My Sweet Lady

When I found out that my daughter, Yvonne Miller, was selling her body, I was devastated.

I couldn't imagine my beloved daughter in bed with an ugly old man. I was disgusted by the mere thought of it.

I found out about this when I accompanied one of my clients to a nightclub.

The pimp, Maria Cunningham, brought in several scantily-dressed young women, and I recognized one of them. I had seen her plenty of times on Yvonne's social media. She was her classmate, Hermione Stone.

Hermione was wearing a white camisole that exposed her midriff, paired with tight black pants. Her long legs were bare, and she proudly showed them off.

She looked young and innocent, out of place in the chaotic surroundings of the nightclub.

Ignoring common courtesy, I waved her over before my client could say anything.

I did not have improper thoughts about her. I just wanted to protect her from the other men.

Hermione had never seen me before this, so she didn't know that I was Yvonne's father.

She leaned into my arms meekly and watched as my clients ran their hands all over the other women.

She didn't know why I wasn't doing the same.

"Am I not pretty, sir?" she asked, tilting her head.

I shook my head. "Are you still in school?"

"I'm doing my first year of college."

I sighed. It was her; Yvonne was also in her first year of college.

"You have a nice figure. Are you from the dance school?"

"I am. A lot of my friends are here to earn some pocket change too. You're weird, sir. Why are you asking so many questions?"

Hermione pressed her soft body closer to me. She wound her arms around my neck and leaned her face closer to my neck.

As she spoke, her breath brushed against my ear intimately. "It's not easy getting money from you, is it, sir? Do you want me to be more proactive?"

In truth, I hadn't touched any women since my wife eloped with another man.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't miss it, but I had spent all these years raising Yvonne, making sure she grew up in a loving home. I'd sent her to the best dance school so that she would have a chance for success instead of following in her mother's footsteps.

How could I have any desire for her best friend in this situation?

I pushed Hermione off of me. "How much for a night with you?"

"2,000 dollars if it's quick. 3,000 for the whole night, but you can only do it three times."

I laughed. "I'm 40. I'm not as virile as I was when I was young."

"Oh, we know. Guys like you take pills for that."

"We?"

"Yes, we." As if unsatisfied with all the talking, Hermione wrapped herself around me again, straddling my lap with her thighs. She pulled my hand over and placed it on her waist.

Leaning in close, she whispered, "If you pay another 2,000 dollars, my best friend and I will make sure you have an unforgettable night."

For some reason, the photo I'd seen on social media of her and Yvonne appeared in my mind.

They were smiling happily in the picture, their tight dance outfits outlining their perfect figures.

These young women were barely old enough to join the adult world, yet here they were, trapped in the muddy quicksand of adulthood.

I pushed Hermione off again and asked, "Is your best friend as pretty as you?"

Thinking that I was interested, Hermione gave me a flirty look and took out her phone from her pocket. "Eager, aren't you? Aren't I enough for you?"

When she showed me the photo on her phone, I couldn't believe my eyes.

I took her phone with trembling hands and looked closer at the young woman in the photo.

It was her. It was my beloved daughter, Yvonne.

My heart clenched painfully. It felt as if someone had hit me over the head with a hammer. My mind was buzzing. I didn't know how to accept this.

"Isn't she pretty, sir?"

"She is."

"Do we have a deal, then? Don't forget to get some cash. We don't accept bank transfers here for safety reasons."

My mind was jumbled. What was she talking about?

Why was she so familiar with all this? Were she and Yvonne really pimping themselves out?