The Girl Upstairs

For a long while they lay and held each other. He knew that she hadn't climaxed, and she whispered to him that it didn't matter, it wasn't his fault, that she needed time with a new lover, that it would happen, she would teach him how to please her.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Whatever we want." She answered. "It will be nice to have someone close to come home to. Someone to call on, someone to visit me. Do you want to visit me?"

"Yes, of course I do!" he replied.

Eventually he dressed, and she put on a robe and let him out. He went back to his own dark rooms. That night he slept deeply, without dreams, and woke early, feeling energised.

He heard Lindsey pass his door, heading to work, and on a whim he decided to follow, maybe to visit her there, take her to lunch. He expected to find a physiotherapy clinic or sports centre, where a good masseuse would be an asset. Dressing quickly, he ran down the stairs and out, in time to see her trim figure in the distance. Carefully he followed, not wanting her to see him, intending to surprise her.

She walked for about ten minutes, then near the town centre she turned down a small side street and halfway down entered a building. He hurried after her, reached the door, and stopped, at first puzzled, then as slow realisation dawned, shock and dismay settled on him.

On the glass of the door, in large lurid pink letters, were the words "Golden Kiss. Massage service. Escorts available." And opening times, plus a phone number for daytime, and one for out of hours.

Stunned, he stood for what seemed like hours, then anger took over. He pushed the door open and thrust himself inside. He was in a small hallway, like a reception area, with a middle aged woman behind a desk.

"Can I help you?" she asked?

"I want to see Lindsey!"

"Who?"

"Lindsey! The girl who just came in here! I want to see her!" his voice rose.

"If you are going to cause trouble you can go right now!" the woman stood up and looked as if she meant business.

"Annie!" Lindsey's voice, from halfway up a flight of stairs "It's alright. I know him. Let him come up."

"He has to pay the basic fee, friend of yours or not." Answered Annie.

Kevin fished out his wallet and threw a note down onto the table. He turned and followed Lindsey up the steps and down a narrow passage into a small room, with a massage couch and a small table full of lotions and oils. He could see a pack of condoms there too. His stomach felt as if it had been kicked.

Lindsey looked at him, not speaking, her face blank. He fought for words, his mouth working, finally spitting out "So this is what you do!"

She nodded slowly. "Yes Kevin, this is what I do. I was going to tell you when the time was right. Really I was."

"And when was that going to be?" he slumped, feeling drained. His thoughts span in his head.

"Kevin, it's how I earn my living. I know what you must be thinking, but it means nothing. It's just a job."

"Just a job! But you're a....." he stopped.

"Say it Kevin! A whore! I'm a whore! Why don't you say it?"

"But yesterday we, you and me, we...." He groped for words.

"We made love Kevin. That's what it was. Not what happens here."

"Oh sure. How many guys have you had Lindsey? A hundred? A thousand? All meaning nothing?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears "I thought you were different Kevin. Not like the guys who come here. Can't you see? Where else does someone like me go except a place like this? I thought you were different from them. The muscle tattoo freaks who think it's alright to slap a woman around. The drunk college kids in here for a dare. The middle aged men who think that coming to me isn't really cheating on their dreary wives because it's only business, not a proper affair. I thought you would understand that. They mean nothing. It's just how I earn a living."

She reached out to him, but he pulled away. Anger flared through her tears.

"Get out Kevin! If that's how you feel get out!"

He ran down the passage, stumbled down the stairs past the alarmed woman behind the desk, crashed through the outer door, Lindsey's voice ringing in his ears as he went, full of anger and despair.

"We come from the same place Kevin, you and me, the same place!"

He shut himself in his room for five days, until his food was exhausted. He didn't shower or shave, worked on his computers in short , feverish bursts and slept fitfully, waking to half remembered dreams.

He looked in the bathroom mirror, smelled his own body odour, saw the grime and stubble on his face. He sat on the edge of the bath, head in hands, for a long time, slowly coming to a decision.

He cleaned himself up and dressed in clean fresh clothes. He went out and found a flower shop and bought a large bunch of mixed blooms. He had no idea what they were called but they were bright and pretty. He took them back to his room and put them in water in the sink.

He heard Lindsey pass his door, gave her half an hour, then taking the flowers he climbed the stairs to her landing and knocked. She opened the door almost immediately, suspicion darkening her face when she saw him. He pushed the blooms toward her, awkwardly.

"I bought you these." He said

She took the flowers, staring at them mutely, holding them as if they were porcelain. A solitary tear gathered in the corner of her eye and trickled slowly down her cheek.

"Damn!" he thought "Why do I always make her cry?"

"Nobody ever gave me flowers." She said. "In my whole life, nobody ever gave me flowers."

He tried to speak, gulped, his voice sticking in his throat. He tried again.

"I wanted to say, about the other day, what I did, I shouldn't have...I'm sorry that...."

She looked at him, nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on his.

"I was wondering," he said " I thought...you and me...maybe...could we...go for a meal...dinner..something."

"We'd never get a table." She said "I've got a lasagne cooking. There's enough for two, if I make a salad, warm a ciabatta. I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere too. Would you like that?"

"Yes. Yes please."

She stood aside, waiting for him to come in.

"Do you think," he began " Do you think that maybe two broken birds...could learn to fly...together...?"

She put her hand up to his face, forefinger extended, laying it across his lips as if to shush him, then she drew him into the apartment, and closed the door behind them on the world.