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The next morning I changed into my work clothes for my regular once-a-month Tuesday client. My hair was in as tight a bun as I could manage under a brunette wig. This client didn’t like blonde hair. Said it was a turn off for him. Something about his ex-wife. Hey, don’t ask me to explain it… I would have figured that screwing a blonde like a whore while pretending it was his ex-wife would be a turn on for a guy. Mine not to reason why though. Mine just to put on a brunette wig once a month. Besides, he tipped extra for the wig.
In Marla’s office I continued to deny knowing anything about Tim’s suicide other than what was on the twenty second blurb from the news last night. Marla seemed to accept that I’d been too far away to have heard the commotion when he hit the pavement.
“Since Tim committed suicide I’m sure the police will let the matter drop pretty quick,” Marla said. “Damned shame when someone feels that suicide is the only option,” Marla said sadly. Those were her last words on the subject. Marla promised to have another client to take Tim’s time slot by Monday and I left to pretend to be a brunette while trying to keep my wig on during sex.
The rest of the week promised to be normal with eight more clients from Tuesday to Friday. Most of them regulars. Wednesday, after my last appointment, my curiousity got the better of me and I counted the money Tim had given to me. Just over a hundred grand. Damned nice severence pay, Tim. Thanks! I said to the ceiling and to anyone up there that might be listening.
I didn’t know what to do with the money. No one just walks into a bank with that much cash to deposit without attracting attention. Maybe I couldn’t deposit it but I could sure spend it! I already had visions of me in a red convertible tooling down the highways. I slid the cash back under the pillow and picked up the folder. It was thick with a years worth of fake papers. At least I’d always assumed they were fake. But Tim had been adamant that I read my file and not discard it.
Uggh, reading! I’d finished in the top five percent of my graduating high school class. But that was due to constant parental pressure to study, strategically placed cheat sheets and a nerd doing my homewok. Not because I was smart. I’m afraid that some weeks I cut more classes than I attended. Well, nothing for it but to dig in and get it over with. I put the file under my arm and headed for the train stop to go home.
Mom and Dad thought it was great I was showing initiative by bringing work home. After dinner it was shower and hair-washing night. Sitting on my bed I started brushing the tangles from my still wet hair and dumped the file out onto the sheets. First thing I saw was the envelope I’d forgotten to mail. Picking it up I turned the envelope over and read the address… U.S. Federal District Attorney’s Office Attn. Joshua Chamberlin… I read and reread the address, then tossed the envelope back onto the bed like it was a hot potato. I didn’t know what was in the envelope but you don’t send Christmas Cards to a Federal District Attorney. I’m not book smart but after a couple of years working in the whore biz I was a little street smart.
Picking up the envelope again I felt it. It was thick with papers and there was a small, hard bump there, too. Anyone recieving this would be curious how a dead guy was sending them mail and my fingerprints were all over the damned envelope now! SHIT!!! I tossed it back on my bed and sat staring at it like it was a coiled up snake ready to strike.
I didn’t want to know what was in the envelope but I needed to send it in an envelope that didn’t have my prints on it. Wearing gloves while transfering everything to a new envelope that didn’t have my prints on it, that would be easy enough to put together. I put the envelope back into the file folder. I’d handle the matter later.
I started going through the papers next and I put all the one’s I read into a discard pile. Nothing remotely interesting. I got through a quarter of them before picking up one of the documents I’d signed the day Tim had jumped. One of the three written in German. I found out quickly that three years of high school German didn’t mean beans to a legal document written in German legal speak. There were too many words I didn’t know. I might be able to ask, Where is the nearest train station?,(Wo ist der nächstgelegene Bahnhof?) if I was in Berlin but to translate German legal speak into plain English? I needed help. Not even my high school German/English Dictionary I dug out of my closet provided answers. Some words just didn’t make sense and the sentence structure seemed wrong.
An Internet translation service was out. There’d be a record of the document somewhere on the web for all time. Tim had stressed I was to keep this all a secret. Besides, my computer’s IP address would lead anyone curious straight to me. I needed access to books or to a computer that couldn’t be traced back to me. Crap, I needed a library. Finding the other two papers written in German, I put all three back into the folder with the envelope.
I got through more papers before calling it a night. Discards I put into my purse to take back to my apartment and leave there. Papers I hadn’t gotten to were placed back in the folder and the folder in my underwear drawer.
Thursday was a normal work day for me. Two clients. Straight sex except my afternoon client liked sex while sitting in an office chair while I moved over his lap. He said he liked watching how my tits bounced. He also liked dirty talk while I fucked him.

The first time a client had asked me to talk dirty to him during sex I’m afraid I sounded pretty lame. I’d been raised as a ‘good girl’ before I started whoring and dirty words just didn’t come naturally to me. After almost two years of fucking for money I knew the patter and… Oh, Baby, tear my pussy up with your big cock! Yeah, that’s it! Fuck me deep and hard. I want my pussy fucked raw before you fill me with your cum… just seemed to roll off my tongue now.
