As I'm listening to Jenna's twelfth story about her sex life with her partner my eyes glance out on the dance floor and I see her. But she's with someone else.

  She never mentioned a girlfriend. She never really said anything really. She didn’t have to. She owed me nothing. So why did this bother me so much?

  "Earth to Raquel! You okay Raquel!"

  "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm good. What were you saying?"

  "I was just saying that Evelyn called, and Josie is sick. I'm going to have to take a rain check on our night out."

  "Aww, I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to this!"

  "Me too!"

  "Next time let's not let three years pass in between our get-togethers!"

  "You got it!"

  She kisses my cheek and gives me a big hug before she leaves, and I sit at the bar all alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Andrea:

  I see her "friend" leave and notice that she is sitting at the bar now all alone. Amelia is really up on me, and I'm trying to keep up, but she's too sloppy. Suddenly, she looks at me funny and then says "Oh my God" as she runs off towards the ladies’ room.

  I walk back over to the table and take Samantha's drink as I say "You might want to go check on her. I think she's throwing up." She and Brenda leave, and I sit at the table, alone.

  Ten minutes later, Samantha comes back without Brenda and without Amelia.

  "She needs to go home, STAT. You coming with?"

  "No, I think I'm going to hang out here for a while."

  "But you don't have a car..."

  "I can always take an Uber."

  "Be safe. Take care of yourself. Call me when you're home?"

  "I will."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  She kisses my cheek sloppily as she hurries out to clean up my would-be date. I finish my drink and make my way to the bar pretending I don't see her. But then, just like the night we met, I feel her come up beside me. The bartender comes over, and I order another whiskey.

  "Put it on my tab," that familiar voice says again.

  "I definitely wasn't eye fucking you tonight," I laugh.

  She laughs back and orders herself a vodka tonic.

  "I've never seen you in here on a Friday before," I say absentmindedly stirring my drink.

  "I was with my friend."

  "I saw that."

  The bartender brings her drink, and we stand facing each other.

  "So, is it different for a Friday night or does the rate stay the same?"

  "It's different."

  "How much?"

  "I'm not working, so it's free."

  "You want to get out of here?"

  "I thought you'd never ask."

  Chapter Twelve

  Raquel:

  My insides are shaking as we walk up to her front door. I try to tell myself that this will be like all the other times we've been together. Nothing has changed. So why did it feel so different?

  I shake the thought from my head. I can't allow myself to make assumptions. You always let the client lead, and even though she wasn't paying me this time, it didn't mean she was looking for anything more than our usual fuck.

  She unlocks the front door, and I follow her inside, but as soon as the door shuts, she is pushing me up against it. She notices that I'm shaking. There's nothing I can do to hide it.

  "Do I make you nervous?" she asks as she presses her lower body into mine.

  I say the words no in my head, but the words don't seem to want to come out of my mouth, so I just shake my head.

  "Are you sure?" she asks running her fingers down the side of my face.

  I shut my eyes as I feel myself quiver.

  "I think I do," she says in a near whisper as she moves her mouth less than an inch from mine. We stay like that. Neither one of us wanting to be the first to move. I know it won't be me.

  Always let the client lead I repeat in my head.

  I cannot deviate from that rule.

  It's my best mode of survival.

  She leans closer, and our lips are barely brushing together. I can feel her breath on me.

  "I want to fuck you." She's so close to me that I can feel her words vibrate on my lips.

  "I know," I finally manage to get out.

  "No. I don't think you understand. I want to fuck you... with my mouth."

  I swallow hard and press my palms against the door on either side of me.

  "Can I fuck you too?"

  "I haven't decided yet." She grabs the front of my dress and pulls me towards her bedroom at the end of the hallway off the living room.

  She turns on the light and lets go of my dress as we enter the room, and then sits on the end of the bed.

  "Strip," she demands.

  "You're pretty bossy for someone that's not paying me," I say boldly.

  "Fine. Strip. Please."

  "I would have done it anyway," I say slowly as I pull my arms out of my dress. I'm not wearing a bra or panties, so it doesn't take me long to get naked.

  "You can leave the heels on," she smirks.

  "What do you want?" I ask as she looks me up and down, licking her lips.

  "You. On my face."

  She reaches out for my hands and pulls me to her as she starts to lean back. I stop her and reach for her shirt, but she puts her hands on mine stopping me.

  "If I'm going to be naked it's only fair that you are too."

  She looks at me for a long while and then gives in and allows me to strip her. As I pull her skirt off, she finally lays back and pulls me over her on the bed. I straddle her waist then move up carefully until I'm positioned above her face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andrea:

  I inhale deeply as she hovers over my face. Her smell is intoxicating. I've done everything I can to make these encounters as impersonal as possible, but I just can't anymore. I need to feel connected to someone even if only for a little while. I thought just fucking would do that, and while it did help on some level, I just needed more. I needed this intimacy even if it was with someone I barely knew because despite the fact we were practically strangers I honestly felt connected to her.

