Wherever the Dandelion Falls by Lily R. Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

by taking the money I was now an accomplice in an act of prostitution. I briefly entertained the idea of returning it, but dismissed the idea after I imagined handing Dr. Turner his money back. I wasn't going to contact him just to return his money. So I spent it. The groceries I bought and the student loan bill I paid were immensely satisfying.
    I'd engaged in prostitution. It hadn't been gross or seedy or debasing. It had been boring.
    But my upbringing niggled into my brain, forcing me to consider the moral underpinnings of what I'd done. I'd done something illegal, and I'd used my body to make money. Most people break some kind of laws regularly, and most people have done physical labor. Sex is physical labor, isn't it? Just because places deemed private by society were involved didn't mean I was so different from farmers or construction workers.
    I settled that with myself and decided what I'd done hadn't been wrong.
    I'd been smart enough to change my voicemail the second I gave my number to Dr. Turner. Since he thought my name was Violet, I couldn't have him call and discover from my voicemail that my name was Riley. I figured if I didn't hear from him again in a few weeks, I could change it back, and prostituting myself would be that thing I did once in grad school.
    But to my surprise, he called the next weekend, around ten on Saturday night. I let it go to voicemail because I had no idea what to say to him. After I set the phone back down on the coffee table and hoped Justine wouldn't pry, she did just that.
    "Who are you avoiding?" she asked.
    “No one,” I said, stiffening.
    She picked up my phone, seeing the missed call from Dr. Turner. She gave me a pointed look and said, “You still haven't told me anything about your date except where you went to dinner and that it was 'nice.'"
    "Not much more to tell," I shrugged.
    I didn't want her to know that Dr. Turner had given me money for sleeping with him. She'd make me feel worse than Dr. Turner had, and I'd lose all the satisfaction I'd gained with my groceries and loan payment.
    I glued my eyes to the TV and tried to appear indifferent to Justine's prodding. I watched the actors as they staged reenactments on the History Channel. The documentary we were watching was about a famous outlaw during Gold Rush. When the show made a comment in a copacetically coy voice about this outlaw's affinity for saloon women, I glanced over at Justine. What did she think of prostitutes?
    Justine may have been opinionated and sassy, but above all, I loved and respected her. What would she think of what I had done? Did she think prostitutes were empowered, as I had felt in my own way as I spent Dr. Turner's – no, my — money, or did she view them with disgust, as I had been taught to?
    "What do you think of these saloon ladies?" I asked, tipping my chin toward the screen.
    "What do you mean?" Justine frowned.
    It hinted at disapproval, which frightened me. I just wanted her political opinion, sans emotion.
    "Prostitutes," I said. "What do you think?"
    Justine frowned at the screen for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. Then she let out a weary sigh. "People care way too much about women's bodies."
    "Yeah?" I asked, encouraged.
    Justine nodded. "If we're not sex objects, we're political objects. If women want to prostitute themselves, more power to them. As long as it's their choice.”
    I nodded and kept my eyes on the screen. But inside, I was delighted. Justine wouldn't be angry if she found out. Even though I had no plans to tell her about my foray into prostitution, I was relieved.
    After Justine went to bed that night, I checked the message Dr. Turner had left. He was mumbling a bit, and I wondered if he'd been drinking. His deep, husky voice went straight to the point: he wanted to see me again. And although I didn't call him back until the following day after I'd poked around on some escort message boards, I never thought twice about it.
    When I saw him the following