Haha I had to switch to first person. I honestly just could not make it sound right in third person. Did a little experiment to see if I'd be able to write a readable lemon. I was laughing while writing most of it, but what the hell at least I did it haha

HoneyBee Manor was nearly as sleazy as people made it out to be. The girl's who worked there were not crack-whore prostitutes. They weren't riddled with track marks and eating disorders like so many people thought. They were just normal girls who needed money. Bad.

Most of the time the men who came in wanted company more than they wanted the sex anyway, so Zack didn't understand what the big deal was. Before he got his job, he thought that the workers at the Manor were trashy and expendable. But once he got to meet them, to really understand them, he learned that they each had identities, that they weren't all just one, sad face. He learned that they have dreams that reached beyond the gates of the Slums.

Zack became an older brother to all of the employees. He protected them, kept them safe from the dangers that sex and money brought. On more than one occasion he had had to beat the shit out of a customer for laying an unwanted hand on one of the women. He also learned about Women and their emotions, something that had previously meant very little to him.

Always polite, always charming; Zack loved women, and women loved him.

Ironically enough, his job at the brothel opened his eyes to the many emotions that came with sex. So many women came in who just wanted to pretend, if only for a few hours, that they had someone who loved them. They wanted romance and excitement in their boring plate lives. Zack liked making women happy.

First Person

I looked at the woman who sat uncomfortably in the soft bed. He hands lay in her lap, twisting and fidgeting into knots as she stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry, I just . . . "

I smiled down at her, "Its okay, I've got time."

After a full minute of silence I sat down on the bed next to her, softly, gently, as if not to startle her. I ran my thumb up her bare arm. She shivered, closing her eyes. Hesitantly, I leaned in towards her. She stiffened.

Okay. I backed off, but continued to run my thumb along her smooth arm. This was going to be a tough one.

"Do you have a husband?"

She gave a short, bitter laugh before turning towards me with a smile. "Is it that obvious?"

I smiled back at her with what I hoped was a look of understanding. "Believe me, you aren't the first."

I pulled my hand away and used it to brush her thick, blond locks out of her face, pinning them behind her ears. But before I could pull my hand away, her cheek was against it. Her eyes were still closed as she ran her face against the length of my hand. Maybe this wouldn't take as long as I thought.

"My husband, he works in Shinra." The nameless woman said. Her voice was very rich, sexy even. It didn't match her personality. But neither did her sultry looks. "He . . . well, he doesn't really come home anymore. I always assumed he was cheating on me, but when I found proof of that I freaked out. I . . . " She laughed softly.

"I stole his money and came here, determined to get 'revenge' on him. But its not really revenge when you have to pay someone to fuck you, huh?"

I pressed my lips gingerly against the hot skin of her cheek, the only form of comfort I could think of. "A jerk like that doesn't deserve a beautiful woman like you."

"I wish I was vain enough to believe you." She muttered dryly, "Truth is, looks are deceiving and beauty is meaningless. Your words are just words."

I was taken aback at how easily she dismissed me. I didn't really understand why she was mad (and was a little pissed that my flattery hadn't worked), so what did she expect me to say? Who cares if her husband cheated in her. Yeah, its definitely hurtful that he would choose someone else's body, but is it really that bad? Sex is just sex.

Her hand ran along her leg, her crimson nails leaving matching lines across her exposed thigh.

"I'm sorry, I was rude. I know you were just trying to help the situation," She gave me a small smile, her pouty red lips revealing brilliant teeth. "But sometimes you're told something so much it begins to lose meaning. It begins to harbor a different, almost anti-meaning. It begins to hurt when people say it to you."

I thought about what she said. Maybe she was right, maybe words without meaning and empty compliments did more damage than good. Maybe men, who thought they knew all the right things to make a girl sleep with them, were losing the advantage.

