"Right Place, Wrong Time"

[justmethatswho]

I was taken by surprise as I turn to see who enters the ladies room to see it is that man. A man I have never seen before, I do not know. "Help!!" I yell, though as the ladies room sits far back and the loud chatter in the bar no one heres. I begin to panic, only helping him as I back up, he pushes me into an empty stall. I would have fallen in the tall heels, yet the stall wall saves me.

"Leave me alone ... please don't." I shuttered at the thought of being raped as the scenario ran through my mind. Like any one would believe her story. She feared this man could do whatever he pleased to her.

As he held me, I heard the "Congressman". yet I was smart enough in this town not to say who I was meeting, at least not the real name. I had seen a number of women escorts become tabloid news in this town or possibly worse.

"Mimi ... I told you I don't know Mimi ... I am not a whore." I cried. "I told you I am simply trying to meet a friend, and you are not him. I am not anything you said, I don't even have a job." I try to explain. "Let me go .. I was suppose to meet him a couple minutes ago ... he does not like me late. Please .. please don't hurt me."

Even in my heels as he held me my toes barely touched the floor.

"I told you I am Tiffany .... Tiffany Lawson." I try to exclaim hoping he would let me go. "Why are you doing this to me ... please let me go."

 

[Tony2015]

I listen to her answers, and while my past experiece tells me that I shouldn't believe her, the sincerity -- and fear -- in her voice tells me she's being truthful with me. Someone is always trying to bring down the Big Dogs in Washington, which is why the Big Dogs like Congressman Robertson have men like me watching out for them.

I study her for a moment, feeling the warmth of her body against me. I back away, allowing her to settle down into her tall heels. "My name is Mark Taylor. I work for the Congressman."

I back even further, until we each have our backs to the stall's walls behind us. I look her up and down, my expression hard, not appreciative. When I look back into her face I asked accusingly, "So ... you're telling me that you just happened to be in the parking garage at the same time my boss was ... that when he invited you to the back seat of his car, you complied ... that when he asked you to suck his cock ... to fuck him ... you did it just because ... what, you had nothing better to do?"

It was pretty obvious that I knew all about the incident in the Lincoln. What I also knew was that my boss wanted to see this woman again, whore or not ... and I was going to make this happen ... somehow.

 

[justmethatswho]

I pushed back hard against the stall wall, how did this strange man know. Know what had happened. He made it sound terrible. So terrible. I had convinced myself it was not, but his raw words made me sound like some slut.

"I had an interview upstairs ... at the restaurant .... I was returning to my car ... I thought he had a question ... then i was afraid ... he seemed to ... well it was dumb of me ... I am not like that ... I don't do those things ... only that one time .... look I am just an unemployed girl ... " i babble as I tell him the honest truth. "I am not like that."

 

[Tony2015]

I am conflicted. I believe her sincerity, but I ... I still can't believe that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and simply went with it. Then, recalling the look on Robert's face when he described his encounter with Mimi's girl Tiffany, I begin to wonder if maybe this woman hadn't been in the right place at the right time. The right place at the wrong time, I think, or vise versa maybe.

Which ever it is, I know this is the wrong place to continue this conversation. I tell her with a soft voice, "I'm going out to a booth. I would like you to wait a minute ... then come join me. It would be in both of our interests to talk about this some more, but ... the ladies room of a Five Star hotel is not the place for it."

I unlatch the stall door, but before I turn to leave, I look her over once again. The combination of the dress and her incredible figure is unbelievable. I can't let her simply walk away. Robert wants her, and I want him to have her. For when Congressman Robert Robertson is happy, I'm happy. He may be a powerful man in Washington, but more than that, he's my ticket to bigger and better things. Without him, I'm just another Congressional staffer delivering papers and picking up dry cleaning.

"I know you aren't one of Mimi's girls," I begin, picking my words carefully. I'm starting to think -- from her reactions and expressions -- that I may have implied she was a cheap whore or, worse, just a slut ready to part her thighs for any man. I didn't mean that, of course. I was only being protective of my boss. I continue, "I know you're not a pro. But--"

I hesitate as I hear a door open, peeking out through the crack in the stall. A woman stands in the hall for a moment, then -- at the sound of someone calling her name -- walks away, allowing the door to close.

"I don't want to offend you by ... insinuating anything, but ... Robert really wants to see you again. And ... the fact that you came here today means that -- for your own reasons -- you aren't entirely adverse to that idea. If you were to ... spend some time with him tonight ... just one night ... I can assure you that you would be highly compensated."

