The girls really are teenagers, or at least very young, their skin flawless, their beauty striking. The clothes they are wearing are stylish, but definitely designed to attract attention to their nubile bodies. I focus on their expressions.

The boys have a lusty expression in their eyes. The girls are smiling, both of them, but those smiles are mixed with appeal and uncertainty.

"They are... they are..."

"Escorts, yes." The man beside me murmurs. "High end. Classy. Very expensive. But still, escorts."

He looks me square in the eye. "You do not want to be them."

I smile. "What do you know?"

"I know enough to know that waitressing is better." I'm surprised to see the cynicism in his youthful eyes.

But he can't beat me in cynicism. His attire screams wealth. His hands are smooth, not a scratch or hard skin. Not a single hair out of place. His watch gleaming on his wrist. He looks polished from head to toe.

"You don't. Maybe being an escort is better." I don't believe it, not really, but being near the rich and famous, who can afford a drink which costs more than my monthly grocery expense, tempts me to give up my working class scruples.

"What do you want?" He asks me and I stare at him.

"No one has ever asked me that." I tell him truthfully.

"Well, I am asking you."

"I don't know." I can't tell this stranger I'm having this strange conversation with the truth this time. That, I am here to ensnare an unsuspecting rich fool to make him fall in love with me so he marries me and takes care of me for the rest of my life.

Mostly, I don't want to show him how true a cynic I am. So I give him the most basic truth.

"I guess, to stop being a waitress."

"Then be what?"

"This." I gesture in front of me.

"You want this life?"

"Yes. But a life where I can buy my own drinks."

"How?" he asks, and I smile. Oh, you don't wanna know that! You may be my answer.

"I don't know yet. But I'll figure it out."

The bartender calls me, breaking the strange bubble we were in. I take the order and spend the next five minutes serving and getting new orders.

When I return, he is gone.

Just like my dark stranger that night.

I go through the motions of life. I wake up at the crack of the dawn to cook and clean other people's house. I work as maid till two in the afternoon and then spend an hour or two with Shefali. Then I return home to have lunch my mother cooks to be off to my waitressing job till midnight.

Weeks pass and I am stuck where I was months ago.

He is back. The guy who wanted to know what I want.

He sits waiting for me as I walk back from serving a table. It is not a busy night, being the middle of the week.

I put the empty tray down on the counter and seat myself on the bar stool beside him. Close enough to smell his cologne, but not too close to touch.

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