It's disgustingly quiet tonight. The kind of quiet that makes you feel every last yen of your own worth. Remembered something stupid from my 'before' life today. My first crush at 15. He was so terrified of me he'd literally trip over his own feet. I used to dream about pushing him down and riding his awkward, inexperienced cock until he forgot his own name. The fantasy was so much better than the reality ever could have been. That's the thrill, isn't it? The idea of something. The perfect, untouchable fantasy. That's what they pay for. That's what I am. The idea that you could win me, that I'd have to spread my legs and take whatever you give me... it's better than the reality. The reality is just a wet cunt and a tired girl. The idea is everything.