I hear voices and laughter in the hallway and begin to worry. Without waiting for her reply, I head out of the stall, out of the bathroom -- unseen by others -- and to a booth reserved for Staffers. I sit, waiting, hoping that this Tiffany at least comes to talk to me, even if she isn't interested in the offer.

 

[justmethatswho]

"How many times do I have to tell you I have no idea who Mimi is, let alone one of her girls ... i am not like that." I try to reason, yet can tell he only sees some dumb bimbo.

His choice of words sinks in hitting a nerve. He said pro, like this is what I do. Like I do this to get paid, the reality of my desperation hurts. I do need the money, being 3 months behind in rent and utilities. I stand in a dress which would easily pay my rent, and heels worth enough to buy me food for a month. I wipe the tears from my eyes, my makeup running a bit.

He is soon gone, I wait for several minutes in the stall, cleaning up my makeup to the point it is again perfect. It is close to a half hour later when I finally return to the bar. For a moment I contemplated ducking out the back door, before running scenarios through my mind and convincing myself the best was to meet with him at the booth.

Moving to his table, I scan the crowd looking observing. The working girls are quite easy to pick out, for many are dressed like me. I am different than the others right I try to think, though I know I am not.

"Excuse me may I have a seat, I am interested in what you offered me." I say standing waiting to be invited to sit down. His eyes staring admiring my body as I wait.

 

[Tony2015]

I gesture the woman to the booth seat across from me, then nod toward the bartender. He'd already made another round of drinks for us, and a moment later the waitress dropped them by with a polite smile. She gave Tiffany a quick ogle, then gave me a questioning glance. I know what she's thinking, but my lack of a response essentially tells her to take her enquiring mind back to the bar.

"The Congressman wants to see you again," I say, essentially only repeating myself. "I ... I don't know what your story is ... Tiffany..."

I speak her name with a tone that insinuates I doubt that's her real name. "All I care about is that the Congressman is protected from any potential public embarrassment."

A couple passes by, causing me to hesitate and lower my voice a bit. "So ... here's the deal. A thousand dollars for the evening. Cash, obviously. I pay you ... half now, half afterwards, usually the next day, until I am sure that you are going to provide him with the service he desires and requires. The Congressman will never hand you money or even discuss payment. That incident in the car the other day was ... clumsy ... stupid."

The Congressman had made the arrangements with Mimi without my input, something for which -- despite my subordinate position -- I'd chastised him and forced from him a vow never to again repeat. He may have been a powerful Washington Big Dog, but Robert Robertson would be a self destructive, unthinking man when his cock was hard.

I continue, "You do anything and everything he asks of you. He's--" I can't help but smile, then chuckle a bit before I continue. "Robert's pretty vanilla, to be honest. So ... I wouldn't worry about being asked to do something you probably haven't already done with some man at some time in your life."

Again we are interrupted by passing lounge patrons before I continue, "Have you practiced that one thing during the past few days. You know what I mean, yes?"

I press my tongue into my cheek -- the one away from the others in the lounge -- as if to indicate a cock sinking into it. "Robert said you seemed new to that particular ... deed."

 

[justmethatswho]

I knew I was into something deeper than expected, having thought I would come here and do what I needed and leave and be done. Yet this congressional aid seemed more uptight than i did.

"The Congressman wants to see you again," I say, essentially only repeating myself. "I ... I don't know what your story is ... Tiffany..."

The sarcasm in his voice upset me, I was tempted to show him my drivers license, yet findly responded to him. "What is your name ... no hold it I got it ... Jack right ... as in Jack Ass."

Before he could continue I let into him, leaning across the table and into his ear. "Look JACK, I have no interest in becoming front page news, I cannot afford my rent right now or find a real job. I had not had sex in over a year before your congressman in the back seat. You believe what you want JACK, you can be pissed at me, but you work for him and not me, it is not for you to dictate what I do." I stop recalling what he had said, of the congressman wanting me. "3 ... 3 grand Jack ... that is what I want ... think of it JACK you just cost the Congressman another 2grand ... and I want 2500 before I even get on the elevator and the last 500 when I leave in the morning. I assure you he will be happy."

I try to stay strong, yet as he pauses, I begin to exit the booth, knowing he has underestimated me. I stop on the edge of the seat .. "so what will it be JACK?"

 

[Tony2015]

I'm taken aback by Tiffany's sudden counter to what I've said. I didn't expect it. But, I'm in politics, so my expression remains steady, hiding my surprise. As she begins to slide from the booth, I contemplate how to halt her escape without seeming desperate.

