Author's Note: This is my first Repo! story, I don't know how the idea came to me, and I hope I'm not ripping off someone elses story. I'm pretty sure I'm not. But anyway, it's a little cheesy and dramatic, but that's how operas are, right? Dramatic more than cheesy, unless we're talking about soap operas, ugh. But anyway, hopefully this doesn't suck too badly. I did a little character attitude switch-a-roo, so that might be neat. It's in four parts, so four chapters. The first two chapters are from the Courtesan's point of view and the last two are third person point of view. I don't know why I did it that way, but I did. Ha. So umm, yeah. Hopefully it's enjoyable.

Courtesan. It wasn't exactly the job I was dreaming of as a little girl, but I guess it put a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I don't want to say I have a reputation, but being the Rotti Largo's Courtesan, I've gained a sort of distinction. I was in a sort of predicament like Blind Mag, in exchange for sight she's the friendly face of GeneCo. Me? Well... I was a 'talented, young, beautiful girl' that Rotti just didn't have the heart to see die, but in reality he had many hearts for me... I needed a new heart when I was 18, that's when I came under the employment, rather, personal employment of GeneCo.

It's not a bad gig... most of the time. If I just take it and let my mind wander to some place else, it's like bad dream, and bad dreams eventually fade from memory. It's not Rotti I worry about though, seeing as I'm basically owned by him, his children own a little bit of me as well, Rotti's quite kind to me, actually. It's Luigi and Amber I can't stand. Pavi usually keeps his distance, he's got enough GenTerns all over him as it is, it's safe to say he's well satisfied. Though more than a few times I've caught him staring at me, at my face, and the thought of those eyes searching and that brain thinking is very, very unsettling. But Luigi and Amber... there's just- really, no words to explain it. I'm just thankful that Rotti doesn't allow me to be used as a punching bag.
I have the luxury of having my own apartment, it's nothing too top of the line, but it's something I can call my own, something I bought with my own money... though considering the money was on a charge card Rotti gave me...I guess... he owns it. But I decorate it and live in it. It's my own!
I'm also allowed 'free time', glamourous, right? It's as free as free can be... just as long as I keep my communicator bracelet on me at all times...
Sometimes I'm allowed to dance. Dance how I wish, that is. Since I was a little girl I've had a passion for ballet. And a few times Rotti's let me do a show with Mag, a way to flaunt me to all his guests are beneficial banquets and fundraisers, she sings and I dance. It isn't ideally what we had dreamt of as children, being famous this way. It was freeing, in a way, but not the true freedom I want.

No parents, no money, nothing. I was dying. What choice did I have when I was offered a new heart, a job, basically a completely new life. I was saved. But now... 10 years down the road... was it really worth it?

Courtesan. It's my occupation, my life and my name. The only hope I have is that my looks would fade fast and interest in me would diminish, and maybe, if I'm lucky, I would be able to walk away with my life...
Living like this held material pleasures and security, but I'm caged. But it isn't in me to just act complaisant...

My only act of defiance that makes me feel the slighest bit still in control of my life is when I traded in my elegant clothes provided by Rotti Largo and GeneCo for clothes of a less modest look. The image of a Zydrate addict, turning tricks for who ever would be willing to pay my price... Yes. It was low. Very low. But it was this shameful act that proved to me I still had some kind of dominion over my life.

Today was a particularly slow night. I was on my second cigarette and hadn't even caught a second glance from anyone. I thought I'd call it a night and head back home, but a familiar, annoying, yet somehow comforting baritone came from behind me.

"Well, wouldn't the King be upset to see his mistress offering herself out on street corners," he walked around me, that black lipped smile of his on his face, he faked a dramatic gasp, "And smoking, no less! My, my, the consequences." he shook his head in a mocking manner.

"Ha, ha. Graverobber." I rolled my eyes and flicked the cigarette butt away, "I'm sure Rotti dearest would provide me with new lungs if I needed them. He's got more than enough spare parts to fix his little doll. " I scrunched up my face in a fake grin.

He bent in to a sort of, what some might call gentlemanly, but I just called it, taunting, bow. "Courtesan." he smirked and stood up to his full height again.

"Shouldn't you be living up to your name?" I wondered, giving off that air of superiority I usually left at home whenever I went out like this.

"Shouldn't you?" he shot back easily, "Come on, let's see what's under the coat tonight. What's for sale?"

I scoffed with a roll of my eyes before pulling away at the belt of my coat and revealing what lay under. It wasn't much, and what little there was left to the imagination usually got the buyers buying. I usually went with leather, fluorescent colors or something with fishnet, but I went for lace this time. A dark blue. It clashed, in a good way, against my skin, pale, and seemed to make my red hair, natural, a little brighter. And with redder hair, also came greener eyes. To keep it short, I knew what I was doing.