"Its just hard when someone always says how beautiful you are, always tells you how much they love you, ends being a fucking pile of shit, you know?" She shook her head. Her face was hot and I could feel the tears on my hand. My instinct was to do something, kiss her or hug her to make her feel better, but I wasn't sure how she'd react.

I could hear the tears in her voice. "Why do boys only want to hurt us?"

"Because we just want sex." I said, not really thinking.

...0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0...

"Your hands are so rough"

"I'm in SOLDIER" I replied automatically, for some reason wanting to tell her the truth. We were in the bathroom of the suite, the bath filled with warm water. We were both standing and my 'rough' hands were on her shoulders, pushing her dress down. I kissed her neck, eliciting a gentle moan from her lips.

She was facing me and looking surprisingly bashful. Her golden hair fell in gentle waves, framing her face, making her red lips stand out. She truly was pretty, even for an old trophy wife. She raised her hand to my face, and touched it gently, the first time she had touched me the whole night. I smiled down at her,

"Kiss me." She breathed.

I complied, pressing my lips to hers, hard. I opened my mouth and moved against her, my tongue running along hers. I bit her lip gently, I cupped her face in my hands.

She broke away, her breathing heavy. Her hands fell on my hips, under my shirt. She ran her fingers up my chest, pulling my shirt up with her hands. She stopped for a moment and her eyes fell on my chest.

"I guess it wasn't bullshit, you really are in SOLDIER."

I looked down, confused. She pointed to the deep scars that ran like rivers across my abdomen. I smiled almost proudly. "Yup."

"Well, little SOLDIER, you ready?"

She pushed against my chest, trying to press me against the wall with her delicate hands. I wasn't one to be pushed around, so I spun on my heels, pinning her to the wall. One of my hands had gathered her hands above her head in record time. My free hand rose to her face to stroke it gently.

"So, you like it rough?" I smirked, looking down at her.

She replied by running her thigh between my legs, making me loosen my grip on her hands. She pulled away quickly, and I pretended she was too fast for me. In all honesty I could have had her clothes off and be fucking her before she even got the chance to notice. But I was a gentleman. Besides, she was paying me to live out her fantasy.

What made my job different from the other employees at the HoneyBee Manor was the difference between men and Women. Men came here looking for one thing: sex. They wanted excitement, they wanted the thrill of doing something different. They just wanted release. But women were so much different. They wanted something more from me. They wanted to pretend, dream, that maybe I was the love that they crave, that I was their their cheating husband. Or sometimes it was some other fantasy.

Both her her hands were at my waistband, her fingers gripping the fabric. She wretched me closer to her and fumbled with my belt.

Women who came, maybe a couple of them a week, were asked to fill out a form describing what they wanted. It was really explicit, and really personal. Male customers had to fill out of form stating that they didn't have and STD. I didn't really understand why the thought behind the action was so important to girls, but I guess I'm not really paid to understand. I am, after all, just a guy.

I pulled her dress off, ripping it in the process, but she didn't seem to care. She was was filthy rich, after all. Everyone who came here was. Her form had said that she liked the man to take charge. She liked to be pushed around. I wasn't really into rough sex, but it wasn't really my call.

I pressed her close, my hips grinding into her. She had unbuttoned my pants and they fell to the ground. I moaned, more for her sake then my own, as she ran her hands the length of my chest. She pinched my nipple. Fuck. That hurt. I pretended that I liked it. I shoved her against the wall, my hands on her shoulders.

She bit her bottom lip and looked at me through half-lidded eyes. Her eyelashes were immensely long and shrouded her bright, blue eyes. I looked closer and saw the glue that held them in place. They were fake. I studied her features for the first time since I had met her, I mean really studied them. Her skin seemed strangely pulled near her cheeks and forehead, and I realized that she had had a face lift, which was not an uncommon procedure for older women in Midgar. Well, rich older women. I could see the brown beneath her colored contacts. My eyes drifted down towards her chest to look at her breasts, but it was obvious, even when she was clothed, that she had had implants. No natural woman had boobs that perky. They were scarred with surgery marks. I thought that maybe this lady would be different, but I guess not.

