Page 31 of Too Hard to Love


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“Crazy people don’t know they’re talking to themselves.” Jan gestured to himself, saying proudly, “IknowI’m talking to myself, and so that means I’m not crazy.” He gave her an odd look. “Duh.”

And this time, she couldn’t stop herself.

She laughed.

She laughed until she had tears in her eyes, laughed until the truth was wonderfully clear to her.

She might not be okay now, but she would be...because she had Jan.

Jan, who was God’s greatest blessing to her—-

Jan, who was different and special—-

Life might always be a little harder because of him, but she also knew that Jan was the reason life would always be a little more beautiful.

LIGHTNING MOMENTARILYbrightened the overcast skies outside the third-floor office of Glory Hall as Ilse shrugged into a nurse’s uniform that was two sizes smaller. It caused the skirt to ride a little higher than usual on her thighs while also requiring her to use a safety pin to keep the blouse from completely gaping open.

She stepped in front of the full-length mirror and grimaced at her reflection, which played between the lines of suggestive and obscene.

Oh well, Ilse thought with a mental shrug. It was only for an hour anyway.

Leaving the fitting room, she headed back to the office, where Gloria was busy encoding the details of today’s VIP tour.

Looking up from the computer, Gloria grinned at the overtly sexual image Ilse presented. If she and Ilse had been the same age, the latter would no doubt give Gloria a serious run for her money as the district’s most popular girl.

“You’re definitely going to have your hands full tonight,” the older woman predicted.

“It’s going to be fine,” Ilse dismissed. “And if something does happen—-” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my pepper spray with me.”

Taking the printout of the last-minute booking, Gloria read, “Bachelor’s party, and they want a nurse who’d act like a naïve, country bumpkin.” The older woman wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about this, Ilse. Something feels odd...”

Ilse rolled her eyes. “We’re a tour company that caters to men’s sexual fetishes. Every tour should feel odd.” Sliding her feet into her four-inch clogs, she fluttered her fingers in an airy wave of goodbye at her boss. “Wish me luck. I need all the tips I can get.”

Outside, her outrageous costume – combined with the way her sturdy, flashy clogs noisily clobbered the pavement – drew gazes and wolf whistles from all around her, but Ilse took everything in stride, even using the opportunity to blow kisses as she invited them to book a tour.

“Will I get to fuck you if I book a tour?” one drunken tourist hollered.

“Maybe,” she lied with a wink.

Rain suddenly started to pour hard, and curses and loud yelps of surprise lit up the night as everyone broke into a run, Ilse included.

Across the street, a waiting shed promised temporary cover but Ilse had to run past this, wanting to get to the café designated as tonight’s meeting place in time. And so she did, but by that time she was also wet and shivering, the thin fabric of her uniform turning completely transparent.

Everyone inside was staring at her when she looked up, and Ilse started when she realized that this was one of the few family-friendly cafes in the area.

“My God,” a woman seated by the bar exclaimed indignantly as she covered her young son’s eyes.

If your God is my God,Ilse thought,then you should know He doesn’t like judgmental bitches.

Turning her back on the crowd of silently gaping patrons, she hurried down the hallway where the function rooms were.

One, two, three,Ilse silently read the numbers on the doors before pausing in front of Room #6.

Ilse took a moment to review the client’s request in her mind.

Bachelor’s party, check.

Nurse’s uniform, check.