She pictured what he looked like without his clothes. Pudgy, white and soft, she imagined, just like all the others. Repulsed by the image, she forced herself to smile. All her customers wanted to feel good. To her, they never did. Rich and powerful men who thought money could buy them anything. Cheaters bored in their marriage. Losers who couldn’t get a girl any other way, business men who wanted to brag in the office. None of them mattered, but she pretended they did.
She rolled a black silk stocking up a smooth, tanned leg and thought of their wives, their girlfriends, and their lies. None of those women were her concern. She wondered how they tolerated the things their husband’s got up to. She thought about her own husband and what he would say if he knew her secret profession. What reason is there even remotely reasonable she could give him? she wondered. None. He’d never understand what drove her to do it. That’s what made it so wonderful.
Dan thought she belonged to him. He showered her with gifts, money, gave her a nice place to live. She fastened the clasp on her bra. He gave her everything he thought she wanted, things other women only dreamed of. The gifts were all a distraction for his time in the office, his weekends on the golf course, the hours he spent behind closed doors with his new secretary. He thought money made him important, supreme, an authority. Wives of successful men stayed at home. Oh, yes, he actually believed that.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror and squirted herself with a little perfume. She stood, glanced in the mirror, smoothed her hands over the fantastic curve of her hips, more than happy to stay at home. You think I don’t know about power. With a flick of her hair, she opened the door to her last client of the day. She hated every inch of his body, the hair on his chest, the tobacco and whisky smell on his breath. When it was over and he climbed back into his Armani suit, she took his cash, smiled sweetly, and booked her husband’s best friend for the following week.