Untitled

Chapter 1 - Please lord, let me stop.

'So you're an escort? '

'What's an escort? '

'Its like a prostitute but you don't stand on street corners. You work online'

'Oh. Then, yes. I guess I'm an escort.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as she knew she was out of view, Amelie pulled her hair back and finally let herself throw up. After what felt like forever, she stopped. The taste of cum-filled sick lingering in her mouth, threatening to make her be sick again. Pulling a cigarette out of her pocket, she felt the wad of cash brush against her fingers. Shame rose up inside her like a tidal wive, but she was used to that. The wave never hit the shore and the shame was blocked out of her mind as she took a drag. With the shame ignored and the taste of sick slowly dissapearing, she pulled the money out of her pocket and counted it again, making sure none had fell out in the car. £60 all there in £20 notes. Putting the money back in her pocket, she began walking home, savouring every drag of the cigarette. 

Amelie lived on campus at Summerfield University, which meant she only had to walk for about 2 minutes before she was back at her flat. The client she'd met had parked in the carpark adjacent to the entrance of the campus. It would have usually been heaving with vehicles and people, but they had met at 2am, so luckily, the entire campus was deserted. It was now 3am and Amelie was halfway back home when she received a message from someone on Tinder. Stopping in her tracks to read the message, she felt a wave of panic rush over her as she processed what the message said.

'Wait, I live in blue as well, first floor. Omg that's why you looked familiar haha. And I'm still awake because I was watching a film, having a vape right now though. Why are you still up? x' 

Amelie had absolutely no idea how she was going to explain why she was walking back to the flat at 3am in the morning, sober and in little clothing. Not only that, but as soon as she turns the next corner, she'll be face to face with a person she's been talking to on Tinder. Their first meeting will be right after Amelie had had a meet with a client. Hell, she had just sucked a guy off and got fingered in a car for £60. The shame rose up inside her again with humiliation in tow. 

'Oh aha, that's cool! And ah, I'm just on my way back to the flat because I've been on a walk. Enjoying the film?x'

Taking a deep breath, she made her way around the corner. She quickly checked her pocket to  make sure the money wasn't visible and wiped any look of shame off her face. Instead, she focused on the full moon and the clear sky. The stars were much more visible than they had been for a while, which made her smile slightly as she remembered all the nights she used to spend just laying on the grass, staring at the stars back at her fathers house. It was one of the things she missed most about the countryside. Summerfield University is in the center of a large town, quite the opposite from where she had previously lived. Instead of being surrounded by rolling fields as far as the eye can see, she was now surrounded by cars, buildings and busy lives; people constantly rushing to and fro as if the world was going to end the next day. It should have been quite the adjustment but she was so used to moving house that she hadn't really thought twice about it. She'd been much happier here, anyway. She no longer had to play the role of mother and housekeeper. No longer had to deal with emotional turmoil day in, day out. The family dysfunction was less prominent because she was no longer in the heart of it all. Yes, she missed her siblings. But her parents? She doubted she would ever miss them. After all, how can you miss people that traumatised you and stripped you of your childhood?

Sure enough, Winthorpe (the Tinder person) was outside their flat as Amelie approached. 

"You look freezing!" Amelie couldn't help but laugh as she noticed Winthorpe was wearing only a hoodie and shorts on a cold winters night, after earlier complaining that her bedroom was cold. 

"I am!"

"Why didn't you wear more layers oh my lord, bless ya." 

"I - I couldn't be bothered? Oh shush, I'm not that clever, okay?" They smiled at her and Amelie couldn't help the smile that instantly appeared on her face. Winthorpe wasn't the sort of person she would usually go for, but there was no denying the instant attraction she had to them. They were adorable for starters, add on the fact that they're smart and funny as well? Yeah, maybe living in the same flat isn't so bad after all. "How was your walk, anyway?"

"Oh um -" If there was one thing Amelie hated, it was lying. But lying to cover up the fact she's an escort? She was used to that. Take an instance from about a year ago for example - she was in college and still living with her father in the middle of nowhere when a couple clients had asked to meet on the same night. One had actually offered to pay for a hotel if it would make it easier for her. So, she had asked her father if she could stay at a friends house, lied through her teeth about what she would be doing, handed over her friends phone number saying that it was her friends mothers number and got permission to go. She had instead stayed the night at a hotel and conducted 3 meets, gone into the college the next day with the cash in her bag then headed back home as if she hadn't just slept with three guys for money in a hotel the night before. "It was really nice to be honest, I love early morning or late night walks! It's just so peaceful and quite beautiful."

Winthorpe clearly believed the lie. Eventually, they both headed back inside and Amelie dissapeared back to her room. Not long after she had got in, she had to run to the toilets to throw up. Again. Once finished, she hopped in the shower and had another silent breakdown. Tears streaming down her face, mixing with the scolding hot shower water that she hoped would not only wash away, but burn away the feel of the client on her skin. She felt dirty, as she always did after a meet. She didn't enjoy escorting - it was never something she did out of pleasure.  For starters, all her clients are male, and Amelie is a lesbian, so she never exactly gets any pleasure from sleeping with them. Secondly, it makes her feel ashamed. Disgusting. She wanted to quit, wanted to stop, but couldn't afford to. She wasn't sure she ever would. She only ever did it because she needed the money, because it was easy, quick and provided a fair amount of cash. She'd started when she was 16, selling nudes and videos, until she began doing meets at 17. Originally, it was to raise the money to move out of her fathers house, which of course failed because she couldn't legally move out until she was 18. (Unless she was to fall pregnant, which was out of the question). Then, she needed money to pay for things like food, transport to and from work, birthday and Christmas presents for people. She depended on the income from escorting for everything. Everyone always assumed it was a hobby almost, something she enjoyed. Either that, or they just thought she didn't have a 'real job' and was just 'too lazy' to get one, which of course, wasn't true. When she started escorting, she was also working at a high end hotel, but the pay was extremely poor and the hours few and far between. 

By the time she got to bed, it was nearing on 4am and she had ran out of tears completely. Her clothes had gone straight in the wash basket, and the money hidden in a jar on the desk, out of sight. The events of the night spun through her mind like a whirlwind, subjecting her to more emotions and regret than she could handle. She lay there, in total silence, too overwhelmed by guilt, shame, regret, sorrow and feelings of self-hatred to sleep. 

Please, lord, let me stop.