My Sweet Prostitute (English Translation)

Chapter 12

Lauren's POV

Monday morning and afternoon were quiet.

Boring meetings happened, some demanding my presence, some not.

When I was forced to participate, I would drag Ally by her wrist, she would sit next to me and briefly explain what these people wanted from me. Usually a signature of mine would settle down, and then I would go back to my office and play with the Newton's cradle that's on my desk.

—"Why almost nothing exciting happens in this company?"

Ally looked at me like someone watching a slug covered in salt.

—"Everything is great, you shouldn't complain. Do you want your company to go bankrupt?"

—"Well, at least something would happen."

She looked at the agenda in her hands.

—"You have less than two months to decide what to do with the lingerie campaign."

-"Do we have a lingerie campaign?"

—"Yes, we do."

—"And why should I know about what to do with it? I don't understand anything about lingerie! I only know to admire them and remove them."—I said.

—"Ms. Jauregui, if you allow me to be blunt, you don't have a fucking clue about what happens inside here, but you still make the decisions."

I sighed.

—"Alright, Ally. Just tell me what to do."—I concluded, getting up and looking at the clock while saying in a fake tone of excitement:

"I'm leaving. I'm going to get ready for the big party! Can't wait, yippee!"

—"If you practice a little more, you would convince me. You're getting better at it. Now we have to work on her facials expressions."

—"Well, it's more or less how I feel. I'll meet you at the entrance at 7:00 p.m. For the love of God, don't take long. They can eat me alive."

—"I very much doubt they will. They just want to make a contract and flatter your presence if that's necessary to get a 'yes'."

—"In the end, it's you who will decide that. Well, until later."

And I left. Less than two hours later we were already at the party where I thought thousands of businessmen would go looking like wolves drooling over the carnage. Ally stayed by my side and I had to control my urge to disappear with the excuse of having a drink and run away through the restroom's window.

All of that was unbelievably and absurdly boring. All those people, whose life goal seemed to be to pull one of the other's coat and greet each other with fake smiles, was making me nervous. This had already happened for some time, but as time passed I was sure that one day I'll explode and send everyone to go to hell,  loud and clear.

I asked permission to go to the bar to order some alcoholic drink.

—"Ma'am...Lauren..."—Ally called me, and I felt a little better. I always preferred to hear her calling me by my name.

—"Don't worry. I'm not going to get wasted."

Ally was practically my mother at events like this. She took into account the amount of alcohol that I ingested knowing that I could easily go beyond my limits.

When I fell into depression a long time ago, I found some comfort in alcohol, which quickly backfired. It wasn't an severe case, but it wasn't easy for me to say "enough".