Prologue
Is it compulsion? Intrigue? Or a necessity? Do we speak so that someone will hear or because if we don't let the words escape they will go sour inside of us? I'm still not sure. But it hasn't stopped me from listening. Life as an escort deems you to be a therapist as much as a plaything. A listener as much as a chew-toy. And sometimes, a trusted partner. Am I delusional? Am I kidding myself? I just keep hearing questions. That's all I hear anymore are questions. Book One covers my meetings with four women: a divorcée, an adwoman, a widow, and a woman named Rhonda.
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