Every woman who came to the HoneyBee had the unnatural beauty of a trophy wife. It was expected of them, even after their prime, to be hot.

"You like them?" She brought her hands to her chest and pushed on her bra. "You better. I payed good money for these."

"Love 'em" I lied, grasping her ball-shaped breasts with my hands. I removed her bra and took one of her breasts in my mouth. I ran my teeth along her nipple.

"mmm, I bet you do"

I shoved my hand into her lace underwear, pushing my fingers into her, causing her to moan and writhe against me. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face brimming with what I had to assume was pleasure. I looked at her contorted face and almost wanted to laugh at how much it didn't suit her. But really, did it suit anyone?

I kissed her while my fingers built up a fast rhythm. My thumb ran against her clit and she came, almost instantly. I waited for her to finish, my mind forcing me to smile. Truth was, none of this really got to me anymore. There was no excitement when it came to sex. Sometimes I wonder how I even 'get it up' each time. There was no chase, no fun, it was 'oh hi, are you Zack? I'm your next appointment.' I felt like a babysitter and I felt dirty and everything just felt so . . . wrong.

She stopped groaning and jumped up, forcing me to catch her thighs with my hands.

"mmm fuck me hard - . . ." The woman trailed off and laughed. She opened her eyes and looked at me, grinning, stupid, "Sorry honey, I forgot your name"

It was then that something hit me. What the fuck was I doing here?

I wasn't a fucking whore, I didn't even like sex that much so why was I here, Mindlessly fucking dried out widows and lonely businesswomen? I was part of SOLDIER. I was supposed to have honor and dignity.

I knew that I shouldn't have been angry, but the fact that she couldn't remember my name made me really think of how disposable I really was. I literally was just a body to them, and they were just money to me.

It was the first time in a long time that I actually felt seventeen. I felt angry and confused and sad. I didn't know which way I was going. I wanted to fucking scream, I wanted to just leave my body and go away.

"Zack," I muttered almost venomously, "My name's Zack"

She lifted an arm around my neck and I noticed how the skin hung on it. Toned muscled stuck out through withered skin, making her look older than she was. Her skin was freckled and sun damaged, probably after years of abuse. She wasn't unattractive, she was just old. Suddenly I was repulsed my the age different between us.

"Well, Zack, you ready to blow my mind?"

I didn't answer her.

She ran her hand up my arm.

"What's your name?" I asked suddenly.

She made and upside down peace sign and used her fingers to walk up my arm like a miniature person, something I would have thought was cute if I hadn't been so spiteful. She smiled and looked up at me through her impossibly thick eyelashes.

"Now why would you want to know that, little SOLDIER?"

I didn't know what I wanted to know her name. Maybe I was angry that she knew almost everything about me, and yet I knew only her sexual preferences. No name, no personal information. It was anonymous.

I released my arms and let her fall gently to the ground. She looked up at me, confused. She opened her mouth, but I started before she could.

"I'm sorry. I . . . I feel sick." I lied, but it wasn't really far from the truth.

"W-what?" She muttered, collecting her self, "You were fine what happened?"

I pulled my pants back on and picked up her dress, handing it to her.

"Wait, you can't just leave! I know for a fact that SOLDIER's don't get sick!" She replied, baffled.

I opened the door to the bedroom and stepped out, seeing for the first time just how seedy the manor really was. The gold had worn off to reveal the gross underbelly of Midgar.

"I work at Shinra, I know what they do to SOLDIER's!" She nearly screamed.

I didn't turn around, I just walked over to the bed and found my shirt as her temper flared.

"You're a fucking MONSTER!"

I picked it up and put it on, slowly. I was done with this. I was done with fucking up my life.

I turned around, looking more sad than I probably wished too.

"Maybe I am."

Can you tell I wrote this over the course of two nights? Haha what a fuckfest of a chapter. I promise that they'll start making sense.