Chapter Four: Twenty Miscounted

Present

"Sign here, please." "The man looks at the paper and then at me."

I am unfazed.

My hand is on the paper where it specifies what I accept and what not, apart from establishing my price and my privacy conditions.

Ten years ago I gave my virginity to an alcoholic. Although I would have liked my first experience to be under the moon, with love and delicacy, the reality is different. I believe that not all of us get what we think we deserve.

"Doesn't it work on my word?" The dark”haired, almond”eyed boy asks.

He is good looking. I don't understand why you seek my company even though you could get girls your age with a little lip service.

At twenty”eight, I evaluate the people around me without speaking to me. Attitudes scream what we are. How we walk and what we drink on a date, how we dress and how we comb our hair, how we smile and how we look at the person who is speaking to us.

The body speaks.

Sometimes the words do not say what we really feel.

They are not enough.

"Sweetheart, if I took everyone's word for it, I wouldn't get anywhere." Distrust is the basis of a good deal “ I declare.

It is the law of life. No matter how many friends or acquaintances we are of someone, when doing business the clarity of the terms will bring us peace.

The boy finishes signing everything and hands it to me. I verify that everything is in order.

"Let's go up."

I wear a black dress to my knees. My body is slim. I have, according to many, an athletic figure. Maybe because I work a lot, because of the gym or because of sex. Sex is the best physical and mental exercise there is.

We headed to the lobbyfrom the Cantabria hotel. I ask for the usual room. Working at this for so many years has given me security, one that I did not have when I was a simple waitress. I manage my time and my limitations are specified at all times. My footsteps sound on the tiles until we get to the elevator. I'm wearing four”inch heels. The young man, as I saw in the contract, is twenty”one years old. He watches me, flustered. His uneasiness makes me think that he has never been with a woman or that he has never paid one to be with her. We go into the elevator and I tap the third floor. As the doors open on the second floor, a man with an olive complexion and bushy eyebrows looks at me without being intimidated. I don't have sky blue hair like ten years ago and I'm not a virgin.

And Joshua is not there either.

His simple name, the memory of my younger brother, makes me want to die again as I so often wished.

"Good morning," says the man with a Spanish accent.

Maybe that's why her skin is so tan and different. His eyes are on me. Even when the elevator doors close, he doesn't look down.

I know that I am not easy to ignore and that I do not go unnoticed, it is clear to me. My eyes look like two drops of rainwater and my lips seem so fleshy injected. I always wear my favorite color on them: blood red. I avoid putting on makeup, unless the occasion warrants it, because in themselves my stars and my milk”white skin attract enough attention. My hair is already naturally dark and completely straight. The tips collide at the beginning of my buttocks.

I stay silent, even though my tongue is crazy to unravel.

The boy, my client, shifts his body weight from one foot to the other, nervous and fickle.

At last the doors open and we reach our destination.

I place the electronic key in the door reader and it immediately opens.

"Come on," I tell the boy.

I want to hit him. Standing there at the entrance to the room, he looks younger than he should. I raise my eyebrows in a gesture that comes almost automatically.

“Are you regretting? I hate when this happens. If so, you are on time. You still haven't told me how you like it or what you like. Since you are nervous, I think you have never been with a woman or have never paid to have sex. In either case, I inform you that it is undervalued.

"Ma'am ... I mean, miss ... I ..." The babbling amuses me.

The door is still open and I go ahead to close it.

I am not a supporter of the public in sex.

Just when I go to close it I see the same guy from the elevator standing in the front door. It is attractive and dark. His eyes travel my entire body in a fraction of seconds. My nipples stand on end and I discard my personal desire.

Will it be a policeman?

Although the concern of anyone who does what is wrong, according to society, is to be caught by those who do what is right, mine in particular is to fall in love with one of my clients.

That is why I force myself to enter into a contract.

I can't fall in love That is losing track of a promising future.

Or it wasn't made for me.

I bet more on the second.

I close the door and turn around.

"What will you do then, Michael?" You stay or go? The choice is yours. You won't even have to pay me for lost time. "I don't work for emotions." Actually, it is worth a couple of three that he decides to do it or not as long as my identity is kept low profile. It is my most important requirement.

"I'm ... I'm ... I'm sorry, miss." "The babbling again."

"Easy, these are things that happen." When you're ready, find me. You already know where to find me. I smile at him to reassure him.

He looks at me sadly.

He sighs and leaves the room. Close the door behind you.

I light a cigarette and take a drag.

What the fuck am I doing?

I no longer need this.

My life has taken a 180 degree turn. Despite being twenty”eight years old, my mind and heart seem to think that I am eighty. Not to know me. Rather now I really know myself, and I don't really like what I see.

I'm empty.

The sound of the door stops my cigarette on the second puff.

I don't wait for anyone. Also, I ordered that no one interrupt me. Right now he was supposed to give the fresh”out”of”adolescence a good blowjob.

I go to the door to see if the sound repeats itself.

Then I hear the touch again.

I put my wallet on the nightstand. I did not plan to stay long, I would enjoy the cigarette and I would leave when I finished.

It sure is the boy who repented. Maybe his answer was thought better.

I'm not happy, but at least I will charge for what I left my house in the first instance.

I open the door and am stunned to meet the Spanish guy in the elevator.

“Hello. You need something?

He watches me; there are tiny red lines in his eyes. They are bloodshot.

"I need you. Now" He takes the cigarette out of my fingers.

Dumbfounded, I can't articulate movement.

Survival will always be the main thing in a moment like this.

I didn't expect to hear that.