– Jim says I am slutty, – I stretched in the chaise lounge, turned my face towards the sunset, and closed my eyes. Big swimming pool area, evening quietness, and warm jasmine tea added coziness to Heather’s new house. She had a great taste for places and for males; the house was chic, the boyfriend was established, generous, and always far away. My attempts to find someone to take care of me kept ending up in an emergency room with a nervous breakdown. Heather was a professional. She mercilessly drained the pockets prior moving on to a wealthier penis.
– Does it bother you, Vixen?
– I do not care
– It bothers me though, – her pensiveness surprised me, I had never observed anything like this about her before.
– Why does it bother you?
– A man is calling you a whore, and you do not care? Really?, – the melancholy in her voice sounded ridiculous; an escort girl was trying to teach old-school morals. I was doing my best not to laugh in her face.
– Excuse my French, friend, aren’t you f*cking for money?
– Escort is different from being a slut, – her response was firm and assertive, – escort is a job, it has nothing to do with being promiscuous
– I have feelings for more than one person, – I breathed in the serenity of the Florida evening and continued, – If the societal matrix supports monogamous possessiveness, it is not my problem. No one is gonna tell me how many people I should fall for, and how I should feel if I love more than one guy or one girl. By the way, I am bisexual, are you going to lecture me on this as well?
– Vixen, there is a difference between a slut and an escort girl. They pay well to see me, and you are a free cum dumpster for them. I have a high-paying job, and you waste yourself on your Greg or Jim, or um… what was the name of that crazy guy who jerks off in the on-call room, Andrew?
– Adam, we are just friends
– Right, – her sarcasm did not annoy me. The evening was too quiet and refreshing to get upset or angry. – I would be offended if someone called me a slut, and you do not care. This is what bothers me.
– Heather, – I burst into laughter, – Heather, my dear, have you ever been in love?
– Not yet, are you making fun of me? – she got angry, her iron self-control was crushing
– Actually yes, what you are saying is funny, and you are hypocritical, and…. and callous, yep. both hypocritical and callous
– What do you mean?
– Do you have feelings for Greg?
– No, nothing, it was just a side job, I thought we already discussed it.
– Did you have any feelings for me? You knew I love him, you knew -I knew that he will pay you to f*ck him that weekend. And you still went with him. Do you think it may cause me pain?
– Were you in pain, Vixen?
– No, it did not bother me much. Do you have any feelings for me? You state I am your best friend.
– You know, – she paused, looking into nowhere, – I felt disgust, he was on the phone texting you right after I gave him a blowjob. You deserve someone better.
– OK, you are not callous, only hypocritical. You sleep with all these guys, and state that you are not promiscuous.
– Like I said, it is just a job.
– The difference is, Heather, – I was wiping away the tears of laughter, – the difference is that I build my life on feelings. I can open up or entirely freeze, I can laugh or suffer, but I do not go to bed with someone who disgusts me, I do not communicate with disgusting people. You have to deal with people you consider horrible, you do it cold-heartedly, you rationalize it. And you worry what other people say. The word “slut” really bothers you. I do not care, you do. I feel – you do not allow yourself to feel. I live – You hide behind the gated community. I do not need friends, I am happy by myself and with myself – You hate being alone, otherwise you would not have invited me over after having sex with someone I love.
She was looking through me, she obviously was not happy that she had started this conversation.
– Heather, I do not see any difference between a slut and an escort girl. All I see is a difference between you and me. Now, let’s go inside, it is getting chilly.
– Yes, yes, – she was relieved to finish our discussion. She looked sad, I felt sorry for her.