Petite, with dark skin and pale green hair. The girl sits, hunched against a wall, knees up and her arms wrapped around them, covered in a raggedy beige coat that's clearly seen better days. There are clothes under, and a scarf, but they're in a poor state and very dirty. She's young, probably around 16 or 17, the age where she'd have been kicked out the orphanages and expected to fend for herself.
Fend, she quite clearly has not, but then the cities have never been kind to orphans.
It's clear her stint on the street is recent because she hasn't had the time to truly become emaciated. She's thin, and you're sure her ribs will poke out a bit under her clothing, but she isn't falling to pieces. Not physically, anyway. The girl keeps her eyes down and doesn't even ask for change as you walk by her, nor does she hold up a piece of cardboard offering services of any kind for money or food like the others do. There's a spark of defiance in her that hasn't yet been broken down enough for her to crawl and beg for scraps.
That defiance won't serve her well on the streets; it'll kill her.
But for your purposes, it makes her perfect.
Honestly, she'd be your only choice anyway. You knew the homeless community wouldn't bring about the best kind of talent, only the cheapest, and she's just about the only girl you've seen who doesn't look like she's been on the street for years and years.
That's not to say there aren't more pretty young homeless girls like her in Vale, but you're working on a timeframe and she is the only one you've found this afternoon. Searching further might reveal some more, but it might not, and the night isn't getting any warmer, nor are you getting any richer. Most homeless people will be slipping away to find places to sleep soon as well, making it even harder.
You'd hazard a guess that most young girls left homeless up and sign themselves off as slaves, both for the money and for the fact that your new owner has to provide food and lodge for however long you sign up for. The older homeless don't have that freedom since no one would buy them, but, even in Atlas, most kids who weren't adopted were… not pushed into slavery, but reminded that the option existed, if they didn't want to work in the settlement facilities.
Orphanages have to be realistic, and they can't always find these kids good parents. You wonder why this one didn’t take that offer up. It's obvious she hasn't been homeless long, so it might be because she hasn't had the time to really lose her spirit yet and give in to the idea.
Any homeless girls prettier than this have probably already signed up as contract slaves.
It's a surprise she hasn't. That defiance again, you presume.
You walk a little on by until you find a food truck, then buy a hefty lamb kebab with fries and a bottle of clear water. It only costs 15 lien. You bring that back to the girl and stand in front of her until the scent of freshly cooked meat wafts into her nostrils and she reluctantly brings her head out from between her knees. Red eyes.
Exotic.
"Here," you say, lowering onto one knee and holding the warm carton of food out to her. The girl looks at you like you might bite her, then down at the food as it were poisoned, but she's in no position to question such generosity and reaches out to take it gingerly from your hands. You set the bottle down by her feet, atop the thin strip of cardboard she sits on. "Water, too. It's still sealed in case you're worried. Do you mind if I sit?"
The girl hardly hears you. She pulls the food against her chest to share in its warmth and digs in with her bare fingers. You sigh, both at the lack of response and what you're doing and turn around to sit down beside her on the ground. The floor is dirty, but you're not in much of a position to be picky. You can feel her eyes on you as she eats, curious and skittish like a wild animal, but she doesn't move or speak, likely worried her food might be taken from her if she does. You're a potential danger, but you're one with food.
If it weren't for her being in such a quiet area, the other beggars would be demanding she share.
This close, you get a better look at her. She's shorter than you, probably around five foot two or three, with a slim frame made all the thinner from malnutrition, and skin the colour of milk chocolate. She's human as far as you can tell, with no defining faunus features, and while you can't gather much of her proportions from how she's sat and holding the food to her chest, you can tell she has some breasts there. There's material to work with.
Again, you're struck by how much of a creep you're being right now, but then, what's the point pretending otherwise? You're absolutely looking to take advantage of her situation, and the sooner you stop pretending otherwise, the better things will be.
"You can call me Joker," you say, as the girl eats. Her eyes meet yours and you can't help but feel she's judging the name, and probably not kindly. Still, you're the one with food, so you have her attention for now. "Can I get your name in between bites?"
The girl slurps up some thin strips of kebab meat, swallows, and whispers, "Emerald."
Emerald, huh? You suppose it fits, not only for the colour of her hair but for the fact that, to you, she's a diamond in the rough. Or an emerald in the mud. The question is whether you can polish that to a shine, and what it'll cost you to do so. Judging by the fact you can have her attention for just 15 lien, it's probably not much.
