Chapter 2 The Classy Joker

I don't have to suffer from hearing crazy stories such as packs, mates, luna, wolf shifters, and vampires. I had to suffer from his emotionless stare and occasional sly smirks.

To describe this man, he seems to be a fancy, classy version of The Joker. Canceling the part where Joker suffers from a laughing disorder. This man was unpredictable, and his aura was different. He is human, but he is that kind of human I don't want to mess with. Even associate me with him. I was surprised when I saw that he's not in his 50s or 80s. He's at least; I don't know 3 years older than me? And he was attractive. I won't dare define this man especially coming from a mere mortal like me. He isn't a god, but he could fit the characteristics so well. I can't tell how he looks since I think he could fit all poetry that exists. But I know for sure he had a face and body breathtaking as well as how much of a pantry ripper he is.

I was sold to him for 7 months, but his secretary told me that that could lessen to a month if he decides to kill me. He doesn't seem to be joking when he told me that; he was very professional and stoic, so I had to fear for my life for that second until I remember that either way, it's easier to live a short life than to suffer behind bars.

He was staring at me as his eyes bore into my soul. I could never remove those stares even if I lose my memories; I will always remember the way he looks at me. I almost shivered and wet my panties but shook my head since I remember I am not in the mood for lust.

"Uh, do I just stand here, or do you want me to give you a little dance? I'm surprisingly good at dancing," that you would laugh at how stiff I was and make me your comedian.

"I've seen you dance. Don't."

And boy, his voice is immaculate as well as his eyes.

I was not that dumb to catch that, "Have you seen me before?" Or known me before?

"You were all over the news," his tone was dangerously low, so I had to keep myself from asking a question he just avoided.

"I know, now you know someone who got famous in just a day, I'm fucking ecstatic!" I stopped when he laughs, "But I never danced on that security footage? Who's so dumb to dance while on a murder escape?"

"Oh, but I know someone so dumb that she even brought the evidence used for murder, running like a fucking psycho." He laughed, and his laugh was sexy. Do I have to romanticize this man every time he makes a move?

Do I even have to romanticize how he breathes? Fucking cray.

"Yeah, laugh at me, make me your comedian. I'll gladly serve you."

"You are funny. Now strip."

I want to scream, fucking psychopath! How could he laugh and then tell me to strip? I'd rather be a laughing stock than to sell my body to men, but I had no other choice. Men would only pay for me a handsome price if and only if I sold my body to them. May it be just for their eyes or for a single touch.

But the thing is, I had been lucky because I was still a virgin until this moment. I am not sure if I am still able to keep my virginity being with this man.

If only I was born rich, I would never need a man. I'll gladly be single for the rest of my life, feeding some cats, rats, lizards, and turtles. Oh, how cute turtles are. I want to hug them, but they are not built for a hug; they're kind of hard. They are not squishy.

So I stripped. When I was about to reach for my panties, he walked in my direction and grabbed my hand, stopping me.

I was shaking, and I only realized that I looked up to him with fear in my eyes when he grabbed me, but I still sheepishly smiled. "I just have to strip, right? You won't do anything to me?" I suddenly lost my confidence. I was trembling from fear. I was afraid, of course, of my life, my decisions, and what's about to come.

"You're a virgin." It was a statement. I looked down and nodded.

He pushed me, and he walked away. I shouted, "I can give you a head job if you want!" I was actually relieved when he didn't touch me. I was actually smiling when he walked away.

"Nah, my hands can do better!" he yelled back from somewhere. I laughed and dressed myself up. Then I saw that he went back in and he was watching me dress. His eyes were like a predator hungry for his prey.

But he left after staring at me for a while when I caught him in the mirror. My brows furrowed. What's wrong with that man? Why watch me dress? He's a pervert no matter how godly his features were.

I sat down on the couch and hugged my clothes. If only he could give me some comfortable clothes, I would have thanked him. This is such an uncomfortable dress, but this is what men like. I've been thinking, why do prostitutes have to conform to the way men want us to wear? It's obvious; they buy our bodies, not our souls. It's common to showcase your body rather than show them who you really are as a person.

They don't need your soul, they need temporary love, and they are slaves to the pleasures of their bodies.

I walked out to see if I could grab some food until I saw him in the large living room, jacking himself off.

"Macaria," he groaned. That was my name.

I immediately went back in to give him his privacy. I see it's better that he could do it by himself. I'd rather not put something as huge as that in my mouth; I might choke and then die. I'd rather stay silent.

I laugh; I'm not naive, but I can still find some fun in my life, so better make use of it and give it a laugh.