Panties for Sale (38 page)

“Yes mom,” Alex scowled at her mother.
 
“It’s at Bloor and Yonge and it’s a beautiful
apartment.
 
I’m really happy there and
it’s much cheaper than my last apartment.”

“So,” Alex’s mother sighed, “is this what your life is
going to be like?
 
Look at your
sister.
 
She is married, just bought a
new house.
 
Look at how happy her and
Frank are.
 
Do you see what I mean?”
Alex’s mother looked at her father.
 
“She
gets this from you.
 
I didn’t raise my
daughter to be a hobo, to shuffle around from job to job, living like a
gypsy.
 
When are you going to grow up,
Elixia?
 
You are attractive enough, why
can’t you find a man and start your life?”

“My life is started mom,” Alex said angrily.
 
“And I’m happy with it.” Alex took a sip of
tea and sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell you, because it’s none of your business,
but I have a boyfriend.
 
And he’s
rich.
 
And handsome.
 
And he spoils me rotten.”
 

“Really?”
 
her
mother’s face brightened.
 
“Why didn’t
you say?”
 

“Why should I have to say?
 
Why should it make a difference if I have a boyfriend or not?”
   

“See, I told you,” her mother laughed, “I just knew you
were up to something.
 
You can’t hide
anything from me.
 
You always get so
quiet and stay away when you are hiding something.”
 
Her mother came over and hugged Alex around
the shoulders. “You don’t have to hide him from us, you know.
 
We aren’t that scary.”

“What is his name?” Mary asked “When do we get to meet
him?”

“His name is Joseph,” Alex said, defensively.
 
“He’s away on a business trip right now.
 
I don’t know when you will meet him.
 
We haven’t even talked about meeting
family.
 
We are taking it slow.”

“Oh well, I’m sure he’s wonderful, dear.
 
He must be if he is attracted to my daughter,
right?”
 
Her mother kissed her on the
head and began spooning out the dessert.
 
Alex sighed and pushed her tea cup away.
 

Dear Diary,

Ok. Something’s not
right.
 
Why is Chieko asking for more
hours again?
 
She’s already working more
than most of the girls.
 
She never complains.
 
Ever since those first few appointments, she
never calls after her appointments.
 
All
the men absolutely love her.
 
She is
fully booked.
 

Sure I can double her
appointments easy.
 
I could have a
waiting list of men just to see her.
 
But
why?
 
Is that wise?
 
What is up with her?
 
She doesn’t really talk with any of the other
girls.
 
Just Alex.
 
I think they still meet for coffee or
something.
 
Damn.
 
Maybe I should talk with Alex?
 

I’ve seen this before.
 
But not so soon.
 
Not to a girl so popular.
 
Usually when girls start asking for more work
it means trouble.
 
But I can’t imagine
that Chieko is involved in drugs.
 
Maybe
she has a demanding boyfriend?
 
No,
boyfriends usually make the girls quit, not work harder.
 
God damnit!
 
What are you up to Chieko?
 

I can’t lose Chieko
already.
 
She is a god damned gold
mine!
 
And such a nice girl.
 
Damnit!
 
But then, what can I do, right?
 
I
don’t own my girls.
 
Escorting’s not long
term anyways.
 
Especially for pretty
young girls with brains and an education.
 
Who knew Chieko was the smart one?
 
No, all I can do is get the best out of them when they are with me and
keep them safe.
 
As safe as I can.
 
And I don’t want them working if they don’t
want to.
 
I only want them happy, perky and
glad for the quick money.

I don’t know what the big
deal is.
 
Really.
 
Why can’t I have normal girls that just want
to work?
 
Want to stay and work for more
than bloody six months?
 
Why do girls
have to get so worked up about it?
 
So
crazy.
 
Either they start feeling guilty,
or sad, or they get all addicted to something.
 
Or they get involved in a dumb ass relationship where they are treated
like shit because they think that they are dirty and used up and don’t deserve
better.
 
Or they go nuts, get boob
implants and flood the internet with their gang bang hard core porn videos.
   