But she stops to ask, "So what will it be, Jack?"

I hesitate a moment before responding, "Negotiating...? For a better position...? Are you sure you aren't in politics?"

A couple pass by, and once I know we are alone again I continue the negotiations. "A thousand now ... a thousand tomorrow. If you want the third grand, you're going to have to be better..."

I hesitate, glancing about for eavesdroppers, before I continue with a lower volume, "...at sucking cock. It is one of Robert's greatest pleasures ... and if you can't do it, you're simply not worth that kind of money."

Another delay due to passing patrons, then I finish, "The only way I can be sure you know what you're doing, Tiffany ... is to have you learn on me."

I reach into the hip pocket of my suit jacket and pull out a hotel key card. I slip it inconspicuously across the table, behind the drink glasses and other items. I look at her and add, "Three grand ... one night ... and if you please both of us..."

I hesitate, knowing that what I'm about to offer isn't truly mine to suggest. But I know Robert very well. I know what he likes, and what he wants. I know that what I'm about to suggest would tickle him pink.

"The Congressman is looking for a mistress," I say quietly. "Not a whore ... not a weekly suck'n'fuck. A beautiful, sexy ... capable woman who can fill the voids in his life his wife can't. If you are interested ... and you can do the job ... I can make it happen for you. There would be an apartment ... a car ... an allowance. When he travels outside the country on State business, he rarely takes his wife, so..."

I study her for a moment, then ask simply, "Shall we go to my room ... for your audition and training?"

 

[justmethatswho]

I pick the hotel key up as if I am about to agree with his proposal. Then i move, to sit this time I slide in on the same side he is pushing him into the corner.

"Look Jack ... I whisper in his ear, to an onlooker it may appear as I am being sensual and sexy. "You think I am some type of whore which will be thankful and suck your cock ... I may not be the best cock sucker in this bar ... look around at the girls and i am probably in the bottom 5% ... yet what I do know is men ... If the congressman wants a mistress he certainly does not want her sucking come junior aids cock now does he." I take my hand with the key and push the edge harsh into what I feel is his stiff cock. "I assure you Robert will be happy at the end of the evening ... but you seem to be costing him more and more ... I am no politician ... more of a capitalist say. You know supply ... and demand." Now I am pressing the edge of the keycard so hard into his crotch it has to hurt. "As demand rises so does the price ... 4 grand ... up front. Or you can take that little stiffy and go suck the congressmans cock yourself ... though if he was expecting me you would probably be a disappointment even if you do suck cock better than me. Sucking cock seems to be a subject you know well ... I guess that is how you got this far isn't it."

I try hard hoping I am not pushing to hard as I stand and take my drink and finish it and lean over the table. "If you let me start walking the price goes up 100 with each step."

I am a bit taken back by my actions. "Oh I think I figured out your middle name. "Jack OFF Ass."

With that I pause and stand turning and waiting to see if he responds.

 

[Tony2015]

I feel something come against my crotch, against my cock, which the conflict has caused to harden. What Tiffany can't know is that while the Congressman may be rather vanilla, I am not. As she increases the pressure against my shaft, the excitement inside only rises. I am conflicted, of course. While I like the rough stuff, I don't usually get it from a female.

As Tiffany stands over the table, I reach out to catch the arm of a man passing by. He stops and gives me a smile that tells Tiffany that he knows me, but he says nothing -- particularly my name -- as he is unsure whether I am incognito at the moment.

"William," I say to the man as I lower my hand from the man's fore arm to the back of his thigh. "Please tell my new friend here how I met the Congressman ... how I got my job ... how I keep my job."

William looks at me with a questioning expression, seeking confirmation that I am asking him to tell the truth and not one of the stories we have prefabricated for specific scenarios. I nod to him.

"Mark met the Congressman at the National Convention," William explains, looking Tiffany up and down, trying to size up the woman of whom he knows nothing. "He, um..."

He looks to me again, and I ask, "How did I get my job?"

"You spent the weekend with him ... showing him that it takes a man to truly know how to pleasure another man."

"And ... how do I keep my job?"

"By knowing what the Congressman wants, which unfortunately these days is pussy," he says with an obviously derisive tone. A man at the bar who has just waved to him causes William to nod his acknowledgment. He looks back to Tiffany and finishes, "And knowing how to get it. Mark, I have to go, so..."

