Completed [Sacred Arch Hotsprings] Hope found in a Harlot (Isalie)

[Matthew]

He didn't answer, slightly confused by her sharp response. If he had an idea of how she got them, why would he ask? Narrowing his eyes, a lot of the pieces really clicked into place as she admitted to being a slave. Mulling this new answer over, he didn't even notice that she didn't answer his second question, or the fact that she apologized for something unknown. Instead, his hands continued to pick through her hair until most of the major knots were gone. He would leave the small ones for when he had a moment to go and fetch his comb. For now, he would simply clean it the best that he could, and then move on. "I am going to dip you back. Just enough to wet your hair." Fingers found her hips again, and they confidently moved her body over the warm stones and through the water. He just moved her a little forward, just enough to give him room to lean her back. Slipping his hands up to hold her shoulders, he gave her a moment to prepare before slowly lowering her back towards him. He would pause if she started to flail, but otherwise, she would soon find the back of her head resting against his stomach and her hair spider-webbing across the surface of the water. "Hold onto my legs for support, please." A moment or two later, when she was supporting herself, he would drop both hands to gather up the hair she had in the water. After it was in something of a manageable bunch, he slowly stroked fingertips through it, careful not to tug on any knots. She was subjected to something of a slow and slightly awkward head and hair massage as the harlot worked to get the dirt completely out. Meanwhile, his eyes found hers, staring down at her curiously. "A slave, then. Have you considered attempting to find a job in the city? I could no doubt help you with this. You even have the body for my profession, provided your past doesn't stop you from what it would require." She almost had the body, but he left that part out. She would need a little food, but that would be easy enough to get ahold of. After he was comfortable with the cleanliness of her hair, he gently lifted her and tugged her back to him. Not quite against him this time, though. Lifting warm and wet hands, he slowly began to revolve them in gentle circles along her shoulder muscles. He had no hand for massage, but a trip to the Soothing Waters in Syliras had given him something of an idea. He wasn't really trying to give a massage anyways, just break up the caked dirt on her back without agitating her skin. Eventually the dried and crusting mud would start to loosen, and then slowly drizzle down. His hands followed, firm but light, revolving a slow pathway down either side of her spine. Any sort of dirt that gave him too much trouble would be focused on until it was no longer a concern. Sensing bitterness, he offered a random thought. "Would you like revenge on the master that did this to you? I get paid to act many a thing." It might take a bit for her to realize it, but his good-intentioned offer was to be her Master. But not one that would dominate and abuse her. One that she could lash out against, one that she could strike, harm, scream at, belittle and abuse. It wasn't a task that he would shy away from. He was eerily comfortable with such a thing being done to him. Would the girl like the chance to for once in her life be the aggressor? Considering her scars, he wondered how he would fair with such things on his body. He didn't find them unattractive, and knew that some women even enjoyed a man with scars. His only real marking was a tattoo, a gold-colored belt of Yahal that hugged the V of his hips. It was something done more out of personal amusement than anything else. A lot of customers seemed to find it funny as well. He quietly awaited her answers, knowing he had asked quite a few deep questions in a short span of time.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

The man's questions continued, and with each new one, Isalie's resolve hardened. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the memories didn't hurt her as much as they should have; she was looking at the very subjective details with an objective eye, and she felt a sense of... closure. As requested, her hands fumble blindly for his knees, both of which she grips lightly as she closes her eyes and tilts her head backwards, allowing him easier reach in wetting her hair more. He was strong, and had clearly done this, or something similar, many times before; it took little effort from the girl to keep herself balanced and steady.

The gentle massage ahead the effect of sending her into an almost vegetative state, and she subconsciously whines in argument as he pulls her up into a sitting position again. Me, be a prostitute? Interesting. she hadn't considered it, but now that the question was posed to her, she did wonder about it. The general population of men where not good at 'faking it', as it were. And Isalie's experience had taught her that even if she lay there like a corpse below the man, whilst she had never enjoyed it, they would find pleasure in her. There is, no doubt, more to the art than that, girl, a voice internally rebukes her, and she smiles.

"I hadn't thought about it," she responds noncommittally, "until I met you, I wasn't aware something could be a profession. It was never..." she trails off, eyes flickering down to her own hands, and body, "It was never a choice." She smiles wryly, though, with her back to him, he wouldn't see her expression.

