*** Makeup
one of one.
Whore makeup. That's what I'm wearing she thought to herself dully as she applied even more lipstick. You are what you wear she thought and a humorless smile appeared on her face. Rubbing the bright color into her lips, she popped them and checked her teeth for any stains. When she found none, she looked carefully in the mirror. Her lips were a bright, loud red. They said I'm fun, I'm outrageous and I'm looking for a party! but the closer she looked, she realized they said I'm underage and innocent! Frowning, she put makeup remover on a cotton ball and took off the childish lipstick. She was twenty two for Christ's sake, she didn't need to look sixteen.
The lipstick was finally gone, leaving her cotton ball red and leaving her lips pink. Her eyes roamed over her many other lip colors and she plucked one up from the middle. Opening it, she swiveled the stick out and smirked. It was a deep red, a more dark and dangerous red that she rarely wore. Applying it carefully she was pleased when her lips said I'm sexy, I'm ready, be careful I bite.
Putting the finishing touches on her eyes, she fluffed her hair a bit before leaving her small bathroom. Looking around her apartment, she located her purse and grabbed it before leaving. Locking the door behind her, she shouldered the bag and made her way towards the elevator. Her stilettos clacked against the worn tile as she approached the silver doors. Pressing the arrow pointing down, she waited. Looking around, she sighed with relief when no one was in the hall.
The people in her building were nosy, judgmental busybodies. She always felt them looking at her, always heard them talking about her.
She's one of them whores, look at her.
She's trash I tell you, complete trash.
I don't want her near my kids, that's for sure.
The elevator doors opened with a ding! and she stepped inside. An old lady and a middle-aged man shifted to make room for her. Pressing the ground floor button, she stood up straight. The disapproving gaze from the old lady and the awkward stare from the man felt like knives in her back. Feeling naked under their stares, she absentmindedly tugged her mini skirt down. A snooty hmph came from the old lady and the man coughed. She wanted to tell them to stop judging her, to tell them that they didn't know her, but she refrained. Picking at her red nails nervously, she shifted her weight until the doors opened back up.
Quickly, as if the devil were at her heels, she fled the elevator and her building. Slowing down to a casual walk, she made her way down the street. A few whistles, some catcalls and several odd stares later, she ended up in a small neighborhood. Walking to a rundown house, she looked around before stepping inside. She blinked and looked around carefully. The room was smoky and dim and a man sitting on a chair was beckoning towards her. She waltzed up to him, and casually dropped her purse on the couch. He pulled her into his lap and she giggled.
Looking around, she noticed that there were other girls there too. They were either in a lap or leaning on the arm of a chair. They looked like her, with their too short skirts and tight corsets. Their faces said take me, I'm yours, let's have fun! but their eyes were cold and hard. Yeah, they looked just like her. Her train of thought was broken when she felt cold lips on her shoulder.
Peeking down, she saw the man slowly kissing up her shoulder. She had forgotten his name, she had so many other customers that she didn't have time for names, so she smiled instead. He winked at her before looking down her low-cut shirt.
"You look so fucking good in red baby." he whispered the compliment against her skin and she giggled again.
Getting up slowly, she began to lead him down a hall and into a random bedroom. She sauntered in and turned to watch him close and lock the door. Smirking, he slowly took off his shirt. He then pressed her up against the wall and began to trail kisses from her neck to her collarbone. Sucking and biting, he made his way back up to her lips and began to kiss her fiercely. She moaned for his sake, but her mind was on the marks on her body, marks that would turn red by morning. She would have to cover them up after she woke up.
Leading him to the bed, she took off her own shirt and threw it somewhere else. Her miniskirt followed and he groaned in anticipation.
"My favorite color is red."
She smirked and beckoned for him with one finger. Pulling him down, she whispered in his ear.
"Mine too."
After that, everything was a blur. She was on autopilot, letting him have his way with her. Instead of thinking about what she was doing, she thought about what she had said. It was a lie, her favorite color wasn't red. In fact, it was her least favorite color.
She despised it.
It reminded her of blood, ambulances, and police cars. It reminded her of hospitals, where people died and of her ex boyfriend, who had red hair. Worst of all, it reminded her of herself. Her nails were red, her lips were red, her lingerie was red. She despised herself, despised what she had become.
