Pain shot through my arms as the man behind me held on tightly. I watched my boyfriend walk away, stuffing the cash in his wallet. He looked back at my glare; the hurt in his eyes made me wonder what was happening. I tried to think of all the things that I could have done to deserve this, and then it came to me. We had had a fight about it recently but I thought he had understood. He had always pressured me about sex; so many times he had tried, but I just could never do it with him. It wasn't that I didn't like him, I just didn't feel it, I was never in the mood. The arms around me gripped tighter, making me cry out. I felt his lips brush my neck as he mumbled something about how I would be great in bed, and that he would have me sometime.

My eyelids flicked open, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. I would have to get ready to go out soon. I had been going through the same routine for just over a month. I looked around the dank room; the low metal bed and dressing table, both antiquated. My outfit for the night lay on the dressing table chair. I slipped on the black silk thong and matching 32D bra, then pulled the slinky, reveling black dress over my head. From my outfit I could judge where we were going tonight; just a simple party, no sex tonight.

I walked over to the dressing table, and sat down on the rusting stool. I brushed my long chestnut waves, twisting some so that it framed my face well. I pulled open of the drawers open and placed the make-up on the table, beginning to paint my face; hiding the real me. The whole deal didn't take me that long, I was getting experienced. Although anyone could tell me I looked stunningly beautiful, it just didn't feel like me. It wasn't me.

I stepped out of the van, landing carefully in my stiletto heels. The two other girls in the van stepped out, clumsily, after me; inexperienced. It wasn't that I had been here for longer than them, I just learnt quicker, and I was secretly enjoying it. I loved the way the men looked at me, the way they touched me, made love to me. The two "hench men" as we called them, walked us up to the door of as large house. Music pounded the atmosphere, as the first one rung the door bell and rapped on the door briefly. The wooden door opened, and dim light trickled out; the tune and words of the music drifting clear now.

I stepped into the room, my heart pumping along with the base of the hip-hop music. There were about 20 attractive guys lounging on couches in the dark room. I could barely see them, but the way they looked around as my heels clicked on the shiny wooden floor, was enough to get me excited.