“I try.”
“So, was it the pretending that got to you?”
“Yes...and no.”
He laughed a little. “That’s about as clear as mud.”
I grinned. “Put it this way; I would have left the job a lot sooner if I’d had to be myself constantly.”
“I...okay?” he said, clearly confused but apparently not wanting to pry.
Even though explaining it wasn’t something I wanted to do, I couldn’t help but take pity on him when he was trying to do his job. “At its most basic, my job was...selling myself. But to be myself while slapping a price on who I am as a person is...well, I’m sure you can figure out how that eventually takes its toll. But if I’m selling an idea, a persona? Well, then what I’m selling isn’t so much myself but my ability to be whoever or whatever someone else needs.”
“Hmm, I guess it would be rough, constantly attributing a dollar amount to who you are,” he said slowly. “So, pretending to be what they needed or wanted was a way to protect yourself from going crazy at being constantly rated and evaluated.”
“Basically, yes.”
“That makes sense. Seems like a pretty lonely way to live,” he said with a frown. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions, it’s not like you’ve stood there and said you haven’t dated or had friends or a family you can talk to.”
I laughed. “I have friends and family, though I can promise you I have no desire to talk to my family about my work. Theyknow what I do, or did, but it’s not exactly a conversation for the dinner table. Mostly, they’re content to let me live my life and don’t ask too many questions. Not that I blame them, whether or not you’re accepting of someone’s choices, sex work can be a sensitive subject. And no, I have not done a whole lot of dating...or any at all.”
“That’s a shame,” he said. “A lot of people nowadays are more accepting of that kind of work. You might have gotten lucky.”
“Getting lucky is exactly what I was doing,” I chuckled. It was mainly because I’d felt my attitude toward sex and relationships taking a nose dive, and in a moment of what I could only refer to as existential panic, decided it was time to get out before things finally did crash and burn. At least now I could say I waswaryof sex and relationships rather than outright opposed to them.
As I’d done a few times, I turned my attention to Luka with curiosity. He was a handsome man; I had always been a sucker for blonds, and his hair was unusually bright. He had an easy smile, and it was clear he was a genuinely caring person, which was another weakness of mine. Even though he was wearing loose clothing, it was obvious he was in good shape, really good shape. I searched and found a little tickle of arousal in my gut at the thought of seeing him naked, of getting to see how right I was about his body. It was only when I got to the idea of sleeping with him that I felt emotions attached to the images drain away until I was left with a vague mental image that held no interest.
“You alright?” Luka asked, cocking his head.
“Perfectly fine,” I said, mostly meaning it. I wasn’t distressed to find I wasn’t attracted to what was essentially an attractive man. There were too many factors that worked against me being attracted to him, without adding my complicated relationship with sexuality and arousal. Primarily, it was the fact that ours was meant to be a professional relationship. I had always been a big proponent of not shitting where you ate, and you mostdefinitely did not sleep with someone if you had some formal or professional relationship with them. Also, in a display of great irony, I avoided sleeping with people who were caring and kind; something about it had always felt wrong in a way I’d never been able to explain.
“I wouldn’t mind walking around, stretching my legs,” I said after a moment. “I’ve been doing a lot of sitting, and it’s weird not being more active.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said as he walked to the door. He opened it by tapping the pad and heading out into the hallway, with me close at his heels. “I remember hearing you were coming from a distance, not sure where.”
“Germany,” I told him as we continued walking. “I was out there saying goodbye to one of my clients...well, former clients now.”
“Ah, was...he or she upset?”
I laughed at his careful phrasing. “Hewas upset, of course, but the clients I was willing to say goodbye to are the sorts who weren’t going to be a pain in the ass. There were only a few I grew to like, and it only seemed right to say goodbye properly.”
“I would say it’s a shame that there’s only a few you felt like doing that with, but I’m not surprised. I’m sure in your line of work, there were plenty of times when you found the worst in people.”
“That’s accurate, but putting it nicely.”
“Yeah, well, I try to be understanding. Especially when it comes to sex. People can be really messed up when it comes to that. I try not to blame them for how weird that can get, but I can understand why a lot of people wouldn’t want to go that far.”
“Are you asking me how I feel about it without actually asking me?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
I chuckled as we stopped at one of the broad sections of interior wall made of glass overlooking the slopes of the Rocky Mountains. “You have the right mindset for someone in my former line of work, that’s for sure.”
“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.”
“You can’t go into that line of work without being willing to keep an open mind. There has to be a certain tolerance to their foibles and failings that come from being human. And, as you rightly pointed out, people can be especially messy when it comes to relationships and sex. There are a lot of things lurking beneath the surface. All too often, a desire for sex comes down to a cry for something else, for understanding, or even just expression. I’ve always thought that we as a society do ourselves a disservice by not studying sex and trying to mingle it with other psychological studies, or even neuroscience. There’s been some progress there, but really, it’s only once you start experiencing it or at least dig into it that you discover just how much of our brains and personalities are shaped by and shape our sexuality. I mean the expression of sex, not sexual orientation.”
“Hmm,” Luka said, glancing sidelong at me. “Were you a student of psychology at some point?”
