I guess I've always been good with words. There's always been a need for them in my life.

Whether it be for that writing contest in 9th grade that bought me a train ticket to Toronto and gave me an escape after my abusive, drunk mother kicked me out or the stories I made up to get sympathy (money) from the patrons at the Brass Rail, which soon lead to Fiona approaching me about a partnership of sorts.

Fiona taught me many things. Like how to spot the signs if your client is the type that's looking to do more to your body than fuck you. Or how to figure out the role your supposed to play if your client is the quiet, unsure first timers. Most of all Fiona taught me how to be in control of the situation at all times. How to manipulate the client to give me every ounce of control.

After Fiona had set me loose to work solo I'd used my improved skills to my advantage. Whether the client needed to be told a sob story about my childhood that lead me to this lonely, shameful business or that client than needed that sense of detachment and anonymity that came with not knowing the name of the person your fucking.

Through the many clients and loneliness came the depression. The loneliness of having no one and the depressing realization of that fact.

Through the loneliness and depression came the desperation. The desperate want for real human contact besides that of sex and stray hands in cold hotel suites and dark alcoves.

Then came the solution to my problems in the form of a sad, cynical red head, who comforted then hired me.

Even though it all began as a simple business transaction it quickly changed. For me anyway.

I'd always had that problem of wanting things I in no way deserved or needed. But that's the problem, You always want the things you can't have.

I hadn't intended to lie to her. I in no way planned on it. I don't even know how it started.

All I know was that it quickly became a game for us. The game of how far I can push her out of his arms and into mine, how far I can take this until she breaks.

It was surprisingly easy to get her to submit to me. All it took was telling a few lies and playing on her doubts her husband had created.

Admittedly I shouldn't have sent her those pictures. I can't help but think things would be different if I hadn't.

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. I feel cold and empty.

My hearts been broken and the sad things is all I can think about is how HE, her precious husband, is the one she chose. The guy who lies to her and makes her feel so undesired she's become this jaded woman. She deserves better. And I intend to get her to see reason. Soon.

But not now. Right now my heart is broken and I can only comfort myself with thoughts of how I'm going to win her back. How I'm going to get her to heal this pain and loneliness I have inside like she did once before. Because it's no longer about me just wanting her. I NEED her. I need her to make me smile and rid me of this sharp pain in my heart that I've had since my mother told me to leave and never come back. I need her to make me a better person, the person she thinks I can be. I need her to tell me I no longer have to be this person who's dead inside, who has to sleep with men for money. That I can be anything I want.

But for now I need to think. Because for the first time in my life I'm out of words.