Chapter 2 Nerthus

NERTHUS

"She was everything I had."

I roll my eyes internally as I comfort the man crying next to me.

"Oh, poor Max. I'm sure Yuppie will look down on you and is always with you."

Yes, he just lost his cat a few days ago.

As I got off the streets, I was surprised how many men just booked me to talk or go out without even touching me. Society can be really hard on men without an appropriate companion.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for any easily earned money. And I don't enjoy a man's touch particularly. But I'm not good with people. I'm better in bed. So, having people wanting to act as a babysitter or a shrink weighs on me. I prefer being fucked from the moment I get in, to the moment I get out. If there is no talking, it is even better.

"Maybe there is something I can do, to make you feel better, Max?" I purr, moving my hand over his leg and he lifts his head out of his hands and stares at me incredulously.

"You can't bring her back, can you?!" He shouts before starting to cry back in his hands again. I retreat my hand and sit back up straight with an annoyed expression.

Good thing he can't see me.

The bald man weeping beside me is some kind of congressman.

As I sit there next to him at the foot of the bed in a sexy-fitting dress and expensive lingerie, I caress his back while he cries into his hands. And I push down the urge to sigh out loud.

Well, so much for a well-paid job.

***

I sigh as I watch the young blond barista preparing my latte. I nearly get hypnotized by her nose ring as she sways her head to the music playing in the little café.

She has pretty strands of pink and blue hair incorporated into her hair. I remember when I was wearing other colors than my natural copper in my hair too, and I smile as I must think of how I used to rock that style. Today, it would be impossible for me to redo it. It's hard getting jobs with upper-class clients if you don't come in a certain design. While I miss the colors in my hair, I don't miss my past at all. Thinking of it, I can live with my boring hair any day.

"Here you go, Amber." She says in her melodic voice.

"Thank you so much, Lizzie." I mirror her pretty smile as I take my cup and leave the shop.

Another morning session for the drain. I got all hyped up for nothing. And even if he was a bald, elderly, and not even attractive man, I had prepared myself with some techniques and was ready for some action. This has nothing to do with me wanting to do it, it's just a job and the more you are ready, the faster it is done. And the faster it is done, the faster I get my money. Imagine waking up in the morning, groggily getting out of bed to shower, putting on some make-up, dressing, and getting out of the house. Just to arrive at work and being told that your shift was canceled. And so, as you are already in, you get assigned to a stupid task, which makes you feel like you should have preferably stayed in bed.

Argh, right?!

I fight myself through the large crowd on the busy sidewalk and cross the street, reaching Central Park with fast steps. It's still chilly in the city and I hug my jacket closer as I walk over the stone bridge. I reach my favorite spot under a big tree and greet Alice, the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit that are scrambling around on mushrooms formed out of bronze.

A few small children play along around the statue while their parents are a few steps away, chatting. Their small voices disrupt the eerie silence of the park, making it turn lively. I smile behind my paper cup and drink my coffee slowly, watching them play.

Even if I'm dressed quite alluringly in my short black dress and stockings as well as high heels, it is still classy. Sometimes, I still can't get over not getting any mean looks. Or at least not that often anymore.

As I was working the streets, my look was totally different. The more you show, the more perverts you get. The more perverts you get, the more money you make. You get the pattern. Unfortunately, you can't go anywhere without being recognized for your working field. 5 Years ago, there would have been no chance for me to sit this close to children and their mothers in a park peacefully. When I think of the days I spent being insulted and the nights I feared being attacked, I shudder. It has always been a mystery to me how I got so far. About 10 years ago, I was already fearing to die every other day. And I'm not sure if it would have bothered me, actually.

Heaven.

Taking out my phone, I access the secured online-vault my agency provides us to secure our client data. It's a sort of App, designed by the IT-security-squad of my agency and it protects whatever we need to hide from curious eyes to do our jobs safely and confidentially. My planner along with my appointments, preferences and my forged identities are all stored in there securely. Obviously, confidentiality is the most important factor in my working field, and I hold onto a little scandalous information myself. Something that has me feeling pretty excited about my job. On top of that, the App is quite convenient.

Opening my congressman's file, I write a little memo describing today's appointment and add important information he told me that I might need for future encounters. After tagging his cat as deceased, I exit the vault and let my phone glide back into the front pocket of the leather jacket that I'm wearing.

I smile happily, continuing to enjoy my little break and jerk up as my phone chimes with an incoming message. I open it swiftly as it is from my boss texting me about a new engagement.

Ka-ching!

Luciana: Have a spicy job for you. If you want it, meet me in my office asap.

Amber: On my way.

Getting up, I throw away my empty paper cup and stroll back out of the gigantic park to hail a cab.

I'm always in for something spicy.