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5/20/17
"YOU DOING ANYTHING this summer?" my coworker, Shay, asks as I clean up my station in the dressing room to make way for the next shift of girls at the club.
She sits down at the vanity next to me in only a silk robe with her curled hair pinned back. She just finished a private and knowing Shay she probably pulled in some major tips. Her long lean limbs and smooth mocha skin makes all the guys go gaga for her instantly.
A chill winds down my spine at the thought of doing a private. I haven't done one since that night three months ago. I've had a few requests here and there since then, but I always found a way out of them. Made excuses to not walk into that same room.
The thought of being in there with a man after what I did makes my stomach twist with uneasiness. The idea of another man touching me, kissing my neck, licking my skin, and making me fall over the edge with perfect hands and dirty words makes me nauseous. I don't even know that man's name and yet he's all I can think about. He's consumed me in a way that scares me. He saw me in a light few have and his dark eyes looked at me like he truly saw me when no one else did.
Like he knew all my secrets after one exchange. It was terrifying and exhilarating all wrapped into one wild experience. An experience that sits under my skin and begs to feel again, begs to be released.
I swallow the memory that heats me from the inside. "No plans yet," I simply say with a shrug. "But maybe, who knows. I think I just need a break from all of this, plus I just graduated," I tell her sliding on my shoes.
"Have you found a job?" Shay questions. A question everyone asks once you've walked across that stage and received your diploma. A seemingly innocent question that stirs inside me with dread and anxiety all warped into one singular fear.
Fear that I won't succeed outside of college. That I peaked and now have a degree and no where to go with it.
My eyes fall to the floor as a feeling similar to shame weaves its way through my chest. "Not yet," I mutter out weakly.
"You will," she encourages with a kind smile. "You're smart and graduated from a great college," she tells me.
The pressure builds within me at her words just waiting to combust. I know I graduated from a good school. I know I have a good degree and background with my classes and internship, and somehow I've never felt more lost. I don't have a set schedule anymore, and I have no set rules to guide me. I've done what no one in my family has, and I'm still somehow a disappointment.
"Yeah," I mumble gathering my things and hiking my duffle over my shoulder. "I'll see you later," I tell her a bit hastily as the need to run away strikes through me. To hide. I hate being seen. I hate people noticing me, and seeing behind the wall I so cleverly leave up. I don't want the pity and the questions. I want to be seen for what I've accomplished.