  Maybe it was our fucked-up lives. Perhaps it was the insanely passionate sex. Maybe it was just because we were two lonely souls. But whatever it was it made me feel alive.

  I pull her down to my mouth and lick her. She tastes just as delicious as I imagined, so I continue to lick her over and over until she begins riding my face, and then I suck her. This makes her crazy, and she holds my hair on the top of my head as she grinds her pussy on me. As I continue to suck her hardened flesh, I feel her hand suddenly between my legs and I completely freeze up. I pull my mouth from her and stare at her wide-eyed as I reach down and grab her hand with mine, stopping her. She's breathing hard, and we just stare at each other for what seems like an hour. Finally, her eyes soften, and she moves her hand over mine, and she guides it down to my pussy where she works my own fingers over me. This allows me to relax and resume sucking as we take our time slowly working each other to orgasm.

  When we are done, she eases herself down my body instead of off, and works one of her legs between mine as she rests her head on my chest. We lay in silence, breathing heavily, for what feels like an eternity until she finally interrupts the quiet.

  "My name isn't Michelle," she says slowly. "It's Raquel. Raquel Adams."

  And as I rub her back and hair gently, we both drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andrea:

  I wake up quietly for once. It's three AM, but it's the first time in a long time that I haven't woken up scared or in a panic and the first time I have slept for more than three hours straight. She's next to me on her side, with her hands under her cheek, facing me.

  I turn on my side and gently touch her cheek. She is so God damn beautiful. But even in her sleep, I can sense her sadness. I wish I knew what kind of life she really wanted because I had a feeling this one wasn't it.

  I move my hand down to her shoulder and her chest and back up again. Her skin is so soft I can't stop touching it. I lean forward just the slightest bit, and her mouth is just mere inches from mine, close enough so I can feel her warm breath. I want to kiss her so much it hurts. I'm not quite sure why I'm so hesitant. The "no kissing" rule had been my idea, but I guess I didn't really know how she felt about it because I never really gave her a choice.

  She is sleeping, even snoring softly. She wouldn't even know if I... slowly I lean forward and press my lips against hers. It's not even really a kiss because she is not responding, but I enjoy the sensation of her soft, supple lips pressed against mine. Suddenly her eyes snap open, and she is looking at me with fear as she pulls back quickly.

  "Why did you do that?" she asks quickly.

  "I was just - ..."

  She gets out of the bed and starts looking for her clothes.

  "You shouldn't have done that."

  "Raquel I - ..."

  "Don't call me that! Don't ever call me that again!"

  She is panicking as she quickly finishes dressing.

  "Look, you don't have to leave. It's three AM. Just stay. Please?"

  "I have to go," she says dismissively as she throws her purse strap over her shoulder.

  I get out of bed and grab her arm, stopping her, turning her to face me.

  "Will I see you on Wednesday?"

  I look at her, my eyes pleading. I see her eyes soften, just a bit. But she closes her eyes and sighs before pulling away and leaving without a response.

  "Fuck," I say as I bang my fist down on the dresser.

  The next morning, I make an emergency appointment with my therapist. It's a Saturday, so it costs me double, but I need to talk to someone.

  "So, what brings you here today Miss King? It's not an easy task to get you in here when you're scheduled so I'm curious as to why you'd come when you're not."

  "I'm uh, - seeing someone. Well, I was. I am. I'm not sure."

  "Well, what do you mean you're not sure?"

  "I uh... umm... I don't know. We're screwing, but we don't talk. And I uh, kissed her and she kind of freaked out on me."

  "So, you're having sex, but you don't talk. And kissing scared her?"

  "It's complicated," I say as I run my hands through my short, messy hair.

  "Well, I think it's good you're at least seeing someone. It wasn't that long ago that you said you'd never be with anyone else after Lara."

  "This is different, Doc."

  "How so?"

  I look at him trying to figure out how to explain what I've been doing the last few weeks, but I can't find the words that don't me look like I'm crazy and self-destructive.

  "It's complicated."

  "You've said that twice now. What does that mean?"

  "It means... it's complicated."

  "I guess so. So why did you come here today? What did you want to talk about besides just telling me how complicated it is?"

  I fold my arms across my chest and cross my legs as I begin to bounce my top leg back and forth. It's what I do when I'm nervous. I absentmindedly start to chew my thumbnail as I look out the window and stare for a long time.

  "Am I broken, Doc?" I ask finally turning my head to look at him.

  "What do you mean by broken Andy?"

  "Am I ever going to get better? Will I ever feel better? Will I ever be... normal?" I feel the tears begin to well in my eyes, but I do everything in my power to keep them from falling.

  "First of all Andy, the word "normal" is subjective. What is normal besides society's definition of it? We all have our issues and problems, but it doesn't mean that we're broken or abnormal. So, with that being said, no. You are not broken. You're just in pain. In a very short amount of time, you've been through more tragedy than any one person should have to endure in a lifetime. You lost your son and your girlfriend in a senseless tragedy. You witnessed such extreme horrors in Afghanistan. You were shot and possibly permanently disabled. I'd be more worried if you weren't hurting."

