The door opened and Bob glanced at the clock. “Oh, this can’t be good,” he said.
Brian came into the apartment with a weighted step and dropped his body onto the couch. He waved his hands at the TV with confusion. “Dude.”
“What?” Bob said, switching the channel from a girl-on-girl scene to ESPN. “You were gone. I was watching some chics make out. It’s not like I’m sitting here banging myself on the couch. Since when did you have a problem with other guys watching girls make out on cable TV?”
Brian shrugged. “I dunno, man. Sorry.”
Bob turned the volume down on the set. He scowled when he saw the fantasy football numbers roll across the bottom of the screen. It looked as though he’d be losing for his third straight week. Goddamn Patriots, he thought. He turned to Brian. “Well? What the hell are you doin’ home? That wasn’t much of a blind date.”
“Fucking Tom Brady,” Brian shouted at the TV. “I swear to god, man. Every week!”
Bob laughed. “Yeah. He screwed me over too.”
Brian sighed. There was a long pause as they both tried to lie to themselves about the scores and numbers being presented by ESPN. “I dunno, man. The date got weird in a hurry.”
Bob flipped the channel back to the two girls making out. They had moved to a bear skinned rug that was apparently very comfortable. “How so?” he asked.
“She was nice and all. Hot. Great hair, long and black, just how I like it. Dinner was cool, we were hanging out and talking, and then we got onto work. You know, what I do, what she does.”
“What does she do?”
Brian paused as the two blondes continued in HD. His pain suffered at the hands of Tom Brady was being easily healed by the lovely ladies and their activity. “She’s a dominatrix,” he said.
“Seriously?” Bob said, actually taking his eyes off the screen to ask the question. “You went on a date with a prostitute?”
“No, that’s the thing,” said Brian. “Technically she’s not a hooker. I guess if you do that kind of stuff, most of the time you don’t have sex.”
“What?” Bob squealed. “Why the hell would you pay to not have sex?”
Brian shook his head. “I don’t know. She was pretty cool about it. I guess she gets asked this all the time. But she said she ‘role-plays’ for them. She fills a specific need for their psyche.”
“Does she do the leather and whips and chains and shit?” Bob asked. His intrigue was so elevated he was all but ignoring the TV.
Brian nodded, eyes still fixed on the women. “Yeah. She has a dungeon and everything. Total trip, man. It kinda messed with my head a bit, ya know?”
“Huh,” Bob said, turning back to the TV.
They sat quietly and watched the two women fulfill the other’s needs. When the credits began to roll, Bob swapped back to ESPN. “Ya know,” he said, “now that I think about it, all those things you said about the leather and chains and paying a lot of money to not have sex. That doesn’t sound like a dominatrix to me. That sounds like an ex-wife.”