French 75

They went to a penthouse apartment party. Sasha was invited to a lot of these events because she looked good. It was kinda trashy. Adults who still pretended to be teenagers at college. Sasha and Harriet danced away. Free bar. Cocktail, French 75, in hand. Sipping and swaying. “Shut up and Drive” by Rihanna playing. They tried talking on the dance floor, but ending up giggling, they couldn’t hear each other.

Dancing. Short-lived. Roof top balcony.

“Sometimes… I wonder if I’m healing people... or helping them avoid healing?" Sasha said.

“Woah woah… You’re an escort… Not a doctor or therapist…” Harriet said.

Sasha gave her a pained look, “You know what I mean… Our customers feel much better after our services…”

“I guess so… Sex makes everyone happy… Until it doesn’t… And then you are really fucked…” Harriet said, “I wish it were that simple…”

“Maybe it is… I was thinking of becoming a sex therapist… Like a real professional…” Sasha said.

“You really want to help people huh?” Harriet looked at her. A surprised smile. It was almost endearing – if not a little naïve.

“Yeah…” Sasha looked over the balcony.

There was a missed call from the police department. Sasha’s eyes narrowed. What?

“I need to call someone back…” Sasha said.