Invisible | Yoonmin

One

Park Jimin was a prostitute. 

Sue him. 

It wasn’t the first thing he had wanted to do in life, but it was the hand that had been dealt to him and like hell he would complain. He could have been tied up and drugged in some random brothel, or homeless in crime infested streets, left to fend for himself amongst the petty criminals and low lives of the south side. 

But instead he’d been picked up by a better pimp than most, given a nice apartment, given a choice on what days he wanted to work, where he wanted to go, who he wanted to be with. 

Some of those privileges had taken time, but these days Jimin was hustling. He brought in what was expected of him and more, so in return, he got the freedom to choose. 

As long as he kept going. 

Jimin knew that this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t last forever, that sometimes it could get dangerous, but he had no family, no education and had started off with little to no money before this. 

Besides, Jimin enjoyed sex. It was...like going out clubbing every night and grabbing a random hookup, just people paid for it. Just a small difference yet people liked to think it was some drastic crisis that prostitution existed and that he was trapped in some human trafficking system that he could never get out of and that he needed help. 

They thought he was diseased, drug addicted, an alcoholic, all that good shit, but in reality, Jimin was just good at sex. He was clean, only did drugs occassionally when an opportunity arose or a client wanted him to (and he always made sure that it was safe, he wasn’t some dumb cunt) and he absolutely abhored the taste of alcohol. 

Yes, Jimin understood that he had it pretty good when it came to this kind of life, that others had it far worse than him, and he wasn’t complaining. It was not often that you would catch Park Jimin complaining about his stance in life. 

He had it good. 

And at least he wasn’t stuck in an endless cycle of office hours only to return home to an empty house, watch some random show on tv, eat dinner and then head to bed, only to repeat that process day in and day out. 

No, Jimin had a rather exciting life, if he said so himself. He hung around criminals, yes, but they knew how to have a good time. Jimin was often showered in high end gifts, taken to expensive restaurants, accompanied to lavish parties. He had the life. 

And all he had to do was stand around in a club and wait for an eager man or woman, looking for a night of cheap (well in his case rather expensive), unending pleasure. 

Jimin knew how to pleasure. He knew how to suck a dick that had any man cumming in seconds, knew how to eat a woman out until she was screaming into the room. He knew how to ride like a champ, knew how to hold off his orgasm to fuck a girl through the night. 

Yes, Jimin was at the top of his game, and he was wanted. 

But that was only when someone was looking for pleasure. 

Most of the time Jimin would spend his nights at a casino or club, standing behind a rich man who’d claimed him for the night, who wasn’t ready to go just yet. He’d spend hours in the background, a nice piece of eye candy, but then again, so was every other person standing in the backdrop. 

Interesting for a few fleeting seconds before long forgotten, turned invisible until the time was to go home. 

Jimin was currently sitting in the lap of some small, new gang boss, the man’s hand holding a firm grip onto his ass as he smoked a cigar he probably couldn’t afford at the time, but did anyway to look more impressive to those around him. 

Jimin didn’t discriminate, if the man paid, he was down, no matter if he was some small time gangster or one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. Jimin didn’t care as long as he was paid. He would do anything, could handle anything, and for the night, people would be able to forget their sorry lives and just focus on Jimin and how good he was making them feel. 

There was another thing that went well with being a forgotten piece of candy off to the side, in one’s lap. 

People talked. 

People talked and talked and talked, and they forgot that not all the people listening in were loyal to them. 

Jimin knew a lot of things. He was a forgotten piece in the game, a shadow, one who moved in and out and could cut off pieces, knocking them right off the board if he wanted to. Because no matter ‘how low on the ladder’ he was in this game to others...Jimin was at the top.