THE WIDOWED CEO’S PROSTITUTE

CHAPTER 3

Anne Moore

I’ve been walking with Valentina for an hour through the streets of New York. We passed through one side of the city and finally reached the other.

"You live far," I said.

"That’s a rich neighborhood. I work there, doing my shifts and working in a nightclub, but what I earn isn’t enough to live in that area. So, I live in the less privileged part of the city," she said as we walked.

"Aren’t your heels hurting you?" I asked.

She smiled. "I walk so much that I’ve gotten used to them," she replied.

I opened my bag and pulled out a pair of flip-flops. "Look, I bought these at a thrift store. I hope they help," I said.

Valentina stopped and looked at me. She gave me a half-smile and accepted the flip-flops.

"Thanks," she said.

"It’s nothing."

"We're almost there," she said.

"Thank God!" I said.

Valentina let out a laugh. "I didn’t make good money today, so I couldn’t take the bus. Sorry," she said.

"It’s not a problem. Just you taking me to your place is already a big deal," I replied.

Valentina smiled, and soon we were in front of her place.

It looked like an abandoned building. The front was dark, and there were some people lingering by the entrance that gave me chills. Valentina walked in calmly beside me, and I caught a strong whiff of drugs as we passed by the men standing near the building.

"Valentina, who's the friend?" one of the guys asked.

"None of your business," she replied.

"Wow, our princess is feisty today." I glanced at Valentina.

"Go screw yourselves."

Valentina grabbed my hand, and soon we were standing in front of her apartment.

We entered, and I saw it was a very small space—just a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The place was organized, but the furniture was very old. I tried not to focus on it, not wanting to offend Valentina.

"Feel free to look, Anne. My place is small, but it’s better than the street," she said.

I quickly realized something about Valentina—she always said exactly what was on her mind.

"Yes, it’s definitely better than the street."

"Go take a shower. I’ll make us some dinner," she said kindly.

"I don’t have a towel or anything..." I started, but Valentina cut me off.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got everything here."

She went into the bedroom, grabbed a new hygiene kit and a towel, and handed them to me.

"The bathroom’s over there. I’ll make some burgers," she said.

"Thank you."

I stepped into the bathroom. It was tiny, but still far better than the bathrooms at gas stations. I took a quick shower to save water and electricity, not knowing how things worked around here, and I didn’t want to be a burden.

I knew it was a bit naive to trust Valentina so quickly, but I felt a connection with her—a friend, something I never really had.

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw her standing by the window with a lit cigarette, gazing out at the streets. Her eyes were distant. I approached, and Valentina looked at me.

"The city is beautiful this time of year," she said.

"Yeah, I think so too," I smiled.

"Now go eat. I’m sure you must be hungry," Valentina said, and I nodded in agreement.

"I really am."

I sit in the chair, and Valentina joins me. We eat a wonderful hamburger, typical American food, and soon Valentina looks at me.

"Now tell me your story," she said.

"It's not a nice story, it's a bit complicated," I replied.

"My dear, you have no idea about mine, but tell me yours. You're in my house, and I need to be sure you're not going to kill me while I sleep."

I can't help but burst out laughing, followed by Valentina. "I'm not going to kill you," I said. "I'll tell you my story."

I started telling Valentina about my childhood, my parents, my family's traditions, my first time, Joseph, the university I dropped out of, and the street I ended up living on. Valentina listened to everything and didn't interrupt me once. I find it amazing how attentively she listens to everything I say. After I finished, I saw her sitting there with her mouth open, seemingly thinking about what to say.

"What do you mean your parents did that?" she asked. "What world do they live in?"

"It's the rules, and I broke them," I replied.

"So your brilliant father throws you out on the street, doesn't let you get a job or anything? Is that it?" she said, outraged.

"Yes, that's it."

I lowered my head and thought about the craziness I'm living through. I feel Valentina's hand placed over mine, and she looks at me with a sweet gaze, no longer the lively woman who always has something to say.

