Park Sang Mi stared at her reflection in the foggy mirror, her eyes tracing the dark circles that had become a permanent fixture under her makeup. She took a deep breath and adjusted her 1.70m frame in the tight mini skirt and tank top. The neon lights of the red light district in Seoul painted a stark contrast against her skin, highlighting her curves and casting shadows that played hide and seek with the worries etched into her face.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, trying to muster the courage she had lost hours ago. It was already 10pm and the cobblestone streets were quieter than usual. The chill of the autumn night seeped through her fishnet stockings, sending shivers down her spine. She checked her watch again. Rent was due tomorrow and she hadn’t made a single won tonight.

Her stomach growled, a reminder of the meal she had skipped to save money. She wished she could tell her mother that she was working late at a fancy office job, but the truth was she had been standing on this corner since 7pm, her high heels pinching her toes with every step she took to entice a potential customer. Her phone remained silent in her pocket, a stark reminder of the empty promises and forgotten appointments.

Sang Mi stepped out of the alley, the cold air hitting her like a slap in the face. She scanned the street, looking for any sign of a possible client. The neon lights reflected in the puddles from the recent rain, creating a mirage of colors that danced under her feet. A few men passed by, their eyes lingering on her before they quickened their pace. The silence was deafening, save for the occasional car driving by, tires splashing through the water.

Just as she was about to give up for the night, a group of teenagers emerged from the shadows. They were dressed in designer clothes that looked out of place in the gritty surroundings of the red light district. The boys looked both excited and nervous, their eyes darting from her to the ground and back again. One of them, the tallest of the group, stepped forward, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

“Excuse me, miss,” he stuttered, his voice cracking with adolescent uncertainty. “We’re looking for ... uh ... some company for our little brother.”

Sang Mi’s initial instinct was to turn them away. Groups were always trouble, and she had a strict policy of one customer at a time. But the desperation in their eyes and the jingle of their wallets was too tempting to ignore. Her rent wasn’t going to pay itself. She crossed her arms, sizing them up.

“What kind of service are you looking for?” she asked, her voice firm despite the knot forming in her stomach.

The tall one looked at his friends, who nodded eagerly. “A simple blowjob and ... uh ... sex,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just to, you know, help him out. He’s never been with a woman before.”

Sang Mi’s mind raced. Two hundred thousand won was a fortune for what they were asking, enough to cover her rent and then some. But going to their place meant giving up control, something she didn’t like to do. She weighed the risks, her eyes flicking to the shadows where the other men lurked. Finally, she made her decision.

“Three hundred,” she said firmly, raising her price. The boys exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and excitement. They whispered among themselves, and after a moment of hushed negotiation, they nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” the spokesman said, his hand shaking as he pulled out a thick wad of cash. “Three hundred thousand won, but you have to come with us now.”

Sang Mi felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach, but she took the money and tucked it into her purse. “Fine,” she said, plastering on a smile. “But I don’t do anything more than what we agreed on. Understood?”

The leader of the group nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Of course,” he assured her. “We just want to make sure he’s ... comfortable.”

They led her to a sleek sedan parked down the street. The interior was cold, the leather seats sticking slightly to her bare legs. The drive to their residence was a blur of city lights and awkward silence. The boys tried to make small talk, asking her about her night and if she liked her job. She responded with polite nods and curt answers, keeping the conversation to a minimum. A few of them couldn’t resist slipping their hands under her skirt, their fingertips brushing against her skin. She allowed it, knowing that a little tease could lead to a bigger payoff later. The scent of their cologne filled the car, a mix of cheap musk and excitement.

Encouraged by her lack of protest, they grew bolder, their hands moving up to fondle her c cup breasts. She felt the fabric of her tank top stretch as they squeezed and pinched, their touch rougher than she had expected from such young men. “Sorry,” she said firmly, brushing their hands away. “Not part of the deal.” They apologized profusely, their faces a mix of embarrassment and excitement. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the cash waiting for her at the end of the night.

The car pulled up to a tall high-rise apartment in the heart of the expensive part of Seoul. The doorman nodded respectfully at the boys as they exited, and they ushered her into a private elevator that took them straight to the penthouse. The doors slid open to reveal a sprawling apartment, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering cityscape beyond. The air was thick with the scent of money and desperation.

The penthouse was decorated with an ostentatious flair that screamed of newfound wealth. The lights were low, and the music was a thumping bass that she could feel in her chest. The youngest of the group, the one they were supposedly helping, was already waiting in the living room. He was shorter than his brothers, with a baby face that made him look even younger than he probably was. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed as he took in the sight of her. She offered him a professional smile, trying to ease his nerves.

“Thank you for coming,” the oldest brother said, his eyes glued to her chest. He held out a bottle of expensive whiskey and a glass. “Would you like a drink before we get started?”

Sang Mi knew the risks of accepting a drink from strangers, especially in her line of work. But these guys were different. They had the scent of wealth and power, the kind that didn’t need to resort to cheap tricks to get what they wanted. And she needed the money more than ever.

“A glass of whiskey, please,” she said, watching as he poured her a generous serving. She took it, feeling the warmth of the liquid in her hand. The aroma was rich and complex, hinting at the expensive taste she was about to indulge in.

The leader, who introduced himself as Young-Jin, gestured for her to sit next to the nervous young man, who couldn’t have been more than 18. She took a sip, the amber liquid burning a pleasant path down her throat, and set the glass down on the coffee table. She turned to the youngest, giving him an encouraging smile. “So, what’s your name?”

“Jun-Ho,” he mumbled, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Jun-Ho,” she repeated, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m here to make sure you have a good time.”

