## Chapter 1 — I Have an Idea
Ace had been quiet for long enough that Mai noticed.
Not operationally quiet.
That would have been easier.
Operationally quiet Ace had a recognizable shape: shoulders slightly forward, attention divided between whatever was in front of her and three things nobody else had noticed yet, fingers occasionally touching the edge of her collar or one of the small pieces of hardware attached to her belt. Silence compressed around her when she was working.
This was different.
This was sofa silence.
Thinking silence.
Dangerous silence.
Mai looked up from the datapad in her lap.
Ace occupied approximately half of one end of the Safehouse couch despite being physically capable of fitting into much less. One boot rested on the edge of the low table. The other leg was folded beneath her. Her loose black jacket had fallen open around the cropped top underneath, and she had been staring at nothing in particular for almost three minutes.
Shammy sat on the floor near the window, slowly repairing a tiny tear in one of her older shirts.
She had noticed too.
Of course she had.
Mai waited another ten seconds.
Ace’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
Mai closed the datapad.
“No.”
Ace looked at her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“That isn’t evidence.”
“It is experience.”
Shammy kept sewing.
Ace looked toward her.
“You want to defend me?”
“No.”
“Traitor.”
Shammy smiled.
Mai set the datapad aside.
“What?”
Ace leaned her head back against the couch.
“Nothing.”
Mai waited.
Ace glanced sideways.
Mai continued waiting.
Ace sighed.
“You’re annoying.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then Ace sat up.
Mai immediately regretted being correct.
“I have an idea.”
“There it is.”
Shammy stopped sewing.
Ace looked offended.
“You could at least pretend optimism.”
“I know you.”
“That’s hurtful.”
“It was intended as data.”
Ace stared at her for a second.
Then pointed.
“See, this is why normal people don’t tell you things.”
“Normal people tell me things constantly.”
“Against their better judgment.”
“Usually.”
Shammy placed the shirt in her lap.
“What kind of idea?”
Ace’s eyes flicked toward her.
“Personal.”
Mai’s attention sharpened slightly.
Ace noticed.
“Not bad personal.”
“That category is unusually broad with you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Possibly later.”
Ace blinked.
Shammy lowered her head.
Mai saw the smile anyway.
Ace narrowed her eyes.
“You’ve been spending too much time around Brenda.”
“That is statistically unavoidable.”
Ace rubbed one hand down her face.
“This is going great.”
“You haven’t explained anything yet.”
“I know.”
“That is contributing.”
Ace leaned forward, elbows on knees.
For a few seconds she looked almost uncomfortable.
That changed Mai’s read immediately.
The joke reflex remained.
The absurdity remained.
But underneath it was something Ace had actually been considering.
Mai let the impatience go.
“What is it?”
Ace looked at her.
Then at Shammy.
Then back at Mai.
“I want to try working Jig-Jig Street.”
Mai stared at her.
Ace waited.
Shammy blinked once.
Mai continued staring.
Ace finally lifted one hand.
“See, this is why I didn’t lead with it.”
Mai’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
“Working.”
“Yep.”
“At Jig-Jig Street.”
“That’s generally where the sentence was going.”
Mai held up one finger.
Ace stopped.
Mai took several seconds.
“Define working.”
Ace’s mouth twitched.
“Mai.”
“I am asking because there are several possible interpretations and I would prefer not to select the worst one without confirmation.”
“Actual work.”
Mai’s expression did not change.
Ace continued.
“As a joytoy.”
Shammy’s needle stopped in midair.
Mai remained completely still.
Ace watched her carefully.
“You okay?”
Mai finally spoke.
“No.”
Ace laughed once.
Not loudly.
Mostly relief.
“Fair.”
Mai picked up the datapad again.
Then put it back down without looking at it.
“This is not an operation.”
“No.”
“Not surveillance.”
“No.”
“You have no target.”
“Nope.”
“No one requested this.”
“No.”
“There is no client.”
“Well, technically there would hopefully be several, otherwise the experiment becomes kind of depressing.”
Mai shut her eyes.
Ace grinned.
Shammy looked between them.
“You want to know what it feels like.”
Ace turned toward her.
“Yeah.”
Shammy nodded as though this were significantly less alarming than everything else that had just been said.
Mai looked at her.
“You understood that immediately.”
“Yes.”
“Of course you did.”
Shammy seemed mildly apologetic.
Ace pointed at her.
“See? She gets me.”
“She also once decided a folding chair had emotional needs.”
“The chair was going through something.”
Mai ignored that.