"Look, I'm not the best person in the world. I have my bad days, but if you want to stay here until you're back on your feet, you can be sure I won't mind," she said.

I smiled, and at that moment, I truly believe I found a friend. "Thank you, Valentina. Your heart is huge," I replied.

"I don't have a heart, babe, but I believe we'll get along just fine."

I smiled at the face she made. We spent Christmas together, singing carols. It was incredible. Valentina opened the doors of her home with so much love, something I never thought was possible.

Days went by, and I still couldn't find a job. Every interview required references or experience, and I had neither. I noticed that Valentina was working hard to keep everything going at home.

I saw how tired she was when she came home, but she never complained about me being there.

One day, I saw the landlord come to collect the rent, and she said that the week hadn't been great but that she'd manage to get the money. That day hurt me deeply. I watched her smoke several cigarettes, thinking of solutions, but Valentina never mentioned me living there, not once. She simply kept going, and every day, she'd come home without ever losing her smile. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a mask or if she really enjoys what she does.

There’s no one with a brighter light than hers. That much I'm sure of.

The days passed, and I started feeling even worse, living off Valentina. Until one day, I decided to take control of my life. I waited for her to come home from work to talk. When Valentina arrived, I told her I wanted to talk after dinner, and she agreed.

I noticed she was suspicious, but I reassured her. After dinner, we washed the dishes and began to talk.

"Valentina, I want to thank you for helping me. I'm really grateful for everything you've done, but I need to help you somehow. So, I've decided to become an escort like you," I blurt out.

Valentina looks at me as if she can't believe what I just said.

"Are you kidding?" she asked.

"No, I'm not."

She got up from the chair. "Damn it! That's not a life for you, Anne," she said, clearly upset.

"Valentina, I see how stressed you are. I know the landlord is pressuring you about the rent, and you're worried. I need to help you, and you don't know if this life is for me," I said.

"Anne, it's not. You were raised by rich people. I’ve come from this life, you haven’t," she said.

I sighed.

"I don’t care, Valentina. I’m not going to let you keep struggling like this. I’m going into this life whether you like it or not, and we’re going to sort out the bills."

She looks at me in disbelief.

"Do you think this is a joke? Sleeping with street men? Or even in the nightclub where I work? They treat us like nothing, Anne. We’re just used at that moment for a few dollars," she said.

I see a trace of sadness in her eyes, and I realize my friend has an inner pain she doesn't show to anyone, but it’s now visible through her suffering.

"Valentina, I’m so sorry," I said without thinking.

She sighs and takes a deep breath. "I can’t accept you in this life. You’re still a girl, you’ve only had one relationship and..."

"I’m not made of porcelain, and I’m not going to break, Valentina!" I said loudly. "You’re killing yourself to keep things going, and we’re about to end up on the street. You’ve helped me a lot. I’m not just a rich daddy’s girl anymore; I’m from the streets just like you. I’m in the same boat, Valentina, but sitting while you’re struggling and rowing alone isn’t fair." I said. "My decision is made—I’m going with you."

She looks at me and sighs. I know Valentina understands that I won’t give up.

"Fine," she raised her hands in surrender. "If you want to, then good! But I’m not taking you to the street corners, I’m taking you to the nightclub. It’s safer there. We deal with men who have money and are cleaner than those from the streets," she said. "You don’t know how to dance or sing, right?" she asked.

"I don’t."

She sighed.

"Then we’ll learn, Anne, because it will be required in the nightclub. I only go to the nightclub on weekends, so we need to get ready. You need to learn a lot before then."

That week, Valentina worked hard to prepare me and said the path is very painful, but in the nightclub, men can’t assault us or force a situation. I listened to everything, and she said I was doing something crazy, but she couldn’t keep supporting me. So, I sealed my own fate, not expecting that within it, I’d face my greatest blessing and my worst downfall. I was prepared for everything, but not for what was about to happen...