I’m Pretty Sure She Was a Prostitute
He had on a sports coat, jeans, and sneakers. He hunched at the table in Starbucks once he sat down next to her. She smiled at me the moment I walked in. Not the “I’m happy smile” but rather the “I’m trouble, do you want some of this trouble?” smile. She had on a trench coat that stopped at her thighs and the cut of her dress made it look like all that stood between him and her flesh was the coat and a wink.
He was a geek. He seemed to have no backbone. And yet, she slid her chair around to sit closer to him, and leaned in. He straightened her bag, as if it would fall over and everything would fall out. And then they left together. If she wasn’t getting paid to be seen with him, then I have no idea what was going on there.