She falls silent again, simply taking the time to enjoy the warmth of the sun on her face, and Mathew's hands against her back. There was no denial of the fact that she was looking forward to seeing her skin clean once again. The next step would be eating a healthy amount again, and then she would feel like herself again. He speaks once more, and this time the question does confuse her. Continuing to manoeuvre her body to mirror Matthew's own movements, she mulls the question over in her mind. There were a million answers she could have for it, but only one felt right.

"My Master fed me, clothed me and put a roof over my head. I repaid him with countless bells of disobedience, and finally running away." Her voice had become a monotone, matter of fact as she attempts to explain the practicalities. A mirthless laugh escapes her and she raises a hand to gesture at nothing in particular. "Look at me now. I'm starving, homeless, and might not make it until tomorrow. I wasn't happy, but I was living,and that's all that mattered." The young woman felt weak and pathetic for admitting something so personal. No one should wish to be a slave, but Isalie did, she finally realises. She shakes her head, and when she speaks again, the defeat in her voice was obvious; she had given up hiding, "I should never have run away."

She had hated the family, with ever fibre of her being. But the past two years had put everything into perspective for her: it was better to be property, valued or not, than being lower than the dirt that caked her body. "Life is too short to worry about revenge," she adds as an afterthought, "at least... it is for me..."

[Matthew]

Noticing the whine she let off, he rose an eyebrow. "I can do that again for a few Mizas, you know." He wasn't shameless about advertising himself, that was for sure. He didn't press the matter any further though, instead listening to her soft words as he tried to wash her clean. He nodded slowly when she mentioned it wasn't a choice, seeing how it probably wouldn't be for a slave. Matthew was not owned until they paid a price, and even then, they didn't truly own him. He would be free in minutes or hours, and would continue on with her life. She had been purchased for good, and that was an incredibly terrifying idea to the harlot. He didn't let on though, remaining distant and focused on the task at hand. "It could be a choice." He faintly realized that such a profession could be damaging to her. At the same time, it could possibly be empowering. "How would you feel about being able to use your body to lord over men?" It was a neutral question, but actually one he was fairly interested in. Beyond the business aspects of offering her such a job, he was actually wondering how her likely damaged mind would react to such an idea. Was it empowering? Terrifying? Had she long since grown numb to such things? His hands were quickly growing useless for the task, and he chewed his lip, thinking. After a few moments, he adjusted himself from around her, patting a calming hand to her back as he rose. "I'll be right back." Stepping over to his discarded clothes, he took his comb and the simple white shirt from it, balling the item up like a makeshift rag. Soon, he was back behind her, settling down and dipping the cloth into the water. He set the comb down underneath the water, on a nearby rock that was in a shallow area. The response she gave him to his suggestion of revenge was interesting. She was not particularly an unwilling slave, or a willing slave, she was just a slave. She was defined by that, molded into that, and lived her life by that. Did anything else ever occur to her? That there was another way to life, if she so desired to take it? Forbidden memories of his own past sprung to mind, causing his eyes to harden briefly. He had been clothed and fed, and given a wonderful life. But it wasn't a life of his own. A purpose defined by his own hand and pursued by his own heart was important to him. Extremely important for whatever reason. Shaking his head, he shrugged his broad shoulders, eyes glancing at the back of her head. "Do you, or did you ever wish to be more than a pathetic creature?" Hopefully she noticed it wasn't an insult. The man wasn't trying to get a rise out of her. He was simply phrasing it how things were. It was a fact, and a fact that she would likely know was true. "Please stand." If she obeyed, and after she obeyed, he would begin working his way down. Perhaps she hadn't had enough experience with other men to notice, but his detachment and professionalism was almost unsettling. His wet makeshift rag carefully scrubbed the curve of her backside and worked down the length of her legs, but he remained ever so cold. It was purely business for him, and it was often hard to understand this from the view of another. It was perhaps good for this particular girl, though. Hopefully she would realize she didn't have to worry about him taking her as so many others had. He would do what he said, and continue to give her a simple but cleansing bath. The cloth was just as gentle as his hands, but brought along a rough texture that dug into the pores of her skin and gave her a deeper clean. Soon, the crusted mud had turned into muddy water, and was running smoothly down the curves of her rump and legs. He had almost fully completed her back half, still making sure to give special softness to any tender looking pieces of skin. There were quite a few of those, too. Every now and then, he would dip the dirty cloth down to cleanse it. The natural filters in the hot springs should purify the water in time, so he felt a little less bad about tainting the clearness of it. He found himself mulling over her words, trying to understand things from her point of view. It was hard. She had this personality very deeply ingrained into her being. Was it how she was born, or was it something carved into her over a long period of painful time?

