WARNING! Language and mention of adult situations!

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Prologue

There are two rules in this business: one, never turn down a job, and two, never get involved with the mark. Two simple ideals that should be easy to follow, especially for someone who’s been in this line of work for as long as I have. I’ve actually lost count of the years. I know, strange, right? Still, it’s all I’ve known for what seems like my whole life. Well, at least the part of my life that matters.
My name is Takashima Kouyou, but I go by Uruha. I was born in 1981, so that makes me… oh God, twenty-seven years old. I was raised like any other child in my native country of Japan. My mother and father instilled good values in me; they taught me to be polite and respectful, how to be courteous and kind. I went to school with the other children in the neighborhood, I went to parties and sleep-overs as my age and parents permitted them. In high school, I dated the pretty girls and played baseball during the week, and I pretended I was a rock-and-roll guitar god on the weekends. My parents did their best, they really did, but sometimes, the lessons don’t stick.
When I was seventeen, I finished high school and, much to my parents’ dismay, I declined the offer to go to college. Instead, I packed my bags and followed my best friend to Tokyo where we hoped to strike it big and rich doing… whatever. A year in the city, we were both broke and he ran home to his mom and dad. But you wouldn’t find me doing that. I was already disgraced to my family, why make it worse by going home a failure?
Just before I turned nineteen, I landed a job in a club, dancing for the upper echelons of the city dwellers, letting the men with their secret desires drool over my body and throw their entire wallets full of yen at me. It wasn’t something I would ever have written home and told my mother about, but it was a job. I even went home with those men sometimes, earning extra cash for being their whore for the night, playing their sick, sadistic games while their wives were out of town for long weekends.
Within six months, I was able to move out of the slum I’d been living in and upgrade to a middle-class, high-end apartment of my own. A coworker from the club, Shiroyama Yuu, though we all knew him as Aoi, moved in with me. For a while, things were great. Aoi and I worked well together, both at home and on the job. We agreed that we’d never bring work home, so no side jobs in the apartment. Since we worked the same nights, we only needed one car, and we always looked out for one another. Aoi’s life and my own were kept as separate as we could manage, so we never questioned one another’s decisions and actions.
Aoi didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to stay at that club for the rest of my life. He’d been there for three years before I started and he was perfectly happy to dance and turn tricks. But I was more ambitious than that. Tokyo was a huge city, and there were so many opportunities for a kid like me.
Yah. Kid. That’s what they called me. That’s why the men loved to come see me, because I had that boyish face and a shy smile. At least, that’s what they told me. It didn’t matter to me why they came to get their rocks off in my ass, it paid and I was happy to oblige them as long as the price was right.
Still. Opportunities and ambition got in the way.
I remember the night my life changed completely. It was a stormy Friday night in July, a few weeks after my twentieth birthday, and only about a third of our normal patrons were in. Every few minutes we’d suffer a brown out, but the alcohol kept flowing, so none of us really paid much attention. I was entertaining six horny bastards and the random high strung business woman when, from the corner of my eye, I saw Aoi come from the managers office behind the bar. Still dancing, I watched him twirl and sway his way toward me, smiling and flirting with a few of our regulars as he went. He slapped his left palm on my stage twice, signaling a legitimate break in my routine. Casting an apologetic smile over my shoulder, I went to kneel down in front of him.
“You’ve been requested,” he called up to me. “Number six. I’ll take over here.”
Nodding, I turned to apologize to my audience, blowing kisses to them as I hopped off of the stage. I stayed long enough to watch Aoi swing himself up, smiling hotly, and jokingly tell the patrons to place their bets. Running fingers through my hair, I headed toward the back where the private show rooms were situated, snagging a glass of water from the bartender on my way by.
I’ll never forget the man waiting for me in Number Six. Situated on a pile of pillows, sipping a glass of whiskey, I first met Terachi Shinya.
“You requested me, sir?” I asked, smiling sweetly.
He only nodded, setting his glass down to survey me through inscrutable brown eyes. His slender build was wrapped in fine cloth, one of the most beautifully cut business suits I’ve ever seen, and his hair was placed precisely. I knew in that moment that this was the kind of man I wanted to be. He was the epitome of gentleman and suavity.
“Would you care for something in particular?” I asked, suddenly remembering why I was here.
“Yes,” he said, his voice as soft as his looks. “Your contract.”
“Beg your pardon?” I was awfully confused by that.
“Your contract,” he repeated, no sign of annoyance in his tone or demeanor. “I want your services.”
“But… isn’t that why I’m here?”
He laughed then, the first emotion I’d seen since entering the room. “Not those kind of services, Kouyou. Please, sit with me.”
I started. “But, I’m not allowed to…”
“Your manager and I have an agreement,” he cut across me. “Sit.”
Feeling as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I moved forward and settled onto the pillows a few feet from him.
“How do you know my name? We all go by stage names here.”
“Of course.” He waved his hand airily, reaching for his glass again. “For a couple hundred thousand yen, you can learn just about anything you want to in this city.”
I conceded the point, trying to control both my fear and my curiosity.
“Tell me, Kouyou,” he said, turning serious though his voice never rose at all, “do you plan to stay here for the rest of your life?”
“Of course not,” I answered automatically. “There’s more to life than being a dancer and a whore.”
“But you enjoy it, yes?”
I thought about that. Did I? I thought about all of my regulars, the ones who didn’t want to take me home, the ones who came just to see me and, sometimes, invite me into conversation. I felt the smile tugging the corners of my mouth.
“I suppose I do, from time to time,” I admitted.
He nodded, his expression edging on thoughtful. Silence fell between us for a few minutes as he finished his glass of whiskey and poured another. I fought the urge to fidget; sitting still never had set well with me.
“My name is Terachi Shinya,” he said finally. “And I want you to come work for me.”