Virgin Wanted
By: Sierra ColeBut it seems like there’s little chance of that.
“I said, virgin, right?” she persists. “Well, I guess that’s us on welfare for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes to get a job!”
I still don’t know what to say. So I just mumble, “I guess,” and start to reshuffle the large stack of papers I already filed once this morning.
I know I’m acting a little off, but the thing is, I just don’t know how to act normal right now.
“Hey, what’s got into you?” Monisha laughs. “I thought we agreed on the day they gave us notice – if we’re soon gonna be unemployed, we might as well have some fun for our remaining time here, right?”
And she’s totally right of course. However weird I’m feeling right now, I don’t want to bring her down, too. She’s been really good at keeping our spirits up since things started to go downhill around this place. It’s the least I can do.
So I pull the newspaper away from her and flick it open, right back to that Personals section.
“Right,” I say. “What’s it gonna be then? Girls Wanted for Foot Modeling or Girls Wanted for Specialist Adult Movie Shoot – must be willing to cover themselves in jello and chocolate?”
“Decisions, decisions!” laughs Monisha.
But even as I’m joking, I can’t help my gaze drifting once again to that strange and curious advert in the middle of the page ...
Virgin wanted ...
§
That evening I step into my apartment and kick off my shoes, glad to give my feet a rest from those cheap-ass, fake leather pumps. I look around me and sigh. Even though I’ve done the very best I can with this tiny shoebox of an apartment, it’s still pretty crappy looking. I guess there’s only so far a girl can go with Goodwill and imagination ...
I flop down onto the beat up couch and turn on the small, second-hand TV. But as I’m flipping through the channels, it’s all I can think about again.
Virgin Wanted ...
I turn off the set once more and then pick my purse up off the floor by the couch and slip out my sketchbook. I flip to the back page and then sit there, staring for a while at that mysterious email address - [email protected] – feeling my heart quickening again, the longer I stare at it.
I’d always considered my virginity as something to be embarrassed about – a secret kept close to my chest.
I don’t even know why I’m still a virgin. I’m mean, I’m only twenty-one years old, so it’s not like I’m not an old maid or anything just yet. I guess I’m still just waiting for the right guy to come along.
But that’s just stupid daydream stuff, right?
Right now, I’m totally broke. And if I don’t find another job quick smart, then I can kiss goodbye to this tiny crappy shoebox of an apartment, too. And for some reason, seeing that ad kind of feels like ... I don’t know.
Fate?
A sign?
Because my virginity is practically the one thing I have left, the only thing that sets me apart from every other girl in this city. And here is some advert actually asking for a virgin ... Well, these days it feels like there aren’t too many of us left.
I sigh again with frustration.
I mean, is this something so completely crazy that I shouldn’t even be contemplating it? Is answering this advert the first step towards my body being found in some ditch somewhere, wrapped in tarpaulin? Or is this actually just something totally normal – the kind of thing that a modern girl these days wouldn’t think twice about replying to?
Damn. I wish there was someone I could talk to right now; someone who’s opinion I could ask.
You see, I don’t really have a best friend. I moved away from my home state two years ago for a fresh start here in Philly. But all I managed to get was this dismal apartment and a badly paid job as a receptionist which is about to come to an end.
I keep telling myself to go out more, meet new people, make some real friends. But I just feel too shy. I mean, Monisha is great and all. She’s really fun to work with and she’s totally kept me sane at the office. But we’re just not that close. We’re only work colleagues – not BFFs.
And as for family? Let’s just say that’s kind of complicated.
