I drained my glass. “Okay. Back to work. Gotta make some bank.” I pushed the empty glass across the bar top. “Thanks, José. Let’s go, lover boy.” Dancing my way through the crowd, I found a group of well-dressed, midforties guys who waved to me.
“Frankie, baby. Come here and dance for us.” A silver-haired foxy man in a beige turtleneck and black pants hailed me.
“Us?” I fluttered my lashes. “How many are we talking about?” There were five of them clustered around the table. If I scored two or three, it could pay my rent for the month.
“All of us. Give us each a dance.”
Damn.“You got it.” With a swing of my hips and a wide-ass smile, I straddled the first man, who sported a diamond pinky ring and those bronzed good looks that signaled a life of leisure.
“Hi.” I rocked my hips against him and held on to his shoulders. The fine cotton of his expensive shirt felt soft beneath my fingers. “What do you like?”
“Mmm.” He nuzzled into my neck and rubbed my back. “I like you, baby. You feel good. Give Daddy a kiss?”
I rolled my inner eyes so hard, my head hurt, but I gave him a huge smile. “That’s what I’m here for.” Swiveling my hips, I bent and pressed my lips to his cheek.
He clutched my hips, fingers digging into the skin. I knew I’d sport some major bruises later, but hopefully the tips would be worth it, so I put on my best Frankie face and turned around for him to get a nice look at my ass in its tight shorts while I danced. He patted my cheeks a few times but mostly kept his hands to himself. I finished the dance on his knee and gave him another kiss.
“Fuck you all,” he said with a blissful smile on his face. “C’mere, baby.” He patted the seat next to him and pulled out his wallet. “You made Daddy feel good. So this is for you.” He extracted a slew of hundreds and slapped them in my hand. “Enjoy.”
Excitement bubbled through me, but I forced myself to remain nonchalant. “Thank you, Daddy. Next time you come, make sure to see me again.” It didn’t bother me to role play. Shit, we were all creating a fantasy.
“Me next, Frankie.” A husky black man with a well-trimmed beard held out his arms. “I’m ready.”
I tucked the bills in my shorts and waltzed over to him. “What’s your name, honey?” His biceps shifted under his white shirt, and I ran my hand over the muscle. “Mmm. I love me a big, strong man.…Oooph.” He picked me up and plopped me on his lap.
“Darren.” His smile beamed bright. “But you can call me Poppa. And you’re a real cutie.” He held my waist, and I wriggled in his arms, then got into the bump and grind of my dance. The men began to clap and whistle, and I let the music take me over so as to forget all the strangers touching my body when all I really wanted was Aaron.
“Holy shit.”
Aaron and I had finished counting my take for the night, and we both stared for a second at the pile of money.
“I never made so much in one night.” The bills slid through my fingers and fluttered down to the table. “This is crazy.”
“What’re you gonna do with it? We should celebrate. Go out to a fancy dinner.” Aaron stacked up the bills, separating the ones, fives, and tens. The biggest stash came from my party at the end of the night, where my table of five “daddies” rewarded me for dancing with each of them with a thousand dollars in tips.
“Um, yeah.” I slid the ten hundred dollar bills into the envelope José had given me to carry all my tip money home. “We can, but I really want to start saving. Like, to buy an apartment or a house or something.” Ever since I started dancing and earning bigger tips, I’d been putting away twenty percent of my take, and after only a year I’d saved a substantial amount, but still not enough for a down payment.
“Oh?” Aaron’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t know you wanted your own place.”
“I mean, I don’t want to keep throwing money out the window every month for an apartment I don’t own when I could be paying a mortgage and own my own place. It’s not smart.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Frankie?” Aaron joked, but when I didn’t join in his laughter, his smile faded. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“I’ve always had a head for business. You never knew it because…” Unwilling to start an argument, I focused my attention on stacking the bills and left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. The words not said, however, were obvious.
“I get it now. It’s all about roots and stability, right? I can get down with that.” Aaron sat at the table, his muscular forearms straining the sleeves of his shirt. The tough-guy exterior hid a vulnerability he tried so hard to disguise. I’d seen right through that facade, but most people never tried.
Funny how different each person’s perspectives were. I’d never worried about a roof over my head or if there’d be dinner at night. My parents made our lives easy and smooth, so even if there was any trouble, we’d never know about it. Me buying a house had nothing to do with putting down roots. It had to do with investing my money wisely. Everyone knew that real estate in New York was the best investment.
Aaron, on the other hand, grew up fractured and in chaos, so his concern revolved around survival and living day-to-day. In the moment. He’d never had that stability I know he now craved.
“When you were gone, I had time to reflect. I’m not the same person you left behind. And while I hated what we had together and how you made me feel, when you left, it forced me to reevaluate myself, to discover who I really am and what I want out of life. So in the end, that horrible situation for you became my own point of reckoning.”
“Where does this leave us?” A crease bisected his smooth brow, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No. Of course not. I’m telling you this because I want to share with you this future I’ve got pictured in my mind. When we’re in our therapy sessions, I don’t talk about it because that’s your time, but I need to work on my own happy as well. I’ve changed, Aaron. I’m not the silly Frankie you’ve known who only cared about partying and having fun.”
“Of course you did.” Aaron stood and circled around the table to hug me, his need for random physical contact that didn’t initiate sex another indication of his own change. “What’re we talking about? What makes you happy? Tell me.”