"Emerald. That's a beautiful name."
Her eyes narrow to slits, her shoulders tense, and while she doesn't lean away from you, it's obvious that she knows it's not a good thing when a strange man compliments you on the streets. She's paranoid, and, judging from what you've seen, she has a right to be.
That makes you wonder just how valuable the soft sell will even be here. Emerald isn't going to trust you to want what's in her best interests, and she's no doubt used to people making creepy offers.
As if reading your very mind, Emerald finishes off the last of the fries and says, "What do you want me to do?" Her voice is quiet and a little hoarse. You're sure it'll improve in time, and she takes a quick gulp of the water before fixing her eyes on you. "I didn't offer anything, so you can't say I did."
Her stomach grumbles, and she flinches at the noise. It seems that rather than fill her, the food has just reminded her body of how hungry it is.
"You haven't been on the streets long, have you?"
Emerald shakes her head glumly. "Couple of months."
That explains the fact she's better off than most of the others, and why she's here on a quiet road with little traffic to beg from. Emerald is still learning the ropes of the streets and doesn't know all the little tricks and deals that let the more experienced drifters claim the best spots.
"Is there any reason why you haven't signed up with one of the big companies?"
"Didn't want to," she mumbles into the arms she crosses over her knees. "But will probably have to soon. Unless I want to be like them."
You're surprised she's willing to talk to you so freely. It's probably because few others will. Most people tend to pretend they don't see the homeless, and you're likely the first person in months who has really asked her thoughts or feelings.
"I'm surprised you didn't take the slave contract route."
"It’s the pretty girls who go for real money. I was a stick-thin orphan before this and I knew I'd be one of the leftovers." She grimaces. "I'd be picked up by some creep looking for a cheap slave to break or bought out by a brothel and used over and over again to try and make money off my term."
You hum. That's the typical fate for what's called "leftover girls". Most girls are picked up by wealthy people, or those of the middle-class, and live decent enough lives, but there will always be some who aren't pretty enough, or who have blemishes, or who just get unlucky because other girls go for more and the big bidders run out of money.
It's like a horse auction, where meat markets send people to bid on sickly animals or those that no one wants, and render them into meat, except, thankfully, there's no cannibalism involved here. Still, it's not a good fate for a girl to go cheap at auction. People take more care with expensive belongings, while cheap ones are used as tools and can be discarded without much loss. Or stuck in a gloryhole and being told to service a hundred men a day for 10 lien a pop. It's not a great way to make a return on investment, but suck enough cocks over ten years and you'll have made your new master something.
Some take it even further, having expensive slaves that they treat like beloved pets, and then cheap "mongrels" that they put through the most humiliating of experiences, all because they can. Owning a slave is a power trip, and if you're the slave in that equation then you don't want to be a cheap thrill. You want to be a costly investment. That's why slave trainers, who can up a slave's value, are so respected among both clients and the slaves themselves. Of course, Emerald isn't a slave, so you couldn't sell her as one anyway, as it has to be done through the government and the price she goes for would be given to her, not you.
"What if I offered you a different way to make some money?"
Emerald sighs. You're sure she has some idea of what you're offering, most likely that you want a whore, and while that isn't strictly true, it's not entirely a lie either. You want Emerald to have sex with you for the videos. Whether or not she calls it by that name, she'd be selling her body for money. A whore is a whore.
Emerald's stomach rumbles again, and, as if to mock her further, the sky rumbles too.
It looks like rain is coming.
And poor Emerald only has a ratty cloak to cover her.
You have a hotel room, food and a hot shower, all of which you know Emerald wants more than anything right now. You could offer her a job and keep things strictly professional between you, and while she'll likely accept, she'll try and get as much out of you as she can. Emerald will be an employee, like any other you could have picked up at the job centre or through newspaper ads.
Alternatively, you can try and strike a deal based around food and shelter over money, or at least cut down on some of the initial costs by feeding her instead of paying her. The settlements do it, so it's a proven and legal strategy. Or, at least, it's not so illegal that anyone would care for a homeless orphan. Food will be cheaper to you, and it might mean more to her right now than coin.
But something even more valuable to her than money might be someone who cares for her, or at least someone who she can believe cares. Emerald has nothing, and as such she has nothing to lose. If you were to play the role of the kind gentleman and offer her your room for the night, with no strings attached, then she'll get a taste of the high life. You can sympathise with her, make her feel safe, and care for her. You'll become a lifeline to her. When you then tell her, perhaps tomorrow, that you can't afford to keep her around, well, then she'll have everything to lose. And better yet, she'll be prepared to do anything to keep it.