Graverobber let out a low whistle and I closed up my coat, "I ought to charge you for that." I teased with a grin.

"Aw, I thought we were friends, Courtesan. Freebies." he whined, but that underlying joking tone was still there.

"Freebies? I've never come to you for Z."

"First hits free, buddies have to stick together." he moved one side of his coat away from him to show the blue glow hiding beneath, strapped to his leg.

"I don't want any Zydrate, Graves. I took it for my heart transplant, that was it."

He covered up the glow and stuck out his bottom lip, "So we're not friends?"

I tried to contain a smile, but it broke across my face anyway, "Yes, we're friends. I just don't want any of your damn street drugs, okay?"

"Got it. I can still get stuff from you, right?" he sounded hopeful, and seemed a little desperate. I never asked questions, as long as they had the money, I gave the service. But in truth, Graverobber was my friend, sad to say, the only friend I had. And friends usually spoke when something was up, right?... What am I talking about, look at my life. Does any bit of it seem usual? I shook the thought away and nodded.

He took my hand and as casually as possible, we walked for a good 8 minutes, keeping up casual appearances, though it didn't really matter. He sidestepped into an alley way and tugged me along with him. Graves black painted lips were on mine before my back had touched the bricks. There was that desperation again, the way his mouth moved against mine, there was an eagerness about it. Maybe that was it, maybe he was just eager to get off.

But as the minutes passed and we still remained in the same position; me against the wall, Graves pressed up close, his hands holding around my neck and caressing my cheek, I knew something was off. Kissing didn't last long, with every client it was different, but the kissing was usually a 30 second sort of thing. Something to get the heart racing, get the breath panting and the blood pumping. The same went for Graverobber. But I couldn't question it, I wouldn't. I just let my hands fall away from clasped behind his neck beneath his hair to raking down his chest and resting on his belt. He didn't seem to feel my advancement until I unbuckled it and started on the button and zipper of his pants. That's when his movements became frantic, and he sped up like he was trying to cover up and make up for all the time he'd spent kissing me. He undid the belt of my coat and the heavy warm fabric fell to the ground.

Graves hands grabbed under my thighs and he guided my legs to hook around his hips as he pushed me a little harder into the wall. The bricks were cold and bit into the skin of my back but that hardly mattered. Clearly this wasn't a flute job, judging by the way he ground his hips against me. I let out a moan, and in all honesty, I normally faked all the noises, but somehow Graverobber knew what he was doing with me. His lips found my neck and he thrusted heavily against me, his breath, as well as mine, shifting into that panting gasp.

His hands fell from under my legs a moment later and just as my heeled shoes touched the ground again I was spun around none too gently, facing the brick wall. I heard a heavy thump, relating it to the sound of how my coat had fallen eariler, Graverobber must have shed his.

One of his hands took hold of both my wrists and trapped them above me against the wall, while the other, from what I heard, fumbled with the fastening of his pants again, so I did what I did best. I rubbed my backside up against him, and was rewarded with a choked sort of groan and a hand squeeze on my hip. I let my head fall back, and it landed against his chest, while I continued to try and get this going a little quicker. Graves was always on time, but this time... something was off.

But that thought went away the instant my panties were pulled down to my knees and he shoved himself inside. I moaned as he panted against my neck, pressing the occasional kiss or nip against the skin of my shoulder as he picked up his pace, something between rough, rabid and rhythmic.

His hand on my hip kept me in motion and time with him; grabbing, squeezing, moving and rubbing, though I hardly needed the help, I angled myself perfectly against him and tossed back or turned my head when appropriate. (I had this thing down to a science.) Sighing, gasping and moaning- again, most of the time I faked it, but sometimes he moved just right or hit at the perfect angle and my noises would become a little louder, a little more abrupt, sudden.

I moved my head to breathe against my arm, a whisper of his name. A growl ripped roughly through his throat a second later and he picked up his speed into something close to violent. His hand falling from my captured wrists to grab onto my other hip, guiding every vicious movement. Even if I wanted or needed to be quiet, there was no way I could be now. The animalistic way he was pounding, I felt it everywhere. My arms wobbled and struggled to stay straight and keep my body from crashing into the wall, my legs, especially my knees, felt like they were starting to liquify. But before I could crumble, in a just blink of movements, he was gone, the hands on my hips spun me around again and he grasped under my thighs and with a something similar to a roar he hoisted me up and dropped me onto him again. I screamed.

