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intheheartTitle: Liferaft
Rating: PG.
Summary: Joy feeds Maya some tea and advice.
Date: 2004
Notes: Direct sequel to Lifesaver.
"Well, here we are," Joy said brightly, dumping her purse on a battered metal folding chair beside the door. "Welcome to my humble abode. Emphasis on humble."
Maya, looking around the tiny studio apartment, had to agree. The place looked like it was about to collapse, with water-stained walls and ceiling, a thin, worn carpet that provided no cushioning at all, peeling linoleum in the kitchen area. It was spotless, though, and what furniture Joy had was pretty and neat, in pinks and whites and mint greens, soft pastel colors relaxing to the eye. Her bed dominated the room, a blue canopy covered with cushions, with gauzy white curtains between it and the world. Joy shut the door behind them and locked it, then sighed, all the tension running out of her in a wave.
"It's crap," she said, catching Maya's glance around, "but it's home. Go on and sit down, I'll make us some tea."
"Thank you," Maya said shyly, and set her bag down, after some consideration, on the same folding chair Joy had tossed her purse on. It was a surprisingly little backpack; so small, to hold everything she had in the world. She sat tentatively on the pink and white couch, surprised again to feel how soft it was.
"I like your couch," she said.
Joy straightened up from messing around behind the microwave and smiled at her. "Thank you," she said. "Picked it up on Craigslist for a song. All I had to do was pick it up." She bent down and reached behind the microwave again. "Made my boyfriend at the time carry it home. Ah! Got it!"
Maya blinked. "Sorry?"
"The plug," she said, straightening up again. "I unplug all my appliances when I'm not using them. Saves on the electric bill." She opened a cabinet above the microwave and pulled out two pretty china teacups, painted blue and gold in a delicate pattern, then filled them with water at the sink.
"I thought strippers made a lot of money," Maya ventured, watching Joy put the teacups into the microwave and swing the door shut.
"Some of us do." She programmed the microwave for two minutes, then swung around to face Maya, leaning on the counter. "I do, most of the time. I save most of it, though. You never know when you're going to fuck up your knee or something and not be able to work for a while."
Which seemed sensible enough. Still... "You said most of the time."
"Everybody has bad days," Joy said. "Everybody gets the asshole audience once in a while. I've had days where I make seven thousand dollars a shift, and days where I barely break even. That's the thing about getting paid in tips." The microwave dinged, and she swung back around with a little 'ah.' "You want oolong, Earl Grey, or green tea? Or I've got this weird chai stuff my boyfriend drinks. You can have some, though, he won't mind."
"That's okay," Maya said. "Can I have green tea, please?"
"Sure." Joy got down the box and dropped a teabag in each, then bent to unplug the microwave again. "My preference too. Anyway, you only make as much as I do if you're as good as I am." She shrugged, her back still to Maya. "Not to be vain or anything, but I'm hot and I'm an awesome dancer. Most strippers aren't that good."
Maya's eyes widened as she considered that. "Then... how much do they make?"
Joy hovered over the teacups, waiting for them to steep. "Dunno," she said, absently. "Half what I do? My friend Sierra's record is five thousand in one day, and she's the best I know apart from me. Like I said, it varies widely, and some of it is just pure dumb luck." She picked the bags out of the cups, dumped them in the sink, and brought them over to Maya. The couch dipped under Maya as she sat down and offered a cup. "Not going to lie, it's going to be great to move to a more upscale club. That last place was the worst. Even the tips sucked."
"I don't understand," Maya said, and accepted the cup. She folded her cold fingers around it and let the heat seep through to warm them. "Why do they do it if they're not making money?"
"What, strip?" Joy looked as if she was honestly considering the question for a moment. "Well, I do it because I like it, and because it suits me. I know that's why Sierra strips, too. I imagine most women choose to strip because it sounds like a fun way to make some money." She smiled a faraway smile, as if at a memory. "It is, too, most of the time, if you're working at the right club."
Maya looked down at the tea, a soft greeny brown against the white of her teacup. "I don't understand that," she said. "It wasn't any fun for me at all."
Joy put an arm around her shoulders and hugged, gently. "You weren't at a very good club, sweetie," she said. "And you didn't want to be there. That makes all the difference."
"It just felt so wrong," Maya said, and pressed one fist against her mouth, remembering. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to say anything bad about you. It's just..."
