lacuna

lacuna | one

in which you meet with your first client and your past comes back to haunt you...

"Sorry, Mom," you apologized under your breath as you stepped into the warm, bustling hallway of the agency. The building may as well have been your second home at this point, considering you spent most of your free hours under its roof.

Your place of business lay hidden beneath a layer of secrecy, operating within the guise of an illustrious marketing firm. After all, prostitution was still very much illegal. But evading the law in such sparse times had become an undeniable artform for creatures of the underworld.

However, you had yet to jump from that hyperbolic bridge. Until today. Hence the apology to your mother.

Being an escort that didn't have sex with her clients had allowed you to earn enough to survive. Men paid for your company, nothing more. They took you to candlelit dinners or upper class events, because in the world of preternaturally rich people, having a gorgeous slab of meat on one's arm was a blatant demonstration of funds.

Also, if the society they ruled knew who they actually slept with, their careers would be over as quickly as they began.

When you first came to the big city from your humble hometown in the countryside, you swore to yourself you would never sell your body to make a living - no matter how comfortably you could thrive if you did. But keeping your head above water was no easy feat and you were thrust back into the bottomless pit of debt and insecurity.

Seoul had become more and more expensive around you and you could feel the sensation of water rising over your head, drowning you in the hopelessness of it all. Your hopes and plans for the future were costly and the bank refused to grant you any more loans.

Then, you were reminded that sex sells. You had the advantage of being a woman in a world of ravenous men. Your employer had always given you the option of stepping into darker circles when you needed more. You met every criteria on the checklist of powerful, wealthy suitors.

Who needed dignity anyway? It was but another luxury you could not afford.

"We have just the client for you," explained Sungmin, predictably diplomatic when discussing every dirty detail of his illegal business arrangements.

You were more than grateful and certainly never faulted him for it. Sungmin was a remarkable boss, especially considering his line of work. He had spent more than his fair share of time on the streets from a young age and he grew to provide individuals a safer, more regulated way of earning money the only way they knew how.

"He's new," Sungmin added, breaking you from your reverie. "Never hired before. Specifically asked for a virgin."

"I'm not a virgin, boss," you deadpanned, inevitably daydreaming of the one man that had ever known how it felt to be between your thighs.

How many years had passed since you last saw him? Four or five, maybe. In your mind, you tried to play clueless with yourself, but truth be told, you knew the exact day you left him down to the very hour. The bitter memory was fresher in your imagination than recalling what you ate for dinner the night before.

Sungmin twirled a pen through his knuckles before resuming his notes. From what you knew, he preferred to document everything in excessive detail. That was the lawyer part of him. Knowing that your own employer had worked his way from streetwalker to successful attorney and business owner gave you a blossom of hope for your own future.

"I'm referencing your lack of sexual activity with any of your previous clients," Sungmin clarified, his tone level. "You have served as a public escort, not private. Emotional, not sexual."