At the last stop before the end of the line at the bus depot I was starting to lose hope. I looked behind me to see if she had somehow disappeared. She was still sitting in the back, no one else was around now. As the bus stopped she rose. I was ecstatic, I couldn’t take anymore driving. I waited for her to pass me and then got off the bus as well.
Now I was a little worried. I had to follow her and I was afraid of how to do that inconspicuously. I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about. As we stepped off of the bus we were at an intersection. There was a large red brick apartment building right on the corner near the bus stop. Michele immediately started walking towards it. My already speedy heart rate started to race. There was only about twenty yards between the bus stop and the front door. Michele was only a few steps away from making it inside, I needed to act now.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. She was getting closer to the door. I needed to get louder, “Excuse me miss?” I said. Michele hesitated for a moment then kept walking. I had to pull out the big guns, “Um, Excuse me Michele?” I said. Finally she stopped. She turned and looked at me. She was smiling awkwardly and looking a bit nervous.
“Um, hello,” she replied. I jogged slightly to catch up with her. She was looking around now. Like I said, it was a bad neighborhood. I think I was making her nervous. I smiled brightly and tried to put her at ease, “Do I know you,” she asked as I reached her.
“Um, well yes,” I said. I had practiced what I was going to say a million times the night before and during the day, I had planned every scenario, but now that she was there I was tongue tied.
“I am sorry, I don’t remember you,” she said after a long pause. This was about to get very uncomfortable if I didn’t do something soon. I needed to get it together. I took a deep breath and spoke.
“Yes, well we met briefly last week at the bar, where you work,” I said. She kept the same look on her face, but at least she wasn’t trying to run.
“Oh, a customer?” she asked and I nodded. She shrugged awkwardly, “So what can I do for you then?” Now was the time. I had to jump into my plan.
“My name is Dr. Rose Malloy,” I said. I figured that I could use my actual name, just throw a ‘doctor’ on the front. “I am psychologist at the state university in town. I am actually an expert on human sexuality.” Michele reacted instantly. She sort of backed away from me and her pale cheeks turned a dark shade of red.
“Oh, I don’t go to college, I think you have me confused with someone else. I need to go, I am sorry,” she said. I could see the dread rising in her. This confirmed to me that Michele was really the person I was looking for. Not that I had any doubt before. She moved like she was going to walk to the door, but I knew I had her now.
“Michele,” I said more loudly than she would have liked, “I am doing research on people who engage in anonymous sex,” I stated. I figured all night that this was my best chance to get her to talk. I’d pretend I had a dispassionate reason for doing so and she would never know the difference. She looked completely startled and moved closer to me. I felt bad that I was making her nervous, but I promised that I would make her comfortable and that I wouldn’t do her any permanent damage.
“Shh!” she said and moved close to me conspiratorially, “Don’t talk about this stuff out here. I have to live here,” she said.
“Michele,” I said now in a very low whisper, “I know that you use the gloryhole in the bathroom of the pet shop. I learned about that place online and I have been observing people.” Her eyes grew wide as saucers.
“You have the wrong person,” she breathed sharply. I smiled and shook my head.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of Ms…?”
“Harper,” she said and I felt good that she felt like talking.
“Ms. Harper. I am not here to judge you. I just want to ask some questions. Let me be clear and up front,” I said. Here was the moment where my little plan would sink or swim. Here was where I ensured that I didn’t do anything I was ashamed of. I gave her an out, “I would like for you to talk to me about your experiences. There is absolutely no obligation for you to do so. Tell me to leave and I will. However, if you choose to talk to me you should know that I will offer you complete anonymity. You will simply be referred to in the research as a ‘woman in her 20s.’ Furthermore, if you choose to speak with me I can offer you a one-time cash payment of $1, 000. 00.”
I watched as she relaxed a bit as she started to hear me out, then I saw her eyebrows rise as she heard about the money. I had cleared out my checking account to make the promised accurate. I had no idea if that was something that a social scientist could even do, but I didn’t think Michele would ask questions. I knew she was a waitress and $1, 000. 00 is a lot of money.
“So if I talk to you, then you just keep it quiet and sort of just use me like statistics?” she said and I smiled. It had worked? Just like I’d planned, it was working perfectly.
“In essence yes,” I said.
“If there are things I don’t want to answer I don’t have to?” she asked.
“No. If you feel uncomfortable you can decline.”
“And you give me money and then you won’t ever talk to me about this again?” She asked. This was the kicker. I didn’t speak, I just reached into my purse. I had a small envelop inside. I opened it slightly and fanned out several hundred dollar bills. I looked up at her and raised my eyebrows. She looked down at the money, her already big eyes bulging from her head. She looked around briefly, nervously like she was wondering if this was really a good idea. But the allure of the money was too much.
“Let’s talk inside,” she said finally. I felt my heart skip and I had to be very careful to control my excitement. It took all of the self-possession that I had developed over years of pretending to be something I was not to avoid smiling or giving anything away.
Michele turned now quickly and walked over to the front door. I followed her now. She unlocked the front door and we walked in. The lobby was dingy but not in awful disrepair. The paint was peeling and the carpet looked old. We walked past an elevator with an “out of order sign.” I could tell why she wanted $1, 000. 00. We went to a stairwell and made our way up several flights of stairs. The stairwell was even dirtier and uglier than the lobby. She didn’t speak or look back the entire time and I could tell she was nervous. Finally, we got off on the fourth floor and walked to the first door after the stairwell.