Addictions came in a thousand different forms. For some, addiction could be positive, like being addicted to yoga, or hard work. For most, addiction was the slippery slope on the way to rock bottom.
Ellie White's addiction, though she tried her best to deny it, was affection. She thrived on contact, on causing another person's pleasure, on having many relations at once. That was how she came to sell her body. Why she adjusted to the cold settling into her bones whilst she waited on a corner, smoke drifting from a cigarette she had no intention of actually smoking.
She wasn't stupid; knew the hazards of the cancer sticks, but tonight she wanted to put on the full show. Wanted to play the part of the dirty hooker; needed to, more like it. As the headlights of a shitty Camry came into view, she let the cigarette fall, squishing it with her heel as she met the car halfway. Bending at her hip, she leaned into the vehicle, putting on a devilish smirk for the man. Tonight, she was Raven, not Ellie. She blew a strand of hair from her face where it had fallen out of her messy bun. "Looking for fun? Or, something a little more," she paused, running a tongue over her front teeth before grinning, "dangerous."
An hour and a half later, Ellie walked out of a hotel room, stashing a couple large bills in her bra. She pulled her hair back into a high pony-tail and covered herself with the jacket she'd slung on her arm earlier. Zipping it up all the way, she was thankful for the warmth it provided as she stepped back out into the cold air just past the revolving doors. The hotel's vibrant sign lit her path decently as she walked home.