Firsts & Lasts At The Mall
“I wish I were going with you,” I complained, while I watched Dara put on her makeup for an afternoon shift at the Angel Room club. I was lying on the couch of her apartment, wrapped in a knitted blanket, trying to preserve the warmth she had left behind in the cushions for a few minutes longer. The TV was dark, the obscure rom-com she’d shared with me this morning long finished. “Can you imagine?” Dara giggled, pausing halfway through adhering a false eyelash. “We’d make all the customers so jealous, sneaking off to the Little Heavens together to give each other a million orgasms.” It was nice to hear her joke that way about bringing me back to the club — sharing a fantasy, not making a sales pitch. When we’d first met, I …