Some might call it manipulation but you know it's really more about seducing her with all the things money can buy. It might be a way to get her working for you for next to nothing, and to have her be more loyal and more committed to you and the studio than any other girl will be. Emerald would work for you because she wants you to keep her around, and not because she wants the money. That kind of blind faith could be useful.
You have 7,585 lien, a hotel room, and a very hungry and soon to be cold girl who is as malleable as a lump of unshapen clay.
>Strike a deal with her
>Manipulate her
>Offer her a job
Humans have five basic needs: food, water, sleep, shelter, and clothing.
To Emerald, you represent all five, which means you hold a lot of power in any dynamic between you. You recognise that, which is why you know you don’t have to treat with her like she’s a normal person looking for work.
The average jobseeker has lines they will or won’t cross, and following a strange man to their hotel room is certainly one of them. That’s part of the reason why you chose to seek out the homeless community first, knowing that anyone you found there would be desperate enough to hear you out.
When you offered her free food, a bed, and a roof over her head for the night, Emerald reluctantly agreed, eyes on the floor, and stood, leaving her sheet of cardboard and cold street corner behind. You know she’s worried about what you’ll ask in return, and you don’t bother telling her not to worry. She wouldn’t believe you anyway.
A crueller man might have taken advantage of her need for a support structure, any at all, and twisted her to your ends. Turned her into a willing slave who would want for nothing more than for you to tell her she was doing a good job. Hungry for validation.
You’re absolutely going to take advantage of her as well, but at least you can be honest about it.
The receptionist at the hotel doesn’t meet your eye when you lead Emerald inside. It’s the cheapest hotel in Vale and you expect that they’re used to having clients bring back prostitutes at strange hours. The smaller girl sticks close to your side, either not understanding or choosing not to acknowledge the looks she receives. You take the elevator up together, unlock the door to your room and usher her in ahead of you.
Emerald is tense. Nervous.
“You said there’d be food,” she whispers.
Hungry.
“I’ll order a pizza and it’ll be delivered while you have a shower. You must have months of grime you want to wash off.”
Emerald eyes the open bathroom with the shower inside, then you, biting her lip. It’s obvious she wants to feel the hot water, but she’s also anxious about taking her clothes off around you. The both of you know what is likely happening tonight, or certainly happening if you have your way, but that doesn’t mean she’s eager to expose herself.
You could promise not to look, or assure her of her privacy, but there’s little chance she’ll believe you at this stage, and you plan to have her perform in front of the camera and potentially thousands of people online. The sooner she gets over being watched, the better.
“Your clothes are filthy. Throw them in the basket and I’ll have the staff here clean them.”
Emerald looks away, clearly wanting to ask what she’s supposed to wear if her clothes are gone, but just as clearly knowing what the answer will be. It’s obvious she’s waiting for something to happen. For you to make a move or tell her what you want from her.
“I’ll go order now.” You pull out your scroll and head to the bed. “The sooner you’re in the shower, the sooner you can--”
The bathroom door slams shut.
“I guess food is her weakness after all.”
You call a pizza delivery in Vale and order a small pepperoni and a margarita, along with some fries and onion rings to share. It’s 40 lien down the drain, but worth it to win her over. The shower is inside the bathroom, and you can hear the water splashing against the wall as she washes herself. It’s doubtless been a long time since she’s been able to bathe like that, and she probably had to share hot water in the orphanage before.
You consider walking in to watch her, partly to teach her to get over any anxiety over being watched, but mostly because you want to see her naked. It’s been a hectic time since your ungainly escape from Atlas, and you’re wound up tight like a spring. This is all for the future and the goal of making enough money to win back your position, but that doesn’t mean you’re not looking forward to letting off some steam with a warm, soft girl.
But the goal here is to show Emerald how much she wants simple things like a shower, a bed, and food and drink. Show her that, make it clear you can provide it, and then strike a deal for her to work for you in exchange for all those things instead of money. It’ll still cost you, but not nearly as much, and you expect you’ll have a better time of things saving acts like perving on her in the shower until after she’s already agreed.
No reason to put her any more on guard than she already is.
