“You’re a fine fuck … yeah, you’re a fine fuck, aren’t you?” he whispered forcefully, less to her than to himself, trying to turn himself on even further. Eventually, his body went stiff. Gripping her thighs to hold himself inside her, he exhaled the almost painful-sounding moan that Aria had come to expect when men came. Breathing heavily, he went limp, not caring that the weight of his body was given over as a burden to Aria’s. She managed to shift out from underneath him, the rash of carpet burn now on her face and the front side of her hands. “That was good,” she said, breathing heavily and smiling, hoping to give him the impression that she’d actually liked it. He petted her while he caught his breath. She focused on the pores of his face, instead of the features of it. She still didn’t want to remember this man or take note of anything about him.

Despite having just fucked her, he closed the door when he went to use the bathroom. She yelled through the door, “I’m gonna go catch a bus.”

“Nah, I can take you back,” he responded.

“No, it’s fine, really. I need to get to a place that’s closer to here anyway.”

“OK,” was all he said.

Aria paused to see if he was going to say anything further. But there was only silence. So she folded the $150 and put it in the right cup of her bra before stepping out into the parking lot of the motel, closing the door behind her.

She started jogging. The impact of her feet against the pavement made it impossible to quell her tears and so she started crying, using the tears to wipe his blood off of her face until there were only smears left. She sat down on the first patch of grass she could find until she had collected herself well enough to walk back to a bus stop on the Orange line, where she was able to get change for a bus fare.

She didn’t tell Taylor where she had been or what she had done that day. When she got back to their car, before he and Luke showed up for the night, she used one of the water bottles from her backpack to wash the crime off of her face so there wouldn’t be any evidence.

When Ciarra returned to the car lot, she greeted Aria with ardor. “How’d it go?” she asked.

Aria handed over the money that she had made. Ciarra took half of it to give her pimp and gave the rest back to Aria. “It was OK. It’s not really my thing,” Aria replied. She had prepared to defend herself against a fall from grace, but no defense was necessary.