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

There it was; Isalie had been wondering when the mention of payment would be, ever since she had discovered what his profession was. At that moment, it had only briefly occurred to her that she shouldn't be here; she had money, money that she had stolen, and to her, it was a lot of money. Not that she could count; she had no idea how much she had, but she knew hat she shouldn't be wasting it on luxuries like this, and she tells him so. Now that she was here, however, she had decided that it would be worth it, and she considers asking him to continues, for however much he asks. She remains silent, however, as he continues to wash her; maybe after, when he was done, she might tell him different.

Slipping into her natural mindset, she obediently rises, slowly, so that she doesn't slip on the wet rocks below her feet; she didn't need more injuries to join the ones she had had forced upon her. "I hadn't thought about it." She answers honestly. Words were still falling from her mouth in a monotone, as if she was running on autopilot. Part of her didn't even want to speak her mind, lest she should insult him. Not that she believed in the slightest that he would hurt her should she say something out of turn, but he was being kind to her, and she didn't want him to leave her as... well as punishment.

And that's when it occurs to her at last, everything she had been thinking since they had started talking, but couldn't formulate into words. And she tells him, "Indifference and negligence can do so much more damage than outright dislike and cruelty..." She whispers the words, tears coming to her eyes, despite the complete apathy she was feeling - or not feeling. "Being pathetic means no one cares. I don't want to be pathetic."

Again, she twists to allow the man easy access to her legs, spreading them out slightly. It didnt escape her notice how methodical he was being; he was cleaning her, nothing more. He wasn't playing, admiring or even appreciating her. It confused her, and she wonders if he had been lying a chime or so ago, that he really thought her hideous, and wasn't the slightest bit attracted to her. Some colour creeps into her cheeks, and she is glad once again that her back was to him so that he couldn't see her internal crisis.

She swallows, quickly trying to calm herself, before she continues to speak, "If men... if they wanted me... then I could be someone. Even a slave can be a prized possession, valued above livestock and even horses." Only after she speaks does she realise how foolish and ignorant that must sound. She was human, of course she should be valued above horses. But in practice, that wasn't the case. Horses could provide a service that humans never could, Isalie herself had thought the same about her mount in their time together, she doesn't say this to Matthew, though.

[Matthew]

The washing was a free gift. Anything beyond that required payment. It wasn't anything personal, just a strict rule of his. Even his closest friends would be required to pay him for something like that. But this, it was a sign of goodwill from him to her. It was Matthew's odd way of offering friendship, at least in some sense. He had just long ago learned how to seperate business from pleasure. Professionalism from friendship. It had bled over into other aspects of his life, too. His lack of emotion when washing a perfectly beautiful female body wasn't due to any disguist on his part, it was merely a simple lack. It wasn't just her, it was everyone. Somewhere along the line, feeling want or attraction for a woman had become part of business. And because it was a part of business, it was cut off from him, and kept at a distance. He only 'wanted' someone who paid him to want them. He was a dedicated harlot, through and through. If that would turn out to be too high of a cost, he would have to learn about it in the future, the hard way. For now, he was perfectly fine being seperated from those sort of emotions. Any sort of loneliness that ever came could be easily muted. It was a silly filling to have, anyways. "Perhaps you should start caring yourself, then. Why would anyone care for a creature who had little care for their own skin?" He rose an eyebrow up at her, his hands finally done with her back side. "Turn, please." Finding her hips with his fingers, he gently led her in a small circle, making it so she was fully facing him. "Close your eyes, and put your hands by your side." He kept the firm tone in his voice, sensing it was what made her move to his will so easily. He could understand why. In any case, it certainly made the job easier. When she had closed her eyes as ordered, he was extremely careful in his cleaning of her face. If he had been gentle before, he was delicate now, rubbing away at the dirty and mud with extremely light strokes and circles. It took several minutes, but finally she would feel the freedom of a clean face, though a bit of mud did still drip down her cheeks and forehead. He continued on, ginger with her neck and shoulders, shameless and methodical with even her breasts. He treated them as any other part, even lifting to clean under. It did help that he was so incredibly distant from all of this. It gave him attention to detail. That was the point, really. "Do you want me to teach you how to make men want you?" He rose an eyebrow at her, locking his blue gaze onto her own eyes. It was a simple enough question, and the offer made sense to him. The way she spoke, he would give her some sort of significance if she could do such a thing. Who was he to tell her what turned her into something valuable? If it was a path she wanted to take, it was one he would offer. "You will have to be unattached. It isn't like before, where you had a single master. None of these people will be your master. You would service multiple men, and be expected to make each one of them think whatever they wished to think of you. If they want you to be their lover, you would have to become that. Then, if the next one came and demanded a lover, you would have to be his for the night. You are an object that is bought. Some prostitutes have limits, some don't. You define those at the counter. Once you are behind closed doors, though.. you give that service like you would give anything else that was sold." He spoke steadily, casually. It was important, at least for him, to drive home the point of how she couldn't become too wrapped up in her own charade. "You are of course not expected to do anything you don't want to do. If a man forces you or strikes you, and you are not selling him that, then you don't take it. Are these things you could do? They are different from the obedience and servitude of a slave." He stared firmly into her eyes for a few more moments, then dropped his eyes, focusing on her shoulders and breasts. She wasn't all that dirty on her front, as the dress had protected her somewhat. Her feet and legs were the worst parts, though her face had been pretty bad. He continued his cleaning, trying to massage a little bit here and there to sooth how jarring his invasive hands were being.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