Joy waved it off. "It's just that sex work isn't for you," she said, bluntly enough to make Maya blush. "And that's okay. You shouldn't have to do sex work if you don't want to. Nobody should."
Maya stared down at her teacup again, fighting embarrassment. "I don't think of it as sex work."
"Well, it is," Joy said, and shrugged. "I strip naked in front of a bunch of guys so they can get their rocks off later that evening. I'm okay with it." She patted Maya's shoulder gently. "You don't have to be ashamed of the truth, sweetie. I'm certainly not."
The tea cooled gently between Maya's fingers as she thought. Finally, she said, "You're not ashamed of it." It was more a question than a statement.
"Nope," Joy said, and took a sip of tea. "I mean, my parents were hippies. I grew up in a family where sex was just one of those things you did, and as long as everybody involved was a consenting adult, there was no reason to fuss. So I'm not ashamed of my job or my body. I'm comfortable with both, so it's all okay."
Maya thought of her own body, of the fetus in her abdomen making her sick every morning, the baby fat on her belly and thighs. "I'm not," she said, quietly.
"And that's okay," Joy said. "Nobody's saying you have to be like me, Maya. I am who I am, and you are who you are. That's okay. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't do sex work, because you're not happy doing it." She paused. "And also because you're fifteen and it's illegal. But mostly because you're not happy."
Maya flushed, this time with shame. "I didn't know what else I could do," she said, still staring into the teacup. "I didn't know what other choice I had."
"Oh, no," Joy said, and she sounded distressed enough that Maya looked up at her. "I didn't mean that I disapprove of you trying it. I..." She stopped, ran a hand through her hair, then started again. "I'm a stripper because I love to dance and I enjoy the job, and there's no shame in that. Lots of women strip because they're desperate, and there's no shame in that, either. I just... all I'm saying is that you, and they, shouldn't have to. The only people who strip should be the people who want to." She smiled down at Maya. "And you at least do have other choices. You may not know what they are yet, but you've definitely got them. I'll make sure of that."
Maya looked down at her teacup fast, blinking back unexpected tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Of course," Joy said, and hugged her shoulders again. "Of course. You want something to eat, sweetie? I think I promised you PB&J."
"Yes, please," Maya said, and a little more of the weight lifted from her shoulders.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Joy feeds Maya some tea and advice.
Date: 2004
Notes: Direct sequel to Lifesaver.
"Well, here we are," Joy said brightly, dumping her purse on a battered metal folding chair beside the door. "Welcome to my humble abode. Emphasis on humble."
Maya, looking around the tiny studio apartment, had to agree. The place looked like it was about to collapse, with water-stained walls and ceiling, a thin, worn carpet that provided no cushioning at all, peeling linoleum in the kitchen area. It was spotless, though, and what furniture Joy had was pretty and neat, in pinks and whites and mint greens, soft pastel colors relaxing to the eye. Her bed dominated the room, a blue canopy covered with cushions, with gauzy white curtains between it and the world. Joy shut the door behind them and locked it, then sighed, all the tension running out of her in a wave.
"It's crap," she said, catching Maya's glance around, "but it's home. Go on and sit down, I'll make us some tea."
"Thank you," Maya said shyly, and set her bag down, after some consideration, on the same folding chair Joy had tossed her purse on. It was a surprisingly little backpack; so small, to hold everything she had in the world. She sat tentatively on the pink and white couch, surprised again to feel how soft it was.
"I like your couch," she said.
Joy straightened up from messing around behind the microwave and smiled at her. "Thank you," she said. "Picked it up on Craigslist for a song. All I had to do was pick it up." She bent down and reached behind the microwave again. "Made my boyfriend at the time carry it home. Ah! Got it!"
Maya blinked. "Sorry?"
"The plug," she said, straightening up again. "I unplug all my appliances when I'm not using them. Saves on the electric bill." She opened a cabinet above the microwave and pulled out two pretty china teacups, painted blue and gold in a delicate pattern, then filled them with water at the sink.
"I thought strippers made a lot of money," Maya ventured, watching Joy put the teacups into the microwave and swing the door shut.
"Some of us do." She programmed the microwave for two minutes, then swung around to face Maya, leaning on the counter. "I do, most of the time. I save most of it, though. You never know when you're going to fuck up your knee or something and not be able to work for a while."
Which seemed sensible enough. Still... "You said most of the time."