She looked back at Ace.
“You want to have sex with strangers for money.”
Ace considered.
“That is technically one component.”
“One component.”
“There’s more to the job than fucking.”
Mai stared.
Ace shrugged.
“You know I’m right.”
That was irritatingly true.
Mai leaned back.
The Safehouse had become very quiet around them.
Not tense.
Just attentive.
Outside the window, Night City moved through late-afternoon haze, stacked traffic sliding between buildings while signs began to wake into brighter color as daylight weakened.
Shammy resumed sewing, though more slowly now.
Mai watched Ace.
There was no manic edge.
No post-operation restlessness.
No self-destructive pressure.
No sign that this was actually about proving something.
Ace looked almost embarrassingly sincere.
Mai hated that this made the idea more difficult to dismiss.
“Why?”
Ace looked at her.
Mai waited.
Ace’s expression shifted into something halfway between disbelief and amusement.
“After our latest Palace visit, do you really need to ask?”
Mai said nothing.
Ace waited.
Shammy’s mouth moved very slightly.
Mai turned her head toward her.
Shammy looked down at the shirt immediately.
Coward.
Mai looked back at Ace.
“That is not remotely the same thing.”
“No.”
Ace said it without hesitation.
Mai frowned.
Ace leaned back slightly.
“That’s why I want to try it.”
Silence.
There it was.
The answer.
Not escalation for its own sake.
Difference.
Mai had spent enough time at Crystal Palace watching Ace become increasingly comfortable with wanting things simply because she wanted them. Not because a mission created the opportunity. Not because Mai suggested something. Not because someone else invited her first.
Ace had discovered curiosity and, predictably, treated it like an unlocked door.
The Palace had contained almost every possible variation of voluntary adult excess inside environments built to make exploration easy.
Jig-Jig Street was not that.
Different people.
Different assumptions.
Different power structures.
Money.
Work.
Selection.
Refusal.
Customer expectation.
A role in which attraction was not merely social atmosphere but openly part of the transaction.
Mai understood the distinction.
That did not make the sentence less insane.
“You have been thinking about this for how long?”
Ace looked away.
Mai narrowed her eyes.
“Ace.”
“Define thinking.”
“Oh no.”
“Not long.”
“How long?”
Ace shrugged.
“A few days.”
Mai stared harder.
“A few.”
“Maybe more.”
Shammy looked up.
“You’ve been circling it.”
Ace pointed at her.
“You are supposed to be the nice one.”
“I am.”
“That was not nice.”
“It was accurate.”
Mai exhaled through her nose.
“So this is not an impulse.”
Ace shook her head.
“No.”
“Have you already planned anything?”
Ace paused.
That pause was catastrophic.
Mai sat straighter.
“Ace.”
“Nothing major.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I’ve considered the obvious problems.”
“Which means.”
“I can’t do it as me.”
“Good.”
“And definitely not as Amber.”
“Very good.”
“So new cover.”
Mai stared at her.
Shammy slowly lowered the shirt into her lap.
“You already have a cover concept.”
Ace made a face.
“Concept is a strong word.”
Mai’s voice went flat.
“Hair.”
Ace looked at the ceiling.
Mai waited.
“Hair.”
“…picked.”
Mai closed her eyes.
Shammy made a soft sound that might have been laughter.
“Contacts?”
“Picked.”
Mai opened her eyes again.
“Clothing.”
Ace hesitated.
“Direction.”
“Direction.”
“Yeah.”
“What direction?”
Ace smiled.
Mai immediately disliked the smile.
“No.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“I know enough.”
Ace’s smile widened.
“Luxury joytoy.”
Shammy stopped breathing for approximately one second.
Mai simply stared.
Ace spread her hands.
“What?”
“You have thought about this entirely too much.”
“You asked.”
“I did not ask you to become a branding department.”
“It needs to work.”
Mai pointed at her.
“That sentence is why I am concerned.”
Ace laughed.
This time Shammy joined her.
Mai did not.
Not yet.
She was too busy realizing that the idea had advanced significantly past fantasy.
“You understand,” Mai said, “that showing up there dressed correctly is not the same thing as understanding the work.”
“Yes.”
“You do not know their routines.”
“No.”
“You do not know how customers are screened.”
“Not properly.”
“You do not know what the workers expect from each other.”
“No.”
“You do not know what local arrangements you would be stepping into.”
Ace nodded.
“No.”
Mai paused.
Ace was agreeing too easily.
That meant she had already reached the same conclusion.
“So?”
“So I don’t just show up.”
