Unfolding Stories

A few Chapters I am ready to share

The Door That Locked Behind Me

Part I

It was a side street just off the main road everyone knew as the red-light district, though they pretended otherwise.
The house had nine crooked windows, some lit up late into the night, some dark like no one ever came back.
On the main street, it looked almost beautiful in a sad way - bright lights, cheap music, girls in sequins pretending it was a party.
But the side streets were different. Some were polished and quiet, reserved for men with too much money.
Others, like ours, felt forgotten - just enough life to survive, never enough to leave.
I was sixteen, standing in a narrow hallway with a suitcase I hadn’t unpacked because I kept hoping I’d decide to run.
I had nowhere to go.
Society doesn’t accept girls like us in normal jobs.
I tried, but I was always rejected.
I had to go to the edge of everything just to stay alive.
When the doorbell rang for the first time, the sound cracked through me like a warning I didn’t want to hear.
My best friend, only a year older, squeezed my hand. She was scared too, even if she tried not to show it.
We hadn’t come here because we were brave. We came because we had nowhere else.
She whispered it would be easier if I didn’t think too much.
But when the door closed behind me and I heard the lock click, my body knew before my mind would admit it:
This was really happening.
And I didn’t know if I would ever be the same.

Part II

I knocked on the door from inside, my knuckles against the old wood a quiet, almost polite protest. My voice was small when I asked why she had locked me in. She didn’t open, just called back through the door that I should relax and have fun with him - because when the real clients came later, it wouldn’t feel fun or sexy at all. Her words hung in the room like the dust motes in the weak light, and I felt something slip loose inside my chest.I was shocked. Scared. But underneath it, a thin, hard wire of excitement pulled taut in my stomach. The man was handsome - clean, young, almost gentle-looking - but the cracked tiles and stale air reminded me nothing here was truly about pleasure.I didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to panic, so I told myself I would let it happen. I convinced myself this was a chance - a way to measure my value on the street. If I was sexy enough, if he finished quickly, maybe that would be to my advantage later. Maybe I could control something.All those thoughts spun through me in the space of a heartbeat. I must have looked frozen, because he spoke my name, and his voice pulled me back into the small, stained room. He patted the mattress beside him, told me to come sit. It wasn’t a date, I knew that. But my whole body was shaking like it was. My skin tingled with something between fear and anticipation as I lowered myself next to him.He leaned in and began to kiss my neck. My body locked. I couldn’t move, couldn’t answer. My mind flashed with a hundred questions I couldn’t ask - Did he kiss everyone or just the young "fresh" ones? Was that expected? Was I doing it wrong already?When his hands moved to undress me, something inside me shifted. A part of me woke up, cold and bright, and decided that if I surrendered now - if I let myself be led - I might never find my own way back. So I did the only thing I could think to do: I stepped into a role.I pushed him gently across the bed, and started to undress myself slowly, deliberately. I moved soft and practiced, though I was inventing it moment by moment. I made it look sensual. I made it look easy. I told myself that as long as I was the one controlling the pace, I could survive it.And then - just as I slipped into that fantasy, just as the mask settled over me - the moment shattered. My friend knocked hard on the door, her voice sharp: "Time was up."
Sex here wasn’t about feeling desired. It was business. Every minute cost money."Kick the hot guy out," she called through the door. "You need to get ready for the night customers."I felt my face flush. The role fell away like a cheap costume. What was left was just me - sixteen, no where to go, shaking, trying to remember how to breathe.
All I wanted in that moment was to push him out the door and hurry to the shower, to scrub away the feeling clinging to my skin.
But whatever came next, I wasn't ready for it.To be continued.

The Full Chapter

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