Deals with Mr. Blank again after trying to get back into her routine.

Glimmer completed her routine clean-up. Her movements were deliberate but lacked the sway of caring. The other girls of Pink Heat might have noticed her passing through, but today, they seemed too involved in their issues and problems to give Glimmer more than a second glance as they passed each other. Her pain was silent and not noticed.

She reapplies her makeup; the colors were more flamboyant and colorful than the palette she had when she came in the morning, a feeble attempt to cover how she felt. Contrasting her colorful selection of powders, glitter, and eyeliner, she opted for a black dress instead of a white one. The fabric clings to her form as if it could hold her together. She checked herself in the mirror, searching for the person she was before David. Instead, she saw a woman fighting to regain the confidence she lost without him.

Taking Paul’s advice, she sipped her “Woo Hoo” slowly, taking each swallow as a reminder to pace herself through at least the rest of her shift. The thought of David kept her company. His touch and his look still gave her goosebumps. It no longer seemed like a dream to see him again, with the possibility of Paul finding more about him.

13:00… It was time to meet Mr Blank again. She walked down the dim hallway of the VIP Rooms-- the Pleasure Cubes, and she continued to remark on them. “Hello,” she whispered, training herself for the session that was ahead. “Hello… Hello… Good afternoon, Blank.” She got to the door and repeated it over and over until she sounded perfect.

Glimmer stepped inside and saw the defeated man seated on the solitary room's plush couch. In his hand was a drink he’d prepared himself using the room’s minibar. “Good afternoon, Mr. Blank,” she smiled, her voice softened by the weight of her troubles.

Mr. Blank looked up and attempted to smile, but his expression was tight and filled with sadness. “Hey, Glimmer,” he said, his voice tired. She glanced at the timer and noted the hour session, feeling dread wash over her. She did not want to deal with this man for that long, but she felt a strange kinship with his evident pain.

She sat beside him; she gave him a smile that looked genuine but felt ****. “Hey, baby.” Her hand rubbed his knee, and the professional touch is joined by a sincere hint of humanity, careful not to entice intimacy into their time. “Feeling any better?” Her question was laced with a vague understanding she hadn’t felt the need to share with him before.

He looked at her, his eyes searching for something he could latch onto, but she guarded her expression and refused to offer him more than he deserved. “I think she’s really going to divorce me, Glimmer,” he confessed, tears beginning to form.

Glimmer nodded slowly, her expression softening only slightly. “Why do you think that?” she asked, her voice carrying the notes of concern. She was more involved with her own heartaches and search for love.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his personal life pressing down his shoulders. “She found out how much money I was spending here… All because of that stupid statement that was sent to us. I wish Emmalee would have kept her damn hands off the mail!” His voice began to break. Anger and sadness mingled in the final five words.

Despite knowing she should have been, the escort’s heart wasn’t fully invested. She didn’t push back like she wanted to. Instead, she let him speak. Her silence wasn’t enough invitation for him to continue, so she cooed. “It must be hard.”

Blank nodded, the tears now freely falling. “I’ve lost everything, Glimmer. She was my everything, and now… I’m here because I don’t know where else to go.”

Glimmer felt a sense of **** familiarity. “We all look for connection in the wrong places,” she murmured, almost to herself. The words were a confession of her own journey, a subtle acknowledgment that her search for David might mirror Mr. Blank's own misguided quest for solace. “But sometimes it works in the end.”

Mr. Blank looked up at her, perhaps seeing her as more than a service, but she didn’t desire his touch or to be his source of comfort. “You think so?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his moment of despair.

“I do,” she tells him, her voice a little steadier than it had been, it sets a boundary that she hopes he won’t dare cross for the rest of the session. However, she felt like she needed this, too. There were no demands for the rest of the appointed time with him. Just shared empathy.

As the session ended, Glimmer felt an unexpected lightness, not from the usual relief of finishing a job, but from the shared moment of humanity. She left the room wondering if this was what she needed to start piecing herself back together.