“Good.”
“I talk to the Mox.”
Mai’s eyebrows rose.
“We talk to the Mox.”
Ace tilted her head.
“You volunteering?”
“I am preventing you from introducing yourself to an entire professional community with ‘Hi, I’m Ace, I thought I’d try your job tonight.’”
“I wasn’t going to say it like that.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Maybe with more tact.”
Mai looked at Shammy.
Shammy shook her head.
“No.”
Ace glared at both of them.
“Unbelievable.”
Mai ignored her.
“Suzie Q.”
Ace nodded.
“Exactly.”
That helped.
A little.
Suzie knew them.
Suzie understood Night City’s sex-work ecosystem better than anyone inside the Safehouse had any business pretending to.
More importantly, if Suzie said no, Ace would listen.
Mai watched her for a moment.
“If Suzie thinks this is a bad idea?”
Ace answered immediately.
“I don’t do it there.”
Not _I don’t do it._
There.
Mai caught the distinction.
Ace caught Mai catching it.
“Don’t.”
“You already have contingencies.”
“I have curiosity.”
“You have contingency-shaped curiosity.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is when you do it.”
Shammy tied off the thread.
“Would you still want it if nobody knew you were Ace?”
Ace looked at her.
“That’s the point.”
Mai turned slightly.
Shammy continued.
“If they knew, they would treat you differently.”
“Yeah.”
Ace’s voice had lost most of the humor now.
“I don’t want that.”
“You want to be new.”
Ace nodded.
“Actually new.”
There.
Mai felt something settle into place.
That mattered more than the sex.
Ace spent most of her life entering rooms where she carried history before she opened her mouth.
The Triad.
The mercenary reputation.
The Shadow Aura.
The katanas.
Stories.
Rumors.
People who knew enough to be afraid.
People who knew too little and became afraid shortly afterward.
Even Amber carried infrastructure now. O’Sullivan SAS existed. Amber had public records, business relationships, a wife, accumulated credibility.
Ace wanted one evening where none of that entered first.
A room where she could be incompetent at something.
Learn.
Be corrected.
Be chosen or refused without anyone measuring the choice against a legend.
Mai looked down at her hands.
“That part I understand.”
Ace’s expression softened.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Small smile.
“Cool.”
“Do not become smug.”
“Too late.”
Mai pointed at her.
“This is still a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“And extremely complicated.”
“Definitely.”
“And I have not agreed that your current risk assumptions are remotely adequate.”
Ace blinked.
Then smiled slowly.
Mai recognized the trap a fraction too late.
“You’re helping.”
“I did not say that.”
“You used risk assumptions.”
“That proves nothing.”
“You’re helping.”
“I am evaluating.”
“Helping.”
Mai looked toward Shammy.
“Would you like to intervene?”
Shammy considered.
“No.”
Ace leaned back with visible satisfaction.
Mai wanted to throw something.
Instead she picked up the datapad.
Ace’s smile became suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You opened notes.”
“I am not creating a plan.”
“You’re creating a plan.”
“I am creating questions.”
“Those are plan larvae.”
Mai stared at her.
“Plan larvae.”
“Tiny plans. They grow.”
Shammy laughed softly.
Mai typed one line.
**Suzie Q.**
Then another.
**Cover separation.**
Then stopped herself.
Ace leaned sideways trying to see the screen.
Mai turned it away.
“Privacy.”
“You’re planning my sex-work experiment.”
“I am determining whether your sex-work experiment can happen without becoming an intelligence disaster.”
“Romantic.”
“That word does not apply here.”
“Depends how good the customers are.”
Mai’s eyes lifted.
Ace froze.
Shammy looked between them.
Mai spoke very calmly.
“Keep going.”
Ace wisely did not.
For nearly three seconds.
Then:
“See? You’re getting into the spirit.”
Mai threw a cushion.
Ace caught it laughing.
Shammy’s shoulders shook as she tried not to join in.
The cushion landed in Ace’s lap.
She hugged it there, still grinning.
Mai looked at her.
Really looked.
Happy.
Curious.
A little nervous underneath.
That last part mattered.
Ace was not approaching this like someone who believed competence in one kind of intimacy automatically translated into competence in another.
Good.
“You’re scared.”
Ace’s grin faded a little.
“Not scared.”
“Nervous.”
Ace thought about it.
“Yeah.”
“What part?”
That took longer.
Ace looked toward the window.
“Not knowing the rules.”
Mai said nothing.
Ace rubbed her thumb along the cushion seam.
