The clock on the stove read 7:25 AM. Stripping off her waitress uniform, looking at it, thinking of it again, like she did every day, as her slut suit, Jenny left a trail of clothes from the door to the bathroom. She wondered if Ray was angry because she was still in the apartment, his apartment, the one they had lived in together. It had been his place first, before she moved in with him. Then after he went to prison, she had thought about giving it up but decided to keep it. Why not? French Quarter apartments weren’t easy to find, and it was within walking distance of the bar where she had worked at the time. It was even closer to the Rising Sun, so when she had gone to work at the House it made even more sense to keep the apartment. She spun the taps on in the tub, making the water as hot as she could stand it before flipping the lever that turned on the showerhead. She eased one foot at a time over the side of the tub and slipped under the blast of water, pulling the shower curtain closed behind her.
