Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Nineteen (Role Play Edition)

When you finally meet her eyes again, she has this knowing smirk on her face.

“What? You didn’t really think I’d be able to get by just working at the ‘Great Ole’ Mushroom’, did you?” she raises her hands and gestures to the space around her to emphasize her sarcasm. “The only reason I’m still even here is ’cause I need an alibi to keep my boyfriend from being nosey, and Larry is pretty good at covering for me. I’ll be over and done with this crapper soon enough.”

You’re pretty shocked by what she’s telling you, and you can only manage a shrug in response. “I’m not judging.”

Okay, you’re totally judging, even though you know you have no right to. A slight but noticeable pause follows before she speaks again.

“You should consider it, you know,” she says with a smile. “I can hook it up; introduce you to the club and everything. I can even help get you started on your first gig right away if you want.” 

You listen to her say the words so casually, her expression beyond nonchalant, and all you can do is look at her like another head just grew out of her neck. You adjust your glasses impulsively, pushing them up your nose as a frown takes your lips hostage.

“What?” she says, giving you another disapproving look. You can’t stop yourself from arching your brow in response. You can’t believe this chick is actually proposing you whore yourself out for cash.

And, more than that, you can’t believe that she seems to be shocked that you’re offended by the suggestion.

She sighs, seeming to read through both your expression and silence. “Look, all I’m saying is you’re a gorgeous girl. Lots of guys wanna be in the company of gorgeous girls. And more than a few are quite happy to pay a pretty penny to do it. It’s charity work if you really think about it, Ramona.”

Riiiight. Being an escort is totally for charity. Totally hear ya, Nicole.

Gosh, is she serious?! Her nonchalance has you floored at the moment, and honestly, there’s not much you can say to her right now without coming off rude. So you decide to leave it at, “Thanks, but I’m good. I’m gonna head in, my shift’s about to start.” You extend your hand again to give her her card back. She takes it, giving you another smile before she starts to walk away.

“In case you change your mind, you have my number,” she calls out cheerily, waving the card above her head just before she exits the back door.

You can’t stop yourself from wincing at her voice, grateful for the silence she leaves behind her.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you remember her words.

‘You’ll go deaf by the time you’re fifty if you keep that up, you know’.

But then your laughter dies almost immediately, vaporizing into nothing as renewed anxiety takes its place. You shove your bag into your locker before you head into the main area, sighing as the thoughts of your health and that of your mother come rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

If you’ll even make it to fifty, that is.

***