Or so reads the sticker on Ginny's locker. I wonder if it was put there to relay or remind.
From what I have gathered from the other girls, last night was busy and Ginny decided to take the day off.
"Military volleyball teams are in town", Sky explains, smiling. "I just got an outcall and told the guy he'd have to be gentle on the cookie".
Sky - a vast expanse of energy and at 19, the youngest girl here.
Also, an endless source of information. When I first met her, she advises me not to "ever let a guy stick anything up your ass. I don't give a shit what it is - fingers, produce, dildo, car keys - it’s fucking sick. And trust me, they'll try".
Mercedes, laughing, had piped in, "We work in the only industry where the client knows we think they're scum. Makes customer satisfaction a synch."
Mercedes has been in the bathroom since I arrived. Its quiet, which I'm told probably means she's crying.
"You look tense, hon. Have some Green tea." Sky pushes her mug across the table and winks. "Good for the soul". She starts putting on mascara.
I light a cigarette and stare at the mug.
Sky sighs, obviously discouraged with me. "Oh come on. You totally against doing anything to better yourself?"
"I'm here aren't I?"
"Doesn't really answer the question, does it?" she quips.
I laugh. "You should've been a lawyer".
"Oh, I should have been a great many things" Sky exclaims dramatically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and feigning despair. "But instead I'm a whore, and if you think about it, it's a variation on a universal theme". She continues putting on her mascara then stops, looking at me in the mirror. "What exactly do you do again?"
"I write".
"See? Creative prostitution. Same shit."
(*This is about an experience I had recently while researching for a novel*)



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