Swipe Right - The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute

Chapter Fifteen

In the back of Ben's limo, on the way back to my apartment we'd decided on ice cream and ringing in the New Year in pajamas. Jamie had struck out with Mark's friend, who was also a super douche, apparently they all drank the super douche Kool-Aid.

"So, Ben certainly isn't who you walked in with, yet we are leaving in his car, without him?" Beth pointed out.

I laughed. "Yeah, Ben's my hot shot client."

"Oh! Ben. Ben is fucking hot."

"Yeah, a fact I didn't quite realize until tonight."

"I'm sorry, how did you not realize?" Lisa asked.

"I'm not quite sure, to be honest. But it doesn't matter, he's a client and he was there with some other girl."

"What happened to what's his name?"

"Oh, he turned out to be an asshole. I think I need to start dating women," I mused.

"You should, it's a lot of fun." Beth winked at me making me giggle. Beth had always been open about her sexuality, she loved both the p and the d and she was probably the realest person I'd ever met. She always said she usually preferred girls, they were less complicated.

Back at apartment, unsurprisingly, we opened another bottle of champagne. Because if you're not having champagne, you're not doing it right. Or something. Jamie sipped her mug of bubbly (champagne flutes were overrated) and stared at me.

"Yes?"

"Listen, I just wanted to say, without you getting offended, that I think you may be stretching yourself a little thin in the man department." I raised my eyebrow and challenged her to go on. I could feel Lisa, Angela and Beth's eyes darting between the two of us. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How many guys had you slept with when you were with your ex?"

"Three."

"And what's your number at now?" she asked.

"That's two questions." She waited, the challenge directed back to me. I made a face at her. "I don't know... like higher than three. Maybe like fifteen-ish."

"Fifteen?"

"Something like that." Beth snorted into her drink while Lisa and Angela both fell back into the couch cushions laughing hysterically. Realizing the new stats, I guess it was a bit of a jump.

The next morning I rolled over feeling like I had been run over by a truck. A garbage truck, a gigantic, smelly garbage truck. What the hell happened last night? Wincing at the pounding in my head, I groaned at the flood of memories, the party, the douche, the champagne, the Ben. My hand searched under the covers for my phone; pulling up Ben's phone number, with one eye closed (it was easier to see the screen that way) I sent him a quick and completely back on the professional train, text message. 'Thank you for the ride last night'

'Anytime. Glad you got home okay.'

I'd apparently fallen back into a coma; when I'd woken a few hours later it was past lunch and I was damn hungry. I also had a new message on my phone.

'Hey sexy, tell me you're free tonight.'

My stomach dropped. It was Sexter. He wanted to meet up? We had never even talked about meeting up. I swallowed and bit my lip. Our conversations were always pleasurable (pun intended.)

I wrote back, 'I am.'

'Good answer. I had an idea, maybe a new experience?'

I held my breath, this could be anything. 'And what did you have in mind?'

'A club.'

I frowned. That didn't sound too exciting. 'A club?'

'A sex club.'

Oh, hello! Holy shit, could I do that? Go to a sex club? What even happened at sex clubs? I chewed on my thumbnail as I contemplated. Why the hell not, a new year meant trying new things. 'Okay.'

The club was dark, although I wasn't exactly expecting blazing lights, they needed to set the mood, made sense. He'd made sure to keep an arm around me, sensing my apprehension. I looked around with wide eyes at the topless bartenders and swings set up in each corner. Swings, hanging from the ceiling. This would forever change my perception of my favourite childhood pastime. Grabbing us a drink, he ushered me to a large red velvet ottoman, there were a few set up as seating around the main room. "Just watch, if you want." His voice was calm, reassuring. The drink was strong, whatever it was and I was glad for it. As I turned to ask him a question, a couple sat down with us, the woman beside me, her boyfriend beside Sexter. I felt my brows draw together as I watched him lean in and start making out with man beside him. He was so free, so open about it and no one in the room seemed to mind the very public display of affection. Now that I was looking around, I was almost the outsider not making out with someone. People were half naked, touching, kissing, caressing each other. It was a giant free-for-all. Oddly I was turned on watching him make out with a dude. I snapped my head around as I felt a soft touch stroking my leg. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine, her hand dragging mine to touch her. What the fuck was in that drink?

Two hours later I walked out of the club, my hair dishevelled, my head cloudy with confusion. I had no idea what just happened; did I just have sex with a girl? Whatever it was, I think I liked it.

I held my hand out for a taxi. Climbing into the back of the car, I bent over clutching my stomach, laughing hysterically at myself. What the actual fuck.