Walking In Between

Meet Patra, twenty something young adult living on the outskirts of a big city. Patra's world is turned upside down one evening while meeting another one of her "Johns" for her line of work. After later being left for dead, she discovers she now has a bizarre and newfound power, Will Patra learn how to utilize her new gift? How did she obtain it? How was Patra left for dead? What does this all mean? All these answers and more when you come along with Patra as her old life is thrown in to chaos, and her new one begins...

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1. Street Walker By Night

  I walk out on my balcony patio just so I can gauge the temperature. I do always like to dress for the weather... So long as I have a warm coat on, I could care less what's worn underneath.. What could be lurking underneath tonight? I'll be wearing the most expensive lingerie I've ever bought. Sixty dollars for a skimping (yet surprisingly comfortable) lace white two piece was a bit pricey. It wasn't my dollar being spent on this, so why should I care? I learned early on not to ask the John's questions. I knew their first name, what I was to do, and that was about it. In this case, the "John" I'll be seeing later, wants me to wear this specific model of lingerie  for him. I had him select the set and two days letter there was a prepaid Visa Card with just enough tax on it to purchase it, lying in my P.O. box. 

You guessed it correctly, I am a high end escort. If that terminology is a bit too high for your vocabulary, one may also call me a prostitute. I don't have shame for what I've done or do, it is my body and after all, and my choice to live like this. I walk inside with now having an idea of what coat I'll be pairing with this set. For some reason this November evening felt a bit cooler than the usual, so I'll make sure to bundle up with whatever I select. I make my way to the bathroom prior to stopping by my room. I pull out the curler from underneath the sink and place it on the highest setting, of course. The curler takes a moment to heat, so I set it down on the counter by the sink.

As I am walking away, i catch a peek at my reflection in the mirror. I'm not one to be conceded, however, I truly thought I appeared to glow tonight. My makeup was set to a natural tone, putting focus on my high cheek bones. I'm a mix between Polish and Italian blood, and boy do I sure look like it. I wasn't much for the glam and glitz twenty four seven, but I wanted to look good tonight.

I noticed as well that my sandy brown hair fell perfectly in place, a little too perfect. I should probably go for a change soon, my hair falls several inches past my shoulder,  and just looks lifeless when straight.That's where the curler comes in, I thought and chuckled to myself. There are those who wish for straight hair, yet are born with curly hair, and vice versa. We  come in to this world with what the universe gives us, I believe, but that doesn't mean I can't still be who I would like.

I'm always thinking I can make some sort of special way for myself, why not? This is my life and I'm the one who's in control. I flip off the light switch in the bathroom and press inward to my room. My apartment isn't anything too special, about four walls (I am referencing my tiny living room), a kitchen, a hallway leading to the bathroom, and then my room. It's nothing fancy, I don't require much. I certainly would agree that the home is how you make it appear to be, regardless of size. That, and my rent is already outrageously expensive for this mediocre size of a building my landlord would call an "apartment". Small or not, this is my current place of residence and I always make the best out of all of my residences.

Upon closing the door to my bedroom, I reach for the remote to my TV. An indie chill out song plays in the background once I turn it on and locate the YouTube app to search for it. It takes me about an hour to rummage through my closet to find a coat. I know it sounds like I have a lot of coats, but I only have three. I can't decide on which coat I like better due to my anxiety for tonight. I've never been paid this much, so I am extremely nervous to get everything perfect.

In his email this John in particular states if everything goes well he will pay me twenty additional thousand dollars cash. The john is already giving me fifty thousand in cash as well. I was skeptical of his offer, sure. I learned after my first time tricking to always get the money upfront. This John had agreed to give me fifty up front, making the offer all the more convincing.

All this thinking has me a tad bit under stress. I don't want to ponder over silly matters, so I end up pissing myself off and picking a random coat. "Eeny meeny miney moe" I state aloud as I close my eyes. My hands flail in the air extended towards my  closet. A plush faux fur hood brushes softy against my hand. There's my choice! I open my eyes and see to my liking that I chose a silky black trench coat that was faux fur lined on the inside. This was my oldie but goody coat. I love having those pieces you can return to again and again. That's how clothes are supposed to be, I suppose, but most people are too in to the fast fashion world of today. Such people wouldn't even bother being seen wearing the same piece twice.

I take the coat and throw it across the room, causing it to land gracefully on my bed. I slip on the heels I had chose (super cute red patent pumps), and continue my getting ready ritual. Fleetwood Mac's Rhiannon is now playing on the television, YouTube knows my music taste very well. I'm somewhere between vintage oldies and modern day punk rock if you prefer to label me. I make sure to put my favorite pair of vans slip ons (They're grey with white laces) in my purse, as per the usual my feet will tire later in the evening.