The explanation from Matthew as to what his, and possibly her own new, job entailed came at her in rapid fire. She was stumped and barely had any time to take one piece of information in before he began with the next thread of thought. In all her life, and especially the last two years, no one had ever said as much to her as this man; she was slowly beginning to get used to it - she had to, what with the way he was touching her - but it was a slow process, and she still count not quite grasp why anyone would give her the time of day.

But most of all, even by the time the man had finished with his speech, Isalie was still trying to process his first utterance, still trying to wrap her head around it. Of course I care! She screams internally, at first only feeling anger and resentment towards Matthew for saying something so callous and cruel, I wouldn't be here if I didn't... but then he orders her to turn, and she does so. Her pale blue eyes meet his darker, crystalline pair and, for a fleeting moment, Isalie sees something in his gaze that she had never seen before in anyone's. The average, more rounded person might have been able t associate it with something akin to concern, but the ex slave had no such abilities to place it. It did, however, quiet her irate thoughts to some which were more docile.

Throughout all of this, the man's hands remain methodical and gentle, though his slow strokes do not stop the girl from wincing on occasion, due to the obscene amount of dirt that caked her exposed body. When he finishes with her face, Isalie's hands immediately shoot up from where they had been resting lamely by her side to rub at her face, partially to soothe it, but mostly because she wanted to know what it felt like, to have a clean face. She smiles despite herself and whispers, "Thank you," as she drops the hands to her sides once more.

The young woman, truth be told, could not remember all her had just said to her; the sheer volume and content making it nigh on impossible for her. What he was saying was foreign to Isalie; any mention of her having any kind of power over men sent alarm bells ringing; it had to be some kind of trap, didn't it? Having said that, Isalie could not deny that she was intrigued by the idea of having control over her own body and, by extension, the minds of others in such a final way. But the prostitute was being too nice to her, first by bathing her, and now he was offering to teach her his trade... there had to be a catch. "What do you want from me?" The words were blunt, cold and calculating, to match the expression in her eyes as she trains them back onto his own.

"I am an ex slave that you just happened to cross paths with. What possible interest could you possibly have in me, less teaching me your craft. Surely there are other girls in the city who might be more appropriate than me?" Despite the way she had held herself and acted during her meeting with Matthew, the girl knows how to look after herself, and that involves not being naïve around people, no matter how brazen she sounds, "In case you have been blind enough to look but not see, I'm not living in luxury; I have nothing to offer you in return."

[Matthew]

