Madame Rouge watched me, assessing. She had the beauty most women would kill for; tall, slender and an oval face with lush, red lips and crystal blue eyes topped off with impossibly long lashes. Her caramel brown hair was pulled up in a bun with long curls spilling down to her shoulders. She was younger than I’d expected with a somewhat archaic manner of speaking. And now she wanted me to explain what it was that made selling my body to vampires my number one career choice. Why would a girl from the backwoods of New York state travel to its glittering capitol, New York City, just to sell her body? I shifted in my chair and tugged the hem of my skirt down to make sure it covered my knees. Her oxblood lips curled in amusement at the movement and I froze, realizing it was a mistake. Job hunting tip number one: When applying for a job as a courtesan, demure modesty was not an asset. A long silence ensued because I didn’t know how to tell her what she wanted to hear. This job was my one shot to get the expensive not-covered-by-insurance medical care that could cure my mom and keep my childhood home.
