Just Maybe

ANITA

"Bitch it's not that funny," I whined crossing my arms, Brooklyn continued laughing going so far as to produce literal tears.

"A GUY CAME WHILST YOU GRINDED ON HIM, THAT SHIT'S FUNNY ASK ANYONE!" she bellowed reaching up to wipe the corners of her eyes, "Your life never ceases to amuse me."

With an exasperated sigh, I shifted my gaze from her and focused on the simmering pot of stew. This cherished recipe, handed down through my family for three decades, held a special place in my heart—it was one of the earliest culinary lessons my father imparted before he passed.

"Whatever," I grumbled ignoring the light giggles that came from her.

"So..."

"So what?" I asked peeking over my shoulder to see her smirking at me. 

"Did you like it?"

Pausing mid-way through stirring I bit the inside of my cheeks to fight the smile and grumbled a low 'no'. 

"You're lying, you fucking liked it!" she squealed clapping her hands as she came to bump my hip with hers. 

I swear she could be an idiot sometimes.

"I was amused. The fact that I didn't expect it is the only reason why I didn't get angry," I defended resulting in her crossing her arms and scoff at my reasoning. 

"I don't buy it but if it helps you sleep at night then fine. Can you at least answer honestly if he was cute or not?"

Biting my bottom lip, I leaned against the counter and avoided her gaze. 

Cute didn't even begin to describe him. 

When I walked into the room to find him standing there just a hair over six feet tall, his broad shoulders caught my eye, sending a tremor through my hands, instinctively longing to hold onto them. Despite his attire—simple black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—offering no clue to his wealth, I knew better than to underestimate anyone who crossed our threshold; they all carried some measure of affluence.

Observing him further, it was evident that he must engage in regular workouts; while not overly muscular, his physique hinted at a dedication to fitness. Above his torso, a neatly trimmed beard accentuated a strong jawline, framing delicate pink lips. The flare of his nostrils atop a Roman nose quickened my heartbeat, though the colour of his eyes remained a mystery, I sensed his gaze assessing me in return.

His hair, a blend of brown and red hues, appeared invitingly soft to the touch. As my fingers brushed against it, they confirmed the supple texture I had imagined. To merely label him as "cute" would diminish the allure of his features; his attractiveness drew me nearer than most clients I entertained with dances. The thought of him reaching climax, his deep baritone resonating through my being, unexpectedly stirred a primal desire within me, leaving my undergarments damp with anticipation.

Looking at Brooklyn, I reached up to grab the pot off the stove and moved past her,

"He's okay," I replied avoiding her gaze.

I really need to improve on my lying.

Opening the lid, the smell permeated throughout the small space of my kitchen eliciting a groan from Brook, "Fuck, that smells amazing."

"You sound surprised, you know I got skills," I winked cheekily moving around to put equal portions in the two bowls and pulled out the hot steaming bread I had taken the liberty to make from scratch.

"When you open your fancy five-star restaurant you better not get a bigger head. It's bad enough you walk around now like you're the female Gordon Ramsey," she chuckled nudging my shoulder gently. 

Shrugging my shoulders, I nibbled the corner of my bottom lip gently, "I don't know if that restaurant is ever going to happen. I still need to get into culinary school which I don't really have the money for –"

"Hey," she interjected reaching out to grab my hand and squeeze it, "It's going to happen. For as long as you believe in your dreams anything is possible, besides you have to admit you would be in a better position financially if you did other things on the side," she mumbled causing my lips to set into a straight line as my eyes turned to slits observing her.

"No."

"Oh come on, you make it sound like its the worst thing in this world."

"I'm not down to fuck the clients."

I can't deny that the idea crossed my mind, especially when I witnessed how much more some of the other girls raked in by engaging in extra activities in the private rooms or even leaving with clients. The frequency of requests for private dances led to numerous tempting offers, but deep down, I knew the price would extend far beyond my physical being.

My refusal meant I never accumulated enough to indulge in designer clothes or secure a better living situation like some of the other girls. Yet, every so often, the notion lingered in my thoughts: under the right circumstances, where safety and physical well-being were assured, I might consider it.

"For someone who seemed to be in agreement with me, you've been saying something different lately," I continued tilting my head to the side to take her in. Brooklyn flushed and took a sip of her drink. 

"I've kind of been seeing someone..."

"Let me guess a client?"

"Ohhh don't start."

"What?"

"Look, I didn't go searching for it besides I'm letting him think he can pursue me, so I won't let things go too far but the guy has been decent at best treating me nice and all."

"Is he married?"

She looked away giving me the answer before she verbally responded causing my brows to raise slightly, "Technically... yes but he says it's complicated."

"It always is," I mumbled shaking my head. 

"I'm really unbothered about his situation and besides I'd like to think I'm being used by karma."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward no longer interested in the food and placed my full attention on her, "How so?"

"Since he's cheating, I get to be the one who eats all his money, teaching him in the end to just have stayed at home with his wife, starting with this weekend. He invited me to a birthday party he's throwing for his friend, and he said I could bring my friends s –"

"Fuck, no."

"Bitch at least be courteous enough to let me finish," she whined pouting her lips.

"Either way the answer remains the same. I refuse to let you pimp me out."

"You know I'm not the type besides I'll be with you the whole time."

"The minute we arrive your little boy toy is going to want all your attention."

Pursing her lips, she paused for a moment and fiddled with the napkin on the table before releasing a heavy sigh, "If you go with me whatever tips I make you get a cut."

Perking in my seat I couldn't help but wear a small smile, "Is going to this party that important to you?"

"Duh! It's happening at a mansion, not some typical club, and we deserve to go to a nice party, we work hard and behave. Let's go see how the other side lives plus should he want to get physical I need you to pretend to be sick or something so that we can leave," she replied eliciting a chuckle out of me. 

Shaking my head, I leaned back in my seat and ran a gentle hand through my loose curly hair and mentally weighed the proposal. Seeing the pleading look in her eye didn't make it easier for me to stick to my initial answer.

Maybe it would be fun...

And I would be getting her tips.

Taking a deep breath, I reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose and mumbled a low, "Fine, I'll come."

She lunged for me and placed me in a tight bear hug, but before she could squeeze the life out of me, we parted ways at the sound of my phone ringing. I immediately picked it up when I saw my mother's name and briefly glanced up to see Brook doing a little happy dance.

I really hope I don't regret this.