"Thank you, William," I say, lifting the hand currently on William's thigh until the index finger just comes against his firm buttocks. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Promises?" the man says with a tone of doubt before leaving and to join the man at the bar.

I study Tiffany for a moment, then make my final pitch. "You ask for more money but you offer nothing in return. That's not how Washington works. Compromise is the name of the game, and asking for more and more and offering nothing more in return isn't a compromise ... it's a selfish threat."

I know that the use of the word selfish is likely telling Tiffany how I feel about her. But ... how I feel about her is not what's important. All that matters here is how the Congressman feels about her. And whether or not she is the type he wants as a long term mistress is presently not the issue. The issue is that about now, Robert is in his room, showering, getting ready for his date with a woman who likely isn't going to show up.

"Last offer..." I say, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a full sized wallet. I open it to reveal a thick wad of hundred dollar bills -- I keep the little stuff in my pant's pocket -- and begin thumbing through them until I have about $2,000 separated. I glance about for prying eyes and find only William -- with his date turned away from us -- watching with curiosity. "Two grand now ... two grand tomorrow. You come upstairs with me now and I show you what Robert likes--"

I smile broadly, explaining, "And I wouldn't worry about whether or not the Congressman is going to be upset about me cumming in your mouth, considering that the two of us have share a third man together."

I toss the two grand onto the table, behind the drink glasses and dinner candle holder. "And ... since you'll be getting the four grand you are demanding ... and my recommendation as the future Mistress Robertson ... I offer a demand of my own. You'll owe me a favor."

I can tell that she wants to know what this favor is going to be, but I'm not going to tell her. Instead, I simply say, "Final offer ... take it ... or walk."

I let my eyes drop to her incredible body -- for a woman, anyway -- then add, "If you walk, put the dress on eBay. You can probably get a grand for it."

 

[justmethatswho]

I see him stop an an attractive looking young man, and the conversation quickly changes, the implied message is clear, and causes me to wonder what kinky sex game am I getting into.

"Last offer..."

I hear him say, yet at this point I am trying to figure out why I am here, what I am doing, I am clearly outside of my comfort zone.

In this town everyone is playing a game, people are the game peaces power is the goal. I myself find the game difficult as I am unwilling to sell my soul to be a good player. Obviously Mark has sold his soul to be a player int he game. A bit player at that.

I just want to pay my rent and bills and recover some of a normal life. Why had I thought this would work.

"And ... since you'll be getting the four grand you are demanding ... and my recommendation as the future Mistress Robertson ... I offer a demand of my own. You'll owe me a favor."

I here his words, which indicate that the Congressman would like this to be a longer term relationship than I would have ever dreamed.

"I will owe you nothing ... you will owe me." I respond a bit unsure how he would owe me. "Like you said if he is happy, it is good for you, when I leave I doubt your mouth will be much of a consolation prize." I tease him. "Even if you are a better dick sucker."

By now I am angered and have convinced myself this is not a game I can play. The only reason I have not yet is that I need the money. I see him count out the 2 grand, clearly he has enough to pay it all up front. "I a not negotiating, this town is full of false promises.

For a moment I pause, contemplating his kinky game. I would be the first to admit I am out of my league here, yet I do know how men think. It is ok for the congressman to screw other women and even men, yet he is not going to want his mistress screwing others. I hold my ground.

"you can explain why this all fell apart." I say and begin to walk away, Mark has made me feel dirtier than I had after screwing the congressman.

 

[Tony2015]

My expression at Tiffany's departure must have been obvious, because by the time she reached the lounge exit, William was already crossing the bar to join me at my booth. He cocked his head and asked with a playful tone, "Problems in paradise?"

"Amateurs," I murmur, shaking my head slightly. I look back to the bar -- to his date -- and ask, "Shouldn't you be working?"

He glances back to the man, who is now staring at us impatiently. William says cryptically, "The world of a freelance gigolo..."

I laugh. "Oh, is that what you are these days?"

We share a short laugh and some crude comments before he asks with a more serious tone, "Was that about the Congressman?"

"He wanted her, but..." I hesitate, then pull out my cell. "He'll still have her ... it just won't be tonight."

"I have to go," William says as I am lifting my phone to my ear. "Good luck with Mimi."

I only smile. William had once worked for Mimi, but thought he could make more money on his own. Instead, he was living in a dumpy apartment in a suburb of D.C. with a male dancer who whored when things got tight ... which these days was more often than not.

