Amy couldn't help but be fascinated by the difference one day could make. Just yesterday, she had been climbing the same stairs, lost in anger and confusion. Today, she was strutting forward enthusiastically for another visit of … her private photographer.

She was enthusiastic. Yesterday was the first time she had stopped feeling like she was being squashed under the weight of the world. It had been fun to be treated more than just the ugly duckling who was only allowed to hang around because of her powers.

When she walked in, he was working on his camera as usual. "And, my most beautiful model is here," Marcus called the moment she walked in, but Amy had noticed that there was a certain smell in the room.

"It looks like you found a way to entertain yourself while waiting for me," Amy answered. "It looks like Vicky had stopped by. Did she skip patrol?"

"No," he answered with a smug smirk. It took a moment for Amy to realize what he was talking about.

Yet another woman.

Amy opened her mouth, about to get angry at him for daring to cheat Vicky, but those words weren't able to leave her mouth. Instead, she avoided his gaze as the guilt hit. What was the difference between her and the nameless whore that had been in here before her?

"Come on, drop the costume. I have something better waiting for you in the dressing room," he said. Her guilt tickled her mind, repeatedly telling her that there was only the right thing to do. Walk back and call Vicky.

Yet, the weightless sensation that hit her while she was climaxing was stronger than her guilt. She ignored what was right and caught his gaze instead. "So, is it a surprise?" she asked.

"Yes. Now go and change. You might be the greatest hero in the world, but your costume is an eyesore."

"You're right," Amy answered as she quickly got rid of her costume, displaying what she had underneath.

Nothing.

"Oh, that's interesting. Maybe we should delay the photo shoot for a while," he said even as he took another photo. Amy shivered. It wasn't the first naked picture of her he had taken, but it still excited her like it was. She felt sexy and desirable.

"Nonsense. You're a professional. You need to stick to the schedule," she said, feeling happy that she wasn't the only one suffering. Even if their suffering wasn't the same, it felt good. She strutted toward the dressing room, swaying her naked hips as sexily as she could manage.

A good attempt, according to his hungry gaze. She couldn't help but feel a hint of pride even as she moved to the dressing room, naked.

Only to freeze when she found what was waiting for her. A tiny skirt, and a mesh shirt that would cover nothing. There were also thigh-high boots, which covered far more than her other clothes combined, particularly since the underwear was noticeably absent.

Yet, she not only put them but also used the makeup products he had arranged for her, once again black and purple to turn her into a slutty goth.

"For tonight, I'm not a healer, but a professional model," Amy repeated as she applied her makeup. She couldn't waste the opportunity for more fun, not when she arranged for Vicky to help. It was another source of guilt. Vicky was at home, covering for her, under the impression that Amy was hanging with her new girlfriend.

How Amy was paying back her amazing sister … by seducing her boyfriend.

Not that she needed to work particularly hard.

"Show time, Amy," she muttered to herself even as she stood up, swaying to nonexistent music. With each step, she could feel the excitement filling her body, a sensation that had been intensified further when she reached the door and saw Marcus looking at her.

"Looking good," he said as he raised his camera and took a picture. Amy shivered. She wanted to believe that it was the chilly room, but she knew that it was about the raw exposure of her body. "Now, walk slowly, and act like you own the scene. You're the best, and you know it."

Amy couldn't help but shiver as he spoke, and not just because of her sexual exposure. She spent all her life hidden. At first, it was just a part of being Vicky's sister. With her beauty and extrovert personality, Amy had always been overshadowed by her. A fact she had resented somewhat back then.

Then, her powers developed, suddenly turning her into the most in-demand healer of the world, and staying under her shadow suddenly turned into a benefit. At least, Vicky could chase annoying people away. Everyone else had been after her healing. No exceptions.

Marcus was an asshole that cheated on Vicky, yet Amy couldn't help but appreciate him. He made no mention of a sick relative, a slight adjustment to his muscles, or even a check-up. Not even that fake joking way everyone else tried, hoping to get lucky.

His lecherous gaze was the most relaxing thing she had ever felt.

"Let's make things more fun," he commented even as he turned on the music. "Impress me, Amy. Show me what are you made of."

Amy moved under the steady beat of the drums, but she hated it. She was a terrible dancer.

"Come on. Close your eyes and relax. You're just a bored soul at the club, dancing because you like people watching your amazing breasts sway freely. Show me that you deserve all that attention."

"I'm not a good dancer," she replied.

"Let me teach you, then," he said, and a moment later, Amy felt his presence behind her, hugging from behind. She hoped that he would just bend her forward and take her, but instead, his hands settled on her hips. "Follow my movements, just like you did when I was fucking you hard."

She blushed. She didn't expect him to say something so crass. Yet, she still surrendered her body to his touch, swaying under his control.

"Keep your eyes closed. Imagine we're in a club, dancing," he said.

"I doubt you'll be allowed to do that in any club," Amy muttered even as she felt his hands slip under her skirt and cup her ass.

"You can't blame me. You have an amazing ass," he teased her as he squeezed hard, his touch sending shivers through her body. Then, one of his hands moved up and cupped her breasts over her shirt. Considering she was wearing a mesh shirt that had more gaps than actual fabric, over the shirt part didn't mean that much. "And, you're mistaken if you think any club that allows you to wear this shirt cares about some fun touches."

"Maybe," Amy responded as she started to sway with him. She had better things to do than arguing with him.

Learning how to dance, for one.

She pressed her ass against his hardness, rubbing slowly. Since he was so fascinated by her ass, she would give him that. She swayed and rubbed, his groans showing that she was doing better than she expected. "Not so smug now, right?"

"In my defense, your ass is amazing," he said, underlining his words with another painful squeeze.

"Yes, it is," Amy responded, her voice echoing with a level of confidence she didn't think she could reflect. "And, unlike my powers, I'm not afraid to use them—"

Amy froze as she said those words, and not just because she had created an opening for him to talk about her powers if he had anything to ask for. That would have been bad enough. She didn't want to lose the illusion that he cared for her more than her powers.

She never admitted to anyone that she was actually afraid of her powers. She didn't, as they might ask why she was afraid of a power as useful as healing, which would be the wrong question. Her true power was something that could never be revealed.

Certainly not when a victim of Nilbog was the local director of PRT.

"I understand. Having people's hopes and fears resting on you constantly can't be easy. Leave them all away, Amy. Here, you're not a healer, but a dancer… a very horny dancer," he said as he squeezed her ass and breast at the same time.

The last part should have ruined all the sentiment his cheesy words might convey. Yet, as the pleasure hit her body, the combination turned far more pleasant. "You're right," she said even as she grabbed his hand, pressing it even harder against her breast. "I'm not Panacea here. I'm Amy, the slutty goth dancer, and I need a good cock to distract me from my concerns."

With that, she twisted in his grip until she was looking at him. She kissed him even as her fingers fumbled with his pants, trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants. But, in her excitement, her fingers were refusing to listen to her.

Suddenly, she was struck with a desire to engineer a bacteria that would only eat the fabric of his pants before fading away. It seemed like a good idea to hasten the process even for a few seconds.

Luckily for her, his hand sneaked down to push his pants down, revealing his shaft.

She fell on her knees. It might not be his intention, but he earned a reward…