“I want to find her. I’m sure Frances has a guest list some where, or something…”

“Bette, now you’re talking crazy,” I said, hoping she would change her mind, “This girl could turn out to be like a serial killer or some psycho.”

“I know, but I can’t help but feel like I want to find out who she is.”

I sighed, “What happens if she turns out to be like an…an…” I hesitated to say the word, “An escort.”

Bette laughed, “I don’t think she will turn out to be an escort. Why would there be escorts at France’s party? I mean…” Bette’s laughter trailed off; she looked rather deep in thought, “Ah! I mean, even if she is one, we didn’t sleep together. It’s just that…that kiss. I need to know who it is.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if she was just an escort kissing you on the job?”

“Well,” Bette replied, “I guess if she was, then it was all in fun. We can always be friends, right?”

I looked at Bette and thought that, well, there were so many people at the party that night and if Bette wanted to go on a wild-goose chase for Chloe, my stopping her might arouse her curiosity even more. I mean, when she sobered up, she might have forgotten the notion completely anyway.

What were the chances of her plan following through?

I smiled, “I guess so.”

“Now,” she said, slowly standing up and dragging herself towards the bathroom, “Let me have a shower and I’ll come and try to join you for lunch. I don’t know if I can digest anything right now, but I can accompany you.”

“Sure,” I replied, watching her disappear into her room.

This entire situation was getting too close for comfort. I was worried but I knew I had to put these feelings aside and think positive. If Bette found out that Chloe was an escort, what were the chances of her even wanting to meet her? Bette had expressed her dislike for escorts multiple times before.

Yes, I definitely had nothing to worry about.

◊◊◊

The weekend whizzed by and before I knew it, it was Tuesday afternoon. Bette had been too busy with her job search to entertain me, and Madame hadn’t called, so I was left to my own devices.

I had cleaned my closet and swept my entire apartment, sunned my mattress and scrubbed every inch of my bathroom. That’s when I heard my mobile ring. It was Madame.

“Chloe, I’ve got an appointment for you tomorrow. New client.”

“Uh huh,” I replied, my attention focused on removing a water-stain on the corner tiles of my bathroom.

“She didn’t want to disclose her actual age but she is about thirty, brunette, works as a consultant. Her name’s Elizabeth. I gave her the number of your usual room at the Seasons, and she’ll see you there tomorrow at eight.”

“Is it an all nighter?” I asked.

“No, she booked only for an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

I hung up and started clearing out my bathroom cabinets.

Just another day’s work, I guess.