“She’s seeing someone else,” he sighs, gazing over my right shoulder to where she stands, flirting with a customer.
The music is loud, the lights are low. He takes a sip of his Jack and Coke and again, sighs.
“She met this guy, and he’s totally loaded. He’s basically taking care of her. He lives in Texas so she doesn’t see him too much, which is probably why we even still see each other because if he were here, I don’t think she’d have the time or even want to see me.”
He pauses and takes another healthy sip of whiskey. He looks at me, “But she needs me, because of her son. She can’t drive now and if she wants to have her son for the weekend, she has to have a means of transportation. And it can’t be Uber or Lyft. The Dad said so. So, I help her. And he’s like my kid, you know? We’ve been together for six years and he’s 11 now. So I kind of feel used because she’s seeing this guy in Texas and she says she’s in love with him, but…..”
“He’s supporting her?” I ask
“Yeah. So I feel like she’s using me but, I know, I’m letting it happen but I also feel kind of responsible because I wasn’t a good boyfriend. I wasn’t treating her right, and I feel like if I hadn’t made the choices I made then maybe SHE wouldn’t have done what she did and we wouldn’t be where we are now. It’s like, she’s become this other person. She’s not the same girl I used to know. And I feel partially responsible for that.”
I take all this in, all this information from a man, and I hate to say it, but a man I honestly only kind of remember. Someone whom I haven’t seen in a good six years, and he’s just, completely confessing to me, sharing his story.
When “she” spoke to me, she told me she was doing well. She stood in the same spot as he did at the bar, except she was regaling me with her experiences since we last saw one another.
“Do you remember me?!” She asks.
“I do,” I reply, “I remember your face. You definitely look familiar. But I can’t remember how long or anything.”
“Yeah it’s been awhile. I’m a dominatrix now!”
Her eyes sparkle and she leans into me as she says this, and my eyes widen in surprise and absolute interest. Because hello! A dominatrix!! And her!? She’s eye level to me in her stripper shoes, so maybe 5’8″ and about 125 pounds. Long, wavy chestnut brown hair and brown eyes, she looks like an AWG (average white girl), the GND (girl next door), certainly not a dominatrix.
Like Veronica, her disposition and demeanor scream dominatrix. With her long, jet black hair, pale white skin and sparkling blue eyes, she is striking. Her mere appearance commands attention and then she speaks – with a Russian accent no less, by way of Siberia. She is 5’9″ without heels, and is a presence. SHE looks like she could, and would, make you her bitch. And you would enjoy every moment of it.
But this little whippet before me? The AWG? The GND? No.
She explains to me, “It started off as just fun, like foot worship and the like, and then I got really mad at the guy I was dating and I just, really wanted to beat the shit out of someone. The people I knew from the foot worship stuff were like, well you know…..” she gives a sly grin, “and so my life as a dominatrix began!”
“Wow,” I say, truly interested about this world of domination and submission.
“Like the other day, I was with my boyfriend and my kid and we were having just, such a nice day. We went to the Santa Monica Pier, hung out, came back home and ordered pizza, all three of us piled into the bed and one of my customers, he kept texting me. Just, would not stop texting. He wanted me to come over for two hours and I told him I couldn’t. But the more I said “no” the more he kept raising the price. Finally when he offered $1000 for two hours I was like, okay. So I went over there at six in the morning, beat the shit out of him for two hours and then left!”
I’m thinking, a thousand dollars for two hours is amazing, but then I think, at six in the morning!? Until 8am? By then the sun is coming out and, being California, it’s all sunshine and blue skies. Being tied up, whipped and gagged doesn’t mesh with sunshine and coffee. Maybe he has blackout curtains. I giggle quietly.
“No wonder you’re tired!” I say with a smile.
I put the two stories together – his about her getting into the lifestyle because of him not doing what he should have done and her being pissed at a boyfriend which lead to her lifestyle and I realize how the choices we make, we don’t realize what the consequences will be when we make them.
Would we be so quick to make those choices if we knew what would happen and that our feelings would change? That we’d have a change of heart, and what we thought we wanted, isn’t what we want at all.