Page 16 of Blue Velvet

There were no instructions about any of this. I have no idea what to do, except to stick to the truth.

“Yes, I am,” I nod, emphasizing every syllable and adding weight to my words, as if they were new information for him.

“That explains your fucking get-up,” he says. “You looked like the perfect fuck doll.”

“Thank you.”

He chuckles. “Why do you think that’s a compliment?”

“I take it as one.”

“Were you waiting for a client?”

I look at him, letting a few seconds pass before I dare reply.

“Yes, I was.”

“For several days?”

“Yes.”

“I never saw you with anyone,” he continues. “Did he not show up?”

I take a deep breath and lift a hand to touch him, but I withdraw it just as quickly. No touching. I remember. I retreat and place my hand back on my thigh, where it belongs.

I lower my eyes before I give him a reply.

“He might have,” I say in a low voice.

“Might have?” he probes. “You mean after I took you?”

I look up to meet his eyes again. Why is he doing this? What kind of story am I supposed to tell? I don’t want to ruin this for him, because I may forfeit my payment, but I’m also lost as to how I’m supposed to answer these questions.

Lying, acting. That’s what I’m being paid for. So that’s what I’ll do.

“Yes,” I say. “My client probably showed up last night, right after my coat was stolen, right after you took me.”

He nods.

“How long have you been doing this?”

I bite my lower lip. “A few years.”

“Elaborate.”

“Four? Maybe?”

“How old are you?”

He knows how old I am; it says so in my file.

“Twenty-five.”

He licks his lower lip and scans my naked body. I flinch when he reaches for one of my boobs and twists my nipple.

“When did you get these done?”

“About three years ago.”

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