on saturday my boss came by, captaining a tour boat through the canal as i sat on its edge, deep in thought. he surprised me by saying my name as he passed, and i looked up and saw him smiling. i smiled and waved, happily.
yesterday, i ran into him before my shift and he asked me, “so what were you doing in the red light district?” i got a little embarrassed and then said, “i live there.”
“you do?” he said. i know they talked about me. i introduced myself to a bartender yesterday who said that she’s heard about me. i was surprised he didn’t already know that fact.
“yeah.” i paused then grinned. i could never keep a secret. “you want to know the real reason i was there?”
“sure,” he said.
“i was watching the building across the street and i was timing this guy. i had him pegged for a 7-minuter.”
“7 minutes!” he said. he sounded incredulous but i couldn’t tell if it was a reaction to my timing guys as they fucked whores or because i only gave him 7 minutes of stamina. “were you right?”
“giving him 5 minutes to take off and put on his clothes, he came out after exactly 12 minutes.”