𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙊𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨

⁶⁰⁰ 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙨

a/n: merry crimas!
here's my gift
to you guys <3

「。。。」

The evening was dark and cold as Simon made his way through the dingy streets of London, slipping from alleyway to alleyway as he occasionally paused to make sure no one familiar was around to spot him.

He had his collar up to shield him from the biting cold and his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep his fingers from freezing off. End of March wasn't usually this cold, but then again, Simon usually wasn't out on the street at this hour either—and certainly not in this area of town.

In the pocket of his coat he could feel the slip of paper that had started it all. It had been a birthday present from his brother and although it was embarrassing to say the least, Simon couldn't help but feel at least a little grateful. He knew he hadn't meant it maliciously.

"Happy 24th Birthday, little brother. It's been ages since you had any, so you'd better enjoy it!" the card had read, after which a gift card had fallen out. Simon hadn't felt more embarrassed in his life.

He wished his brother wasn't as involved in his life as he was.

Too soon, Simon reached the address the gift card had specified. It was a surprisingly fancy-looking place, located in a back-alley in the part of town most people wouldn't feel safe in walking at this hour, but fancy nonetheless, with its old architecture, inviting lights and heavy draped curtains behind the large windows, blocking his view. The building itself was smaller than expected though. The sign above the main door read: The Rusty Pipe.

"So much for subtlety," Simon muttered quietly to himself, but went in anyway.

The place was innocuous enough, with a large bar in the middle of the room, around which a few tables had been placed for people to sit at. There was nothing that Simon always pictured himself when people had talked about brothels, and it almost could have been a regular bar, if it hadn't been for the numerous almost naked women hanging about casually, chatting with each other, as well as with people that Simon guessed were their clients.

They were wearing—if "wearing" was the right word to describe it all, considering their outfits consisted of barely any fabric at all—the usual flimsy clothes and heavy makeup Simon had seen on TV, which seemed to reveal more than cover up. A few looked up as he entered, though most appeared already occupied.

"Good evening, sir," a relatively pretty girl with blonde hair and a skimpy blue dress that left little to the imagination greeted Simon as he looked hopelessly around the small bar area. He could now feel the countless of eyes on him—or then it was just his imagination—as he turned to the young lady, offering her a nervous but relieved smile.

"I... I've got a gift card," he told her and immediately felt stupid for it. The girl, however, only smiled at him and took the slip of paper from him.

She was actually real pretty, Simon had to admit, but not anything he'd write home about, even if she had what would be considered the whole package: the full breasts, the slim waist, the big eyes, the heavy makeup and revealing clothes. There was simply something off putting about her, although Simon couldn't quite say what it was.

He had been having that with a lot of girls lately, but he knew he couldn't judge the whole establishment on one girl. Besides, his brother had ensured him it was a good place, so he waited patiently for the girl to finish with his gift card.