When I first interviewed for a position at the brothel, I was twenty-two years old. It was mid-July. My hair was shorter than the amount of patience I had with my family, hand cut with a random pair of scissors I had lying around my house. All of my skin was red and sore because of my sudden plethora of tattoos, and it hurt like a motherfucker to shower, but I felt awesome.

So I wore my black cargo pants and my cropped black hoodie, and I went to the place I had searched up the previous day. The closest and most expensive brothel called The Dagger’s End.

Of course, I had called them first. Asked if they were hiring more prostitutes, and when they said they might be, I scheduled an interview.

So I scraped up the last of my makeup and polished up my face to make my eyes look bigger, my eyelashes longer, my lips just a bit darker, and walked all the way to The Dagger’s End.

I was greeted by a blonde girl wearing a velvet green pencil-dress and a matching mask.

“Hello,” she greeted me with a smile, and I recognized her voice from the phone call. “I am called the Doe. I am the receptionist and manager of The Dagger’s End.”

“Hello,” I replied with a smile. “My name is Raven. We spoke on the phone about this interview.”

“Yes, I figured,” she replied with a kind smile. “Come right this way to meet your potential coworkers.”

So I met with all of the other whores, sitting respectfully in the lobby as I waited for them to declare as to how to interview me.

After a few minutes of hushed debating, they decided that each of them would fuck me to see if I met their standards.

It started with the cheapest of the group, ironically called the Eagle, then moved all the way up until I had to fuck the Dove, which I later learned was James.

It took thirty minutes maximum to have them each reach their orgasm, causing them all to reenter the lobby in shock. Sent in the next person, telling them, “She’s a lot better than she seems,” and with each of them responding with, “She can’t be that good.”

It was about one in the afternoon when we started, and it lasted all the way until half past six. I fucked eleven people in the span of five and a half hours.

And I didn’t cum once.

So when it came down to the Dove, I was actually rather bored. And extremely tired, but I didn’t let that show. I laid there, naked on the bed, covered and filled with the cum of boys and girls, as the Dove came in.

“You want to take a shower first?” he offered, and I smiled and nodded.

He led me to the small showers (that I later learned came with every room), and I quickly washed myself as best I could. Kept my hair dry, though, as I washed peoples’ ejaculations from my skin.

I didn’t bother to cover myself or even dry the water from my skin and just walked out of the small bathroom. The Dove was waiting on the bed, the messy sheets gone and crumbled in the corner of the room. He had taken off his shirt and had laid back on the bed, his hands behind his head.

“Hello, Raven,” he called from his position. “Ready for your orgasm?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten one all night, so…”

He laughed heartily before asking, “I’m assuming you’ve done this sorta shit often, huh?”

“Uh, no, actually,” I said, coming to sit unashamedly on the bed by his hip. Leaned back against his bent legs as I threw an arm over the jeaned knees. My boobs were twisted to face him, and I noted the sudden dip in his gaze. “I’ve only had sex once before tonight, and that was back with my first, and currently last, boyfriend, back in college.”

He laughed again, pulling out his right arm from under his head and beginning to gently squeeze my boob. “So you’re just a natural, are you?”

This time, I laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Then I leaned in, my arm draped across his knees slipping lower to palm his (rapidly growing) erection. “Are you ready for Hurricane Raven?”

He took in a deep inhale, his hand coming to a weak stop as I used my ass to shove his legs down. I straddled his hips and began to kiss him, pinning his arms beside his head.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that he came into my… rather sensitive womb.

I left him, completely wiped out on the bed, as I took another shower. He was still there when I came back out, his face red as hell as I pulled my clothes back on.

“You okay?” I asked as he twisted his head over to me. “Aren’t you supposed to be the most expensive and amazing whore here?”

He nodded breathlessly as I laughed. I walked over to him and helped him sit up, finally cleaning his cum off of his stomach and groin. I thought he might be able to clean himself up properly since I left him for a good five minutes, but he hadn’t been able to move, it seemed.

I cleaned him up thoroughly before I brought his clothes over to him, even taking the time to help him redress.

He seemed to have recovered by the time his shirt had recovered his chest, and he managed to stand by himself. We walked out of the small sex room and reentered the lobby.