The wall was cold, rough and unforgiving as it scratched at my skin and tore at my what undergarments I still had on that weren't dangling from my left ankle.

He panted heavily as he looked into my eyes, I was only capable of whimpers as my hands grabbed onto his shoulders and felt a growing tingling coming from below. I loved the feeling, but I rarily ever got my end with customers or Rotti.

His gaze broke from mine as one hand ventured up from supporting under my leg to pulling away at the lacy cup of my bra, his head dipped and his tongue darted out to taste the flesh he'd sampled many times before. The sensation was building up, burning hotter and hotter, but I tried not to think about it, that blinding release never came to me, only when I was by myself could I tip over the edge and cry out. He was close though, the grip on my other leg was tightening, and his movements were becoming more frantic and short.

Moans came between heavy breaths as he moved his mouth away from my breast and he leaned his head against my shoulder, going quicker and quicker.
I cried out, my vision blurring- stars passed over my eyes. What? Here I was waiting for the messy part, and now I was screaming and gripping tightly at Graverobber's clothed shoulders and back.
I looked down to see he'd pressed a singular pale digit against me, rubbing just in time with how he moved to fling me into the abyss with him not far behind.

The next few moments consisted of the awkward part, fixing up appearances; putting bits away, pulling up undergarments, putting clothes and coats back on,, all while avoiding eye contact. And then came the payment.

But Graverobber, as he was before the deal was out of character, he searched his pockets for money but I just waved him off.

"Don't worry about it. Like you said," I closed my coat up and smiled, "Freebies." I shivered slightly from the chill in the air, and the jelly feeling and tingling in my legs having not faded away just yet.

He looked at me, through the street lights he seemed to search my face to see if I was being sarcastic, "Really?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Besides, I got to finish. No one ever worries about me in that department." I shrugged and glanced at my shoes.

He stepped back slightly, a smug expression taking over his entire body, "That good, huh?" his brow bounced a few times as he grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Pleasure doing buisness with you, Graverobber."

He chuckled in that deep, dark voice of his before he stepped forward and planted a kiss on my lips. With that he left the alley, sending one last glance over his shoulder toward me before disappearing around the corner.

I tested my legs, hoping they wouldn't betray me when I walked out of the alley and went the opposite direction Graves had. Friends. I snorted at the thought. Friends don't pay each other for sex. But then again, I hadn't charged him, and he seemed kind of shifty tonight, the extensive make out before the main act, making me meet my climactic end (not even just letting me finish, he made me finish), the kiss before he left... these were all things he's never done in previous exchanges...

Graverobber was the first person to recognise me. When I started doing this prostitution buisness I knew I had to be careful and sneaky about it. I'd change my appearance, contact lenses, wigs, outlandish clothes and make up. Anything to hide my identity. But as I came to realise, most of my customers weren't really looking at my face, but still, the disguising, the debauchery... It gave me a certain kind of thrill.
But he saw who I really was, underneath it all. I was 22, he'd been in the drug market for more than a decade now, he knew all the faces, he knew all the names and he knew who needed zydrate. My face was new to the scenery, as he had said, he noticed I didn't look strung out on anything, and my body wasn't littered with scars or stitches from surgeries, besides the one just between my breasts. He looked me up and down, circled around me a few times before he leaned in closely toward my face, his eyes were squinted as he tried to figure out just who exactly I was and where he'd seen me from before. I was familiar to him but he couldn't place why and I stood there hoping and praying he wouldn't realise.

But it dawned on him, I could see it click, his eyes widened and his dark lipped mouth turned into a smile as he started laughing. I clamped my hand over his mouth just before he started nearly shouting, "You're the Co-"

I dragged him into the nearest alley and with all the might I had shoved him into the wall, and released his mouth, before I started whispering harshly, "Keep it down, will you? I don't exactly want everyone knowing just what Rotti Largo's personal slave does on her nights off. I got this new heart 4 years ago, and I'd like to keep it a little while longer, if you please."

He'd laughed, and apologised, then tried to get me to buy some zydrate from him. I rejected the stuff, and told him my story.

"It must be a thankless job, a legal sex slave. You're far too young and beautiful and real to be in this position." he'd said when I finished my tale, and I'm not sure what came over me, but leaned up, one of my hands taking hold of his neck while the other grabbed at his crotch.

That was the first time, in that alley, the alley that had constantly leaking pipes, bathed in a red glow from street lights above. He'd pushed my wig off, freeing my red soft curls and running his pale fingers through them. I was soaked to the bone by the end of it, but my coat kept me warm, and he handed me some money and winked, "See you around, kid."

That was 6 years ago... Things seemed to have changed... but why?