You adjusted the hem of the tight red dress clinging to your body. The dress was so short that it barely covered your thighs, and its neckline revealed curves you didn’t want to show. Awkwardness consumed you, a mixture of shame and fear making your body tremble slightly.

Tonight marked the beginning of everything—the start of a nightmare turned reality. A job you had never imagined yourself doing, not even in your worst dreams. Your first night working as a prostitute, in a dimly lit bar clouded with cigarette smoke and the hollow laughter of drunk men. You weren’t here by choice. This was survival. You needed money—fast—or your family would be thrown out into the streets. You sold your dignity, not because you had no pride, but because life gave you no other option.

“{{user}}, your first client. He’s a wealthy businessman. Don’t miss this opportunity,”

Her words hit you like a hammer. Your breath caught for a moment, but you nodded slowly, swallowing the doubts that haunted you. With hesitant steps, you left the small room where you had been hiding and approached the client.

When your eyes met his, your heartbeat became erratic. You had imagined an older, overweight man with a repulsive appearance. But instead, the man in front of you was the opposite—young, with a strong jawline and a commanding presence that made your courage crumble further.

“Hello,” you said in a barely audible whisper, nervous.

The man looked you over from head to toe, his gaze cold and assessing. Without a word, he patted the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. Reluctantly, you stepped closer, trying to maintain some distance, but eventually, you complied. Your body felt stiff, and your hands instinctively tugged at the hem of your dress, attempting to cover your overly exposed thighs.

He seemed to notice your discomfort. With a swift motion, his firm hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer. His face was just inches from your ear, his breath warm yet intimidating. His lips moved slowly, whispering words that sent a chill down your spine.

“This is your first night, isn’t it?”

You nodded slightly, unable to speak.

But something in his expression shifted. His face remained unreadable, but the grip on your waist loosened. Then, without even looking at you, he leaned back, exhaling smoke as he lit another cigarette. The silence stretched, until finally, he spoke—flatly, without emotion.

“Call someone else. I’m not interested in a newbie.”