After Ventura got the call from her friend, a very important call, she walked back to the sundrenched balcony and told Francisco she had to leave for work. So soon? he asked. Unfortunately, she answered. And she let him kiss her cheek and the whole time thinking that yes, he would divorce his wife. She could see it in his eyes. But she wasn't sure if marrying him would be good for her because she was a humanoid and unsure of how he would take that over the long run. She left and saw the old woman with the suspense novel Rebecca eye her as she departed.

You must know where I'm going, Ventura thought jokingly.

But she took that elevator and looked solemn doing it. She would love to be a human and live a beautiful life with a human like Francisco. Screw Diego for leaving her. She wouldn't want to associate herself with humanoids anyway, even though she was one. She exited the elevator, passed through the lobby, and entered a cab that took her deeper into the city. She selected a playlist by The Mamas and the Papas on the music selection, drove down on that skate and burst through the underground network until rising up to East LA. She went into a heavily populated area which was less well-to-do and the apartments were impacted and much, much taller above ground level as a result of necessity. She exited her cab and entered the ugliest graffitied building and rose an elevator to her friend's floor. It was a scrubby apartment.

The moment she stepped out of the elevator, she saw a group of people smoking weed in the green, smoked-out hall and she stepped quickly across the torn up yellow carpet holding her breath so she wouldn't get instantly high; although, getting high before work might be a good thing to do soon. She came to her friend's place and knocked.

She heard loads of voices laughing and arguing behind the door. And the song Summer in the City by The Lovin' Spoonful flooded out as the door was thrown open and a smiling woman heavily under the influence opened the door. "My oh my, isn't it lovely to see that pretty face of yours after so long. You never call!"

Ventura found herself laughing at the sight of her. She said, "I was in space!"

It was Monica, big breasted, skinny waist, red lace bra, Ventura's best friend forever. The song changed to Do You Believe in Magic by the same band and Monica started jumping up and down excitedly and could hardly keep her eyes open as she experienced that rhythm and sweet harmony. She screamed happily and giddily pulled Ventura's arm and threw her into the hall and pushed into the living room where a huge party of naked and half naked women were trying on lingerie and picking out high heeled shoes and trench coats to put over their lingerie. This was the daily ritual before the nightly trades began. Ventura knew it all too well, and to be honest, it beat doing it alone in Space. This was her red-light crew. And she loved all of them. Felt bad for them like she felt bad for herself. But this was a group of people she was truly happy to see because they made the best out of any circumstance and knew how to make hard times easy. She hugged Monica.

Monica introduced Ventura to some faces Ventura had not recognized and brought her to reunite with some kind faces she hadn't seen in a long time. Monica shared some Yerba tea with Ventura in the kitchen and gave her the plan for tonight's business. The hours flew by before nightfall came and Ventura was wearing an expensive black escort uniform as Monica called it and a lavish designer fur coat. They took a cab while the moonlight flooded the city like a ghost. Their army of cabs reached out of the underground tunnels and breached the nightly air above ground. They walked across the promenade and enjoyed the newly built parks and flower gardens and endless walkways that stood in place of where those dreadful roads used to be all throughout the city, before the tunnels were constructed.

As they walked about to get comfortable in their new heels before the red-light hour started, they began to talk about how nice the legalization of prostitution had been for the economy and for human rights. "Things used to be so backward," Ventura agreed while Monica grew upset over the history of prostitution.

"Can you imagine though?" Monica went on. "It's just like before they'd legalized drugs and alcohol! Without them being legal, they couldn't be regulated and it was all black market and shady and unsafe for the women. There were pimps and everything! Now we run our own shows you know? I make all the money my clients pay. I run my own web show and I make my own money. We train girls and we protect them. This is what the future gave us and isn't it just divine?" She was looking up at the starry black ceiling and that gorgeous moon above the buildings and palm trees.

"It is much better," Ventura agreed, chaining her arm around Monica and smiling to a few men who tilted their hats to them, eyeing their naked legs and high heels and lavish trench coats. "Can you imagine doing this under a boss who is a man?" she said. Ventura shivered and so did Monica.