  "While I appreciate the sentiment Doc I have to ask you: what normal person do you know falls in love with a hooker? I'm sorry, not a hooker... escort. Stop looking at me like that."

  "Looking at you like what?'

  "Like you're judging me. Like I don't know what I'm doing is self-destructive. I know it is. Believe me."

  "I do believe you, and I'm not judging you. That's not my job. We all have different ways that we cope with stress. I play tennis on the weekends, but other people might exercise in different ways. They say running is the best therapy. But other people might eat or do drugs or consume alcohol or yes, even use sex. But any of those things in excess are unhealthy even exercise. It's up to you to decide if it's hurting you. Is it?"

  I merely shake my head no.

  "Okay, that's a good thing. And I do have to say that I'm curious about your choice of words. You said that you were in love with her?"

  "I don't fucking know, Doc. I don't even know her. Hell, I'm paying her to be with me! She's probably faking it. But I'll tell you it sure doesn't feel like she's faking it. And the last time we were together? It's wasn't about money. We just have this... energy. An unspoken connection. Maybe it's just physical. Maybe I'm just desperate to feel something positive again. Who knows? But what I do know is that I have not felt anything but hurt and pain and sadness since... well since Lara and Connor died. But with her? I just feel alive. Am I crazy, Doc?"

  This time I can't fight the tears as they start to just drip down my cheeks.

  "No. You're definitely not crazy Andrea. It sounds to me... like you actually might be healing."

  "You called me Andrea," I laugh.

  "Well that's your name isn't it?"

  "Thanks, Doc."

  "You're very welcome. I'd still like to see you Thursday if you're up to it."

  "I'll be there."

  ***

  When I leave the office, I am still an emotional mess. I get to my car and just rest my head on the steering wheel as I sob. It takes me several minutes to get myself together. I pull down the visor to try and clean my face as best I can, but it is still splotchy, and my eyes are bloodshot and red. I look through my purse for a tissue when my phone rings.

  It's Raquel.

  "Hello?" I answer, but there's nothing but silence on the other end.

  "Raquel?" More silence. I start to feel panic as I hear noise in the background but can't quite make out what it is. Then my heart sinks as I realize that it's crying. More like painful whimpering.

  "Raquel? Sweetie? Are you okay?" I ask urgently.

  "Nothing in life is free, bitch." It's a man's voice. Low, gravelly, threatening.

  "Who is this?"

  "None of your fucking business. But don't worry about your tab. Lena's going to do a great job of working it off," he grunts menacingly. And then I hear it. A bloodcurdling painful, scream just as the phone cuts off.

  "Hello? Hello? You son of a bitch!!"

  I quickly get out of the car and walk around to the trunk where I open the tire well. I pull out the metal case that I keep my gun in and take it, along with two clips of bullets. Hurrying now I get back in the car and head to the hotel where I would meet Raquel on Wednesdays. I have no idea if that's where she is, but it's a start.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Earlier that night…

  Raquel:

  I can't believe she did that. Why did she have to make it personal? I was okay with just fucking her, but I couldn’t afford for lines to blur even if I wanted them too. I guess it was my fault for leading her on. I should have just charged her for the night and then things wouldn't have gotten so messy. But it didn't feel right. Even though I barely knew her, she didn't feel like a client. She felt like something more. And I wanted her so I couldn't take her money in good conscience.

  "Fuck," I mutter as I open my hotel door.

  "Fuck. Fuck is what you do for a living my queen."

  His voice sent chills down my spine as he spoke slowly with an eerie calmness.

  "Jerome! Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were out of town?" I ask trying to seem unaffected by his quiet menace. He's tall with big muscular arms, pale skin, and covered in tattoos. His features would be handsome if he didn't have a cruel streak a mile long. He sits on my recliner with his large hands on his thighs, and he has a smirk on his face that makes my blood run cold.

  "Out of town? I was out of town. That was until I got a call from a client that was quite upset that ‘Gypsy’ didn't show."

  "Fuck. I forgot, Jerome. I swear."

  "That's okay, baby. We all make mistakes sometimes."

  He gets up and walks over to me and touches his hand to my cheek. I try to smile and pretend that I'm not afraid of him.

  "But that was a ten-thousand dollar fucking mistake, Raquel."

  He grabs me by my hair on the back of my head and yanks me down.

  "Now tell me: where in the fuck were you tonight?"

  "I was out. With a friend. I swear to God, Jerome!"

  My eyes burn with tears from the pain, but I refuse to let him see me cry.

  "What friend?"

  "Jenna!"

  "And who told you to go out? What did I tell you before I left?"

  "I didn't think it was a big deal. You let me before."

  "You're right, " he says loosening his grip on my hair. "But that's not what I asked you. I asked you what the fuck did I tell you before I left?" He grabs my hair and wraps it around his fist, yanking hard.

  "I'm sorry Jerry!" I use his nickname to remind him how close we are. That I am his favorite.

  "I fucking asked you a question?"

 

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