The pizza arrives before Emerald is done, and you’re sure that’s what prompts the shower to turn off mere seconds after you’ve paid and closed the door. You’ve only barely made it to the main room when you hear the bathroom door click open. Only a fraction, only enough for brown fingers and a red eye to peek out from.
“Food is here,” you say, making sure she can see the two pizza boxes. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I got a bit of everything. I hope you’re hungry because I can’t eat two pizzas on my own.”
You pointedly sit down on the bed and set the pizza boxes, along with the side orders, down as well. The message is clear: if Emerald wants to eat, then she’ll need to come out of the bathroom. You pat the sheet as well, just to drive the point home.
“It’ll get cold if you wait…”
The single eye visible through the crack in the doorframe narrows, and you just know she’s thinking several unflattering things about you. The door does open, however, even if it takes her another full minute to slide out, one hand covering her chest and the other clasped between her legs.
You were right – Emerald does have a nice body despite her time on the streets.
https://x.com/Imagebank34/status/2074214552082985468?s=20
The naked girl waddles to the bed, sits down and yanks the sheets up to cover herself as best she can. Only then does she lunge for the first pizza box and drag it possessively over her knees. It’s the margarita, and she wastes no time picking up the biggest slice and taking a bite.
“Mmmmmm~” she moans, eyes closing in bliss.
“That good, huh?” You help yourself to a small slice of pepperoni, content to let her eat and enjoy herself. The food is not even close to as good as you're used to, but you'll have to get used to food that isn't cooked by a culinary master. You’re happy to do enough talking for the both of you while she eats. “I suppose food like this isn’t readily available on the streets. Or, if it was, then it’d be taken off you by the ones who have been there longer.”
“Hmmm,” Emerald mumbles, not really answering, but making a sound like she is even as she licks her fingers clean and snatches a second slice. A lot of her nervousness is gone, or momentarily lost in the joy of eating.
“That’s the thing about being on the street,” you say. “Once you’re there, it’s almost impossible to get out. Most jobs require you to have a fixed residence or address, and it’s the same for opening a bank account. You can’t even save up money to buy a suit and try to get work because other people will steal from you or deface your property.”
Third slice. This time, Emerald is brave enough to try one of yours. The bedsheet she’s using to cover herself slips enough to show a brief glimpse of a pink nipple, before she catches it with her elbow and yanks it back up. She shoots you a dirty look, as if you’d pulled it down yourself. You simply smile back at her.
“I’m somewhat homeless myself," you continue. "My family home was taken away, my parents are dead, and I’m here in Vale living out of a hotel trying to make ends meet. Give it two months and I’ll be just as destitute as you are, which is why I’m doing my best to build a profitable business and keep myself eating good food like this.”
The fries are open now, and she’s stuffing them in her mouth like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. Emerald swallows, snatches the bottle of water you got out the minifridge, and guzzles at it greedily.
“Are you enjoying the meal?” you ask.
“Hmhm!” Emerald nods, cheeks full. “Mmm!”
“I bet you’re happy to be out of the rain as well.” Outside, it’s already begun to rain heavily, with water splattering against the glass window and lightning flashing in the distance. Emerald looks, reminding herself, and nods quickly, eyes wide. “Was the shower nice?”
Another nod.
That’s your cue to lean in.
“Then how would you like to have all of those on a more permanent basis?”
Emerald’s eyes flick to yours, inquisitive, desperate, but also very, very suspicious. But there’s food in her mouth, the taste of melted cheese on her tongue, and warm water drying on her skin while a storm rages outside.
It was the right choice to let her experience all that before you made your offer.
“What would I have to do…?”
The bait has been taken. Now, to reel her in.
“I mentioned before that I'm trying to make a business. I have limited funds and this-” You gesture to the hotel room and the pizza, “-will all run out eventually. Even if I wanted to let you stay here for nothing, I’d not be able to. The only way I can afford to keep renting this room and putting food on the table is if I can make money, and the only way I can make money is if I make… content…”
Emerald nibbles on some fries, watching you the whole time. “Content for what?”
You tap the camera you bought earlier, which rests now on the dresser. “Adult websites.”
Her reaction is immediate.
“You want me to do porn!?”
Emerald’s face twists, and she leans back. It’s clear she isn’t a fan, but that’s fine. Emerald doesn’t have to be happy with what you do; she just needs to be happy with the offer you can make her.
“Let’s be honest, Emerald. You came here prepared to let me have my wicked way with you in exchange for some warm food and a bed.” Your words take the wind from her sails, and she glances down at the half-empty pizza box shamefully. “You were already prepared to let me use your body. How is it any different if I record that?”