"Come!" Monica shouted, pulling Ventura across a giant chessboard where 32 people were playing real life chess at the center of where a hideous black road full of cars once passed over the Earth, taking up space and making the Earth ugly, and the two women passed to the other side so they could buy some ice cream cookie sandwiches. Monica and Ventura always went there on weekends before their work. It was a kind of tradition, and they loved it. Pop music by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney played in the place and people spotted them and let them pass with respect. Knowing full well their once 'scandalous' occupation. Everyone to their own, they thought open-mindedly. It was well known that the professionals escorts in the business started after midnight to give all eligible bachelors opportunities to peruse the bars and dances for mates who were looking for love or a normal good time, too, thus giving them the chance to meet regular people; this opportunity time before midnight came into fashion because love that wasn't paid for out of pocket was something the professional escorts tended to respect and cherish. When a bachelor or bachelorette had given the fair try at another citizen not a part of the prostitution business, then by midnight they could decide if they were still horny enough to drop cash for a one-night romp. This would get it out of their system and even gain them some practice in bed and some confidence for the next night of going out and seeking an eligible partner. That's how the professionals like Monica and Ventura saw themselves ever since the legalization of prostitution: profiteers for the first night, and confidence boosters for the second. The money they were actually making had skyrocketed since legalization helped rid away of middlemen pimps who were soaking up the dough. Regulation allowed for prostitute-to-police protection so they would feel safe from anyone who might come and threaten them to work under them, like a mafioso pimp and such. The happiness actually filtered into their own lives and became a fun and honest way of living, they thought. And although Monica had not told Ventura yet that she got married and had a kid, Monica planned to also tell Ventura that she would continue her night work because she and her husband could enjoy more vacation time and time with their children if she did. And she knew how to have sex at work and make love at home while never confusing the two. Unless her husband wanted them to make love while they also had sex with another person for a spicy threesome. That was a welcome part of their bed culture.

When the midnight hour came, the two had finished their ritual ice cream cookie sandwiches and went back to the promenade. The unlucky bachelors from tonight had come out and begun to say hello and strike up casual conversations with the promenade escorts. "What are you doing tonight?" had become a trending phrase and when an unlucky woman of the night with curly brown hair and huge nerdy glasses came up to the voluptuous and confident Monica at the support of her embarrassing group of retro-indie dressed friends who loved the colors green and brown leather, they pushed her along to ask Monica "What are you doing tonight?" and Monica blushed to the cute college girl and held out her hand for the girl to take. "Let's find out," she said, fully enjoying herself, seeing the girl blush at the enjoyment of her friends. The nerdy girl took some money that her cheerful friends passed over directly for Monica so the nerdy girl would have a splendid good night, plus a nice tip from a tall, kind-faced and seemingly gay companion who asked Monica to "teach her something she can teach us tomorrow night," and the whole group laughed supportively. Monica winked back, nodded goodbye to Ventura as she and the nerdy girl walked away through the gardens that covered the city that used to be an ugly grid of black asphalt. The town was buzzing with beautiful voices and the trees were lit using bioluminescent engineering. She thought cheerfully as she looked up from the ground that used to be ugly black road and peered above at the beautiful starry sky and its fresh air. Thank god for the end of car culture, she thought.

She walked around some more before she got a call from Monica asking if she'd gotten any work yet, but indeed she had not, so Monica asked her if she'd be interested in coming to her and the nerdy girl for a threesome because her friends had sent double the money to her phone in case the nerdy girl would be up for a three-way. "She could use all the help she could get," they'd said laughing about their friend. "But no men. No men. This is just for practice. Just for teaching."

Ventura agreed and went to pick up a few things Monica requested for the nerdy girl to "get her money's worth" and "her education in full" when suddenly Ventura stopped in the darkest part of the garden as a well-dressed man mysteriously appeared out of the shadows. "Hi," he said, not seeming nervous one bit and almost seeming as though he'd known he'd be choosing her specifically all night. "Your name's Ventura, right?"

Ventura looked at his smiling, handsome face and his three-pieced suit and noticed that this was a man who could get any woman he wanted. "Yes," she said hesitantly, holding her bag of naughtiness.

"My friend, George, mentioned you from a while back and he said you were," he said, hesitating, "a real nice person."

Ventura almost laughed at that. "Is that what he said?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to be earnest. He pulled out his phone and got ready to send her some money for her service. "I just got my paycheck today, and was wondering what your most expensive service was." He looked at her with an almost boyish curiosity and she suddenly realized how tall he looked. A shadow covered half his face though and she couldn't make him out too well.

"I'd love to," Ventura said, but she showed him her bag of toys. "But I'm on my way to a client right now. I'll tell you what though..." she grabbed for his phone and pulled up the Apps store on his phone and downloaded an app called "Promenade Pillows" so he could like her profile and try her again later when she was free. He seemed disappointed but nodded and made an account to like her right away. "Okay," he said and said goodbye as she left and looked back to see him still looking at her as she went. When she turned a corner, she didn't know why, but she felt a strange sense of fear she hadn't felt in a long time-- never since the time the roads were paved with asphalt and passing cars, the time when she'd been doing the old red-light district and a white van had been slowly creeping behind her, and she thought she'd be snatched into the van by the side of the road if she hadn't run faster.

The streets were supposed to be monumentally safer now and that kind of thing never really happened anymore. Yet for some reason she turned the corner and ran in her high heels to the Hampton hotel overlooking the ocean where Monica and the nerdy girlie were staying.

Once Ventura arrived to the hotel, she looked over her shoulder and saw no one was behind her. She went in and took the elevator up.

The familiar elevator attendant, a young man who normally worked the front desk, gave her the regular nod. They'd known each other well.