Become a hooker.

You take a deep breath. It’s not that big of a step, is it? You've been using your curse given hot body for your own benefit. Just because you can label this next step “prostitution” officially, doesn't change a thing. You feel the gemstone on your chest glow warm. Right? You agree with it agreeing with you. You're just doing your thing to explore your femininity – and you're the one in charge; like on this stage, the seller has the power. You’re the strong part of this deal, you can control the supply and the weak men who wave around the only thing of value they have - their banknotes – better do exactly what you tell them of they want the goods. You nod.

“OK, I’ll do it!”

You hear some of the other girls scoff

“I knew it. A whore on her second day!”

Candy comes to your defence.

“You're just a jealous bitch, Sky, because it took you a month until the first guy wanted to hire you and that was a student who spent his 18th birthday gift money on you and never could afford you again. And not a powerful politician.”

The dancer reprimanded thusly blushes and harrumphs. You nod towards Candy gratefully.

“So, boss – how does this work?”

"He’ll pick you up tomorrow wherever you want. Sometimes they want to act like you're on a date, sometimes they take you straight to hotel. Rarely ever top their place unless wife and kids are gone.”

You nod and tell him a neutral meeting place for Mr Family Values tomorrow.

“I‘ll let him know. Get paid in advance, these types are stingy bastards once they got what they want.”

“How much do I actually…”

He grins.

“I'm not your pimp, you make the prices.”

“Uh…”

You’re out of your depth, obviously.

Candy comes your rescue.

“Most guys usually pay abut 200 for vanilla, 300 for anal… 500 if they want you all night… But he's loaded. Sexually repressed. And obviously has a crush on first sight on you... I wouldn't let him do anything for less than 500 and take 1000 for a night. Minimum.”

Your boss nods.

“I can not advice you on the prices, but Candy's fees stand in a reasonable relation to what the big man is willing to spend just to have me arrange a date. He’d pay that.”

Your mouth falls open. 1000. In one night. You made that much in half a month in your old job as a man.

“And… do I need to pay you your share afterwards or...”

“Not. Your. Pimp! I don't get share from you, you keep whatever you make. He’ll pay my commission just for the contact. You don't have to worry about any of that. But send me a text tomorrow where you're going. Just to be safe - I'm not your pimp, but I will watch out for you. No need to worry really, we know who he is after all, he'll behave.”

You smile appreciatively, grab your things and leave for home. You have a lot to think about on the way. However you had expected this week to go, whore to the leader of the Conservative Movement was not an option you'd have had on your list.

On the way out, you pass the seat of your very first john, he grins at you a little shy and you smile back, walk over and whisper into his ears.

“We have a deal, mister. You have the honour of my company tomorrow! Bring a full wallet, I’m not doing this because I like you. And there won’t be a discount because you think you’re a big and mighty man. Nor will you call the shots. Are we clear?”

You don’t really know where that comes from. Your rational mind tells you you should probably butter him up, he’s your first john and he’s he’s loaded. But you can’t act like you like him - you don’t feel like pretending just because he pays you. He’s a hypocrite, feeding his voters traditional family values by day and frequenting hookers at night. You're not going to change the man, but you can make him bleed. Financially that is. You can see you got him hooked, his glazed eyes and open mouth as you bend over him. He’s going to pay a lot fort the privilege of betraying his values with a goddess like you. You give him a sloppy kiss, grab his crotch firm enough to make him jump and then turn around and leave.