Mimi answered and, as in between ordering a girl for an emergency situation, I thought about Tiffany and her decision to pass on the money. I understood why she'd done it. Whoring yourself is not an easy thing to do. I'd never gotten paid for performing a specific sex act or being part of a specific sexual encounter, but I had on occasion secured and maintained -- as I was maintaining now -- a very nice job because I was neither above setting up sexual encounters nor being part of them as necessary.

I wasn't a whore, but I was the closest thing to it.

"Thank you, Mimi," I said, disconnecting the line and rising to go upstairs and explain to the Congressman the delay and switch to the second team. I looked over to William and thought of his financial situation. I hesitated a moment, then pressed a speed dial number. Even at this hour, I knew he would be at his computer.

"I need you to run a name," I said at the sound of the gruff voice, destroyed by fifty years of cigarettes, coffee, and alcohol. "Tiffany Lawson. Yeah, here in D.C. Yes, every thing ... full board. I need to know it all." I listened for a moment, then laughed. "Yes ... I have to destroy someone again."

I turned for the elevator, smiling, as I contemplated the various ways to nudge the beautiful blonde back into Congressman Robert Robertson's lap. I chuckled, thinking, I wish I was into women ... cuz she's quite the fucking woman...

 

[justmethatswho]

I begin to walk away expecting him to stop me, yet by the time I reach the exit as I look back he is already on his phone. Part of me is happy I have walked away, yet I need the money, it is only for a night. I stop at the exit wondering if I should go back and agree to his terms. Another part wonders if I should simply try to find the congressman's room without jack Ass's consent.

Sill now I stand just outside the exit near the lobby of the hotel. There is a chair open and I decide to sit to contemplate my next move.

As I sit there I say to myself. "You blew it girl ... you can be so dumb."

 

[Tony2015]

Mark Taylor
The Next Day:

The next day is both boon and bust for me on the Tiffany Front.

Robert wasn't happy with finding out the sexy blonde call girl had had to attend to another engagement, as I had told him. But he shrugged the disappointment off when he opened the hotel room door to find a call girl he'd had some very enjoyable times with in the past.

Still, when he called me this morning to go over his calendar, one of the first questions he asked was whether I could arrange for Tiffany's services for a conference in New York this upcoming weekend. I responded with a feigned tone of doubt, "I don't see that happening, Congressman, but I'll certainly look into it."

The reason my doubt was feigned was because of the call I'd received earlier from my Investigator. Tiffany was in trouble ... financial trouble ... big financial trouble. No job. Behind on her rent. Big credit card balances. Debts either in or heading toward collection.

While most people didn't know this, Washington is fueled by the kind of information my Investigator has dredged up. Or, more specifically, it is fueled by the actions people like me took on such information.



At Tiffany's Apartment
The Next Day:

The knock at her apartment door is accompanied by the sliding under the door of a 72 Hour Vacate The Premises eviction notice.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the Postal Carrier is filling the little mail boxes on the wall, bobbing her head to the sounds of Hip Hop piped into her skull by the Blue Tooth headphones hidden under her stocking cap. One of the letters she stuffs into Tiffany's box has a return address label reading "The Office of Congressman Robert Robertson. In it is a simple, short note:

Dear Miss Lawson,

The Congressman wishes to thank you for your support of the important issues for which he is fighting. If you should ever find yourself in need, please feel free to contact his office.

Sincerely,
Mark Taylor
Chief of Staff​

The phone and email numbers are, of course, mine. I would never allow a sexual play thing the direct line to Robert.



The Office of Mark Taylor
Congressional Offices Building

I sit with my back to the door, feet up, staring out at the Nation's Capital. There is a fresh layer of snow on the ground, not yet churned up by the hundreds of snow plows and tens of thousands of cars that will uglify the City in just minutes.

I have too many things on my mind to worry about Tiffany Lawson. At least, that's what I tell myself. It's been two days since the flap in the hotel lounge. She should be getting the letter I sent today. She should also be getting the notice from the bank that her two credit cards have been cancelled and that the balances are due immediately.

I lean forward and peek down to the road at the sound of a car alarm sounding. A tow truck is lifting a luxury sports car onto its flat bed. I smile, thinking, Oh, I missed that idea. Damn. I press the intercom button on my phone as I pull from my jacket pocket the Investigator's report that was faxed to me yesterday.

"Lois, will you get me the number of..." I search down the page. "Reliable Credit. Tell them I have the location of a car they've been trying to repossess."

"Yes, sir," she says before the click tells me she's gone from the line.

I lean back again, looking out at the white layer of beauty thinking, Jesus, this can be one ugly job.

