Chapter One:

Looking into the reflective glass in front of me, I saw a stranger. In dull yellow lighting was a scrawny woman... No, girl, with glittering purple make up covering her face, lips, shoulders, breasts, and hidden from the mirror down her thighs and calves. Her hair was almost white, with a hint of gold in it; it reached down to her hips, carefully trimmed evenly. Tonight it was "gothic girl" night, so she had black lace braided throughout her burnt-straight hair. Under her eyes were poofy bags desperately covered with light cover up. One thing, though, of this girl made me believe it still was me... Those ice blue-gray eyes that stared back. They still sparkled with ambition while the rest of her, me, quivered with defeat.

I stood up, stretching my body and examining my outfit in the mirror. I had on a black and pink laced corset with lacy underwear, along with fish net stockings to match. Around me other girls were putting on their outfits getting ready to perform. They were all disgusting whores. I was forced into this life... I swear, I had no choice... I suppose, some of them were as well, it was none of my business though. "Umph!" I grunted as the lead performer pushed me out of her way, "Watch where you're going, tramp!" she snapped at me. I bared my teeth, but turned away. I was the follow up to her and since I was younger, I got more attention from the perverts; she despised me for that. Oh, and in case you didn't figure it out yet, I'm a stripper.

I sat back down at my area, slumping over. I would say I wasn't always like this, a whore, but I think I would be lying. My mother was a stripper, and she worked for my father. No, they weren't in love. No, I wasn't ment to be here, but she needed the money desperately and I guess he was her only option. Of course with me came more bills, so she needed me to make money... Actually, lets not get into that... The point is, ever since I was fifteen I've been shaking my "tatas" here at my father's old underground club. Last year he died, one of his hookers bite off his penis. Oh well.

Finally I heard the music start and Trixie, the "star" strutted on stage. "Five minutes and I'm up..." I mumbled to myself. I did one more check of the mirror before turning towards the stage; a girl with brunette hair that had blonde streaks in the bangs was sitting next to the door sobbing. Oh... She must be new, I've never seen her before. Contemplating whether or not to question her, I inched my way towards her. Once I was a few feet away from her I decided against my better judgment and knelt down beside her.

"Hey, sweets, are you alright?" I whispered, nudging her a little. She glanced up at me, her eyes were blood-shot, but it didn't hide her emerald iris' that shimmered with youth. She couldn't have been much older than me, hell, she might have been a little younger. She was dressed in one of our cheapest outfits; an old, worn out black and red corset with red lacy booty shorts and black knee highs with a red bow on them. She didn't wear much make up, just some dark red lipstick smeared lazy on full lips, perhaps crimson? They parted, about to speak, but all that came out was another sob. Poor girl...

"I-I'll be alright," she muttered, wiping away the tears with both hands, "I'm ju-st so ashamed..." I nodded, then noticed it was my time to shine on stage.

"Sweets, talk to me after the show, ok?" I said before standing back up, adjusting my breasts, then strutting onto the stage and taking grip of my pole. Shameful, I know.

Everyone was leaving, the show just ended and all the girls were ready to go confide in their homes. I was putting on my preferred clothes, a tight black sweater that heightened the size of my breasts, a gray skirt that stopped mid-thigh, dark leggins that clung warmth to my legs, and black slip-on shoes. This is when I felt somewhat like myself...

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar little girl scurry out of the back of the building; I had forgotten to talk to her. She was dressed in a baggy overcoat that looked like it was pulled out of the gutter, jogging pants with various stains all over them, and worn sneakers. Still, her face held a natural beauty to it. I jogged after her, calling her. She glanced back timidly, then slowed her pace realizing it was me. A small bit of relief fell over her face as I linked one of my arms with hers and gave her a wide, fake smile, "So, honey, tell me about yourself."

Gazing up towards the sky with absent eyes she began to describe a fraction of her life to me. It turns out she's only sixteen, one year younger than me. When she was three she was walking on the beach of her hometown, she was snatched up and hidden away on a boat. It was in winter and no one was around, so he got away with ease. As she was failing and screaming onto the boat he got by saying "she's throwing a temper tantrum." So, this guy that took her wasn't a pedophile like most abductors, but treated her like a little slave. She tried running away, but he always found her. When she turned thirteen horrible things happened, but she didn't tell me what they were. A couple of weeks ago she hid enough money to jump on a bus and come here, the city. She couldn't make money, so she was stuck with this option. By the looks of her, she hasn't eaten in a while. I didn't pity her, but I empathized with her.

Unlatching the two of us, I wrapped the newly freed arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to my side, getting a wiff of her. She hadn't showered in a while, but her natural odor wasn't horrible. "I'm sorry sweets... So you don't remember what town you're from?" She shook her head. I let out a small sigh, I should have assumed she didn't, if she did she would have gone there already. "So, what's your name, any way?"

"Karen." I nodded, complimenting it with the usual "pretty name" that every one says. She scoffed, a sarcastic smile on her face, "Yea, beautiful." Her face darkened, the grin turning somber. I sighed, knowing how she was feeling too well.

I glanced around, realizing we were only a few blocks away from my apartment. "So, Karen, wanna stay over tonight?" I asked, trying to be casual, "you seem like you could use a shower and a meal, er, no offense..." A smile illuminated her face and she nodded, jittery.

"Yea, that would be great." I smiled back, this time there was almost a tinge of happiness in it. Perhaps there's a nice, sweet girl out there after all, not just whores. I guided her into the complex of little homes, grabbing a newspaper that was on the lobby desk. We slinked into my apartment quickly and she wasted no time finding the shower. I laughed a bit, somewhat out of pity, and a little out of exhaustion. I threw a frozen pizza into the oven, got comfortable in my little wooden chair that went with the tiny coffee table I got for $15 dollars, and glanced through the newspaper.

Are you in a slump?

Need a change to happen in your life?

Need new ambitions?

Then come to Mineral Town!

There's a farm open for the taking!

Call 1-800-345-5677

Should I continue? I only will if people are interested in this story, so please let me know. I'm always open for constructive criticism.