that a Client you're with?!"
She eyed me as she placed a graceful hand on her hip. "I do my part as well around here, you know. He's an investor. Plus, it's fun to stretch those seducing skills again once in a while."
"Sure," I nodded. "I've seen those skills. Very effective!"
Mistress Elizabeth laughed again. Melodic and vibrant.
"What can I get you?"
"Two glasses of the syrah." She leaned in closer to me. "Make sure
his
is dosed with the knock out drug."
I balked, staring at her with shock.
Elizabeth erupted into laughter. "I'm joking! You should see your face!"
"Ugh, you suck." I resumed pouring her wine.
***
As for Lily, I do my best to avoid her. Our interactions have been frosty since the incident at her apartment. She seems to want to have nothing to do with me. And honestly, that's fine with me.
However, she still leads some of the classes I attend. I consider skipping them, but Mistress Tai insists that it's good to normalize seeing her. Even still, I try to keep my speaking to a minimum and take seats near the back.
On this day, the class sits encircled around Anthony and Ryan, who are facing each other in the center. They both have concentrated expressions as they stare intently at each other. The room is completely silent. Ryan scrunches his eyebrows together and lifts them upwards.
Anthony bursts out laughing. "Come on, man!"
Ryan shrugs his shoulders. "What?"
"Be serious! You're joking around."
"I'm not! I'm being legit."
Anthony leans back in his chair. "This exercise is to read microexpressions, not... macro-- super obvious, weird expressions!"
"This is my face!" Ryan exclaims.
Lily, sunken in her chair at the head of the room, rubs the bridge of her nose. She seems annoyed, more than usual. It's as if being here is the last thing she wants. The feeling is mutual.
"What am I supposed to get from that?" Anthony asks.
"Maybe that he's a dumbass," Evan offers, smirking.
Ryan doesn't turn towards Evan, but presents a middle finger in his direction. "Look dude, I know this might be hard for you. It just takes time and practice. You just gotta jump in. Y'know, dive into the pool."
Lily slams her hand down onto the table in front of her. "What the
fuck--?!"