Taking the money from his outstretched hand, she left the room and walked out int the cold night. Easy money she thought as she looked around. Lighting a cigarette from her purse, she smoked it for a moment before noticing the red lip stain on the edge of it.
Red was a whore's color.
And she was a whore.
The lipstick was finally gone, leaving her cotton ball red and leaving her lips pink. Her eyes roamed over her many other lip colors and she plucked one up from the middle. Opening it, she swiveled the stick out and smirked. It was a deep red, a more dark and dangerous red that she rarely wore. Applying it carefully she was pleased when her lips said I'm sexy, I'm ready, be careful I bite.
Putting the finishing touches on her eyes, she fluffed her hair a bit before leaving her small bathroom. Looking around her apartment, she located her purse and grabbed it before leaving. Locking the door behind her, she shouldered the bag and made her way towards the elevator. Her stilettos clacked against the worn tile as she approached the silver doors. Pressing the arrow pointing down, she waited. Looking around, she sighed with relief when no one was in the hall.
The people in her building were nosy, judgmental busybodies. She always felt them looking at her, always heard them talking about her.
She's one of them whores, look at her.
She's trash I tell you, complete trash.
I don't want her near my kids, that's for sure.
The elevator doors opened with a ding! and she stepped inside. An old lady and a middle-aged man shifted to make room for her. Pressing the ground floor button, she stood up straight. The disapproving gaze from the old lady and the awkward stare from the man felt like knives in her back. Feeling naked under their stares, she absentmindedly tugged her mini skirt down. A snooty hmph came from the old lady and the man coughed. She wanted to tell them to stop judging her, to tell them that they didn't know her, but she refrained. Picking at her red nails nervously, she shifted her weight until the doors opened back up.
Quickly, as if the devil were at her heels, she fled the elevator and her building. Slowing down to a casual walk, she made her way down the street. A few whistles, some catcalls and several odd stares later, she ended up in a small neighborhood. Walking to a rundown house, she looked around before stepping inside. She blinked and looked around carefully. The room was smoky and dim and a man sitting on a chair was beckoning towards her. She waltzed up to him, and casually dropped her purse on the couch. He pulled her into his lap and she giggled.
Looking around, she noticed that there were other girls there too. They were either in a lap or leaning on the arm of a chair. They looked like her, with their too short skirts and tight corsets. Their faces said take me, I'm yours, let's have fun! but their eyes were cold and hard. Yeah, they looked just like her. Her train of thought was broken when she felt cold lips on her shoulder.
Peeking down, she saw the man slowly kissing up her shoulder. She had forgotten his name, she had so many other customers that she didn't have time for names, so she smiled instead. He winked at her before looking down her low-cut shirt.
"You look so fucking good in red baby." he whispered the compliment against her skin and she giggled again.
Getting up slowly, she began to lead him down a hall and into a random bedroom. She sauntered in and turned to watch him close and lock the door. Smirking, he slowly took off his shirt. He then pressed her up against the wall and began to trail kisses from her neck to her collarbone. Sucking and biting, he made his way back up to her lips and began to kiss her fiercely. She moaned for his sake, but her mind was on the marks on her body, marks that would turn red by morning. She would have to cover them up after she woke up.
Leading him to the bed, she took off her own shirt and threw it somewhere else. Her miniskirt followed and he groaned in anticipation.
"My favorite color is red."
She smirked and beckoned for him with one finger. Pulling him down, she whispered in his ear.
"Mine too."
After that, everything was a blur. She was on autopilot, letting him have his way with her. Instead of thinking about what she was doing, she thought about what she had said. It was a lie, her favorite color wasn't red. In fact, it was her least favorite color.
She despised it.
It reminded her of blood, ambulances, and police cars. It reminded her of hospitals, where people died and of her ex boyfriend, who had red hair. Worst of all, it reminded her of herself. Her nails were red, her lips were red, her lingerie was red. She despised herself, despised what she had become.
Taking the money from his outstretched hand, she left the room and walked out int the cold night. Easy money she thought as she looked around. Lighting a cigarette from her purse, she smoked it for a moment before noticing the red lip stain on the edge of it.
Red was a whore's color.
And she was a whore.