Hangs out at Shady’s Bar & Grill, a block from their apartment.

“You love him?” I ask.

She frowns. “Can we talk about something else?”

She regrets fucking me. Wishes she could just leave and put this behind her. But two grand’s a lot of money for her to ditch me less than twenty minutes into the date. And even though she hated every minute of the sex, it’s crossing her mind this could be an easy way to make some serious coin whenever my wife’s out of town.

“I’ve never done this before,” she says.

“I believe you.”

I do believe her. Willow doesn’t fuck well enough to be a hooker. As a lap dancer she earns enough to put gas in her car, food and drugs on the table, keep Bobby happily unemployed, the bills paid, and the landlord at bay.

Which puts her head and shoulders above the women I’ve dated.

She may be a lap dancer, but she’s classy. She only wound up in bed with me because I manipulated her. I kept flashing money and pressing her buttons and managed to turn the entire evening into a competition between her and Cameron, one that Willow’s ego refused to let her lose.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” she says, gathering her clothes.

“You needed the cash.”

She steps into her panties, pulls on her jeans, dons her sweatshirt.

“Bad decision,” she says.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say. “It was only a few minutes out of your life.”

“I could get fired,” she says, trying to make me feel guilty. Like she’s the first lap dancer who ever fucked a client.

She’s dressed now, sitting on the bed, staring into space.

I know what she’s doing, reliving the events of the evening, trying to figure out how it got to this point.

She turns to look me in the eyes. It’s starting to hit her, the way I played her tonight.

“Nice job,” she says. “Asshole.”

“You’re taking this awfully hard,” I say.

“I feel like a fool.”

“Willow. You’re adorable. Sweet. Beautiful.”

She says nothing.

I add, “This has been an honor for me.”

“I hate myself,” she says. “I want to vomit.”

I sit up and say, “This is too much. I was hoping for an encore, but it’s clear you’ve had a change of heart. How about you and Cameron switch places?”

Cameron jumps up from the over-stuffed chair where I’d paid her five hundred to sit and wait.

Willow says, “Are you serious? You want to fuck my friend?”

“I do.”

“Then fuck you both! I’m leaving!”

To Cameron I say, “If you can talk your friend into waiting another fifteen minutes, I’ll give you three thousand dollars. I would’ve given Willow the extra money, but she’s had second thoughts.”

“Fuck you!” Willow shouts. She grabs her purse, starts stomping off.

“Willow?” Cameron says, her voice pleading.

Willow stops, sighs, and turns around.

“What?”

“Please?” Cameron says.

Three grand’s enough to change Cameron’s life. For a woman with her looks, it’s three months of lap dances. Willow knows this, and they’re friends.