Page 31 of I Dare You
“Okay, ready for the potential parents?”Sister Tay excitedly asks, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Always ready,” I reply because I am…in more ways than one.
Two kids were adopted today.
Happy days.
Their parents passed all the qualifying questions.Now, the sisters investigate the crap out of them to ensure they aren’t involved with anything crooked.
It surprises me that they’ve not done the same thing with me.
Who knows?They may have, but chose to look the other way.I think at one time or another, we’re all guilty of this.
We do things that suit us at the time.It explains why one summer we’re obsessed with the latest fashion, but the next summer we’ve forgotten that trend and moved on.
I use this thought process to justify painting my lips bright red.It clashes with my black bob wig, but somehow, it works.
Clichéd maybe?
The perfect disguise, which isn’t perfect at all.
A knock on my motel door has me adjusting my wig.
It’s showtime.
Nothing in here distinguishes who I am.This transaction is purely business.We’re both here for our own personal reasons.
Exhaling slowly, I stand and don’t recognize my reflection in the mirror.I’m in a slinky black dress that is two sizes too small, but it does the trick in accentuating my features.The stilettos are impractical but complement the look.The long black satin gloves aren’t just for show, but they give off a sexy, dominatrix vibe.
My outfit ticks every sex worker stereotype, and I say that with the utmost respect.It takes balls for women to do this every single night.They never know who is about to walk through their door…like right now.
I open the door and see a short, overweight man standing before me.
He looks nervous.
“The Punisher?”I ask in a staged Russian accent.
All those language audiobooks came in handy.
He nods quickly.
“Come in.”I open the door wider, and he enters.
He smells like body odor and McDonald’s.
I close the door, but don’t lock it.
When I turn around, I see The Punisher standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets.His white T-shirt is stretched over his large belly and has a stain down the front.
Coffee, perhaps?
“You’re much prettier than your picture,” he says, which instantly makes my skin crawl.
“Shut up,”I order.
“Yes, Mistress.”Instantly, he drops to his knees.“Please, punish me for speaking when not given permission to speak.”
I turn my lip up, disgusted that filth like this exists.It’s now apparent where he got his screen name from.However, he’s not the one doing the punishing.
