Don't Look Now
by Heather Lewis

For the longest time I didn't call it turning tricks. When I'd leave work, cross the street to the train station and, if some guy — man, guess really you'd call him — had come off the train, was on his way home, I'd take his money.
   We'd do it in his car. I'd work maybe twenty minutes. Get maybe twenty dollars, which was good compared to what I made at my job across the street. Besides, it's hard to get more in a car. At least I told myself this. Though I guess how much depends on what you'll do for it.
   I wouldn't do a whole lot; acted pretty grumpy about doing anything. But then they liked that, one or two of them especially did.
   This wasn't something I was looking to do, though by how easy it happened you would've said it was. People have. Still, for me it happened by accident. And while it's true I needed the money that's not all I needed from it. I don't care what anybody says. I understand the reason for telling people that, people outside it. But the thing is, I could never really see anyone outside it. What the extra need is, the thing besides money? I've never pinned it down. I know it's there, though.