“Because… Because others would see…”
“Others? Like the other homeless who can’t afford a scroll? Or the rich snobs who ignore you and pretend you don’t exist?” You press the attack while she’s reeling. “No, it’s not about the thought of people seeing you. It’s because you’re too proud. You think it’s beneath you. That you're somehow above such work.”
You lean in and touch a hand to her knee through the blanket. Emerald tenses but doesn’t shy away.
“You’re homeless, Emerald. I hate to break it to you, but you are at rock bottom. You said yourself that you’ll end up being forced to go to the mines if this carries on. That, or you give in and become the kind of beggar who offers to suck strangers off for food.” She grimaces, eyes clenched shut tightly at the image. “Pride is good to have at times, but not here. Pride is going to ruin you. You need to be willing to do whatever it takes to drag yourself off the street, and preferably before someone sinks their claws into you.”
“Someone like you…?” she asks waspishly.
“I could be a lot worse than I am right now. If nothing else, I'm being honest with you. I want you to work with me and star in adult movies with me. In return, I’ll make sure you always have food to eat, that you always have a roof over your head, and that you always have a warm shower and a bed to sleep in. And clothes to wear,” you add, nodding to the way she has to hide herself under the blanket.
“What if I want money?”
“You don’t.”
You see her eyes narrow and her mouth open, but you cut her off.
“Think about it, Emerald. Imagine I pay you in cash. How does that help you? You don’t have a bank account and can’t open one without a fixed address, so you’d need to keep it on your person. The nanosecond your friends see that, they’ll be on you. You’ll be lucky if you just lose it. They might even demand you get more for them. They might hurt you to find out if there’s more.”
“That money won’t let you buy anywhere to stay either,” you continue, mixing truth and fiction together until her head is sinking lower and lower in despair. “It costs me 200 per night to stay here, and this is the cheapest place I could find in the city. Add food onto that, and clothing, and it only gets higher. Sure, I could pay you a cut of the videos, but those videos will start off not worth much. You won’t earn a lot. And really, Emerald, do you need money? From where I’m sitting, it seems like what you need most is security. You need a place to stay, food in your stomach, and someone who can keep you safe while you get back on your feet.” You lean back, letting that sink in for a second. “I can provide all that. Money can’t.”
It's mostly the truth.
Your 200 per night includes food, and it is also for the room. It won’t cost you extra to have Emerald stay with you, but she, less savvy in these matters, is no doubt factoring that in. To her, it must seem like you’re offering the equivalent of 200-300 lien per day to have her around, when the reality is that extra food for a person will cost you 50 lien per day at most, and a little more for some new clothes for her.
You’re not lying about how much more important those things are to her, though. The necessities for survival might as well be worth millions to her, and more than her self-destructive pride.
In the long run she’ll realise that an offer like this is no better than slavery and offers her no way to ever leave your employ, but you can start paying her a little extra long before that happens, when yours and her videos are making more profit and you can afford it. By that point, she’ll be too deep into the industry to leave it.
“And all I have to do is…?”
“Star in my videos. Sex. Have you ever had sex before?”
The way she shrugs could mean anything, but you take it to mean she isn’t very experienced but also doesn’t want to talk about the little experience she has. Maybe another person in the orphanage, or someone on the street. It might have been willing or not, but that’s not your business.
“Like I said, you already decided you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you for a night’s free food and a bed to sleep in, didn’t you?” Emerald nodded grudgingly. “Then what difference does this make? There’ll be a camera rolling, and we’ll be doing it more than just tonight, but you’ll never have to worry about being homeless again. If you give it your all, that is. You and I are going to have to work together to make good videos.”
Emerald bites her bottom lip, teasing it between her teeth.
“And I’ll get free food forever?”
“As long as you work for me, and do your best, I’ll make sure you never have to worry about going hungry again.” You pick up a slice of pizza, raise it as if in toast, and take a bite out of it. Emerald watches, then takes one of her own. “So,” you ask. “Do we have a deal?”
Eventually, after what feels like minutes of hesitation, Emerald closes her eyes and nods.
“Y… Yes. We… We have a deal…”
“Excellent.”
Author's Note:
Original Quest: https://fiction.live/stories/Running-the-Red-Light/z3DQkYE5X8YBXovZ8/home
Visual Novel: https://andoravn.itch.io/running-the-red-light