“And maybe finding out I don’t like it after thinking I would.”
Shammy’s attention softened.
Ace shrugged.
“Which would be fine.”
“Yes,” Mai said.
“I know.”
Another pause.
“And maybe finding out I really do.”
Mai’s mouth twitched.
Ace glanced at her.
“That one worry you?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“No.”
Mai meant it.
And, unexpectedly, the answer carried something else with it.
Not jealousy. Not even concern.
Curiosity.
Small enough that she almost dismissed it before recognizing what it was. Ace was talking about stepping deliberately into a role neither of them knew from the inside, surrendering competence long enough to learn whether the experience suited her instead of calculating the answer in advance.
Mai understood the appeal more easily than she wanted to admit.
For half a second she imagined the question pointed the other way.
Not what would Ace feel.
What would she?
Mai put the thought away.
This was Ace’s experiment.
For now.
Ace searched her face anyway.
Mai let her.
Then Ace nodded.
“Okay.”
Shammy placed the repaired shirt aside.
“What do you want from Mai?”
Ace blinked.
“Besides logistical tyranny?”
Mai gave her a look.
Ace smiled briefly.
Then answered properly.
“I want her to know where I am.”
Mai went still.
Ace continued.
“I want Suzie to know who I really am. Not everyone else. Just her.”
“Good.”
“I want the Mox to treat me normally.”
“Meaning?”
“If I screw something up, I want them to tell me.”
Mai nodded once.
“No special treatment.”
“Not visibly.”
“Emergency extraction?”
Ace groaned.
“Mai.”
“That is not special treatment. That is basic safety architecture.”
Ace considered.
“Fine.”
Mai typed.
Ace stared.
“You’re absolutely helping.”
“I remain unconvinced.”
“You’re taking notes.”
“I take notes about threats.”
Ace put one hand dramatically over her chest.
“I’ve become a threat.”
“You started there.”
Shammy smiled.
The tension loosened.
Not gone.
It did not need to go.
Mai could hold concern and trust at the same time.
They had become very good at that.
Ace let the cushion fall beside her.
“So.”
“No.”
Ace frowned.
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you?”
“You were going to ask when we can talk to Suzie.”
Ace paused.
“…maybe.”
Mai looked at the datapad.
Then at Ace.
“Tomorrow.”
Ace’s entire face brightened.
Mai immediately regretted how much she liked seeing it.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Ace stood too quickly, crossed the space between them, and kissed Mai before Mai could say anything else.
Short.
Warm.
Entirely Ace.
Then Ace pulled back.
“Thank you.”
Mai caught the front of her jacket before she could escape.
“This is not approval.”
Ace smiled.
“Sure.”
“It is a conversation.”
“Absolutely.”
“With Suzie.”
“Yep.”
“Who may tell you no.”
“I know.”
“And then we reassess.”
Ace nodded.
Mai narrowed her eyes.
“You are being suspiciously cooperative.”
“I’ve learned things.”
“From Palace?”
Ace’s smile turned wicked.
“Among other places.”
Mai released her jacket.
“Go away.”
Ace kissed her once more, lighter this time, then stepped back.
Shammy watched her cross toward the kitchen.
“You’re happy.”
Ace opened the refrigerator.
“I’m curious.”
“That was not what I said.”
Ace looked over her shoulder.
Shammy waited.
Mai watched too.
Ace’s expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Then she smiled.
“Yeah.”
Shammy nodded.
Ace returned to investigating the refrigerator.
Mai looked down at the two lines on her datapad.
**Suzie Q.**
**Cover separation.**
She added a third.
**Lena.**
Ace immediately called from the kitchen.
“I heard that typing.”
Mai stared at the back of her head.
“You cannot hear specific words being typed.”
“No, but I can feel optimization.”
Shammy laughed.
Mai added another line.
**Victor? Voice.**
Ace turned around slowly.
“What did you just write?”
“Nothing.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where my terrible idea becomes infrastructure.”
Mai looked at her.
Ace looked at Mai.
Shammy looked between them.
Then Ace smiled.
Not Amber.
Not anything else yet.
Just Ace.
“Okay,” she said.
Mai already knew she was going to regret asking.
“What?”
Ace leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I’ve got a name.”
Mai closed her eyes.
Of course she did.
“Tomorrow,” Mai said.
“But—”
“Tomorrow.”
Ace considered challenging that.
Then apparently decided survival remained useful.
“Fine.”
She turned back toward the refrigerator.
Mai looked once more at the growing list.
Tomorrow they would speak to Suzie Q.
