A man older than her father, in a room that had cost less than a happy meal per hour. The maroon carpet, downtrodden and thread bare with the weight of the many footsteps that had walked upon it. A green duvet and red sheets, both paled by the years and endless cycles through the washing machine. The four walls surrounding the bed no longer looked upon it. There was nothing new to see. Men and women came. Cigarette butts were left to burn carelessly on the little nightstand, scarring what had once been beautiful. Laughter that held no joy. Moans that contained no pleasure. And as the last one left, the next was sure to come. These walls had long ceased to look at the door and watch the handle turn with anticipation. The faces were no longer new, even the ones they hadn't seen before. Scattered clothing, and sweaty bodies. It was all the same.

It hadn't been for her. In the room where everything was the same, she had changed. She had sat demurely on that weary bed with her hands clasped infront of her, a virgin bride with no groom. This was her training, he'd said. He couldn't send her out until she knew what she was doing. Then there'd be others. There would always be others.
His hand in her hair tilted her face up to him and in front of her mouth, softly brushing her lips, was her first lesson. When her teeth had accidently scraped him, he'd tightened the grip in her hair.
"That's one." He'd said, a warning in his pale blue eyes. Like a wolf, she thought. A wolf.
She'd been eager to please and in her eagerness had scraped that skin a second time.
"That's two. That's three. That's four." His hand in her hair tightening with every count. She followed his instructions, her hand softly gripping the smooth flesh with the hardness beneath. And when it was done, his saltiness in her mouth, he'd handed her a glass of water and she'd understood. She was meant to swallow.
The lesson hadn't been over. In that old, tired room, lying amongst the ghost of patrons past; she had learnt. And if she had gained, then she had lost, for no education even that which took place outside the classroom, was free. He had left her, not as he came for she saw great chunks of herself clinging to his retreating back. A stack of purple notes and instructions to purchase new clothing.
He bought her innocence, and got her soul for free.
There'd been other lessons of course, but she would always remember this, her first.

Thank you.