Hi! New story, its been YEARS! Rated M for Language, Content, and risky themes! Loosely based off of the movie Pretty Woman, but with the best characters ever, Tris and Tobias! Review and Let me know how I'm doing! I'm very rusty!

Tris POV

They say go to your happy place. It's what we learn within the first week on the job. Go to your happy place when you need to escape the job, since we can never really escape it once we've begun. There's no running as an escort, only losing. Losing yourself, your confidence and trading it for your new self. That is what originally had drawn me to this position in the first place. Go to your happy place. I think as I turn my cheek to avoid my customer's sloppy lips on my own. This thought is followed by a chant of I need the money, I need the money, I need the money. Because in all honesty, the money was plentiful, and the pain worsened as your experience in this work environment dragged on.

While I'm sitting here getting groped and felt up by the drunken businessman, Eric or something bland like that, I think back to a time where I needed the money for different reasons. My beloved family. I was the ripe age of 18 and had gone off to college as a first generation college student. My family was born into wealth on my mother's side, almost the entire family tree working for Abnegation Incorporation, when she had fallen in love with my middle class father. Then, they had my brother Caleb and little old me. We grew up healthy, happy, and were very strong in our familial relationship despite the lofty job expectations of my parents. We went to the finest primary schools in all of Manhattan and the trend didn't stop until after we completed high school at the finest school in the area. We had it good. I think as I yet again push my client away from my face and into a chair where I was to finish out the task, not before rolling on protection first- protection for both my nether regions and my mouth. I wish I still had it good. I think to myself going into this painful wormhole to escape the physical pain I was feeling due to my job.

I was 18 on that fateful day that turned my life into a steaming pile of shit, sending me from the highest point in Manhattan to slinking along the streets with the subway rats. And I had Jeanine Matthews and her creepy bozos to thank for it. I'd like to blame it all on her evil nature as to the reason my family was taken from me and I was raped. But in reality, as much as it pains me to say it now, it was my own father's lack of a business degree that caused the mistake in the big deal. Her men came busting in my home, ordered to take us all into captivity to be tortured until she got her end of the deal upheld- it's amazing what a simple ten million dollars can drive a person to do. The men snagged my mother, father, and Caleb, however they had different plans from me. Veering from their orders they decided to have their way with me, and based on the science of fear, they left me behind as to not have their secret revealed. Jeanine was a monster, a kidnapper, and cruel, but she was no supporter of rape. What a lovely woman, I scoff, causing what's-his-face, Eric, to snarl at me and tighten his grip on my hair. I wince, cursing myself for allowing my thoughts to seep through my character's performance.

When the bozos left me behind, I was beaten down but I wasn't broken. I pulled my eighteen year old thin body from the ground, took a shower, and called my uncle to strike a deal with Jeanine. However, when the deal was a hefty three hundred thousand, the hefty being sarcastic, my uncle, who had been fighting for his place as head of the company, was less than concerned for my family, and even less concerned with his only niece. That fucking bitch is the reason I'm the scum of the streets now. I grimace. Again, Eric takes my cracked façade as displeasure and grunts out "You little bitch, I'm paying you to enjoy this, stop killing the mood." And it's true. He was definitely paying me well. A whopping four hundred dollars for the hour. My days of putting that towards my family's "bail" were long gone however. Jeanine saw that she was not getting her end of the deal, and I failed to get the money in time, and she had them all thrown over her yacht and into the depths of the Atlantic.

So that brings me to the end of my timeline, the current events of Tris Prior. I now was stuck in the prostitution world to simply survive. I had chosen prostitution because in the business world it was a popular pastime to combat the stress of making billions on Wall Street. But it had its one perk; I could become whoever I wanted to become. A new name, a new personality- different ones if I wanted to switch things up between clients- and decent enough money to get by in my small two bed apartment that I shared with my best friend Christina. I had obviously met Chris through my job. "Fuck, Lauren!" My client comes as we wrap up his session. I let him fall off of me, thankful that he isn't one to try and force me to stay, and I slip away to the restroom to grab my coat. I reach the bathroom and shove the money in my costume, a cropped white halter top and a tiny blue tie-dyed skirt attached at the belly button by a silver hoop. I brush my fingers through my long blonde waves and immediately use the hotel's mouthwash. Stepping back out in to the rented hotel room I grab my thigh high black stiletto boots, pain in my fuckin' ass, and strut out of the room as I jam my arms into my khaki knee length coat, fumbling with the tie as a loud snore from the bed is my only form of thanks. Oh, and the money I have as my trophy for tonight. Surely Chris can't beat this stack tonight! I smile as the lock clicks into place.

I sigh as I step in the elevator, some guests knowing exactly who I am and some guests being completely oblivious of my occupation. I walk tiredly through the lobby winking at a co-worker, Tori, as she heads up with her black-haired client. I fight against my body to glance toward a couple checking in bashfully accepting congratulations on their honeymoon, but I lose. Yeah, a stripper as a hopeless romantic? Who'd of thought it. I snort as I leave the hotel, fighting the envy as I reach my corner, just in time for a gunmetal gray Rolls-Royce Wraith to come screeching to a quite jerky halt next to my corner. The window rolls down causing the breath to be taken away from me.