He shook his head to her questions, raising an eyebrow up at her, crystal eyes unwavering from her darker pair. His hands rubbed over her shoulders, and then gently took her breasts. The cleaning was actually somewhat familar to him, and he went about it slowly and carefully. The sensitive tips of her chest were brushed only lightly, the rest of the surface scrubbed a bit more firmly, and the underside scrubbed the firmest of all. He wasn't at all shy or thrown off by directly handling her in such a private way, treating it like he would any other part of her body. After all, he was a harlot. It wasn't like this was anything new to him. "Perhaps there are, but I haven't looked. You just stumbled across my path. That makes it easy. And really, you will offer me plenty in return. Things that are only natural when a relationship is formed. You offer some level of trust, some level of friendship. If you actually become someone who can use my craft, then you become a business contact. Someone I can send customers to, and someone who I can get customers from. There are all sorts of possibilities. Physical value is not the only value that something can have." His broad shoulders rolled in a slow shrug. His words remained soft and casual. He wasn't trying to manipulate, or trying to be greedy. He was just saying it for how it was. If anything, Matthew prided himself in speaking how he thought. What he thought. It made conversation simple, and kept his emotions from cutting through what he was trying to say. It was pure truth, or at least it seemed like it was most of the time. "Does that sound like a price you can pay? I am certainly not opposed to you paying me if you come up with the coin. However, the connection and relationship will do just fine for now." He continued to hold her gaze, eyebrow arched, watching for whatever reaction she would give. After he had finished with her chest, he lowered to her hips and stomach, working the dirt off of them as well. He was only now realizing how truly filthy she was. Glancing over to the ratty dress she had discarded when climbing into the pool, he furrowed his brow, biting his lower lip to think. If this whole entire thing was going to work, they would have to get her new clothes. Clothes and outward appearance were a huge factor that people used in deciding how they felt about someone. It was only natural, since it was the first thing anyone saw. So, this girl... she would need new clothes. Depending on how her hair looked after it had naturally dried, she might need it styled. He chewed his lower lip harder, mind blurring through his options. He didn't have much more coin left for the reason, so he might have to try and pull a few favors at the Herald. If he even had any of those. "As for bathing you, if you are counting that as interest, I just dislike dirt. I enjoy cleaning." Once again, simple. His eyes slowly lowered to focus back on his task, rubbing the soaked and muddy cloth through the water before dragging it back along the lines of her hips and stomach. She had definition, but he was pretty sure it wasn't from any sort of fitness. It was more than likely a lack of meat on her bones. That would be another thing she would need. A meal.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Isalie's brow furrows as she listens to him talk. The man explains why he hadn't just picked any random woman, and why he had even considered offering this to her. And all the while, she remains focused on just a select few words of his. They ring in her head, like large bells, clanging and echoing, drowning out any other sound. To her, she is surprised at how careless this man was being, seeing as how careful he seemed to be. The prostitute had given Isalie the impression that he understood her, as well as implying that he was a logical, practical being, disinterested in emotions and the problems that came hand in hand with them. Isalie had liked that; she had warmed to him just because if that, because she was the same, or liked to think of herself that way. What he was saying now seemed to sing a different tune. His poor choice of words were one she expected to be coming from someone... well someone ignorant. Not... him.

Relationship. That was what he had said, right? Trust... Friendship... All of these words were alien to the young woman. Because she didn't trust him. And could not. She shakes her head firmly at the idea. "No." She murmurs, the hesitation and fear evident in her voice. It wasn't that she was afraid of him; after everything that she had been through, there wasn't much that he could to to physically frighten her. Emotionally, however?

"I'm sorry, Matthew..." she uses his name for the first time since meeting him, hoping, in a way, to placate him. "I can't... I can't..." She takes a deep breath, turning away and dipping her head as she does so. She was ashamed, ashamed at being something less than expected. "I can't offer a... connection." She casts her eyes to her feet, just about being able to see them through the shimmering, crystal waters. Careful to keep her eyes on them, she steps back, not out of his reach, but back all the same, to make her feelings clear.

"I'm sorry..." Isalie wasn't entirely sure what she was sorry for, for being broken? Damaged? Spoilt? Valueless? Take your pick. Whatever the prostitute had actually meant, the runaway slave had taken him to mean that he wanted some form of... companionship, which was something she was loathe to give. He'll only hurt me. The self-preservation was entirely selfish.

"If you want to take me for a night, or more, I can be whatever you want me to be." She mutters, her voice falling into a flat monotone again, a stark contrast from the more animated tone she had had mere moments ago. "Or a business contact. Or even a friend," she glances back into his eyes, her own pupils dilated despite the hot, bright sun beating down on the pair of them. "But I can't be...I don't trust." He had asked her if she could pay the price for what he wanted to offer her and she was only being honest with herself and with him: she could not. She couldn't take the risk. It had taken her this long to build up the courage to seek to better herself, and one wrong move from either party could send her back to the start.

