We Wear The Mask (PASH)-Chap. 10
by Chrissyn
 

We Wear The Mask--Part 10
 
 

It was the wee hours. The house was dark and quiet, and except for Eve, the Russells were in their beds, asleep.
The troubled doctor was curled up on the sofa, in the dark, in agony, remembering her repugnant past--her mother's boyfriend coming on to her; her mother taking the creep's side.
Ending up on the streets. In the bitter cold.
Hungry.
Stealing food.
Being used as a punching bag by vicious johns.
Being raped.
And meeting Rita, the proprietress of an escort service, which led to Eve turning tricks in a more dignified manner.
Eve thought about Julian Crane, and how he came into her life. He was captivated by her. "You're so beautiful," he complimented, stroking her left cheek. "Your eyes. Your skin. You have patrician looks."
He considered her exotic, she knew. She was the only black woman in Rita's service, which was to her advantage.
She was something different on the menu of whores. And men were curious creatures who always wanted to try something different.
A few of the girls resented her for having that special cachet.
Eve enjoyed Julian's company. Admired his sense of humor, the smell of his costly cologne, and that he tipped well.
The first time she saw him, they met at the Ritz-Carlton, but after that "date," they never ventured out of Eve's room at Rita's house.
With some johns, Eve dressed up and went out, and she loved it. Maybe because it seemingly legitamized what she was doing. Made her forget it. "Why don't we go out sometime?" she said to Julian after their fourth or fifth "date."
They were in her queen size bed. They had just screwed.
"We can't do that," Julian stated.
"Why not?" Eve persisted. "Afraid some of your buddies may see you with a black chick, and tease you about it?"
"That isn't it," Julian explained. "I'm married...and I'm prominent in the community. If people saw me with a gorgeous woman, tongues would wag."
"You're prominent, huh?" she asked, not sure she believed him. Johns lie.
But maybe Julian was telling the truth. After all, they did meet at the Ritz-Carlton, and he tipped well, and his nails were manicured. And he seemed cultured.
Maybe he did have a pedigree. "So who are you?" she asked.
He seemed a bit insulted. "You know my name," he teased. "
"I know. You're Julian Crane. But Julian Crane is just a name."
"An important name," Julian boasted. "Certainly, you've heard of Crane Industries. Crane Cannery. Crane Shipbuilding. The list goes on."
She didn't believe him, even when he showed her his driver's license.
But Rita said it was true.
And her co-workers resented her for scoring a client as illustrious as Julian Crane.
_______________________________________________________
A few nights later, they were in bed. "You're a big shot," Eve said. "An important man. You could get any woman you wanted."
"Well, of course, I could." Julian bragged.
"So why are you paying?" Eve wanted to know."
"To avoid game-playing," he said.
"I thought you enjoyed playing games," she teased. "Dressing up in costumes and all that."
He laughed. "I like the business arrangement," he explained. "I pay you for services rendered...It's uncomplicated. If I had an affair, the woman may get serious...She may ask me to change my lifestyle. Leave my family... something I'll never do."
She wondered about his family. He mentioned a son, Ethan. That name sounded so uppity. He proudly showed her a wallet-size picture of a cute, blond, snaggle-tooth kid.
He said his wife Ivy was a cold one. And that they didn't have sex. "She's colder than Canada in the middle of December," he joked.
Eve laughed. "All johns say their wives are cold."
His mood changed from upbeat to serious. "Don't call me a john."
"That's what you are," Eve rejoined. "You're paying me for sex...Just because you dress up in costumes, and play-act doesn't change the reality of what you are."

_______________________________________________________
They didn't always have sex. Sometimes they listened to music--K.C. and the Sunshine Band, The Temptations B.J. Thomas--and they danced.
"That was fun," Julian panted after twenty minutes of spinning and twirling, and shaking their asses.
"You like dancing?" Eve said, catching her breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. He always wanted to dance.
He gyrated. "Yeah. And I enjoy disco music. You can ring my beeeell," he warbled. "But growing up, I wasn't allowed to dance to popular music."
Eve frowned. That sounded silly. "Why not?"
"My father thought it was plebian and undignified," he explained.
A few days later, when they got together, she had a 45 of RING MY BELL, and they twirled to the music.
She said she wanted to learn about rich people's music. He brought over Pavarotti and Puccini, and various librettos, defining the text to her.
He bought a chess set, and taught her to play. She became proficient, often thrashing him at it.
She enjoyed Julian's visits, though she hated the dress up games. "Why do you like doing freaky stuff?" she asked. "Dressing up."
"I guess it takes me from the reality of my life," he admitted. "I have money. But I'm married to a woman who hates me. I can't stand my father. He's overbearing and controlling...I do his bidding. So the costumes takes me way from my life sometimes. But if it offends you, we can stop."
"It's freaky, but I don't mind," she said.
Yes, indeed, she looked forward to Julian's visits, and she believed he felt similarly about seeing her. "I want you to stop seeing other men," he eventually said.
"I can't do that," she said. "This is my job."
"I hate the idea of other men touching you...How many clients do you see a week?"
Why would he want to know that? She parted her lips to speak.
Flustered, he stammered, "Uh, don't tell me." He couldn't bear hearing that she saw other men. "How much money do you earn a week?"
She told him.
"I'll double the amount," he said.
So Julian became Eve's exclusive client.
She had no illusions about her life, but in her heart, she believed Julian cared for her, and sometimes she fantasized that he'd take her away from it all.
Jocelyn, a fellow call girl cackled, "Girl, get real." They were in the living room, sitting on the sofa; on the coffee table before them were tumblers of Coke.
Jocelyn's feet were on the coffee table, and cotton were between her toes. She was painting her toe nails. SEARCH FOR TOMORROW played on the television in front of them.
"Why do you say that?" Eve demanded, watching Jocelyn spread crimson enamel on a toenail. Dammit, she admired Julian, and why couldn't they have a future together?
"Eve, you're a prostitute. The man's your john, not some Prince Charming who'll spirit you away on some white horse. Girl, get your head out of the friggin clouds."
"Well, you don't know what you're talking about," Eve snapped. "Julian has feelings for me. I can tell by how he looks at me. There's more to our relationship than sex.
"Eve," Jocelyn cautioned. "Get over what you're feeling for this guy. You're going to get hurt."

