FLATLINE| JK

two

FOUR YEARS AGO...

"Bong Soon!" Seojun calls me from the dressing room door. I look up, heart sinking from his gleeful tone of voice. Whenever Seojun is happy, that means someone has paid a lot of money. Paid a lot of money for me.

"Yes, sir?" I ask, tightening my satin robe around myself.

"Freshen up. A client will be here in an hour. He bought a platinum package." He grins, and slams the door shut as he leaves. I sink into my chair, feeling tears sting the backs of my eyes. I don't want to do this. The thought of another man touching my body in the most intimate places makes me sick to my stomach. Do it for the money, I tell myself, reminding myself of just how much money the platinum package is. Thousands of dollars. I need the money if I ever want to go to med school.

The next hour consists of me putting on natural makeup, straightening my long black hair, and dressing in my best lingerie. I leave the dressing room and go to the platinum package room, a room with a bed fit for a king, plush carpet, thick velvet curtains and mahogany tables and chairs. On one table, an assortment of sex toys is laid out. Looking at them makes me nervous. I've never done a platinum package before. The furthest I've gotten is silver, which is just a blowjob and a striptease. The platinum ultimately gives the client free reign. I've seen women come out of a platinum package with bruises and the inability to walk correctly. The last five minutes of waiting for the client are spent hoping that he won't be like one of the dirty, inhumane men who visit the brothel.

Finally, the door opens. I am lying on the bed, dressed in lacy black lingerie and garters, black stilettos on my feet. I offer the man a sultry smile, and a smirk grows on his lips as he sheds his jacket. He is handsome, much more handsome than other men who have bought my service before. He is young, for one. He couldn't be older than twenty, my age. The mere look of him is expensive, with designer brands clothing his broad shoulders and toned muscles. His inky black hair is parted to reveal his forehead, and his pink lower lip is taken between his teeth as he approaches me.

But the thing about him that captivates me the most is his eyes. I squirm under his intense gaze, but in a good way. Goosebumps dot my skin, and he hasn't even touched me yet. Something about their fiery intentions, the lustful shimmer that dominates each dark brown iris makes a shiver run up my spine. The smile on my lips becomes genuine as he reaches the bed, and I stand up to meet him. Just from the looks of him, I know that I haven't been cursed with one of those disgusting men who hurt the women they buy out for the night.

I walk my fingers up his strong chest and shoulder until my hand curves around the nape of his neck. I lean into him, my breath brushing against his jaw, along with the slight touch of my lips. "What can I call you?" I pur, lips featherlight on his sharp jawline. He lets out a hefty breath, and he moves, suddenly, his firm hands coming to grip my hips with a ferocity that startles a gasp out of me. His voice, low and gritty with sexual tension vibrates through his chest and into my own. "Daddy? Sir? Master?"

"Just Mr. Jeon is fine. What can I call you?" He returns the question.

"Violet." I murmur, giving him my stage name.
Before I can finish processing, his lips are pressed back to mine with both a fervor and an odd kind of tenderness, and the world around me fades into a blurry, pleasureful bliss for a while.

I don't remember how long it's been when I finally catch my breath. All I remember is the intensity of the pleasure I felt, the fire that warmed rather than burned me that lit Mr. Jeon's eyes. He spoons me, my bare back pressed against his naked chest. I falter in my quickness to get up and leave him to recover like most women do after their platinum packages. No man, no matter what package they bought, has held me so tenderly after sex before. No man at all has held me like this before. I melt into his touch, closing my eyes and relaxing slightly, trying to process what just happened: I just had the best sex I've ever had, with a man I don't know—and I liked it.