Chapter onelLiving it up
My lips quiver as I step onto the cold and stark white tiles. I turn around and close the bathroom door. I hear the echo of the soft click when I lock the door and turn around, leaning heavily against the door. Putting my head between my knees, silent tears race quickly down my face, dripping onto my bare chest. I get up and look in the mirror. My eyes are wet and puffy, and with my stupid hairstyle and exposing clothes, I look like a slut. My eyebrows knit together and the corners of my mouth turn down. Taking a deep, slow breath, I adjust my suit and walk out.
"Hey." The man in only his underwear is lying on the bed, the sheet covering half of his body. I manage a weak smile and tried to control the feeling of nausea creeping up my stomach. Getting in the bed, I immediately feel his wide, hard hands roaming all over my back. Biting my bottom lip, I remain stiff and rigid, unwilling to do anything except to just stare at the glowing yellow-golden lamp. His hands move to below my waist and I start shivering not only from the cold, but also from how he touched me. Not in the gentle, even passionate way I thought they did. His groping feels more like pinching. He's so rough. Suddenly, he jerks back and I gasp in pain as his fingernails rake my butt when he pushes me away. He starts shaking violently and then starts snoring. I inch towards the edge of the bed and lay there, feeling confused and raw. But mostly, emotionally and physically hurt.
I started life basically wearing bunny ears and tights, going around and serving lattes and other soft drinks in a casino. The casino that I was working in wasn't just gambling and betting on money, but on women as well. My job as a waitress paid a fair amount of money, but not enough for me to pay my house rent, gas bill and water bills. I always paid the bills late, and whenever I paid them, I never paid them the full amount. This escalated until the house landlord got pissed off and chased me out of the house- literally. I walked in and out of shops, begging them to take me in and give me a job and a place to stay. Nearly all of them turned me down; thinking I was either a crazed lunatic or a scumbag with no brains for a job- or probably both. Finally I found a small shop that was neat and pretty and with a lot of flowers everywhere, all painted in pink. I remember staggering up to the nice-looking receptionist and blurted out my speech with the last of my energy, giving and letting out all of my jumbled up emotions. "I have no house and no money and I was hoping you might have a job for me, and I don't care whatever that job might be. Please, just please, gimme a job."
I've been in the cold of night for so long that when my tears ran over my cheeks, they felt hot. I quickly brushed them away as she started to speak. "Well, darling, lucky for you, we do have a job for you. The pay is high. But I don't know if you might be ready for, er, this kind of job." She smiled, her expression apologetic. I was so over whelmed with the thought, but then told her with quiet determination. "Look, I don't care whether I'm ready or not. All I want is a job and a place to stay, okay?" Well, I guess I didn't have to say anymore because she quickly handed me a form for me to fill up. As I was writing my personal information, she asked, "Would you want to take a job that involves sex?" I froze, and I could barely move my lips. "What is it?" I whispered, closing my eyes. My eyes flew open when she answered, "Prostitute."