That’s the best one.
 
Jesus H. Christ.
  

Relax ladies!
 
God dam!!!!
 
It’s just like a business deal; like selling your ideas, your music,
your art.
 
God.
 
Like selling your goddamned car.
 
Only you are selling your time.
 
Really, what is the difference between
selling your mind or your body?
 
It is
yours to give, right?
 
You give other
people pleasure.
 
And when they enjoy
you, they should return the favor and give you something in return, something
you’d enjoy, like money.
 
Simple as
1,2,3.
 
My girls have the bodies that the
men desperately want and the men have the money the girls are desperate
for.
 
Win.
 
Win.
 
So why does everyone get caught up in this sex is bad crap?
 
Sex is good.
 
It’s not sacred.
 
It’s not just
for pro-creation.
 
It’s natural.
 
Instinctual.
 
Exercise!
 
No other animal on the
planet gets so wrapped up about it.
 

You know, if it wasn’t so god
damned secretive, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.
 
We need to be more open about sex.
 
People need to talk about it more.
 
Let girls know the real score.
 
What is good sex?
 
What is bad sex?
 
Come on.
 

Angela closed her notebook and shuffled into the bathroom.
The bathtub was almost full, so she turned the tap off and drizzled lavender
oil over the hot steaming water.
 
With a
sigh, she dropped her robe and slipped into the water.
 
Her tired muscles relaxed as she felt the hot
water melt away the stress and tension of the day.
 
She folded up a washcloth and rested it over
her closed eyes then she slowly leaned back, letting her body get used to the
heat as the water washed over her.

“It’s a funny business, this,” Angela sighed as she
pictured a man, clear as day, sitting opposite her in the tub.
 
She could almost feel his legs intertwining
in hers as she stretched out under the water.
 

“What people want, what they really want,” he had said, “is
to let go.
 
To give and receive for
free.
 
How glorious is it to give
yourself and have someone want to receive it, to accept you and thank you for
your precious gift.
 
That is when you get
that high, you know, that earth shattering, orgasmic high that you can only get
when two souls are joined together in ecstasy, in sex, in love.
 
That is the closest a human can get to
heaven. That is what I want.” He had stretched his lean naked body out like a
cat causing ripples in the tub to flow over the edge, “but to get that, you
need love.
 
There is a story we say in my
country.
 
My mother told it to me when I
was a little boy.
 
Do you want to hear
it?”
 
Angela nodded as he pulled her feet
up to rest on his chest, massaging them for her.

“There was this pretty young girl,” he said with a smile,
reaching over the edge of the tub to pull the ash tray closer and picking up
the waiting cigarette.
 
He inhaled then
slowly blew the smoke up into the steamy air.
 
“She lived in the forest, because she didn’t have any parents.
 
And she was very poor.
 
She spent her days wandering in the forest
and eating food that she found.
 

As her wandered she ventured to the edge of the forest,
where she saw a grand estate.
  
Starving
and tired, she approached the gate and asked for a job.
 
The gate keeper said she was too dirty to be
allowed inside, but perhaps she could be useful to the gardener outside.
 
So the girl returned every day to work in the
gardens.
 
She was fed leftovers from the
kitchen and given spare scraps of material to fix her clothing.

The little girl worked very hard and never complained.
 
She enjoyed working with the flowers and was
happy to leave the estate at night to go sleep under the stars.
 
But there was one thing that the little girl
craved.
 
She loved the colour red.
 
She couldn’t explain it, but it just made her
so happy.
  
She loved it so much,
whenever she saw anything red, she would take it and hide it away, saving all
the red things in a special box in her hut.
 
Eventually, she saved enough red scraps that she was able to make
herself a pair of red shoes.
 
Actually,”
the man said, scratching his face, “she worked very hard on those shoes.
 
She sewed all the pieces of material together
with tiny delicate stitches.
 
Oh, she
loved those shoes.”

“Well, one day, the great lady of the house saw her out
working in the garden.
 
The little girl
was really beautiful with long blonde hair and bright pink cheeks.
 