I glance at my phone and see the time is now reaching seven o'clock PM. "Shit!" I yelped. I was late. That's what I mean about making a way for me in this world, your version of late is my on time and that's just how it would have to be. This is nothing new for me, I'm always hastening off to somewhere with seemingly never enough time. I don't really like the concept of time, if we're being honest. Why do we have to measure something like it's running out of itself in the first place to begin with? Sounds ghastly and depressing, otherwise known as I. AM. LATE.

I hurry to grab my purse, I chose to take my black bucket bag. I love this one in particular as it can basically hold my whole life in itself. This is crunch time, when I do my best work. I was supposed to leave at six thirty pm, and that didn't go as planned. I shrug my shoulders to myself and focus on getting to this "John". I dash towards the bed and throw my coat on. Right before I exit the room I make sure to have several spritzes of perfume sprayed. I am using Chance by Chanel, the new fragrance titled "Eau Vive", to be exact. It's not like I go around everyday and buy these things. I did decide to treat myself to this as it helps with this line of work.

After setting the bottle down, I catch my glance one last time in the mirror. This time -- I had a feeling of dread formulate out of nothing. I shake it off as my anxiety and breathe in and out several times slowly. The feeling goes away just as fast as it had came, and I make my leave.

My positive attitude always has me feeling better. It was a nice feeling to think this could be my last job for a while. I don't want to do this forever to myself. With the money from this job I would be able to finally have saved up enough to make my escape to college WITHOUT the debt (and then some). I'm only twenty years young. However, all I have is a high school diploma and I can't survive off of that solely, forever. If any of the "John's" ask, I lie about my true age. At times I am twenty six, last time I think I was twenty eight, to this John, however, I am twenty seven.

I continue onward to the bathroom so I can fix this mess called my hair. I give it a few curls and turn the curler off and put it away. I spray some hairspray in my hair and fluff it up a bit. Just as fast as I had turned on the light, I was now turning it off. Time to go, and I meant it. I have no time to play around. I exit the bathroom and walk towards the door.

I stop to glance at the light in the kitchen. I have this sense of safety leaving the kitchen oven light on, so I do so. I proceed to lock my front door as I enter the brisk nights air. It's chilly, I thought to myself during this Autumn night. I peek at my phone and see that I have a missed call.

A muttered "Aw fuck" escaped my mouth as I fumble to call back the unfamiliar number. Once I hear the ringing tones I become nervous. One goes by... Now two...

"Patra -- Cleo?" A voice answers on the other end. I wasn't expecting him to answer, usually they text. I snap myself out of my second long shock and become composed.

"Hey there handsome" I deliver with a sexy inflection.

"I'm going to take a wild guess here and say your name is Glen, correct?" I continued. The "John's" name I am to see tonight is Glen, at least that is the name he gave himself.

"You aren't mistaken Miss Patra, if you don't mind me calling you just that" Glen stated reassuringly. My fears of us meeting were instantly put aside by his calming voice and pleasant tone. I've met these types of men before. They work their way up their corporate job ladder, get bored with their expensive lifestyle, and now want a little entertainment or something more, I don't find that fun for a life that I myself would like to live, but again my job isn't to ask questions.

"I don't mind. Most people refer to me as Cleopatra, and that's not what my name is, so I imagine Patra is just fine, handsome" I reply, trying to keep my cool. The talking part wasn't hard at all for me. It's something you become good at -- lying that is. I prefer to think I am a master at little white lies. You know, the type that doesn't actually hurt anyone and gets you want you need for that moment. Those are the only lies I'll ever tell.

I am a trustworthy person don't get me wrong, but you must keep a certain level of anonymity with this profession. I start walking a few blocks to the end of my street while holding the phone to my ear.

There was silence for a few seconds so I continued. "I'm making my way over to you now, I'll be seeing you soon sexy'

"We're going to have so much fun when you're here" He said. His tone sounded a little weird when he said that last bit.

"I'll follow the instructions you advised to the letter, and I'll be seeing you soon, Glen." I  said smoothly. I made sure to include his name at the end. It gave a feeling of mystery to our encounter that was yet to happen. The line disconnects and I take it as a sign that he awaits me.

