Jordin was waiting for the client. She read her book, before slamming it shut and sighing. Who was she, a whore, to read? She laughed at the absurdity. She sold herself to pay for her food, her board, her education.
A head popped into the lounge where skimpily dressed girls lounged around. "Nadia! Your client's here for you!"
Nadia. Her mask, in this world of make-believe. A world where men thought that they could buy emotions, could buy love. Society called them whores, cheap women, women that would do anything for money. Jordin sighed softly. It was true. she sold herself to pay... but in this world, this world of money...
She walked out, her heels barely making a sound against the carpeted floor. She saw her client for today, an old man, who wrapped a hand around her slim, willowy waist.
Nadia laughed softly and mumured, "Let's go."
Jordin shuddered.
Nadia brought the man to a beautiful hotel, the Pan Pacific. When they were in the room, he requested a strip tease, and Nadia teased him gently by moving her young, body against his, marvelling and slowly removing her clothes, not that they really covered much...
She covered his face in kisses,letting him have free access to her body, letting him touch...
And then he gently pushed her onto the bed...
When she walked out from the bathroom, using the scented soaps and the towels to wipe herself clean of his grimy scent, she walked out and took the cash she had earned. He gave her a look that told her, "You're nothing...you're just a whore, a girl that'd sell herself for money." Nadia takes the cash and smiles, putting it in her wallet. She walks into the lobby, her heels clicking on the hard, cold marble.
Jordin stares out into the roads, which are still dark...bright with the street lights... She stands in the shadows watching... and she could feel the tears...
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