"Everybody has bad days," Joy said. "Everybody gets the asshole audience once in a while. I've had days where I make seven thousand dollars a shift, and days where I barely break even. That's the thing about getting paid in tips." The microwave dinged, and she swung back around with a little 'ah.' "You want oolong, Earl Grey, or green tea? Or I've got this weird chai stuff my boyfriend drinks. You can have some, though, he won't mind."
"That's okay," Maya said. "Can I have green tea, please?"
"Sure." Joy got down the box and dropped a teabag in each, then bent to unplug the microwave again. "My preference too. Anyway, you only make as much as I do if you're as good as I am." She shrugged, her back still to Maya. "Not to be vain or anything, but I'm hot and I'm an awesome dancer. Most strippers aren't that good."
Maya's eyes widened as she considered that. "Then... how much do they make?"
Joy hovered over the teacups, waiting for them to steep. "Dunno," she said, absently. "Half what I do? My friend Sierra's record is five thousand in one day, and she's the best I know apart from me. Like I said, it varies widely, and some of it is just pure dumb luck." She picked the bags out of the cups, dumped them in the sink, and brought them over to Maya. The couch dipped under Maya as she sat down and offered a cup. "Not going to lie, it's going to be great to move to a more upscale club. That last place was the worst. Even the tips sucked."
"I don't understand," Maya said, and accepted the cup. She folded her cold fingers around it and let the heat seep through to warm them. "Why do they do it if they're not making money?"
"What, strip?" Joy looked as if she was honestly considering the question for a moment. "Well, I do it because I like it, and because it suits me. I know that's why Sierra strips, too. I imagine most women choose to strip because it sounds like a fun way to make some money." She smiled a faraway smile, as if at a memory. "It is, too, most of the time, if you're working at the right club."
Maya looked down at the tea, a soft greeny brown against the white of her teacup. "I don't understand that," she said. "It wasn't any fun for me at all."
Joy put an arm around her shoulders and hugged, gently. "You weren't at a very good club, sweetie," she said. "And you didn't want to be there. That makes all the difference."
"It just felt so wrong," Maya said, and pressed one fist against her mouth, remembering. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to say anything bad about you. It's just..."
Joy waved it off. "It's just that sex work isn't for you," she said, bluntly enough to make Maya blush. "And that's okay. You shouldn't have to do sex work if you don't want to. Nobody should."
Maya stared down at her teacup again, fighting embarrassment. "I don't think of it as sex work."
"Well, it is," Joy said, and shrugged. "I strip naked in front of a bunch of guys so they can get their rocks off later that evening. I'm okay with it." She patted Maya's shoulder gently. "You don't have to be ashamed of the truth, sweetie. I'm certainly not."
The tea cooled gently between Maya's fingers as she thought. Finally, she said, "You're not ashamed of it." It was more a question than a statement.
"Nope," Joy said, and took a sip of tea. "I mean, my parents were hippies. I grew up in a family where sex was just one of those things you did, and as long as everybody involved was a consenting adult, there was no reason to fuss. So I'm not ashamed of my job or my body. I'm comfortable with both, so it's all okay."
Maya thought of her own body, of the fetus in her abdomen making her sick every morning, the baby fat on her belly and thighs. "I'm not," she said, quietly.
"And that's okay," Joy said. "Nobody's saying you have to be like me, Maya. I am who I am, and you are who you are. That's okay. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't do sex work, because you're not happy doing it." She paused. "And also because you're fifteen and it's illegal. But mostly because you're not happy."
Maya flushed, this time with shame. "I didn't know what else I could do," she said, still staring into the teacup. "I didn't know what other choice I had."
"Oh, no," Joy said, and she sounded distressed enough that Maya looked up at her. "I didn't mean that I disapprove of you trying it. I..." She stopped, ran a hand through her hair, then started again. "I'm a stripper because I love to dance and I enjoy the job, and there's no shame in that. Lots of women strip because they're desperate, and there's no shame in that, either. I just... all I'm saying is that you, and they, shouldn't have to. The only people who strip should be the people who want to." She smiled down at Maya. "And you at least do have other choices. You may not know what they are yet, but you've definitely got them. I'll make sure of that."
Maya looked down at her teacup fast, blinking back unexpected tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Of course," Joy said, and hugged her shoulders again. "Of course. You want something to eat, sweetie? I think I promised you PB&J."
"Yes, please," Maya said, and a little more of the weight lifted from her shoulders.