[Matthew]

"Oh please." His choice of words were oddly harsh, though the tone was still as distant as ever. He didn't seem at all put-off by her statements, still focusing on cleaning her, just as he had been for the past couple of minutes. "You discarded your clothes and stepped into a pool so I could bathe you. I hold no power over you. I am obviously no threat. Some little part of you trusted me. It isn't that big of a deal. A small part can trust, while the largest parts remain suspicious. And I don't mean an emotional connection. You have to pay for those. I just mean a business connection. Something entirely different. You are very new to all of this, aren't you?" Well, of course she was. She was some randomly run-away slave who had stumbled upon him, was letting him wash her filthy figure, and was now teeter-tottering on taking up the profession he had trained himself in. She was silly to think that they had anything formed between them beyond a surface-level agreement of sorts. Then again, he supposed that however she interpreted things was probably determined by the men who had molded her in the first place. Her masters, as she called them. Chewing his lower lip, he worked her legs and rear slowly, those two areas being the dirtiest of them all. Probably because of the dress she had chosen to wear. It didn't offer much protection of her legs. She had a nice body, Matthew silently noted. She would be desirable to quite a few males, if she decided to offer herself. "You had it right at the end. A business contact. A friend, if you want to try and make that progession. But I rarely make connections." His voice was almost scolding now, integrating a core fact of himself into her. "That is something I only like to offer if I am paid, and even then, it isn't a real connection. Just an act, or at least as much of one as I can give. Sometimes a bit of a real connection, but only if I can control it." He finished her legs and feet, and reached up, tapping her shoulder. "Sit down, please." He spread his legs a little, offering her a comfortable place to put herself. A lot of the dirt would instantly wash off the minute she dove her body into the water. Hopefully it would be a good feeling. It certainly was one for Matthew, even if he was just watching. Really, he didn't expect anything of her. She had nothing to disappoint. His voice betrayed that, really. He held neither hope or sadness in it, just nothing. She hadn't raised expectations or lowered them, for they weren't there. This was a random meeting, she was a random girl, and he was giving her a random offer. "If you like, you can buy me for a night. That'll let you see how this works. Your choice of services. Sex isn't the only thing. There is grooming, like this. Dates. Spending time with each other. Anything you can think of, you can ask about, and I may very well do it. So my service goes." When she had sat, he would run his hands all over her, cupping water and pouring it onto her skin, then wiping the dirty waterfalls away. After a few minutes she was almost perfectly clean, amazingly enough. He had really done an excellent job with her, or at least he thought so. Leaning back, raising an eyebrow, he glanced over her one last time before speaking softly. "How does your body feel? A little better? You look better. I hate dirt." There was a moment of displeasure in his voice. He really was quite a stickler for appearance, that much was obvious.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

To say that Isalie was taken aback by Matthew's words was an understatement; for all his calm, polite exterior, Isalie was beginning to see a side of him which she imagined few others would ever even knew existed. To his clientele, and most of the world, he would be the endearing prostitute they would all happily pay to spend a night with. But that façade was being shattered for Isalie, the more they discussed it. And she was glad of this; it gave her a sense of perspective.

True, she had stripped and put herself into a particularly vulnerable position with the man, she had shown a level of trust for him, or, at least, that was how it must have seemed to him. She didn't really have the heart to tell him that her sense of physical self-preservation was virtually non existent. She had been through so much that she didn't have many fears left in regards to her body. Her psyche, however, she had managed to keep intact up until now, and she didn't want that to change.

She doesn't even deign to answer his question, thinking it too foolish to even waste her breath on. She does, however, say, "I understand." Well... She thought she did. He wanted someone he could rely on to help build up his business through customers, money and contacts. Whether it was something she wanted to do or not was irrelevant; here was a man who was willing to teach enough of his trade to her to get her a job, however unusual said job might be. And all he asked in return was a business contact out of her. Given her current lot, she didn not really have much choice in the matter.

But his offer for her to buy his services for the night intrigued her: partially because the young woman wanted to see the man in action, to learn what she might be getting herself into, but mainly because, for once in her life, she wanted to have a good experience. A hypocrite , though she would never admit it, she also wanted to know what it felt like to be loved. Just for a short while.

"How much will it cost me?" She asks quietly, nervously as she sits back down as requested. A naturally petite figure, without the added unnatural malnourishment, she fit nicely between his legs. "I mean... I mean for your to... show me how it's done and all..." never before had she held all the cards; and she really was not sure if she liked it or not. Glancing down, she gives herself a quick once over. She knew that, if she allowed herself longer to look, she would end up spending more than a few bells just staring at her newly clean skin. "It's... Thank you so much, Matthew! You have no idea how good it feels to be clean." She stops, thinks, and giggles to herself, "Even though... I mean, the air will probably feel a little colder now without that layer of dirt protecting me and keeping me warm," she teases lightly.