“She’s good,” was all the Dove had to say as he collapsed onto a couch, his limbs all sprawled out.

And he took off his white and lavender mask, accompanied by the gasps of the entire crowd. His face looked like a sweet boy, and I was surprised that that was the face of the most expensive whore whom I had just fucked.

“My name is James,” he introduced, and everyone took their masks off as well. They started introducing themselves to me, and suddenly, the next day, I was called the Black Orchid and paid five hundred and fifty dollars an hour.

The twelfth whore of the entire brothel.

And I didn’t get a single orgasm that entire night. Or any other night, unless I was the one manipulating myself.

At first I was only paid five hundred an hour, though that price rose quickly as everyone walked away from my bed with satisfaction on a level previously unknown to them.

It didn’t take long for my wardrobe to change from comfy college student clothes to slutty and skimpy whore clothes. But my name took a little longer to discover. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to be called, and knowing how it took me five years to choose the name ‘Raven’ for myself, I knew I had to put my mind to work.

The day I was first supposed to go to the brothel, I slipped as I came out of the shower at my house and ended up on my back, pressed against the mirror. Then I saw my reflection, the reflection of my inked skin pressed against the very very cold glass, and saw the many orchids. So I chose the Black Orchid.

My favorite flowers had always been orchids. They were exotic and graceful, the meaning of stunning beauty and luxury. What better name for the most expensive and sought after whore?

And I hadn’t been lying to James when I said I had only had sex once before the night I earned my job as an expensive whore. But my first kiss was in high school.

I could still remember it clearly.

I was fifteen years old, a freshman in high school. My birthday had just passed, and it was winter break for our school. For some reason, there was a Christmas party for the freshman class, and, for some odd reason, I went.

It seemed that everyone was there. The sports teams, cheerleaders, the freshmen year student council, everyone. And it was free, held at some rich kid’s mansion, so I thought to myself, what the fuck?

I wore my black dress boots, black slacks, and a dark burgundy button up shirt. I think I had always sort of favored the color black, but because it was nearly Christmas, I had chosen to wear a sprinkle of color. And if I were to wear color, it would be red.

My hair was tied up in a French braid that twisted from the left side of my head and naturally curled around my head and over my right shoulder.

I didn’t have any friends to go with, but I wasn’t one to let my social anxiety cripple me, so I just… went.

It was rather boring, to be honest. A Christmas movie playing in the living room, three different speakers in three different areas of the mansion, each playing a different Christmas song all at the same time. Too many Christmas decorations covered the walls, draped from the ceilings, adorned the many evergreen trees. The worst was the mistletoe hanging in random places to surprise unknowing people. I avoided these parasites as best I could. And I meant the plants and the people.

But at some point in the night, in one of the nauseatingly brightly decorated rooms, they decided to hold a game of truth or dare. And I somehow got roped into the game from where I sat on the expensive-looking beige couch, staring into the crackling fire.

It went around the circle, from the popular girls to the popular boys, and I just meant to watch. At some point, I zoned out again, staring into the fire’s depths again.

That is, until it seemed that it was my turn, even though I wasn’t playing.

“Carissa, truth or dare,” someone asked me, and I looked at the girl with dark skin and braids. I didn’t know her name, but I knew she was nice. Also, how did she know my name?

“What?” I asked from my curled up position on the couch.

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, and I blinked at her.

I glanced around the circle at their expectant faces as my brain caught up to what was happening.

My logic with truth or dare had always been, and most likely will always be, never choose truth. I’d much rather do something stupid on request of someone I barely knew then reveal secrets to someone I barely knew. And I barely knew anyone in this circle.

“Dare,” I said with only a moment's hesitation.

“Hmm…” she hummed as she looked around the circle. “I dare you to… kiss someone.”

I shrugged. I had never kissed someone or been kissed by someone, but I never saw the reason for fussing. It was just a kiss, and it didn’t really matter who you had your first kiss with. I believed that it mattered who you shared your last kiss with.

So I just said, “Yeah, okay. Who am I kissing?”

The people in the group looked around at each other, shocked, and I bet my braid that they didn’t believe that I would even agree to do it.

“Uh, w-well,” one of the girls with hot pink lips and puffy hair stuttered. “Who do you want to kiss?”

I just shrugged again. “I thought you’d choose for me.”

