I lifted the flowers to look at their heights then set them back down to fill the vase with water.
“Are you close with your parents?”
“I’m not close with my dad. My mom died a while ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s cool. I don’t really remember her.” Stone walked over. “You got it?”
“Yep. I’m just about done.”
“A’ight.”
Stone walked over to my stove and opened each of my cabinets, taking a quick inventory of where each dish was until he found where I stored my pots and pans.
“Do you need help?” I asked. “I’m good at taking instructions.”
“Man, we both know that’s a lie.” Stone chuckled.
I rolled my eyes. “You want my help or not?”
“You can just keep me company and sit there looking pretty.”
“Well, I do love doing nothing but looking pretty.”
I smirked but surveyed what he’d unpacked and decided I’d be a little helpful anyway. I got a big bowl to put potatoes in and got to work peeling them. Stone did a double take but didn’t argue with me and instead prepped the steak, shrimp, and scallops he intended on cooking.
I’d only gotten four potatoes peeled when I grabbed my phone and put on music so we didn’t have to work in silence.
“Can I ask you some real shit?” Stone asked after a while.
“Sure,” I responded, without looking up at him.
“What made you get into sex work?”
“You want the long answer or the short one?”
“The long one,” he said without hesitation.
I exhaled. “I was raised super Catholic by my parents and had all of these ideals beat into my head my entire life. When I turned eighteen, I got engaged to my high school boyfriend, and because there was a ring on my finger, I slept with him.” I sighed. “It didn’t work out. I didn’t even make it down the aisle and it kind of fucked me up. I was really depressed and struggling with my self-worth and he was my entire world. I hadn’t thought about going to college, a career, or anything. I just knew I would be a wife… and then I wasn’t. Of course it was that year that my mom won the fucking lottery and divorced my dad.”
“No shit?” Stone looked back at me and I met his gaze.
“I swear. She won the fucking lottery while she was working at a grocery store, took the full payment, handed my dad thirty percent for a clean divorce, put five percent apiece for me and my brother in trusts my grandparents set up, and ran off to enjoy her first taste of freedom in her entire life and I don’t hold that against her or anything. My dad locked in once she left, which is amazing in some ways and disgusting in others, because he became this great parent that he actually could have always been if he wanted to.” I scoffed. “Anyway, six months after she left, Rene and my dad got tired of me sulking and sat me down and were like ‘People are fucking, Jiselle. Get over it.’ So I did.” I chuckled.
“I got over it and started fucking and it was nice for a while, until it wasn’t, if that makes sense. I went from one hard line to the other and I don’t know, I was twenty when my dad married someone fifteen years younger than him and because I liked the validation of men but not really having sex with them and she recommended I figure myself out before I went jumpingfrom bedroom to bedroom. So I explored my body. Took a pole dancing class, left my home state for the first time, and never looked back. I ended up in the city with no access to my trust until I turned twenty-seven. My dad was on the edge of business debt and Rene was barely on his feet and I’d started bartending. It was easy. It was fun. I got male validation without fucking for it and I liked it. Then, one night some guy at the bar offered me big money for my socks. I sold them immediately, and when I got home, I went looking to sell socks and shit and fell into the online sex work community. Before I knew it, I was selling socks and underwear and bath water and eventually I started doing cam work which paid amazing and didn’t require me to do more than whatever I wanted and now I’m here.”
“So you do cam work? Not porn or like I don’t know? Some other shit?”
“Nope. There’s no camera crew or lighting or costar. It’s just me, a camera, and my toy of the night.”
“Damn.”
“Stone,” I said and laughed. “When I said I was a sex worker you thought it was porn?”
“Porn or prostitution,” he deadpanned.
“And you were going to take me out anyway?”