The other brothers hovered nearby, their eyes eager, but they respected the boundaries she had set. They chatted among themselves, occasionally throwing glances in her direction, their laughter bouncing off the walls. The tension in the room was palpable, a mix of anticipation and inexperience.

Young-Jin leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “We’re just curious about you, Sang Mi,” he said, his voice smooth and persuasive. “You’re so beautiful, and we want to make sure our little brother feels comfortable with you. A hundred thousand extra for your time. Just sit and chat with us for a bit.”

Sang Mi took another sip of her whiskey, the warmth spreading through her body like a comforting blanket. The additional hundred thousand won was tempting, and the thought of not having to face an empty fridge tomorrow was too much to resist. “Alright,” she conceded, her voice steady despite the racing thoughts in her head. “But no funny business, got it?”

The brothers nodded in unison, their smiles widening. They sat down around her, their questions innocuous at first: where she was from, what she liked to do in her free time, if she had any siblings. She answered them all with a practiced ease, keeping her answers vague and her guard up. They laughed at her jokes, and she found herself relaxing slightly, the whiskey doing its work.

As the conversation flowed, she couldn’t help but notice the way their eyes kept drifting to her legs, her skirt riding up slightly with every shift in her position. She had felt the fabric brush against the plush chair earlier, revealing the lacy band of her black panties. She tried to casually adjust herself, but the chair was too inviting, its embrace not allowing her the modesty she craved.

Sang Mi cleared her throat, setting her empty glass down with a deliberate clink. “Alright, enough chitchat,” she said, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. “Let’s get down to business.”

Young-Jin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly regained his composure. “Of course,” he said, his smile never faltering. “But what’s the rush? We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” His hand rested on her bare thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles.

Sang Mi’s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her face neutral. “I’ve got other appointments, remember?” she replied, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. She had learned the hard way that upsetting wealthy clients could lead to trouble.

The brothers exchanged knowing glances, and the tension in the room grew thicker. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” Young-Jin assured her, his hand sliding higher up her leg. “We just want to make sure our little brother has the best experience possible.”

Reluctantly, she agreed to a group selfie, hoping it would put them at ease. They crowded around her, their arms slung over her shoulders and around her waist. She held up a peace sign, her smile forced but her eyes cold and calculating. The flash of the camera illuminated the room, capturing her discomfort in a series of photos that would likely be shared among friends, a twisted souvenir of the night.

As the photoshoot ended, she cleared her throat and stood up, smoothing out her skirt. “Alright, enough pictures,” she said firmly. “Can we get to the business?”

Young-Jin leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on her. “You know,” he began, his tone casual but with a hint of challenge. “We’re really curious and can’t help wondering what’s behind those clothes. How about another 300 thousand won for a little strip dance?”

Sang Mi’s heart skipped a beat. That was twice the amount they had agreed upon, and the thought of the additional cash was tempting. She had done worse for less. But she had to maintain control. “That’s not part of the deal we agreed on,” she replied, her voice steady.

The other brothers murmured in protest, but Young-Jin held up his hand, silencing them. He looked at her, his eyes glinting with a mix of lust and respect. “You’re right,” he said. “But we’d very much appreciate it.”

Her mind racing, she took a step back and considered her options. The rent was due, and she needed the money. She had danced for less before. And she knew they were all watching her, waiting for her to make the first move.

“Alright,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Just dance. No touching. Agree?”

The brothers nodded eagerly, their eyes never leaving her. Young-Jin pulled out a stack of bills and placed them on the table, the crisp sound of paper against wood echoing in the quiet room. “Here you go,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation. “Now, show us what you’ve got.”

Sang Mi took another sip of her whiskey, the warmth spreading through her body and giving her the courage she needed. She set the glass down and took a deep breath. The music in the background grew louder, the bass thumping in time with her racing heart. She took a step closer to the makeshift stage, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

With a flick of her wrist, she undid the buttons of her tight tank top, letting it fall to the floor. Her lacy black bra matched her panties, a seductive smile playing on her lips as she began to move. She had danced a hundred times before, but each time felt like the first. She swayed her hips to the rhythm, her hands gliding over her skin as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The brothers’ eyes were glued to her, their breaths hitching in their throats as she moved closer, the cash in her purse feeling heavier with every step.

Her skirt followed the tank top, pooling around her ankles. The cold air of the penthouse kissed her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine. She stepped out of the circle of fabric, her legs long and toned from years of dancing in heels. The music grew louder, the beat pounding in her ears. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm take over.

The whiskey had done its job, and she felt a warm buzz spread through her body. She danced, letting her hands trace the curves of her waist, her breasts bouncing with every move. The brothers watched her, their expressions a mix of awe and hunger. She knew she had them in the palm of her hand.

But as she danced, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The way they had talked about her earlier, their hands on her in the car ... it was all a game to them. A game she was forced to play for survival. But she had made her choice. With a final flourish, she opened her eyes and reached behind her, unclasping her bra. It fell away, revealing her ample breasts to the eager eyes of her audience. The room grew quieter, the only sound the thump of the music and the rapid beating of their hearts.

Sang Mi danced, her movements calculated to entice and tease. The cash was almost within her grasp. But as the music reached its climax, she knew that the night was far from over. The real test would come when the dancing stopped and the real business began.

“Your underwear, Miss?” Young-Jin asked, his voice low and hungry. His hand hovered near the waistband of her lacy black panties, his eyes never leaving hers.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” she said firmly, taking a step back. The chill of the room prickled her skin, but she held her ground. Strip dances didn’t have to be fully naked, and she had made it clear that she had her limits.