He seems very relaxed, but she supposes that he’s a professional and this is just a typical night for him.

“Yes, she is,” Midge agrees as she walks back to the minibar. “Sometimes a bit too practical. I hope you don’t mind if I help myself.” This time, she at least pours the mini bottle of vodka into a glass. She’ll sip this one, not wanting to be completely drunk.

Midge sits down in the chair next to him. She isn’t dressed as formally as she would for a performance, but it’s a standard A-line dress that most women wear. The bodice hugs her torso and then the skirt flares out.

“Glad you’re okay with just talking. You’ll get paid in full, obviously.” Midge’s tone is matter-of-fact, as though she’s made up her mind, even as her eyes scan over his form.

She could, couldn’t she? It wasn’t a lie that it had been a while and that she was craving some sort of intimacy.