 

[justmethatswho]

i had sat in the lobby for nearly an hour before the manager told me to move on. My feet ached with each step as I trudged back to my car which had just enough gas to get me to my apartment. The car was a piece of crap, but was reliable and paid for. It was about the only thing of value I owned.

...

A couple days later I was awoken by a knock at the door only to find an eviction notice. What was I going to do, my friends had all sided with my ex-husband. I was alone and desperate. I took my car to the lot on the corner, the value was probably closer to 4 grand yet I settled for 2200, it would be enough to keep my phone and catch my rent up and purchase a couple meals of noodles.

When I returned, I opened my mail to find the credit card letters, again saying I was overdue, and to pay immediately. "Like what are they gonna take." I scoffed at the notices, throwing each in the garbage next to the mail boxes.

in my apartment, it was cold, I lowered the heat to save money, I dressed in two sweatshirts and a sweater. Again i looked at my phone to see nothing, no emails from the 6-applications I had turned in yesterday. Maybe it was time to return home to the mid west, I thought as I cried myself to sleep.

 

[Tony2015]

Mark Taylor
Congressional Offices Building
Three days later:

I am walking quickly into the building, down the hall, into my office, reading notes and letters while simultaneously dictating instructions to my Aide and answering questions from her about my calendar. I am just entering my office when I find a very anonymous looking envelope. I open it to find a note on plain white paper, no letter head:

I have dealt with that issue we discussed concerning T.L.​

I smile, and immediately shred the note and envelope that have been sent to me by my contact at Careers Unlimited. I had, of course, presumed that Tiffany Lawson would have applications out for employment. In exchange for 50 yard line tickets to this Sunday's game, I'd gotten a memo sent out to all of the major hiring agencies, and every one of those applications has been nixed. Tiffany should, over the next few days, be getting nothing but polite rejection letters.

I looked at my watch: 10:30am. I wonder what time of the day her Landlord -- accompanied by three big furniture movers -- will be knocking on her door, telling her that her 72 hours are up.

I plop down in my chair and spin to look out at the City again. The landscape is pretty much devoid of snow now. Along the curbs, huge piles are melting away, leaving an ugly black layer of sand and dirt to coat it like the terminal end of a mountain glacier.

Ugly, I think, although I'm not sure whether I'm still thinking about the snow or what I'm doing to Tiffany Lawson.

 

[justmethatswho]

I was surprised, that the landlord rejected my payment, telling me he was sorry that the apartment had already been rented at a 50% premium. Today was the day I was suppose to be out, I had packed my suitcase and sold a few other things, like my bed and couch to the sweet old man accross the hall. It is not like I could afford to move any of my stuff.

It was like as terrible as my life was it had completely fallen apart at this point. Of my 3 interview planned this week all had called and cancelled, saying the job was filled.

"Your problem is you are too nice Tiffany." I tell myself, unable to even shed a tear. My life is over, i have no one to call and no place to go.

I leave my keys on the table, along with assorted personal belongings and close the door, with only 2 suitcases, my purse and the close on my back and barely 2500 in cash.

I do not go far today, only to the corner pub, where I no the bartender. The weather is chilly yet not overly cold. I am dressed in Skinny jeans, black boots with heels and a jacket over my short sweater. I sit at the bar and order a drink. "Something strong and cheap." I pout alone sitting. "I want to get smashed."

As I sit, the news is on and sure enough there is the congressman on the screen, touting family values and ethics. As the bartender brings my drink I say in general. "This town is full of liars and cheats isn't it ... why cannot a nice girl succeed."

 

[Tony2015]

Brian, the Bartender:

"This town is full of liars and cheats isn't it," the woman says my direction, "why cannot a nice girl succeed."

"They can," a male voice says from behind her. I turn to find one of my regulars ogling her generous bosom, then looking up into her eyes with a broad smile. "You just have to have friends who'll--"

"Let it go, Roger," I tell him, setting the blonde's drink before her. I shove another beer to the man who is again leering at the beauty's ample tits, and say, "She ain't a Working Girl, so ... take your drink back to your table and watch the game."

I wait until he's gone, then meet her gaze and ask softly, "You aren't, are you...? I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

 

[justmethatswho]

I wait until he's gone, then meet her gaze and ask softly, "You aren't, are you...? I'm sorry, I don't know your name."[/QUOTE]

I stiffen as the man says something, until the bartender tells him to back off.

