“And what does that mean?”I asked.
“You’re beautiful and together and confident and I hearyou’re talented.Most women who do what you do don’t do it because they’reproud of it.They do it because they’re in a life where they don’t want to.Butthey have to.”
There was a lot there.
Primarily the fact he thought I was beautiful, together andconfident.
Good job I didn’t trip when pivoting to show him the livingroom.
But also, he had a point.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
His expression registered surprise.
“I don’t have an argument for that,” I told him.“Though Iwill note that I didn’t ask about how you felt regarding the career ofstripping as a whole.Just me doing it.”
For a second, his face blanked.
Then he let out a roar of laughter.
I was relatively sure my toss pillows wobbled.
And I was transfixed.
Totally transfixed.
I’d heard one thing that was more beautiful.
The laughter of my nephews.
But this was a close second.
I stayed transfixed for only a beat.
And then I dedicated my life to making him laugh as often asI could.
Thus I was smiling at him when he quit.
He didn’t look in my eyes then.
He stared at my mouth.
Now we were getting somewhere.
“Are you hungry?”I asked.
He shook his head.
“Are you going to tell me about your military service?”Iwent on.
He shook his head.
“Are you going to tell me how your dad’s a dick?”I kept athim.
He shook his head.
“We’ll get there,” I mumbled, beginning to head to the door,still mumbling.“I’m hungry.Time for dinner.”