The street lights glimmer as I pass houses on both sides of myself. The Christmas decorations on the houses are mesmerizing. Not one single human soul is in sight. The ambiance of the evening is delightfully peaceful. There is one perk to living on the outskirts of a huge City. I think to myself. It's not as hustle and bustle as our sister city New Bloomingdale next door. One day I'm going to move to New Bloomingdale, but for now it's too expensive. At least I can enjoy my peace and not be disturbed as I make my journey.

I reach the end of my street and take the cross walk towards the metro station. I am on Main Street now, it is very festive looking also. Bloomingdale (or Old Bloomingdale as I prefer to call it) is sort of like small town America meets big city. My neighbor Ms.Janie described it like that to me when I first moved here. This, of course, is a huge city in itself compared to where I am from. I'm from the mid-west, from a small town out there. The population was only thirteen hundred and we had one school house. Everyone knew everybody, and their business as well. All the good moments of ones life, the bad, and the ugly were all subject to speculation by the town's people. They stated they were "God Fearing Christians" yet were so far removed from peace and love.

I had to escape so that is how I even got here. I guess I am still on the run. I move from place to place every few years or so. No one's looking for me (I hope), but I make sure to keep it that way. It's not that I did something bad or illegal, but rather my experiences in that town were. I shake off the thoughts of the past while making my way by the pretty shops. I take a right on to third street and enter the Bloomingdale Metro Station.

 I go up to a self serve kiosk and dig in my bag for my wallet. I manage to find exact change for my fare there and back. Must be my lucky day. I thought to myself. Otherwise, I would have had to go outside and to walk around to the other kiosk where they take card. This one is cash only. It's the twenty first century, everything should be card accessible by now.

I enter the change in the kiosk's slot and select a ticket good for two rides only. The kiosk prints my ticket, so I grab it. I walk a few feet and scan my ticket at the metal gates. The toll makes a little beeping noise as I push through them. The station is eerily empty. It wasn't as peaceful as Main Street or my neighborhood's decorations, that was for sure.

I take one last look at my phone for the time. It's seven twenty one pm, I'm not doing bad on time. I know the metro comes every ten minutes, so it shouldn't be much of a wait. I also noticed a text message alert so I unlock my adroid phone to see who it is from. It's from Glen. I didn't bother to save his number, it's easier that way. I was good at, however, remembering things. I knew from the numbers digits it was him.

"Can't wait to see you, I'll be waiting in a our suite as stated." I whispered to myself as I read the text message. Wow... It certainly sounds fancy.

I reply back with a "xoxo" and a kissing emoji and send the text.

My stomach grumbles as I throw my phone in my bag. I hope he orders room service, I'm starving! I don't want to ask him because that is just rude. This "John" is already giving me plenty of money to buy food with. I'll just have to suck it up if he doesn't get the food, and munch out later on.

After waiting a few minutes on a near by bench the metro arrives for Bloomingdale City. "Stand clear of the sliding doors please" the metro voice speaks overhead as the doors swing open. I walk over and enter the metro.

I make my way over to a seat by the back window. The doors shut and we are on our way. I lose service so I'm not sure if Glen texted back or not.

I make a note to never meet the "Johns" in a secluded area, yet alone at my apartment. He'd agreed to meet me at the luxurious Hilton hotel on the upper east side. None of the "Johns" before this have gone to this trouble to make everything so... So done up. I've never even been to a Hilton hotel. My instructions were to grab a key that would be waiting for me under the name of "Patra -- Cleo" at the front desk. I was to state my name as well as state I am there to pick it up. I am also to ask for the room number. He didn't tell me to ask for Glen, or state any name at all besides my own.

None of this was out of the ordinary for me besides how extravagant this job is. I pass a few stops on the metro and check the time on my phone. It's now eight o'five pm. I've been on this metro for over thirty minutes. My stomach is getting butterflies, and that too was part of the routine. That seems to never go away.

A voice comes over the speaker system " Next Stop Grand Plaza Station and Eighty Third Street.". That's where my google maps app mentioned to get off when I searched the direction earlier. The metro comes to a screeching halt and the doors fly open one last time. I fling my bag across my shoulder and stand up. I exit the metro and make my way across the platform and up two flights of stairs.

This station is huge. It's New Bloomingdale City's largest. People flood the halls from all directions as they make there way to their destinations. Everybody is always going somewhere here. Nobody has time to judge you, they're too focused on their own lives. Some people give me dirty looks as I walk over to exit the station. It's not like they know what I am doing, or perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me. I can't say it's due to a dirty conscience but it is what it is. I can read vibes, and well dressed like this, most likely those people were shaming me. I love the sound my heels make as I walk across the gilded floor.

"Click...Clack...Click...Clack." I reach the revolving door and enter the city that never sleeps.

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