"Gawd no ... " I scoff. "Why is it everyone thinks an attractive girl in this town sells herself. heck I don't even have a job. Even the Starbucks across the street won't hire me. So much for a masters degree.

"thanks for that." i look at the the other end of the bar at the guy. "I mean for telling him to back off ... for as much as this town is suppose to be so progressive it certainly goes back to when the only way women could succeed is screwing a man. Heck I had ... oh I shouldn't bother you with my past problems."

i watch the tv. "Hey what do you think of him ... " i ask about the congressman still on the tv.

Before he can answer. "Tiffany ... my name that is. Your Brian right ... " I add.

 

[Tony2015]

"Robertson?" I ask. I shrug. "Politician. What more can be said?"

I pick up a fresh bar towel and -- despite the Health Department rules against it -- begin wiping down the insides of the wine glasses, removing the water spots that no dish detergent can seem to prevent, no matter what their fucking advertisements promise.

"But..." I continue, hesitating, "he seems to be better than most of them. You never see him in any scandals, and hey--" I laugh. "You can't say that about very many of them, can ya?"

I nod to the man who'd tried to solicit ... Tiffany, yeah. I'm much better at remembering drinks than names. As I get yet another bottle of beer out of the fridge, within to hell he would switch to tap, I tell the man, "Be right there."

I look to Tiffany again, and as she stares at the television, I wonder whether maybe she's one of his constituents or knows something about him I don't or... Her attention to the story just seems a bit more intense than most of my drinking clientele. I look back at the screen again, then to her.

"His ideas seem to be pretty sound," I say, not totally certain that I am actually qualified on the issues about which I'm talking. "He got that Education Bill passed. And his Family Values thingy looks like it going to President's desk, or at least that's what they said earlier."

I turn my back to her and stare at the Congressman. surrounded by his wife, children, and some staffer I think is named Taylor. I say over my shoulder as if it's some kind of secret, "The say he's throwing his hat in for President this week."

The guy at the end of the bar taps his empty bottle on the hard wood, and I give him another nod. "You know, he came in here once ... couple of years ago. Brought in all of his staffers for a celebration ... some political thing. I wasn't working that night, but I wish I had. Remember that story about Michael Jordan's personal driver...?"

I can see in Tiffany's face that she either doesn't know the story or simply doesn't care. Not having an interested audience never kept me from telling a story, though, so I continue onward. "Some limo driver who was going off shift recognized Michael Jordan when he flew into the airport ... this is clear back before he started at NC ... and he gave him a ride ... free ride. The story goes that Michael told the guy 'If I ever make the pros, I'll call ya.' He did ... and he did. That guy was Michael's driver for years. Right place, right time, baby."

I look back to the screen and muse, "Imagine. If I'd been here that night to serve up a twelve year old Scotch to the Congressman, I might'a become the White House's private bartender. Sheeeiiit...!"

I head away with the beer, repeating, "Right time, right place, baby."

 

[justmethatswho]

As I watched the news broadcast I was paying more attention to the people behind the congressman than the words he spoke. To me they were of more importance. In particular his loyal wife and daughter who looked only a few years younger than me. Part of the view upset me, seeing him speak, knowing his image. I was not his first indiscretion and I assume somehow his need was taken care of at the hotel also.

"Brian I bet you see a lot of people through here, everyone has a story don't they. I bet the Congressman has a story too." I smiled softly ad raised my empty glass. As he approached I whispered. "Thanks about him ... I am not that type of person ... am I?" I asked as if Brian was my psychiatrist.

I continued watching the news as if I was interested, though I really had little else to do. The weather man talked about the cold and snow like it was a surprise or something. Days like today always started beautiful, the fresh snow like a cleansing whitewash of an artistic photo, yet by noon, as the sun warmed, turning the snow to slush, the true picture developed.

"your right you know about right place right time. Dumb luck. I mean look at me, at 28 divorced, jobless and homeless." I chuckled a bit. "Don't worry, I can pay for my drinks ... today." Again I laughed at my desperation.

As he brought my next drink I smile and add. "You know I have amasters degree and graduated top in my class, my husband cheated on me and somehow the divorce was my fault, I cannot get a job even at the coffee shop. yet the other day I was in the right place at the right time and all my issues could have been solved. I literally screwed that up." I degrade myself.

"You know, the right place at the right time was not being here the night the Congressman came in for his party." I council Brian.

 

[Tony2015]

"I don't know," I say. I glance toward Roger, who -- despite having been told Tiffany is not for rent -- is still eying her hungrily ... and tapping his money clip playfully on the bar top. I tell her, "We're all whores, sweetie."

