Call a taxi

“Can you call me a taxi please?”

He nodded, and walked to the phone in the entrance where I first met him. I opened my locker, put my clothes back on, and followed him.

“It’s on the way for you.” He told me, with a smile.

I returned the smile, still thinking about our time in the disabled bathroom. “If you see Becky,” I asked him as we waited. “Could you tell her I’ve already left. I don’t want her worrying about me.”

The ginger haired man nodded then cleared his throat.

“One more thing,” he said, “before you go.”

I turned and gave him my full attention.

“I’ve decided you fit in very well at this club. I’d like to offer you full membership, if you’re interested. And I have a special rate for all my…bathroom friends. Assuming you are happy to continue to be my...bathroom friend?”

I nodded, and he showed me the normal cost of a year’s membership. Then he crossed that number out, and wrote a much smaller number. less than one quarter of the first amount.

“What do you think?” He asked me with a raised eyebrow.

“I think…” I replied, as a faint honk from a taxi could be heard outside “that you’ll see me next week.”

Fin.