Red just caught me staring at the empty corner of our apartment for ten minutes straight. My mind went somewhere… weird again. I started thinking about how, at the brothel, we’re just ‘the bunnies’—two holes to fill, two bodies to breed. No names, no stories. But last week, this one guy… after he came in my ass, he just held me for a minute. Didn’t rush. Asked if I was okay. I didn’t know what to say. It felt so much more intimate than the money-shot. Now I can’t stop wondering if the right third for us wouldn’t just be a cock to split between us, but someone who sees us. Who wants to watch the whole messy process—not just the breeding, but the shaky legs after, the way I cry sometimes when I lay, how Red cleans me up after. We’re not just sluts. We’re… complicated sluts. And we’re broke. Fuck, the rent is still due. I need a drink.