Velvet Skin · Act I: The First Step
The elevator rose in silence.
Mika stood with her arms crossed tightly, trying not to tremble. Her reflection stared back at her in the polished steel — pale skin, long dark hair, cheap mascara smudged faintly under one eye. She hadn't slept. She hadn't eaten. Her breath smelled faintly of stale coffee and nerves.
Don't back out. You already rang the bell.
Ding.
The doors opened into warm darkness.
It was quieter than she expected. Dim, amber light spilled down a velvet-lined hallway. The floor was black marble. Jazz — low, slow, breathy — played faintly, like it was happening in another room.
She stepped in.
The air smelled expensive. Perfume. Scented oil. Clean skin and something else — faint, sensual, like warm sheets after sex. Mika's heart pounded as her heels clicked forward. A part of her wanted to turn back. The rest… was already here.
A sleek woman sat behind the reception desk, tapping on a keyboard with silver-painted nails. Her black blouse was open just enough to reveal smooth collarbones and a subtle gold chain. Her name tag read Hina — though the online message boards said never to call her that unless invited.
She didn't look up.
"Name?" she asked flatly, chewing gum with practiced boredom.
"Mika. I—I'm here for the interview."
Now she looked up.
Her gaze scanned Mika top to bottom — hair, face, breasts, thighs — in a slow, unbothered sweep. Mika flushed under it. She wasn't used to being seen like that — not for beauty, but for potential.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry—"
"No one cares," Hina said, already pressing a button. "Riko. New girl. Interview."
A soft voice answered over the intercom: "Send her."
Hina rose, heels sharp on the floor, and handed Mika a clipboard. "Fill this out. Don't lie — they'll know."
The waiting room was soft and still, like a hotel no one ever checked into. Mika filled out the form with shaking hands — name, age, height, measurements, sexual experience. The last one made her pause.
Varied? Open-minded? Limited?
She checked "curious."
The interview room was even dimmer. A standing lamp in the corner cast a soft circle of light over a velvet couch. The silence buzzed in her ears. Her palms were damp.
The door opened.
And in walked a woman Mika would remember for the rest of her life.
Long black hair. Crimson silk blouse. High-waisted slacks that hugged her hips and flowed like water when she moved. Her scent hit before her words — jasmine and something musky beneath. She didn't look rushed. Or surprised. Or kind.
She looked… hungry.
"I'm Riko," she said simply, her voice like silk dragged over skin. "Sit up straight."
Mika adjusted instantly.
"You're nervous," Riko said.
"Yes," Mika whispered.
"Good. That means you're not stupid."
Riko crossed the room, perched on the arm of a nearby chair. Her legs were long, bare at the ankles, and flawless. She crossed them slowly, deliberately, the silk whispering as it slid.
"So. Mika. Why are you here?"
"I need the money," Mika answered. "I've tried everything else—"
"Everyone says that," Riko interrupted softly. "Let me ask something more important."
She stood. Mika's heart thudded.
"Do you know what you're selling, when you take your clothes off for a stranger?"
Mika blinked.
"My… body?"
Riko smiled faintly, like a teacher watching a child get the answer wrong.
"That's the least interesting thing about you," she said.
And then, without asking, she moved closer — one hand reaching up to gently touch Mika's chin. Just her fingertips. Cold, at first. Then warm as they traced down her jawline.
Mika froze.
"You're selling a feeling. A fantasy. The illusion that you want them… even when you don't. Can you fake that, Mika?"
"I—I think so…"
"No." Riko leaned in, her breath warm against Mika's cheek. "Don't think. Show me."
"What?"
"Take off your top."
Mika's eyes widened. "Now?"
Riko's gaze didn't shift. "Here. Slowly."
Mika hesitated. Her hands trembled. But something in Riko's presence made obedience feel… expected. Undressing here wasn't humiliation — it was surrender.
Her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse. One. Two. Three. She exposed her plain bra, and her skin flushed with heat. She heard Riko's breath catch — just slightly.
"Turn."
Mika turned.
She felt Riko's eyes moving across her body, mapping her like territory. She heard her heels circle slowly.
"You're softer than I thought," Riko murmured. "Pretty hips. Are you easily touched, Mika?"
"I—what?"
"Sensitive," Riko said. "I mean. Do you moan easily?"
Mika bit her lip. "I… yes."
Riko stepped closer — so close Mika could feel the warmth of her chest against her back. She didn't touch. She didn't have to.
"Good," she whispered. "They'll like that."
She walked back toward the door.
"Put your shirt back on. You'll be back tomorrow. Midnight. Don't wear anything you want to keep clean."
Hina handed Mika a keycard and a folded slip of paper.
"Client prep form," she said. "You'll fill it out after every session. Welcome to the business."
As Mika turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of movement — a girl in the hallway, small and sharp-eyed, watching her from behind a curtain. The hoodie barely covered her thighs. She vanished like a shadow when Mika blinked.
Outside, in the elevator again, Mika realized her knees were shaking.
She wasn't turned off.
She wasn't disgusted.
She was wet.