I see her reaction and chuckle. I can't, of course, know what's going on in her life. I explain myself, "Look at me, I mean. Whore. Really, I am. I stand behind this bar 60 hours a week, slinging drinks and listening to people's problems. For what...? Money. My knees are giving out, I pinch a nerve at least twice a month, causing me to work through the pain 'cause I can't affort to hire help. Hearing ... gone from the obnoxiius laughter of drunks ... the weekend live music pounding off the walls. I've given my body to others for money ... whore."

I begin mixing a drink for a Regular I see entering. "I've given my all for this business of mine, killin' myself ... and for what? I have no retirement money ... no back up plan if this place closes. I'm fucked."

I turn to the TV just in time to see the Congressman wrapping up his press conference. "I'm a whore to the masses ... to this world. Bartending for the President of the United States...? Yeah..."

I look at Tiffany, having no idea how close to home my words are striking. "Yeah ... I'd whore myself to that kind of job. Gotta go please the clientelle, Sweetie."

I walk off...

 

[justmethatswho]

"You make it sound so easy, like you would enjoy it. But you have no real idea, you think a job is whoring yourself, it is not like you are giving a blowjob in the back seat of a Lincoln." I stop myself before saying more. "Sorry I did not mean to ... I mean look, this city just screws people, takes their morals and spits in their faces."

Then on the tv appears the next story, the next gossip, that a congressman from California has been caught cheating on his spouse, in his case it is his husband, the gay congressman has cheated on his husband, yet rather than a picture of him is a photo of the woman involved, a co-ed from Georgetown. As the bartender comes back I point it out. "See she was the right place at the right time, she probably thought she had it all, screwing a congressman. Now there she is a headline, her picture will be on the news and everyone will know who Jenni Fuch is. But him, that congressman, the gay marraige advocate. Whatever." I watch as the story continues and links Jenni Fuch to an exclusive call girl ring.

 

[Tony2015]

Brian the Bartender:

"I don't know,", I laugh loudly, not at all surprised by Tiffany's graphic talk and not at all shy about continuing on with it. "I think giving blow jobs in he back seat might be easier sometimes."

I laugh again, then take a softer tone. "Listen. Life's a bitch. That's not just a tee shirt. It's a fact. Each and every one of us has to decide what we are willing to give up for what we want in return."

I'm mixing a tray full of drinks for a small group of Regulars entering and heading for their regular booth as I go on. "I mean, look at my sister. Clear back in high school, all she wanted to do was marry the high school quarterback and have kids ... join the PTA, coach soccer ... drive a mini van. She got it ... all of it. But what did she give up for it? The QB turned out to be a misogynistic pig. She makes herself available for his urges which can come at any time."

I'm beginning to get into areas I shouldn't be talking about, so I tone it down. "She, like me, is a whore. I know, I know ... I shouldn't say that about her ... she's my sister. But she'll be the first one to tell you that! For a monthly allowance and access to the credit cards, to pay for the violin lessons and cheer camps and mountain biking trips for the twins, she fucks and sucks my brother in law at the drop of a hat. She may legally be his wife ... but she's still a whore!"

I head out from behind the bar to deliver the drinks, and when I return I say, "So ... tell me the difference between sucking a stranger's cock in the back seat of a ... what did you say, a Lincoln ... what's the difference between that and having to do the same thing for a man whose name is on a marriage certificate next to yours?"

 

[justmethatswho]

Brian's words were cold and harsh. "Yes but how does your sister feel. Is she happy with her life, her family. Heck in my situation, her life looks pretty good."

As he departs I put some money on the counter for my drinks, and gather my suitcases. I had hoped to spend the afternoon at the bar, what next I did not know. As I left the man at the bar again propositioned me. "I am not like that I scolded him." As I caught the last of the news. of the call girl on screen. She was one of several suspected working girls with ties to prominant people in town, yet it was only her on display.

Maybe I can pull this off, I thought. There are a thousand escort in this town, each year only 1 or 2 are exposed. The odds were looking more favorable.

I waled a couple blocks away to a coffee shop, avoiding the shop which would not hire me. I settled into a chair near the fire place, sipping warm coffee as I pulled out the card I had been given in the back of the car. The number was different than what Mark Taylor had given me. I must have started dialing that number a hundred times before finally completing and hearing the phone ring on the other end. I simply hoped it was not Mark Taylor, aka Jack Ass who answered.