Holding on to her bearings, she leaned away from the cold wall. She wobbled a bit as her foot slid into her heel, but managed to catch herself. Dusting herself off and rising her tight skirt, she walked over to the car.

Inside the vehicle—not too shabby, she noted—was a hooded-eye stranger, watching with a smile.

“Heeeey,” she drawled as she bent low, making sure that her assets were viewable.

“Hey, there pretty lady. D’ya need a ride?” The stranger asked his speech a bit sloppy.

Her head looked around the deserted place. “Depends where?”

“Oh, ya know where,” he said. She raised her eyebrow, taking in his disheveled appearance, hair mangled, and shirt on backwards. He looked like he had just gone through a bad breakup. She was hoping he wasn’t a crier.

The sound of cop sirens could be heard in the background and dogs howling at the moon. It had been a lonely night for her, not even scrounging enough money for her to buy a hot meal.

“Okay, I’ll give ya directions,” she replied she reached for the door handle.

-----

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she took the wad of cash out. Before they entered the room, she made it very clear that she wanted to be paid up front and he complied.

It was an awkward encounter, clumsy initiations and put-off maneuvers. The man downed a large amount of cheap alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling onto the bed and then staring at her as if saying, Get on with it.

Walking slowly, she took off her heels and she heaved herself next to the stranger.

She looked up at the dingy ceiling, noticing brown stains and her mind evacuated from the shabby motel room, from the experience and landing on different thoughts entirely as grunts bounced and echoed throughout the night.

She counted, licking her thumb, separating and flattening the crumpled bills in a neat pile. A nice sum, accumulated after a thorough count.

Turning around, she stuffed her earnings in a tiny black purse that she carried everywhere. That scuffed up purse had gone many years with her. It had already torn on the side several times but she carefully sowed the seams, making sure that she doubled the rows of threads even if it meant immense pricks on her thumbs.

A snore stopped her anxious movement and she looked at the sleeping figure at the bed. He ended up being a crier, hugging her so tight that it had started to becoming suffocating. He kept repeating a random girl’s name, and she thought it was pathetic. His tears stained her shirt, and she even thought there was a little bit of snot that he wiped on there. Before he could embarrass himself even more, she lulled him with alcohol, grateful that after a few more gulps, slumber took over.

She did what she always did before taking her leave, she rummaged through his pockets. An alert search, occasionally peeking up to see if he stirred, knowing that it occurred before. Last time it did she ended up with purple, blue marks on her wrists and a bump on her hip from when the guy savagely shoved her out of the room and landed hip first on the musty carpeted ground. She always had to be cautious, only taking extra bills, but never removing anything else. Never, rearranging a picture in their wallet, leaving the cell phone in the correct back pocket, not swiping their heavy watch or shifting their noisy keys, everything in the place it was in.  

Retrieving her belongings and five new twenty dollar bills that she found, she retreated from the room, leaving the sleeping stranger behind and entering the cold day that awaited.