Quilts

Roger

I wasn't with her for love.

Oh no, love wasn't pure enough for someone like her.

I was one of her many conquests, one of the many people Vanessa lured to her abode with her sweet songs and venomous promises.

It was a late night when I met her. I had just left a long night at work, and I wasn't ready to go home yet. I lived alone and I hated every second of it. I was the type of person who always needed companionship, otherwise I would become meek and useless.

I went to the local bar. It was a rusted old joint, complete with torn chairs and off putting music. I sat down in a bar chair and ordered a beer. It was just handed to me when I noticed her.

She was a slinky blonde, her lips red and her eyes smokey. She had on a short dress, fitted straight to her curves. She winked at me, as if she knew just how much she could affect a man.

She slid over to me, her eyes never leading mine. "Hello, handsome," she purred, her hand going to my bicep. "Feeling lonely?"

I felt myself nod, but I knew I was only to enchanted by her looks to reply any other way. She was gorgeous, and talking to me?

"I could keep you company," she whispered in my ear. "Just for the night though. You don't have to be alone."

It was at that point I stopped. "Are you a prostitute?" I asked. I didn't divulge in hookers. Sure, I had a one night stand here or there, but I refused to buy sex.

"Oh, no honey," she laughed. "Just here to help. Maybe if you want to come back, you could give me something, but not tonight."

I hesitated. She was admitting to me that she was a type of prostitute, only she charged for more than once, not the first time.

"Alright," I said. "Just one night, though."

She smiled at me, her hand running along my chest. "How about we take this to your place, honey?"

I stood, my hand clasping hers. As if they knew, the few regulars scattered around the bar shook their heads. They knew what I was doing and didn't approve.

That's okay. I agreed with them.

We reached my car and I drove her to my house. I promptly led her to my bedroom, and we divulged in a night of passion. She was gone from my life when I woke up the next morning, or so I thought.

A couple weeks later, I made my way back to the bar to have a few drinks. I had been chatting with the bar tender when Vanessa approached me, her hair tangled and her face clear of makeup. She had been crying.

"Vanessa?" I asked, turning to her.

She grabbed my arm and said, "I'm pregnant."