A few months ago I would’ve thought that would mean I didn’t want anyone else to touch her, but it was just her job even if she enjoyed it…hell I hoped she did enjoy it. I hoped she got the same rush from it that I got from performing because she deserved that.
I made myself stare just past where she was sitting instead of staring straight at her like a creeper.
An unremarkable looking middle-aged white guy approached her booth and I just barely heard him ask whether he could join her. She put on a perfect show of looking shy and a little flustered, but she eagerly scooted over.
He ordered drinks for them both and I smirked when the server set a champagne glass in front of her. Maia hated champagne, but she took a dainty sip and smiled like it was delicious. It was fascinating to watch her become this guy’s fantasy, tailoring herself to him. She was making herself smaller, somehow appearing cute and bubbly instead of the fierce version of her I usually saw. Even her laugh was different.
This was her stage persona.
Had she been like this with me when I was a client? Maybe a little.
They were leaning back now, bodies close together as he kept talking but draped an arm around her shoulder. When his fingertips brushed the top of her arm, she shifted into his touch, encouraging more.
She’d brought me here to watch for a reason, so I tested my feelings trying to figure out whether it bothered me. There was some jealous part of me that wanted to be there in his place, but that would be true if she was sitting there with a friend. I wanted her all the time, but couldn’t realistically lock us in a room to fuck ourselves silly all day every day. We both had jobs and friends and lives.
She didn’t look at me as she kept flirting with him, but somehow I could feel her awareness of me. If she wanted to imagine I was sending her off to please another man, I was fine with it. More than fine with it if it got her as wet as she was.
A surprising thought crept into my mind. I wasn’t bothered she was going to let someone else fuck her. I was bothered I wouldn’t get to watch.
Someone slapped a hand down on my shoulder and I jumped like they knew what I’d been thinking. I turned to find the last person I wanted to hang out with right now.
Johnny slid into the chair next to me and signaled the bartender for a drink. He toasted me when it came. “Night off! You coming out with us tonight?”
“We’ll see…”
It took him all of a minute to notice Maia sitting across the bar from us. “Oh shit, man…isn’t that your girl?”
He looked back and forth between us as Maia and her client stood up from the table. She didn’t so much as glance in my direction, but I knew she was aware of my eyes on her. The guy slid his hand around her shoulders and started to lead her away.
What did I feel?
Admittedly possessive, but she wasn’t any less mine because of what she was doing.
What did it mean if I was more than a little turned on?
Johnny laughed in disbelief, smacking me on the shoulder. “You’re just gonna sit there while she cheats on you?”
I gritted my teeth in irritation that he was killing the moment. “She isn’t cheating. He’s a client.”
“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me.”
They were almost out of the bar when she swept her hair over her shoulder and flicked her eyes to me for a brief second. The flash of fire in them took me from more than a little turned on to rock hard.
She spoke volumes with a split second of eye contact.
Then they were gone, leaving me to sit there with a hard dick, my imagination, and my annoying as fuck bandmate. I had no idea how long she’d be. Maybe I did need to go out with the band to stop myself from jerking my cock raw in a hotel room by myself waiting for her to get back.
When she said we’d talk about where things stood between us after tonight, I understood the unspoken part of it. She wanted to wait in case I changed my mind about wanting her after I’d seen her in this light. The glow of the fires of hell wouldn’t change the way I saw her.
“You’re telling me your girlfriend is fucking some other dude right now and you don’t have a problem with it?” Johnny didn’t try to disguise his judgment as he tapped out a beat with his thumbs on the railing of the bar.
“You don’t even know the names of half the women you sleep with,” I pointed out. “Far less what…or who…they were doing earlier in the day. What difference does it make?”
“I mean…true. But I’m not dating them. I don’t give a shit about them.”
Classy.
“It’s just her job,” I said. “If she was a massage therapist giving a guy a massage as part of her job, would you still be asking me that question?” I wouldn’t have been this chill about it a few months before, but once Maia had given me a different framework for understanding sex work, I couldn’t go back to seeing it any other way.
