|tiny_dancer87 (tiny_dancer87) wrote in the_deep,|
@ 2011-05-28 15:16:00
|Current music:||Tina Toledo's Street Walking Blues - Ryan Adams|
On the Stroll
Compared to Hollywood, New Orleans is the middle of nowhere.
Not that Theresa minds. A complete change of scenery had been what she'd looking for when she left California, and if this isn't it she doesn't know what is. There are actual trees down here, for one thing, and the air smells clean without all that pollution from passing cars. There's a sense of anticipation about the night, as if anything could happen.
Tonight she's working, strolling from one bar to the next as she looks for her next date. There are other girls here, but some of them have started to look old very fast, as if the hard living was just around the corner ready to catch up with them. Theresa knows she'll look better to potential customers just because she still looks so fresh. There are advantages to being undead other than just living forever.
Sometimes she still misses Dane, but the need to make money stays with her and she doesn't have time to think about him too much. Doing what she does may not be dignified, but she doesn't have that many other skills. But it hardly matters, because here comes a live one, looking like he just got paid and can';t wait to spend some of the cash that's weighing him down. Theresa's got on a simple tanktop and hip-hugger jeans tonight, looking for all the world like she just stepped off the school bus. She knows that some of her older customers like that look. Perverts. Like they need to advertise that they can't get laid at home.
They make eye contact, and she gives him her best Who, me? look when he motions her over. As if she couldn't possibly know what he wants. But of course she knows, and she goes to sit down with him in the booth he's occupying. This should be good. Of course, that depends on what you mean by good.
Ten minutes later, she's got Mr. Nervous talked around to the idea of price, and they're leaving together. She wonders who she looks like to him, since it usually has to be someone. He'd probably got a picture of a wife and kids in his wallet. But at least he smells clean, as if he took a shower within the last day. When you can't have everything, you take what little you can get.
Hopefully he won't take long. The nervous ones never do. And then she'll be free of him and they won't see each other again. She hopes. Just another night of working in the city.