“Poppy is something else.”
“Stop.” I held up my hand as I scrolled through the Apple News, my coffee perched on the wide armrest. “Don’t want to hear about it.”
“Why’d you tear out of there last night?”
I dropped my phone in my lap and looked over at him.
“What is she? A porn star?”
Coffee sprayed across the porch. “Shit. That’s what you thought you saw? No, she’s not… she doesn’t do porn.”
He looked ahead, shaking his head like I’d said the craziest thing. But I knew what I’d seen on his phone. A revealing photo, on some site or app, and payment options. For all I knew, she picked up clients by showing them her phone and arriving at an arrangement.
After I’d calmed down, I realized that even in the worst-case scenario, she was in a better arrangement than the kids I’d seen. She had a choice. She had options. It wasn’t for me to judge her choices. It was just that I left all that behind me. I didn’t expect to see it here.
“That’s what you thought she was? A porn star? That’s funny.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Have you ever heard of OnlyFans?”
“No.” I went so many years without internet, or really slow speeds if I had it, that I disconnected. Apps, social media, all those things fell into an abyss. I’d only found Apple News because it was a prompt when I purchased an iPhone after returning to the States.
“It’s like, you can see nudie pics and stuff like that. You can also do sexting. It kind of took off during the pandemic, when bars shut down and everybody had to isolate.”
“And she does that?”
“Yep. I’d actually seen her photos. Never clicked. She’s kind of, you know, more of a plus size model. But I might be her biggest client moving forward. I should ask her how much she’d charge for me to be exclusive.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t really like the idea of other pervs looking at her photos.”
“Are you going to date her?”
“Date? Like, girlfriend? Nah. I live in New York. She’s here. But I like her. She’s…” He trailed off, resting his head on the back of the chair and closing his eyes, a look of near ecstasy crossing over his face.
“Man, if you are gonna sit there and replay last night, go in another room.”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Last night was fantastic. We didn’t do what you’re thinking. But…I’m not gonna forget her.”
“Do you expect me to believe the two of you didn’t do the deed?” I asked in disbelief. “You know what? I don’t care.”
“She said she doesn’t do one-night stands. Unbelievable, right? A girl who makes a living selling nudies.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “And nope.”
“But it was still fantastic?”
“Oh, yeah. Fanfuckingtastic. I’ll be back to visit you again.” He grinned.
“She’s young. You know that, right?”
“She’s out of college. She’s not a porn star or anything. When did you become such a prude?”
“I’m not a prude. I’m just saying, we’re older now.”
“She’s the same age as a lot of the girls I date in New York.”
“Seriously?” Dating was one of those things I hadn’t focused on much. I’d spent a lot of time on boats with mostly men. But surely men in their mid-thirties like us typically dated women closer to our age.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t target the younger women, but I suppose the places I go often—”
“You mean strip clubs?” I interrupted.
He barked out a laugh and nodded.
“So, does Luna do that, too? That app thing?” I’d been wondering that all night.
“It’s not an app. It’s a website.”
I stared him down. I didn’t give a shit about the logistics.
“I don’t think so. Pretty positive, no. I thought about asking Poppy, but I didn’t want to sound like I was into her friend.”
“Considerate of you.” He completely missed my dig.
“Yep. But here, we can look for her.” He whipped out his phone from his back pocket. “Wait. She wouldn’t use her real name. We’d need to know her screen name to find her. Or just look through a shitload of—”
“That’s okay.”
“I doubt she does it.” He put his phone down. “Poppy stumbled into it when she lost her bartending job. She makes a lot of money, though. She’s, like, celeb status. Over one hundred thousand subscribers.” His eyebrow raised. “Her dream is to own a cafe or a bar. I offered to be an investor, but she turned me down. Probably a good thing. I’m not sold investing in a restaurant on this island would be smart. I’d need to see the numbers. I’d imagine there’s a pretty stiff drop-off in the winter.”
He looked questioningly at me, as if I had market numbers to share.
“Don’t look to me. I’m about to spend my first winter here. Right now is considered shoulder, and from what I’ve heard, weekends stay pretty full through Thanksgiving with island weddings, then it goes dead. Only locals around until the spring wedding season kicks in, maybe around March.”
He tugged on his chin thoughtfully.
I stood and stretched. “You wanna catch some waves?”
We strapped two boards to the top of my cart. The storm had passed last night, which meant a rather flat sea could greet us, or it could still be wicked rough, possibly even rip currents. Didn’t matter to me. I needed to meditate.
My reaction last night had been extreme. Something about a woman, or any human being, selling herself. It made my insides curl. Memories I tried to suppress hit full force. Smells, groans and grunts, the dusty grit on my sweaty, grimy skin, all of it swirled around me. The whites of the eyes.
“A dollar? You got a dollar, sir?” Their voices rained around me. Innocent expressions as they offered their mouths. Some girls dropped their hands inside their panties as temptation.
The idea of Luna ever doing anything like that didn’t occur to me until much later that night, after I’d made it
