Page 55 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“I’m thinking about the interview with Christina the other day and how she got started because she needed more money for school. Now I’m thinking of the women who workherebecause there are obviously good tips.” He puts a fist against his mouth in thought. “What if the story is about how women aren’t making enough money, so they have no choice but to turn to sex work, or how sex workers need access to more money?”

I sit back, a little dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, that’s not it,” I say. “It’s just…I’m not sure why I was expecting you to write a story about the men who’ve been caught. But you’re writing a piece in defense of women.”

“Well, yeah,” he says.

“It’s a really great angle,” I finally say, answering his question.

My eyes wander to the female bartenders and waitresses. These are all women who are not only objectively stunning but also making more a night than I do in a week. I’m reminded of my current salary and lack of growth atThe Rue.Leaving all that to make twice as much, or maybe even just more than I make now, doesn’t sound horrible.

“I think it’s a really discerning story,” I continue my thought. “Because the gender pay gap isn’t exclusive to sex work. I like it.”

“Great. I’ll see how it feels for this story, but regardless I could write something. I’ll explore it.”

I take a sip of my wine. “What do you usually do in situations like this? Ask around and interview people?”

“It depends on the story. I can’t do any interviews tonight since I’m not here on assignment.” Marsh takes a sip of his beer. “I just want to at least bring more color to the piece knowing as much as I can of what these women have been through.”

“How long do you usually stay?”

“Like an hour, if that. Not long, just enough time to get a feel of the place.”

“How do you immerse yourself so much in every story?” I ask.

“I wish I had some meaningful allegory,” Marsh says with a look on his face that says he’s afraid to disappoint me. “It’s really because I don’t have a life outside of work. Writing is all I’ve ever really cared about.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Not a lot of people do,” he says, and I can read between the lines. I know firsthand that if you want to spend your life with someone, they need to understand that what we do isn’t just a job. It’s a lifestyle. It’s our whole world.

Almost finishing my drink, I start to feel a little push on my bladder. “I’ll be right back,” I say, hopping off my seat.

Marsh nods. “I’ll be here.”

The restrooms are large and clean, and it feels like I’m at the Plaza Hotel. I stand in front of the full-length mirror and smooth my dress, touch up my lip liner, and run a hand through my hair to give it a little more volume.

My phone buzzes again.

Chris:

Lmk where u are. Or come over later

I shove my phone deep in my clutch. When I step back into the club, everything seems darker, louder, and more alive. Marsh is still seated with his back to me, but he’s talking to someone. There’s a woman with sun-kissed hair and tanned skin standing, laughing at whatever he’s saying. She’s holding a martini glass and places her other hand on his shoulder while playfully pushing him away.

I walk toward them, and her smile quickly turns into a confused one.

“Hi.” I take a seat across from Marsh and end up beside the blond woman who I regret to report smells like coconuts instead of reeking of alcohol.

“Hey,” Marsh says. “Lucy, this is…” he gestures to the woman, stumbling on her name.

“Anna, did you forget already?” she responds, and I catch a very distinct Australian accent.

“Right, Anna.” He then turns in my direction. “She was just telling me how I looked familiar.”

“Oh, is that so?” I look up at Anna. I’ve got to hand it to her for making the first move.