So the lady, who was very old and lonely
asked her if she wanted to come live in the big house and be her daughter.
 
Who would say no?
 
Of course, the girl said yes right away and
moved into the big house.
 
But there was
one condition.
 
The girl was not allowed
to keep her red shoes.
 
They were too
dirty, the old lady said when the girl moved into the house.
 
She took the shoes and threw them on the
fire.
 

The girl was very sad about the shoes.
 
But soon it passed as sadness does and the
days went by and the girl was kept busy. The old lady was really very kind to
the pretty young girl.
 
She dressed her
in fine silk dresses and taught her how to read and write, how to walk quietly
in the house, how to eat without making a sound, how to wear a tight girdle,
how to only speak when spoken too; all the things one needs to know to be a
proper lady. And the young girl did her best, but sometimes, she would find
herself sitting at the window staring at the tall green trees of the forest,
remembering what it felt like to sleep under the stars.
 
And she would miss her little red shoes.

One day, the old lady decided the girl needed a pair of new
practical shoes, just like a young lady would wear and so, she took her to the
shoe makers.
 
But when they got to the
shoemaker’s store, right away the young girl spotted a pair of bright shiny red
shoes.
 
After that she couldn’t pay any
attention to the dull practical shoes.
 
She only had eyes for shiny red shoes. She had to have those shoes!
 
Lucky for the young girl, the old lady didn’t
see that well and so the young girl was able to pay for the red shoes before
the old lady noticed.

The very next day, the girl wore her new shiny red shoes to
church. She walked proudly down the aisle and sat with the old lady in the
front row.
 
All the ladies in the church
were shocked.
 
They pointed at the girl’s
red shoes.
 
But she didn’t care.
 
Why would she?
 
All she could think about was how beautiful
her shiny red shoes were.
 
After church,
the ladies of the village told the great old lady about the young girl’s
shocking red shoes.
 
Of course, the old
lady was furious and she forbad the young girl to wear them ever again.

But the next week, the young girl could not resist. She
just had to wear the bright red shoes again!
 
So she put them on but she pulled her skirt down low so no one would see
the red shoes.
 
It was her secret.
 
All during the church service, she smiled to
herself.
 
Sometimes, just for an instant,
she would pull back her skirt, just a touch, to peek at the tips of the bright
shining red shoes.
 
They were so
beautiful. Just like ripe autumn apples.
 
The little girl was so happy admiring her new shoes that she didn’t
notice an old man sitting at the end of the row.

He noticed her though and her red shoes.
 
He was watching them too.
 
Watching as the sun glistened off their
bright red tips.
 
After church, he
followed the girl outside.
 
When the
young girl stopped to wait for the great old woman, the old man walked up and
stood beside her.
 
He smiled down at her
and then he bent down and lifted up her skirts.

“What beautiful dancing shoes,” he said as he leaned back
against a pole and began to whistle.
 
A
low soft melody.
 
The young girl
smiled.
 
She was happy he had noticed her
beautiful shoes.
 
As the man whistled,
the young girl jumped up and twirled around. The old man laughed and kept
whistling, so the young girl twirled some more, her skirts flying out so
everyone could see her shiny red shoes. The old man laughed and sped up his
tune, and the girl jumped and twirled down the street and over the gate.
 
She twirled around the church and into the
fields.
 
She twirled and leaped and
jumped and twirled again.
 
She couldn’t
stop.
 
Her shoes wouldn’t let her.
 

Lucky for her, an old farmer in the fields heard her
shouting as she danced and ran after her. He grabbed her and carried her back
to the church with her dancing feet still whirling in the air.
  
The great old lady ordered the girl to stop
dancing.
 
But the girl couldn’t.
 
Her feet wouldn’t stop.
 
So the old lady and the farmer tried to pull
of the shoes.
 
They tugged and pulled,
but the shoes wouldn’t come off.
 
The other
ladies of the village helped.
 
Together
they all pulled and tugged and twisted and pushed and squeezed and finally, the
red shoes came off.