"Make them happy, Maeve. It's your job." The words ring in her ears as she selects one of her dresses from her small closet. "Keep them coming back, Maeve." She slips into the fine garment, tightening the bodice to hug her waist until her ribs press against the fabric snugly. "You're the best I have, Maeve." With a final look in the mirror, she adjusts her cleavage and affixes a choker around her neck before adding a swipe of color to her lips. The dark red almost startling against her pale complexion. The night is just beginning. Despite the fact that the sun hasn't sunk below the horizon. Not that it ever rose to begin with.
She doesn't bother with shoes. Instead choosing to leave her feet bare, the bangles she has on her ankles jingling faintly with each step she takes. Maeve doesn't owe the Madame anything. She paid off her debt long ago, but still, she stays. Why would she leave? This was the closest thing to a home she's ever had. Of course she stays. She stays and she works and she fucks and drinks and makes people happy.
With careful steps, she makes her way out to the main lounge, swiping a goblet of juice and scanning her surroundings for someone to entertain. Someone to make happy. That's her job.
She doesn't bother with shoes. Instead choosing to leave her feet bare, the bangles she has on her ankles jingling faintly with each step she takes. Maeve doesn't owe the Madame anything. She paid off her debt long ago, but still, she stays. Why would she leave? This was the closest thing to a home she's ever had. Of course she stays. She stays and she works and she fucks and drinks and makes people happy.
With careful steps, she makes her way out to the main lounge, swiping a goblet of juice and scanning her surroundings for someone to entertain. Someone to make happy. That's her job.