After that, if Suzie agreed, Lena.
Victor, apparently.
Contacts.
ChromeLock.
Cover records.
Safety.
Boundaries.
An actual working night on Jig-Jig Street.
Mai stared at the datapad.
Then toward Ace.
She remembered Crystal Palace.
She remembered several things she had absolutely no intention of mentally cataloguing right now.
Ace looked back over her shoulder.
“What?”
Mai shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Ace narrowed her eyes.
Mai allowed herself the smallest smile.
This was an appalling idea.
Which, unfortunately, was becoming less appalling the longer she understood why Ace wanted it.
That was probably the most dangerous part.
From the window, Shammy said quietly:
“I think she’s going to have fun.”
Mai looked at her.
Shammy smiled.
Ace, still half inside the refrigerator, called back:
“Thank you.”
Mai rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Tomorrow.
Suzie Q.
Then whatever fresh disaster followed.
She looked at Ace one last time.
Ace caught her looking.
Grinned.
Mai sighed.
“Fuck.”
Ace’s grin widened.
“That’s sort of the plan.”
---
## Chapter 2 — Suzie
Lizzie’s was only beginning to wake up when Ace and Mai arrived.
The lights were already doing most of the work.
Pink, violet and electric blue ran along chrome, glass and old metal, turning an otherwise ordinary late afternoon into something that had decided daylight was irrelevant. Music moved through the main room at low volume, mostly bass and rhythm while staff prepared for the crowd that would eventually make conversation considerably more difficult.
Suzie Q was waiting at the bar.
Not sitting.
Leaning against the counter with one forearm down, talking to the bartender until her eyes found Mai entering through the room.
Then Ace.
Suzie stopped talking.
Her gaze moved between them once.
Twice.
“Oh, fuck.”
Ace slowed.
“That seems premature.”
Suzie pointed at them.
“I know that formation.”
Mai approached the counter.
“What formation?”
“One of you has done something.”
Ace frowned.
Suzie continued.
“And the other one has already decided it needs risk management.”
Mai said nothing.
Ace looked sideways at her.
Suzie smiled.
“Yeah.”
Mai sighed.
“This conversation has not started.”
“It started when you walked in looking like that.”
“Like what?”
Suzie looked at Ace.
Ace looked perfectly normal.
Which, admittedly, was part of the problem.
Short black hair with its usual violet sheen.
Violet eyes.
Loose black jacket hanging open around the cropped top beneath it.
Very short black shorts, hardware, thigh straps.
Tall boots.
Triad collar.
Ace had deliberately come as Ace.
No Amber.
No disguise.
No attempt to build the thing before asking whether the thing was actually possible.
Suzie looked back at Mai.
“You want coffee?”
“Yes.”
Ace stared.
“We are in Lizzie’s.”
Mai turned her head.
“Yes.”
“You are ordering coffee.”
“Yes.”
Suzie looked at Ace.
“She came here with you.”
Ace considered.
“Fair.”
The bartender put a cup in front of Mai.
Suzie picked up her own drink.
“Back room.”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai took the coffee.
“That sounded ominous.”
“You asked for private.”
“I did.”
Suzie pushed away from the bar.
“And if whatever this is makes me regret knowing either of you, I want soundproofing.”
Ace followed her.
“Supportive environment.”
“You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not reassuring.”
They crossed the club behind her.
The music faded as Suzie led them through a staff corridor, then disappeared almost entirely when she opened the heavy door near the end.
The room beyond was small, comfortable enough, and designed for exactly one purpose.
Private conversation.
A table.
Chairs.
Soft lighting.
No windows.
No decorative attempt to pretend the walls were anything except thick.
Suzie stepped inside.
Mai followed.
Ace paused at the threshold.
“Still good insulation?”
Suzie looked at her.
“It was the last time you were here.”
“Checking.”
“You planning to scream?”
Mai walked past Ace.
“That depends entirely on how badly this conversation goes.”
Ace stared after her.
Suzie laughed.
“Definitely worth the room.”
The door shut.
Lizzie’s vanished.
Suzie sat on one side of the table.
Mai took another chair.
Ace remained standing.
Suzie waited.
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai drank her coffee.
“You’re making me say it.”
“You had the idea.”
“Coward.”
“I am respecting ownership.”
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Suzie leaned back.
“This is already excellent.”
Ace sighed and sat.
“All right.”
Suzie waited.
Ace rubbed her thumb once against the edge of her collar.
Then:
“I want to try working Jig-Jig Street.”
Suzie stared at her.