Thursday night I continued to go through the file and all the pages were put into the discard pile except for five. Each page was labeled IMPORTANT: MUST READ… Except for that heading, each had a column of five, twelve-digit numbers. Opposite each number was a long series of nonsensical letters, numbers and symbols. I needed a nerd to help me figure this shit out. A nerd with a library card…
Friday after my last client I raced back to my apartment and waited. Showered and changed into street clothes, I was looking out my window until I saw Danny turn the corner. I raced down the stairs and met him on the sidewalk.
“Hey, Viv. Headed out to a wild, Friday night party?”
“Nope. In fact, I was waiting for you. How about joining me for something to eat? Any restaurant, your choice.”
Danny’s face lit up and then fell. “That really sounds terrific, Viv, but I can’t. Money’s a little tight for me this close to the end of the semester.”
“Did I leave off the bit where it’s my treat? I’ll pay for everything including the cab rides.”
Danny’s expression went from sad to skeptical. “What do you want, Viv?”
“Who says I want anything? We’re neighbors, sort’a, and…”
Danny was shaking his head and interrupted me, “I say you want something. Girls like you only pay attention to guys like me when you want something.”
“Hey! What do you mean girls like me?” I didn’t have to take this! I pointed my finger at Danny, “You don’t know anything about me.”
With a muttered, Wanna bet, Danny brushed past me and entered the lobby. I went after him and continued where we’d left off as he opened his mailbox, “What do you mean, girls like me?” I was afraid that somehow Danny had learned what I did for money.
“Oh, please, Viv. I know your type from four years of high school hell,” Danny replied while leafing through his mail. “You only hung out with the prettiest girls. The Pretty-Bitch-Club. You only dated jocks and you and your posse only talked about makeup, clothes and which jock was the better lay.”
“We talked about other things, too!”
Danny smiled. Only then did I realize that he’d trapped me into confirming everything he’d said.
“Cheerleader and Prom Queen. You either got your homework done by getting your jock boyfriend to threaten a nerd or by showing the nerd your boobs through a thin t-shirt like you are now,” Danny finished with a finger pointed at me this time. Or, rather, to my boobs.
“I’m wearing a bra,” I said in a small voice and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Whoop-tee-do for you.” Danny brushed past me and began up the stairs.
“She really burned you, didn’t she? Whoever you have the hate-on for that you just took out on me,” I called out after him.
Danny stopped on the first landing and turned to face me. “Yeah, she really burned me. Freshman year I would have done anything for her. Until I heard her talking about me to her posse. After that it was one jock after another threatening to smash my face in unless I continued to do her work. Do you know what Hell would be for me? Going back to high school.”
I walked to the foot of the stairs and looked up at Danny. “Ok. I admit it. I’ve used my boobs to get a nerd to do my homework. But, I never asked a jock to threaten him. Instead, I gave him my protection. He was my nerd. He was off limits to all the jock’s practical jokes. My posse never made fun of him. At least, not when I was around. And I lined up dates for him with several of the B-List girls. Actually, by our senior year he was pretty popular around the school.”
“For a nerd?”
“Yea, for a nerd,” I answered and shrugged. “I’m tall and pretty. I’m not a miracle worker. I couldn’t make his acne go away.”
Danny came down a few steps and sat on the landing. “You really helped the guy?”
I went up the steps to sit on the landing beside him. “Yea, I think I did. Everyone who counted in our school knew that to mess with my nerd was to mess with me… And the ten jocks I could send after them. I can show you my yearbooks and what he wrote in them if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you. Sorry about the Pretty-Bitch thing.”
“That’s ok, I’ve been called worse.”
“Truth is, I’m glad you tried what worked for you in the past,” Danny said with a leer and made a show of looking down the gape between my t-shirt and my chest.
“Hey!” I pulled up my t-shirt with one hand and swatted Danny’s shoulder with the back of my other hand. “What worked for me in the past has gotten me out of at least two speeding tickets.
“Ok. Maybe I did unc0nsciously…” Danny look unconvinced it had been anything unc0nscious on my part. “… fall back to old habits. But I really do want your help on something. You’re the only nerd I know.”
“Gee, flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, please. You carry around twenty pounds of books with you wherever you go. You never comb your hair and it looks like a rat’s nest half the time. Add some acne and glasses and you’re the poster boy for Nerds-R-Us.”
“I’m starting to rethink taking back my Pretty-Bitch apology,” Danny said. But he said it with a laugh. “What do you want, Viv. Finals start next week and I really need to study this weekend, but I can spare a couple of hours if it will help you out.”
“Actually, I doubt it will cost you even one minute of study time. But, a deal is a deal. I owe you a dinner, my treat, and then I’ll tell you.”
“I am pretty hungry. Give me twenty minutes to shower and get ready?”
I nodded and Danny started running the stairs. I gave him time to reach the third floor before yelling up the stairwell, “Make it twenty-five minutes and comb your hair.”

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