In this new world, everything was a hierarchy of power. If you were Awakened, you were royalty. If you were common, you were just scraping the mold off the leftovers the elites left behind.
The adult industry wasn't any different. There were plenty of Awakened who were too lazy or too cowardly to step foot in a dungeon. Guys like me. They had the stats, but they didn't want to risk their lives for mana stones when they could make a killing selling their stamina on camera.
I looked at my thin, pale hands as I walked down the cracked sidewalk. I was technically down to two agencies in this entire base that would even look at unawakened talent. Of course, I was Awakened now, the System proved that, but an F-Rank evaluation wouldn't buy me a cup of coffee. It was the bottom of the barrel.
Schuster had been lenient enough to give me a shot, probably because he was desperate. With a body that looked like a stiff breeze could snap it, the other agencies would laugh me out of the lobby before I could even unzip.
"Fuck it, what's the move?" I muttered. "Do I go and try the other agencies now, looking like a starving student?"
I shook my head. No. I knew the game. If I showed up at another audition and pulled another three-minute special, my name would be mud before the sun went down. I needed to train. I needed to break this Duncan body in until it could handle the high-voltage pressure of actual sex.
But this Duncan kid had been a ghost. Zero social status, zero friends, and definitely zero girlfriends. He'd lived his life in the shadows of this dump.
I ran the simulations in my head, weighing my options until I hit on the only logical solution.
"Brit," I said, the name coming out as a sharp exhale. "She did say the first time was free for a neighbor. A 'promotional offer.'"
I'd use that window as my training ground. The last thing I was ever going to do was pay for sex. In my world, the currency flowed the other direction.
"People should be paying me for this," I growled, "not the other way around."
I turned the corner, my eyes fixed on the derelict silhouette of my apartment building. It was time to take Brit up on her offer and see if I could level up
I stopped at Brit's door, leaning in close enough to smell the damp concrete and the faint scent of her cheap floral perfume. I was listening for the sounds of the trade—grunts, bedsprings, the usual soundtrack of Base 4.
It was quiet.
I knocked once. Firm.
The door swung open almost instantly. Brit stood there wrapped in a towel that barely made it past her chest, highlighting a deep, smooth cleavage. Her hair was damp and slicked back, a clear sign she'd just scrubbed away the day's grime.
Good, I thought. She's washed off whatever sweat and dicks she's dealt with today. Then again, I hadn't exactly been a saint about hygiene when I was buried in Donna an hour ago. Professional hypocrite. I could live with that.
Brit's lips curled into a smile. "Seems like you've made up your mind, Dunk."
"You've got that right. Can I come in?"
She stepped back, swinging the door wide.
I walked in and took a quick survey. For a dump in this neighborhood, the room was surprisingly clean. No stacks of stale noodles or piles of dirty laundry. Everything was in its place.
"Nice place," I noted, my eyes trailing over the modest setup.
"It's my workplace," she said, closing the door and locking it with a heavy click. "The pussy shouldn't be the only thing that keeps the men coming back. Presentation is everything."
"Hmm."
She closed the distance between us, her warmth radiating off her fresh skin. "So, are you finally here for the pussy, Dunk?"
"That massage offer you mentioned earlier," I said, my voice dropping. "The neighborly rate. Is the offer still on the table?"
Instead of answering, she reached out, her fingers tracing the line of my collarbone. Her eyes narrowed, searching mine. "There's something different about you. You're... more confident. Usually, you can barely look me in the eye without stuttering."
"I asked you a question," I said, reaching out and catching her wrist. My grip wasn't aggressive, but it was authoritative. I wasn't the shy kid she used to tease.
She shivered slightly, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "Well, of course... the offer stands. You want a massage with a happy ending, Dunk?"
"You said the first time was free for a neighbor, didn't you?"
"Yes, love," she purred, her eyes dancing. "I never go back on my word. I'm going to give you that special discount I promised."
"Good. I think I could use a massage..." A grin spread across my face. "...with a very happy ending."
"Follow me, then."
I followed her behind a heavy curtain that partitioned the room. It was the standard Base 4 floor plan, turning a single cramped box into a 'two-room' apartment with a piece of fabric and some wire.
She didn't hesitate. She reached for the knot in her towel and let it fall. It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing there in the dim light.
She was small, slender, and built for speed. Without the crop top, her breasts were even smaller than I'd thought—tight, firm, with pale pink nipples that were already reacting to the cool air. Her pussy was clean-shaven, the skin there looking soft and well-tended.
She laid down on the bed, stomach first, and looked back over her shoulder at me.
"Before we start," she whispered, handing me a bottle of cheap oil. "Would you care to help me apply the lotion? My skin gets so dry after a shower."
I smiled, cracking my knuckles. This was the perfect setup. I needed to desensitize this body, and a slow burn was exactly what the doctor ordered.
"I wouldn't mind at all, Brit. Not at all."