HOT BLOODED | Soldier Boy

1. SEX, MONEY, NO FEELINGS

The 1980s. The worst fucking decade in human history. Preppies and keyboards, stupid haircuts, Jazzercise, and "Just Say No." It all fucking sucked! So, what do you do when you're born at the wrong time? You make it yours.

And no, this isn't a fucking Motley Crue biography, this is about superheroes, and not the phone booth outfit change bullshit, we're talking drug-snorting, television divas, unapologetically asshole-ish superheroes.

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In the most utterly cinematic way, the condensed vapor drops lower as I step out of my shower. With a towel wrapped around me, I look at myself in my shitty mirror, my hair dripping wet and clinging to my shoulders. I can practically hear the aircon struggling to keep up with the humidity of the hot and cramped bathroom.

Apparently, I am what they'd call arm candy, truth is, I'm a broke chick who whores around with rich company owners and trust funds idiots whose brains are too coked up to get their dicks up.

So another night on duty, another party I had to attend. They were all the same, walk into the doors with a dress two sizes too small, let them approach me with what they think is the pick-up line of the century, grab them by the hand, drag them into a room, suck them off for a Franklin, no more no less.

After getting ready and dolled up, and after the usual terrifying clanking elevator ride, I step out of my apartment building on the hunt for a cab, not even bothering to tug my dress down my thighs.

I got inside the run-down car, gave directions, and relaxed in the backseat, letting my eyes be dazed by the city's night lights. I slowly watched the scenery change as I moved up to the higher-class neighborhoods.

The cab pulled up to the valet line in front of a glittering high-rise building. As I stepped out, I tossed a twenty to the driver, who whistled and called out a compliment I'd heard dozens of times before. Ignoring him, I stepped onto the sidewalk and smoothed down my dress, looking up at the towering building before me.

As I made my way through the crowded lobby, people turned to look at me. Some sneered, others leered, and a few women gave me dirty looks. I ignored them, too used to the reactions, and headed for the elevator that would take me to Arthur Cohen's penthouse, or as he liked to be called, The Legend

The elevator ride was swift, and I was soon faced with the familiar oversized door. As I knocked, a man in a suit opened it, his eyes roaming over me before he let me pass. Inside, the party was in full swing. Wealthy socialites milled about, armed with champagne flutes, smug smiles, and powder under their noses.

I scanned the room, looking for anyone familiar, any other girl who had somehow got fucked over by destiny just as much as I had. Just then, a booming voice called out my name. I turned to find Arthur, an older man with a cigar and a sharp suit, beckoning me over to where he was standing with a group of men.

"Ah, there she is," The Legend chuckled as I approached. "Just in time" he gestured to the group of men standing beside him. He placed a hand on my back, guiding me towards the group. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to our... entertainment for the evening."

The group of men all turned to look at me, their gazes roaming over my body in a way that made me feel like a piece of meat on display. I forced a smile, used to the feeling, and waited for The Legend to make his introductions.

I put on my best I-totally-love-my -job face and greeted them with a sweet smile, scanning carefully for the details on their faces. With time, and this kind of job, you'll learn to know a lot about who's standing before you just by the way they carry themselves. The one on the far right with his hand tucked in his pocket? Married, five years probably, to a lovely girl with a rich daddy who owned the company he worked for. The one in the middle with a bourbon in his right hand? A politician's son who started downing pills at seventeen because he felt he couldn't live up to the expectations. The last one? The first client of the night.