freebie

It's spring, a year ago. I'm sitting with a lover at a quiet cafe, me sipping a cappucino, her playing with the cream that came with her cake. We're the only customers.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," she says, suddenly. "You have to promise not to tell anyone, ever. I just need to tell someone or I'll go crazy."

"Sure."

"Really, you can't tell anyone, you have to swear."

"OK, I won't, I promise."

She puts down the little teaspoon and leans back, sticks one of her shapely legs out so I can see it. She is wearing lovely leather boots, high heels. They look new. I remember watching her put them on this morning, remember noticing how her black frilly knickers peeked out from under her jeans as she bent over to pull them on.

"See these boots? They were fucking expensive. I'm a student, I can't really afford things like this."

"Right..."

She takes a deep breath.

"I got the money by sleeping with a stranger. That's also how I paid for my new television set, my bicycle, and half the other stuff in my apartment. And that trip to Paris."

"Wow, really?" I look at her. "Is it safe?"

"Yeah, I'm working through an agency. It's all very well organized, they arrange a driver who waits for me and makes sure I get home alright every time. I have his number, if there's trouble I call him. He gets a cut. The agency gets a cut. But I take most of the money home each time. I'm making more doing this one night a week than I make nights and whole weekends at my job as a waitress."

We spend the rest of the afternoon walking around town, discussing it back and forth. She describes the details, the clients, the precautions, the photo shoot for the agency's web-site. She has alot to get off her chest, since she hadn't dared discuss it with anyone before me. I'm incredibly flattered that she decided to confide in me, but also a little concerned for her welfare. After hearing her talk a while my worries subside though, she seems to know what she's doing and genuinely seems OK with it.

At one point though, walking through a small, quiet park, I just can't resist making one of my awful jokes.

"You know, from now on, every time you and I end up in the sack together, I'm going to be congratulating myself on getting for free what other guys have to pay for."

To my surprise, she bursts into tears.

I put my arms around her. "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," I whisper.

"It's OK," she says between sniffles. "I just hadn't expected you to still want to sleep with me after I told you I was a whore."

"Oh. I see. My place or yours?"