Page 52 of Black Velvet

"And he keeps showing up just for that," she adds. "Just to make you feel good. He enjoys seeing you have fun. That's certainly a kink some people have, especially men."

I nod along to her words, agreeing with her assessment .

"But if my pleasure is what he enjoys most, why won't he give me what I want?" I wonder out loud. "It's not like I haven't asked for it multiple times."

Sandi giggles. "Maybe he has a tiny dick and doesn't want to disappoint."

I playfully roll my eyes at her immature comment.

"Oh no he doesn't," I tell her, my eyebrows curving as I remember the sight of him. "On the contrary. Trust me."

"You've seen it?" she asks, widening her eyes with excitement.

"Once, yes. He has nothing to be shy about."

"Damn!"

"Damn indeed," I mumble, taking another sip from my drink.

"Well, if you want him that much, you'll just have to make it impossible for him to say no," Sandi advises. "Seduce him. You know how that's done."

I bite my lip as I slowly descend in a pensive nod. "Yes, you'd think that. But my usual tricks don't work on him. Quite the opposite, actually. He gets angry when I try."

"Hmm, I see," Sandi retorts, knitting her eyebrows together. "Then... don't try."

I cast her a puzzled look. "What's that supposed to mean? Play hard to get?"

Sandi shakes her head.

"You said he always wants you naked?" she asks. "No lingerie, no dresses, no stockings."

I nod along as she lists all things he made me get rid of. "He says he wants the real me, no fake persona, no hooker."

My gaze lowers in shame before I add: "To be honest, I don't even know what that would look like... who I am with a man when he didn't buy me."

I feel weak and embarrassed saying those words. It's an admission of defeat to say it out loud. I knew I wasn't good at normal dating. I knew I wasn't normal when it comes to men and relationships. But I never realized how bad it really was, how far detached I am from these things. It posed a challenge when I was forced to do nothing but talk, and an even greater challenge when I was ready to give myself to him only to be rejected.

Is rejection the right word, though? I'm not sure.

I can feel Sandi's eyes on me but I ignore her, seeking solace at the bottom of my drink as I often do. I don't fear to be judged by her, because if anyone could understand, it would be her. But I know she doesn't share my troubles, and I hate to be pitied.

"Well, technically he is paying for you," Sandi adds for consideration. "He's just being weird and declining your usual services for whatever reason."

I turn my eyes to her, the ache of disappointment written so clearly on my face that she raises her hand in defense.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to make it sound like he's just—"

"No, you're right," I cut her off. "I'm reading way too much into this. He's just a client. A weird client, maybe, but still just a client."

Even I don't believe my words, and by the way she's looking at me now, I can tell that Sandi doesn't believe me either. She smiles at me, but it's the kind of smile you give to a naive child who still believes in Santa Claus. I know what she's thinking, and I know she's only shutting up about it for now because she doesn't want to hurt me. I'm grateful for that. But I also want her to be wrong. I need her to be wrong.

"In any case," she says. "If he's asking for the real you and no escort attitude, then just give him that."

"Just give him that," I repeat, a distorted smile spreading across my face. "You make it sound so easy."

"I think it can be easy," she says, trying to encourage me. "Just get rid of everything that makes you not you."

She casts me a conspiratorial smile laced with darkness.

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