I had random ideas for some modern day, mundane AU stories for some of the characters. This one ended up being and taking so long though, that I decided to just post them as I write them, rather than all together like I originally planned. So if all goes well, I'll have some more to write for Cas, Rose, and a couple of other characters, maybe. :) (I had to change the rating from T to M for this chapter, just in case… whoops. Hahaha)

Slipping into the lavish five-star hotel, Aspen passed some business men dressed in fine suits and ties. He was also dressed expensively, probably looking like he was there on some important business as well. It was only if you stepped closer to him, that you'd smell the seductive scent of the generous amount of cologne he'd put on, and see the ruffled, carefully styled state of his black hair. There was a gleam in his green eyes as well; a gleam of excitement. His job was nothing like those men he'd walked past – they sat at office desks all day, bored out of their minds, to earn their money. He earned his money in an entirely… different way, and he worked much better hours for it.

Walking to the reception desk, he informed them that Samantha Bentley was waiting for his visit. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk while they called her room, to check if it was the truth. Whatever she said on the other line placated them, and they gestured to the lift and told him the room number.

He grinned when he realised how high up it would be, inclining his head to them, before starting over to the lift. He'd always loved a nice view.

The typical boring elevator music played as he checked his hair in the mirror of the lift while he waited. Fifty storeys was pretty high up, after all.

When the doors opened, he straightened, adopting his usual flirtatious and confident air. Making his way to the room 505, he knocked – careful to make it not too soft, or too firm – and waited.

A woman – who looked to be in her forties, making her a little under twenty years older than him – opened the door to greet him. She had curly brown hair, a little fuzzy and plain, like her matching brown eyes, but he looked her up and down in a coquettish manner, as if she was the most beautiful woman he'd even seen.

"My, you're even more beautiful than I pictured, from your voice," Aspen remarked, his tone seductive and silky smooth.

She blushed, looking almost embarrassed for a moment, before she opened the door hastily when he shifted his eyes to the door pointedly, and opened it wider. "Come in," she stammered, moving aside for him.

Nyx had warned him she was new to the escort services, so he'd been prepared to put on his best charm. Of course, there had been many so stunned by his grandeur that they'd found it hard to talk when they first laid eyes on him.

He prided himself on catering to anyone – men, women, couples, you name it. He didn't have a preference, and many people fascinated him, at least for a little while. It was rare that someone could catch his attention for a long time though. Eventually everyone became… boring, after a while.

Walking inside as if he owned the place, Aspen sauntered to the table, picking up a plain white envelope there. It was a customary gesture for high class escorts like himself, as his clients were told to pay in cash. Nyx was the one who first introduced Aspen to the thrills of the job, and was also the one who now organised and booked his clients, choosing them carefully, in exchange for a share of the fee. Aspen quickly countered the hundred dollar notes with ease. Nyx had instilled that in him, and he never forgot to. Especially after a mishap when he'd first started the job. Finishing his counting, he gave a nod and tucked it into his pocket. The envelope contained $1500, which meant three hours of his time. Not bad.

"I got you a gift, to thank you for coming," Samantha murmured, picking up a fancy looking box from the table. Aspen smiled, looking delighted. He'd been given all sorts of gifts from his clients, from jewellery to gift vouchers, to holidays. Accepting the present, he flipped open the lid, looking down at the expensive watch, from a famous brand. He had no interest in wearing watches, really, and it was something he'd never wear again, but he played the game, turning to her, and holding it out. "It's stunning," he announced. "Will you put it on for me?"

"Of course," she replied quickly, taking it daintily in her fingers. He offered her his wrist, and she wrapped the watch around it, trying to do the clasp up. He leaned his head closer to her, his breath skating across her hair, and she giggled as the watch slipped from her fingers. "Hang on," she said, reaching to pick it up and try again. This time she managed to do it up, and he pressed his lips to her cheek in a kiss, as a thank you.

She blushed a little, walking over to the counter to pick up two glasses of champagne. Offering him one, he took it gratefully, taking an elegant sip, after she did. He then reached out to take her hand, pulling her gently over to the large windows looking out at the view. As his eyes took in the sights and the stars in interest, they both drank the champagne with little restraint, and he soon lost count of the number of glasses they had. They talked and drank and talked and drank, until they were both smiling, and in pleasant spirits.

"It's a lovely view," he remarked, looking down at the tiny looking people crossing the road, amongst the cars. There were also markets and a park in the distance too, a contrast to the busy surroundings. "Almost as lovely as you," he added, in a flirtatious tone.

Turning to him, she reached a hand up to curl a finger around a lock of his black hair, loosening up and starting to get emboldened from the drink. "You're very pretty too. More than me, probably."

He merely laughed, although he couldn't deny it was true. Nyx had already told him her backstory – she was a lonely housewife, seeking the attention her husband never gave her. Everyone always seemed so busy with their work. Aspen had many lonely customers like her, some of whom were regulars, and he delighted in lighting up their lives a little, at least for a night. He thought of himself as a star, there one moment with a brilliant light, before disappearing the next.

He caught her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it, before returning it to her side. Then he raised his finger to her lips. "Shh," he murmured, "You shouldn't say such things. You're lovely just the way you are."

Moving his finger away, he leaned down, closing the gap between them, and kissing her deeply. Her lips tasted of the champagne, and she eagerly returned the kiss. As she let out a moan in pleasure, he smiled against her lips, satisfied, as he buried his fingers in her hair.

It wasn't long before she was tugging at his jacket, and he was taking it off, and pulling her towards the bedroom, her laughter echoing through the space.

He was good at knowing what made people happy, what they desired and yearned for. Some more innocent people booked his services simply for companionship, or for a partner to bring along to a work party. Others for a dinner date or to be pampered. In the past, someone had even used him as a muse for a painting. But no one could deny his skills in the bedroom, and his meetings often ended up in a similar way.

He was good at playing games and being what people wanted him to be, because then they liked him. They told him he was pretty and perfect and lovely and he soaked up the praises, revelling in them. There was something wrong, he thought, if he did not please someone. Either he'd done something wrong, or he'd played the part wrong, or he'd made a mistake. For what was not to love about him?

He was exactly what they wanted.