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

"Tu devrais y penser, tu sais," dit-elle avec un sourire. «Je peux le brancher; vous présenter le club et tout. Je peux même vous aider à démarrer votre premier concert tout de suite si vous le souhaitez. 

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 proposer you whore yourself out for cash.

And, more than that, you can’t believe that she seems to be choqué 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.”

Droit. Être une escorte est totalement 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.

"Au cas où vous changeriez d'avis, vous avez mon numéro", crie-t-elle joyeusement, agitant la carte au-dessus de sa tête juste avant de sortir par la porte arrière.

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.

'Tu deviendras sourd au moment où tu auras cinquante ans si tu continues comme ça, tu sais'.

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.

***