I so hate going against daddy's wishes. After all, I'm supposed to be the good daughter in the family.
But what can I do? I'm 15-years-old now and I haven't seen the outside world like my dear sister has.
She's been going out alone forever and daddy doesn't stop her. I know I'm his little girl but I'm sure the world isn't like he tells me.
I look at the entrance to this snazzy-looking club, with that huge neon sign that just beckons me to enter.
Dear sister tells me I'm too young to enter these places, but the man outside takes one look at me and lets me in.
I'm sure my dear sister will be fine with me borrowing her dress. It might be a little revealing - the plunging neckline and the hem barely reaching my thighs - but it did get me in, didn't it?
In here everything goes by in a blur; men and women barely able to keep their hands off each other, women dancing in cages, drinks being poured at the bar.
The moment I take a seat, a man swoops in; his eyes travel up and down my figure. He's dressed in a smart suit, his hair perfectly shaped with an edge to the spikes, and a breathtaking cologne that I can't miss.
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Daddy told me not to talk to men like these. He said whenever a man looks at my body more than my face, it's time to leave.
But I've seen my dear sister with men like this before and they all turned out well.
He speaks like such a gentleman; complimenting my hair, my smile, very delicately running a finger on the surface of my exposed leg.
I don't know why daddy was worried. I can't believe my night out is going so well. This man is such a sweetheart.
He tells me he's a reporter who's cracked a lot of big-time stories involving murder, kidnapping, or sexual assaults. He tells me he can't say more or he'll have to kill me; I laugh, as does he. There's something so funny about sarcasm and irony.
I've been starving ever since I left the house, but I don't want to tell him because my dear sister tells me men think only little girls can't control their hunger. Daddy says that's one of the reasons why he doesn't think I'm old enough.
But then this gentleman tells me he wants to get something to eat, and he knows just the right place.
My dear sister tells me not to trust men who want to take me somewhere I don't know, but he seems like the right person.
He takes me by the arm and we head out. He brings me a meal that I can't where he got from, although his thoughtfulness makes me forget why this is a problem.
I still feel hungry even after eating; he laughs it off, saying he knew this would happen. He gives me something to drink and says it'll be fine and I'll feel better.
