The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

60 - a blue sky

SHERRY had never gotten good grades in school. She spent more time putting ribbons in her hair than doing homework. When teachers complained in their interviews with her parents, almost all of their complaints narrowed down to one thing: 

     "She's smart, but she cares too much about looking pretty." 

      It was true enough. She'd never had an interest in school. She cared more about the clothes she wore, shoplifting makeup, and making the right friends, than she ever had about algebra and Hamlet and human arteries. None of that mattered to her, not when she knew what she was meant for.

     Right from six years old, Sherry always knew she was going to be a housewife. She remembered playing with dolls in her sister's passed-down Barbie house. She would imagine herself as the prettiest Barbie (they were mostly ripped, marker-stained, with some of their eyes scratched out by her stupid brother), and find smaller, mismatched dolls to be her children. Unfortunately, her sister had never owned a Ken doll, so she was left to interpret the husband of her dreams to her heart's desire.

      In her fantasies, he was tall, dark, and handsome. He'd sweep her off her feet, away from this little shack of a house and this run-down, lower-class neighbourhood. He'd take her on his private jet, and whisk her away to a mansion, where hundreds of servants would take care of her every need. 

      Sherry knew it wasn't rare for children to dream of something bigger and better. Her teachers always taught her to reach for the stars. Her classmates recited their ambitions―lawyer, doctor, astronaut. 

      "I want to be a housewife," she'd intoned in front of the class.

      Her teacher had phoned her parents that evening.

      Hiding behind the staircase banister, Sherry had overheard her mother scolding her father later that night: "I thought we agreed we were going to teach our children equality. You promised that, Danny. You said you wouldn't bring any of your parents' misogynistic ideals into this household―"

     "I've never said a word about being housewife. I don't know where she learned that from. It might be one of the stupid shows on the TV―"

      They cut off her television access after that. No matter. Sherry knew her destiny, and she knew what she needed to get there: She was going to make herself pretty and perfect.

      At sixteen, another factor came into play―one she wasn't expecting.

      Sex.

      All of her high school friends were having it. She'd overhear the boys talking about their body counts. She eavesdropped, and eavesdropped, and eavesdropped, until it made her sick. 

      "She had a nice ass, but her head game wasn't good. Five out of ten."

      "Terry moans like a porn star. Nine out of ten."

      "Emma's body is so good, but her face is ugly. She was a good fuck, but I wish I'd put a bag over her head. Seven out of ten."

      "Jenny said she was a virgin, but she fucked like a pro. Ten out of ten."

       Sherry would fight back the feelings of nausea. She became obsessed with the idea of numbers. She needed to be a perfect ten. She wasn't stupid. What rich, handsome man would marry her if she wasn't good in bed? 

      She befriended Jenny, and month by month, slowly drew more information out of her about her sex life. When the time came for Sherry to lose her virginity, she picked a boy from a different high school. She had to make sure none of her experiences ever came back to haunt her.