Page 58 of The End of Summer

“One thing that’s interesting about this line of work is the way the women behave,” he continues. “It’s like they’re ravenous. Ready for a good time. They know it’s not really sex, sothey don’t have to perform or worry about my needs or any of the other things that might cause someone to get in their head too much during an intimate experience. They get to just enjoy the feeling of being wanted. Admired, you know?”

“But it’s all fake.”

“Of course it is. But my job is to make it feel like it’s not. So, if I look at you like this –” he lowers his eyes, looking up at me from under his hooded lids, and glides the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “you might feel some kind of way.”

I shift in my seat. “Yeah, okay. I see what you mean.”

“So, I’m in charge, then. It’s low-stakes for her. She just gets to sit back and enjoy feeling desired. And when she lets me take her by the hand, I can move her, lift her, sit her down in a chair, whatever. I won’t touch her in a compromising way – I’ll get close enough to make her excited but not cross the line. It’s an intense amount of control.”

“So, where’s the vulnerability you mentioned?”

“Well, I have to convince her that I want to do filthy things to her. In front of an audience.WhileI take my clothes off. I’m human, though. Having all those eyes on you can make you feel sort of like a museum exhibit. Lots of room for people to judge you.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not getting any complaints.”

“Still doesn’t stop me from feeling nervous.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, maybe a little less now. But that first night? I was terrified.”

“Really?"

“Yes. The whole time. But especially dancing with you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because there was chemistry. Heat. Ifeltsomething. Like underneath all the showy stuff, there was something real.”

“Mmm.”

“Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” I swallow, sucking the marshmallow swirl out of my teeth. “But you,” I say, pointing my spoon at Brady, “have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Do you ever feel that way?” he asks.

“About dancing?”

“Yeah.”

“God, yes. It’s terrifying. I mean, you saw me fall.”

“Even still. You’re really good.”

“Compared to a zoo animal, maybe.”

“Don’t do that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “What?”

“Don’t be self-deprecating. Just say thank you and accept the compliment.”

Goosebumps appear on my arms. “Thank you,” I say.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

I nod, feeling my neck get red.

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