They all looked at each other before gathering together and started whispering. I didn’t pay them any mind, my gaze turned back to the bright flickering fire as I took another sip from my can of Diet Coke.

Then they dispersed and all looked at me. I pried my eyes from the fire and looked to the girl who had given me my dare. She bruised a few stray braids from her shoulder as she turned her strangely piercing gaze onto me.

“I dare you to kiss- no,” she paused before she smirked and continued, “French kiss either Griffin or Lily.”

I looked to the two people. The boy, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a part of the tennis team and was certainly called ‘eye candy’ by many girls (and a few boys) throughout the school. However, he was not very bright.

The girl, my partner in science class at the beginning of the year. She had her plain brown hair tied back in a ponytail and her clear rimmed glasses made her eyes look even wider as she stared in shock.

“Did they both consent?” I asked, though my eyes never left Lily’s.

“Um,” Griffin cut in. “I’d actually rather not. I’m waiting for someone important to have my first kiss with.”

I shrugged. “Alright,” I said, cutting him a quick glance. “Lily?”

Her eyes widened further as I uncurled from where I sat. Pulled my legs out from under my ass as I pushed off of the couch. Set my half-empty can of soda down on the small table beside the couch as I walked over to where she sat, in front of the Christmas tree. Carefully set myself down on my knees in front of her.

“Are you okay with this?” I asked her as her wide eyes jumped all around my face. Her eyes settled on my lips as she nodded nervously. “Okay…”

So I leaned in and touched my lips to hers.

Her lips were sort of chapped, but still soft and warm. I could almost feel her nervousness as she just sort of… sat there and let me kiss her.

Her eyes were scrunched shut, and I noticed how long her eyelashes were, how perfect her skin seemed to be. I blinked, my lips cautiously moving against hers, and she slowly fluttered her eyes open. We stared into each other’s eyes, and I felt like I was diving into her soul through the warmth and sweetness of her chocolate colored eyes.

But at the same time, I felt like she was examining my own soul, and I asked her a question with my eyes. Are you ready for more? Is this okay?

She blinked and nodded ever so slightly. Her eyes seemed to burn with a fire all of a sudden as I slowly reached a hand out to wrap around her neck and pull her in tighter. Then I pulled both of our mouths open with my lips and carefully stuck my tongue in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut again as she let me open her mouth and join our tongues.

I think I could vaguely hear catcalls and wolf whistles from the other freshmen, but it was all lost to me. I think I was drowning in her mouth.

I slowly began to twirl our tongues together in a proper French kiss as I tightened my fist in the hair on the nape of her neck.

She tasted like something I had no name for. The sweetest piece of candy, almost overwhelmingly so. It was addictive in a way I knew wasn’t good for me. She was like a drug, one perfected to drive me, and me specifically, insane with want.

“Okay, okay,” a voice cut in. “That’s enough of that.”

And with those words, I blinked my eyes open and forced myself to break away, a trail of spit hanging between our mouths. I knew her eyes were stuck on my spit-covered lips, but my own eyes were glued to her matching lips.

What a way to get a first kiss, huh?

I pulled my hand from her hair and wiped the spit off of my mouth with the back of that hand, watching as she did the same.

I leaned back, setting my ass on my heels before I stood up. In one swift motion, I turned around, grabbed my drink, and plopped right back down on the couch.

I could feel everyone’s gaze on me. But I gave only a slight glance around the circle before fixing my gaze on the fire once more.

Every day after that, that boiling feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one I felt when I kissed her, grew. It bubbled in my stomach like magma, hot and painful but also somehow freeing and fun.

I thought it was just sexual attraction I had been ignoring for a while, and because I was a healthy teenager, it was only natural, right?

Right.

So I ignored that uncomfortable feeling and just… moved on with my life. Kept studying on my own, for myself. Isolated myself from my family, from my classmates, from people. Besides, it was only freshman year, and I had to make my way through four years of high school, along with my college life.

Ignoring things had always been a strong suit for me. Especially my parents, my feelings, and other generally unpleasant things.

Did I say especially my feelings?

It was just my luck that we had a high school reunion on the weekend after my second session with Lily. Dragging all these feelings and memories and shit back up to the surface.

Now I had to find clothes that weren’t slutty…

Great…