I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“It just feels wrong to be looking at these kids in any kind of sexual way.” I look uncertainly at my insane friend. She stares back unapologetically.
“Trust me, Allison. They want you to look at them that way. And they’re not kids. They’re legal.”
I scroll past one that doesn’t look a day over sixteen. “Cheese and crackers, Sara! This is somebody’s kid! I guarantee you his mother doesn’t know he’s a gigolo.”
“Cheese and crackers? Really?" She looks at me skeptically. "Besides, he’s not a gigolo, you prude! He’s an escort. Big difference.”
“An escort who, at the end of the night for a little more cash, will have sex with people. What do you call that?”
Sara’s laugh has a wicked edge to it. “I call it my good fortune.”
“Sara, I’m serious.”
“So am I. But look, this is how I see it. I’m helping Chaz live out his dreams, too. He’s getting to do things and experience things that most men twice his age will never know.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but you’re never going to convince me that a twenty-year old would normally have any interest in someone our age. For God’s sake, Sara, I got out of the shower this morning and scared the shit out of myself when I passed the mirror. I actually wondered for a second whose body it was. I’ve got bags and bulges in places that should never be lumpy and there’s some weird excess skin on the backs of my arms that makes me look like a flying squirrel. A flying freaking squirrel! What twenty-year old in his right mind would wanna have sex with a flying squirrel?”
“Damn it, Allison, would you stop being so down on yourself? Men don’t see us that way. Thank God! They see these warm, soft, beautiful, sensual creatures that smell fantastic and f**k like wild cats. We know what we want and how we want it. They don’t care that our arms look like Dumbo’s ears. They care that we can suck a golf ball through a garden hose and make them come in two point two seconds flat.”
“Sara!” My ears turn red.
“And you need to stop doing that, too. Loosen up a little. You know, it’s not the end of the world to drop an F bomb or talk openly about a blow job. Don’t you remember high school at all?”
“Of course I do. I remember falling in love with the guy I thought was my soul mate, getting pregnant with our beautiful daughter and having what I thought was exclusive sex with him for fifteen more years before finding out he was cheating on me.”
“Damn, how long were you in high school?”
I sigh in exasperation. “Sara, I want to move on, but I need to do it slowly.”
“That’s exactly what you don’t need, Allison. You need to reach down deep and find that wild, courageous girl you used to be before Rick the Dick put an arrow through your heart. And your vagina. You need to find the real you. The one he doesn’t control anymore. And I’m here to help you. You like penis! No, you f**king love penis. You just need to remind your vagina of that. Girl, you’ve got this. You’re totally going to own it.”
I say nothing. Instead, I just stare at my best friend in the world. I know she has my best interests at heart. And I know she’s the one person on the planet I can trust completely and utterly. So why am I balking? What do I have to lose? My life as I knew it before is over anyway.
“Fine. I’ll give it one shot, but I’m not promising that I’ll sleep with some random kid that’s only a few years older than my child.”
Sara squeals and throws her arms around my neck.
“Oh my god, we’re gonna have so much fun!” She claps her hands excitedly before settling back down in her chair beside me. She slides the mouse over to me. “All right. Let’s get your account set up while I’m here. You have to be sponsored by a member to even have access to the site. Then we’ll find you a toy.”
“I think I’ve seen enough toys for today,” I say somewhat somberly.
“This is not a bad thing, Allison. It’s a good thing.” She stares at me for a few seconds then lays her hand on my arm. “Okay, let’s do this. Pick the guy you like and I’ll do the rest. Deal?”
“You sound like a creepy used car salesman right now,” I announce. She glares at me with her Realtor of the Year for the Greater Las Vegas Area stare.
“I guess,” I say with a sigh.
She grins triumphantly.
“Not the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.”
********
“Mom, I really need this. Won’t you at least consider it?”
Spatula in hand, I turn to look at my daughter. “Sophie, do you have any idea how much a private swim instructor probably costs?”
“No, but I’ll get Dad to pay half and it won’t be that bad. Mom, all the swimmers that are Olympic hopefuls have their own private coach. You know I’ll never make it anywhere with Mr. Sullivan.”
“Mr. Sullivan does a perfectly fine job, Soph. It’s because of him that you won State last year.”
“I know, Mom. But that’s not good enough if I ever hope to make it to the Olympics. Please. At least say you’ll consider it. Kayla even knows a guy who was on her college swim team. She says he’ll do it until I can get good enough to qualify for another one. That probably means he’ll be cheaper, too.”
“Sophie—”
“Don’t ‘Sophie’ me, Mom. You treat me like I’m some airheaded kid. I’m more responsible, more dedicated than any of the girls my age. I never get in trouble and my grades are almost perfect. Do this one thing for me. Pleeeeeease.”
I look into the wide, pleading hazel eyes that are so like my own. This child is my one true weakness, my very own brand of Kryptonite.
“Fine. Get me some information on the guy Kayla knows. We’ll start from there. But you are asking your father, young lady!”
Her smile is like a thousand watt bulb; beautiful, young and innocent. So like mine twenty years ago, back before Rick the Dick made me resent anything with a penis.