You exhale deeply, breathing out a long sigh of relief as you close the door behind you. Your eyes drift close for a moment, and you try to breathe normally, coaxing your frantic heart to slow down.
The restroom is quiet, and you realize that except for you and your rapidly thumping heart, it’s completely vacant. You find solace in the recluse space, thanking your stars that you’re the only one here so you don’t have to deal with an audience witnessing you have a mini panic attack.
The area is huge, just like everything else in this place. You could pretty much live here! You suppose it’s only fitting to have mansion-appropriate restrooms in a mansion. You walk over to one of many long mirrors lined up above an array of sinks and dispensers.
Each compartment even has its own blow dryer, fresh towels, and an assortment of hygiene and cosmetic products that look quite expensive. You look more closely, and your heart immediately sinks like the world’s heaviest anchor as your eyes fall on something you wish they hadn’t.
Condoms.
Lots and lots of condoms; in lots of different sizes, packaging, and flavors. There are even mouth condoms in there!
Immediately, unwelcomed images of the men downstairs run through your mind, their knowing looks, lusty smiles and lecherous eyes all zoning in on you, and you feel the bitter foretaste of bile that’s threatening to make its way up your suddenly constricted throat.
You quickly avert your eyes as the troubling thoughts start to take over. You avoid looking at the stack of multicolored foil squares as your shaky fingers grip both edges of the sink, willing yourself to not cry.
This can’t be your life. It just…can’t.
You want to kick yourself in the head with these gigantic heels. How the hell had you agreed to any of this?
You take more deep breaths, although you’re not sure how effective they’re being right now.
You give yourself one of your mental pep-talks in order to calm your nerves.
It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay…
Once you’re done talking yourself out of ditching this joint and sprinting all the way back home, you reapply your lipstick and smooth your hair, pinning back a few rogue spirals with a large bobby pin.
As you do your finishing touches, one of the stall doors open, and you immediately go bug-eyed when you see a woman’s reflection behind you come into view in the long mirror.
Ho. Ly. Shit…
Your body instantly whips itself around to face the owner of the reflection.
“Gina?!” you blurt her name a lot louder than you mean to. Seeing her startles you, and for a second, you think you’re hallucinating.
She’s equally startled, her eyes wide and her mouth open even though nothing comes out of it for several seconds.
Her dark brown eyes search yours frantically, while darting left and right over your shoulder as if to make sure no one else is here. Her rapid blinking and shallow breaths are dead giveaways of someone caught doing something or being somewhere they shouldn’t.
Her chestnut hair looks longer than usual, falling in big, loose waves around her face. You’re guessing they’re extensions, but they frame her petite frame well.
She’s wearing gold earrings and a watch that look like they could pay your rent for the rest of your life. She’s all glammed and dolled up, a lot more than usual. Her presence here can only make sense if—
No fucking way!
Despite your disbelief, it all quickly clicks in your head.
“Ramona…” she finally says, seemingly unable to voice much more.
You, on the other hand, can’t keep your mouth shut. “Y-you…you’re a…you’re a Rainbow girl?”
You wouldn’t have been able to hide your reaction if you’d tried—though you’re not even sure what you feel more of; utter surprise, or straight-up disbelief.
The sight of her here, knowing that she’s in this building right now working as another call girl, is beyond shocking. This day seriously can’t get any more bizarre!
Just then, the door swings open. Both Gina and you turn to see two girls waltzing in, their heels clicking haughtily against the marble floor. They look nothing alike save for the fake platinum blonde hair they’re both sporting. You immediately recognize one of them from the meeting on Tuesday, the one who stormed out of the lounge.
They’re lost in their own little conversation until they realize they’re not alone. They finally look your way, giving Gina and you once overs, almost as if they’re sizing you up.
One of them—the one you recognize—smiles at you, although you can clearly tell it’s disingenuous, while the other eyes you up and down again a few times before rolling her eyes and resuming her conversation with her counterpart.
What the fuck is their problem?
You can only give Gina a quizzical look, silently asking her the same question. She just exhales, giving them an eye-roll of her own, but she remains silent. You think she’s just eager for them to leave so that you can resume your conversation—or whatever it is you were having before they interrupted.
The blondes fix themselves up in front of the mirrors, applying and reapplying perfume and lipstick and adjusting their tight dresses to show even more cleavage than they did before. From the looks of it now, they’d be lucky to go ten seconds without being the center of attention for a nip slip. Then again, maybe that’s the plan.
After a few more minutes of unnecessary grooming—more like overkill, to be honest—the blondie pair finally head out the door, taking their giggles and big silicon chests along with them.
As soon as they leave, Gina reaches for you and hastily grabs your hand, and her voice leaves her throat in a stream of desperation. “Please don’t tell Bill! Or Trixie!”
You’re so shocked, you don’t even know what to say. You just keep looking at her, blinking several times as you try to process the fact that you’re standing in a stranger’s restroom with friggin’ Gina Walters—someone who couldn’t be more different from you—because you apparently have more in common than you could have ever imagined. You just didn’t think being call girls would be one of them.
God, this is just…unbelievable.
You guess what they say is true. It really is a small world, after all.
***
- Fascinated
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- Angry
- Bored
- Afraid
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