______________________________________________________
One day, Julian surprised Eve by taking her on an airplane junket to Los Angeles.
To keep from raising suspicions, she downplayed her makeup, tied back her hair, donned a two-piece ensemble, and toted an empty briefcase, giving the appearance of a busy executive.
"If anyone sees us, they'll think you're a colleague," Julian said, giggling like a kid, playing a joke.
Eve loved riding in the Crane's private jet. The only passengers were her and Julian. They drank champagne, ate exotic cheeses, and caviar. "You're happy, aren't you, Eve?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling, nodding.
_______________________________________________________
In L.A., Julian took Eve on a shopping expedition. They did the dinner and dancing thing. Boogied under strobe lights until two a.m.
"Eve, you've brought so much pleasure to my life," he said from behind the steering wheel of a rented car.
It was night, and he felt festive, and L.A. was bright and alive, and Julian's mood matched the spirit of the city.
At a stoplight, he stretched and gave her a kiss.
_______________________________________________________

A few weeks later, Eve sat in the office of Dr. Audrey Miller, a petite black woman who had Oriental eyes. "You're pregnant," Dr. Miller said from across the desk.
"Oh, my," Eve gasped.
"In seven months, you'll be changing diapers and singing lullabies."
The news astonished Eve. She had been using her pills. How could this have happened? Maybe she forgot to take the tablets. She had read that the only sure-fire way to prevent pregnancy was abstinence.
She was in her room, alone, pacing. "How will Julian react to the news?" she muttered.
She gently placed a hand on her stomach. "I'm going to have a baby...Julian's baby...And I won't treat this child the way my mother treated me...I won't verbally abuse this child. I'll believe what they say. I'll protect them. Take care of them."
She allowed herself to once again indulge in the fantasy of her and Julian being a couple.
Once again, Jocelyn laughed.
"What's so crazy about it?" Eve hurled. "Julian said he and his wife don't even have sex."
"And you believe that?" Jocelyn questioned, shaking her head at what she perceived to be Eve's stupidity.
"At first, I didn't believe it," Eve responded. "But after I thought about it, it makes sense. Perfect sense...Julian's paying me for..." She halted.
She was going to say he was paying her for sex, but she just couldn't bring herself to describe their relationship that way, though that was the sad reality of it. But she said, "Services rendered. He's paying me for services rendered. "And because of that, he doesn't have to lie to me about the nature of his marriage."
"You've got a point," Jocelyn conceded. "But I still don't think he'll leave his wife for you."
Eve didn't agree with Jocelyn. Ivy and Julian didn't have a real marriage, so he could make a life with Eve.

_______________________________________________________
Two nights later, in her room, Eve imparted the news to Julian. "I'm pregnant," she said.
The rim of his champagne flute was on his lips. "Pregnant?" He looked stunned.
"Yes," she whispered. "You're going to be a father."
"But, Eve, how do you know the baby's mine?" Julian asked.
She frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
"A perfectly logical one, considering..."
"Considering what?" Eve snapped.
"Your line of work." He paused. "That child could be any Steve, Rick, or Michael's. You are a whore, after all."
She couldn't believe he said that to her. He had always been so kind. "This child is yours." Her tone was emphatic.
"So you say," Julian said.
"It's the truth," she gasped. "You said you wanted me to be your exclusive girl...So I stopped seeing other guys. You're the only man I've been with in months."
He sipped the champagne. "Well, I can't be certain you're telling the truth," he said. "You could have said I was the only man you were seeing, but there could have been others."
"There hasn't been."
"What kind of game are you playing, Eve?" Julian questioned. "Are you trying to screw money out of me?" He burped. "Let's see if I have a handle on what you're up to...If I don't pay you thousands and thousands of dollars, you'll go public with your story that you're having my child. And of course, Julian Crane impregnating a black woman would make the headlines of the tabloids...I won't allow you to blackmail me."
"I'd never do something like that."
"So you don't want money?"
"No," Eve replied. "I was hoping..." She trailed off.
"Hoping what?" he asked.
"Nothing."
He had made his position clear, so why tell him that she hoped they'd become a couple and raise their child together? He'd only laugh in her face.
"I think you should get an abortion, Eve," Julian suggested.