When I sat beside her on the sofa, she bit her lip, her teeth sinking into that luscious curve and scraping her lipstick. Lipstick that was now slightly smeared.

“Get up,” I commanded her.

She looked at me questioningly but obeyed. She stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Lose the act and get that dress off.” I picked up the remote control from the side table and put some music on. Behind her, I could see most of the city through the windows. I thought about closing the curtains but no one could see us up this high.

When I glanced up, she was still fully clothed and a blush covered her face.

“I can’t...”

I stood up. “I said to lose the act,” I told her. “Surely you’d want to get out of that hideous dress as soon as possible.”

I reached behind her and unzipped the dress, tugging at it so it fell to a pool at her feet.

She gasped and tried to cover herself but I pushed her arms away.

“Let me look at you. You’ve got nothing to hide.”

I sat back down and she stood with her arms at her side. Not posing but not hiding herself either. She kept her head down but the blush was still on her cheeks. Not just her cheeks either. Despite her reluctance, she was as into this as I was. I gave an appreciative sigh. She had legs that seemed to stretch on forever and she didn’t slump the way some tall girls did to disguise their height. Her hips were unfashionably large but that just emphasised her small waist. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her bra. Her long hair hung down her back. Most women would’ve had it styled up to go to a wedding like this, but she looked better with it hanging in a dark and shiny curtain. She had a mouth that looked about two sizes too big for her face and creamy, pale skin.

Overall, she wasn’t beautiful but she was attractive, like a fruit ripe for picking. She sure didn’t look shop-soiled. A little on the thin side, as though she hadn’t had a decent meal in a long time, but that was one of those stupid things young girls did.

The underwear, though, was not that of a working girl. Beige and baggy panties, equally beige and serviceable bra. It didn’t fit with the skimpy dress. The haunted look in her eyes didn’t fit either. Her pupils were wide with desire but there was something else there too. Not the sad desperation of your typical hooker, but something that suggested compassion and a wisdom beyond her years.

Still, I wasn’t here for her backstory, and I doubted she’d tell me the truth if I asked. The hooker with the heart of gold was a myth. Everything was an angle to be played to the best advantage.

“Take off your bra. Slowly.”

She raised her eyebrows but reached around to unhook it. She fumbled with the clasp. Still putting on the innocent act. Or maybe she was new on the job and not sure how the whole routine worked. If so, she was way out of her league in a place like this. After a moment, though, she unclasped her bra and dropped it to her feet near the dress. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and started to remove them too.

I stood up, moving close to her, and grabbed her hands.

“Did I tell you to do that?” I asked.

I could feel her heartbeat and hear her breath catch.

“No,” she said.

I ran my finger down her body from the base of her neck, between her breasts and across her stomach to the elastic on her pants. She inhaled as my fingers moved and didn’t exhale.