Nothing happened.
Ace waited.
Mai took another sip.
Suzie looked at Mai.
Mai nodded.
Suzie looked back at Ace.
“Working.”
“Yeah.”
“At Jig-Jig Street.”
“Yeah.”
Suzie tilted her head.
“Security?”
“No.”
“Observation?”
“No.”
“Undercover?”
“No.”
“Following somebody?”
“No.”
“Setting somebody up?”
“No.”
Ace could see the conclusion arriving.
Suzie apparently wanted to make her say it anyway.
“Actual work?”
Ace smiled faintly.
“Actual work.”
“As a joytoy.”
“Yep.”
Silence.
Suzie’s mouth moved.
Ace pointed at her immediately.
“Don’t.”
Suzie lost it.
She turned her face away, one hand coming up as the laugh escaped anyway.
Ace leaned back.
“Professional.”
Suzie held up one finger.
“Working on it.”
“You’ve dealt with murderers without laughing.”
“They usually make more sense.”
Mai looked into her coffee.
Ace saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
“You too?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Suzie recovered enough to look at Mai.
“Your Ace.”
“Yes.”
“Wants to work Jig-Jig Street.”
“Yes.”
“For one night.”
“Yes.”
Ace stared between them.
“Am I legally required to be present for this part?”
Suzie laughed again.
Then the humor eased away almost as quickly as it had arrived.
Not gone.
Just moved aside.
Suzie looked directly at Ace.
“Why?”
Ace’s expression changed.
Mai noticed.
Suzie did too.
Ace glanced at Mai.
Mai gave her nothing.
Ace knew perfectly well what that meant.
Her answer.
Her experiment.
Ace leaned forward.
“Curiosity.”
Suzie waited.
Ace continued.
“I know what it feels like when someone wants me.”
Suzie’s eyebrows rose.
Ace ignored it.
“I know what casual sex feels like. I know what unfamiliar people feel like. I know what it’s like to choose something just because I want to try it.”
Mai’s gaze rested on her.
Ace did not look back.
“But this isn’t the same.”
Suzie said nothing.
“That’s the point.”
Something in Suzie’s expression shifted.
Ace continued.
“I don’t know what it feels like when being wanted is part of the work.”
Suzie watched her.
“Or when someone is looking at me and deciding whether my time is worth money.”
Ace paused.
“And I’m deciding whether I want theirs.”
That removed the last of Suzie’s laughter.
Not because the idea had become serious in some grim way.
Because now she understood it.
“You want the actual job.”
“For one night.”
“Not the costume.”
“No.”
“Not standing around Jig-Jig pretending.”
“No.”
“Not shadowing one of my people and calling it close enough.”
Ace shook her head.
“If I just watch, I learned what watching feels like.”
Suzie nodded slowly.
“That part I believe.”
Mai looked at Ace for a moment longer than necessary.
Ace caught it.
There was something in Mai’s expression that Ace could not immediately identify.
Not concern.
Not disapproval.
Something quieter.
Mai noticed Ace noticing and lifted the coffee.
Gone.
Ace filed it away.
Suzie folded her arms.
“Money?”
“Don’t need it.”
“Mission?”
“No.”
“Target?”
“No.”
“Anybody ask you to do this?”
“No.”
“Palace hangover?”
Ace grinned.
Mai closed her eyes.
Suzie immediately noticed.
“Oh.”
Ace turned toward Mai.
“See?”
“No.”
Suzie looked delighted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What happened at Palace?”
Mai looked at her.
“No.”
Ace was trying not to laugh now.
Suzie pointed at her.
“You.”
Ace raised both hands.
“I was told that information is not operationally required.”
“It absolutely is emotionally required.”
Mai’s voice stayed dry.
“You will survive.”
Suzie looked between them.
“Fine.”
Then back to Ace.
“But Palace is involved.”
Ace smiled.
“Palace taught me I like finding out.”
Suzie’s expression softened by a fraction.
That answer she accepted.
“Okay.”
She tapped two fingers against her arm.
“Then I have one big problem.”
Ace waited.
“You’re Ace.”
“Unfortunately.”
“And Jig-Jig is not exactly populated entirely by people who never look at feeds.”
“Which is why I’m not going as Ace.”
Suzie’s eyes narrowed.
Mai put down the coffee.
“Completely separate cover.”
“Amber?”
“No,” Mai and Ace said together.
Suzie blinked.
Ace smiled.
Mai continued.
“Amber is unusable.”
“Because?”
“Amber O’Sullivan owns an active business, has a public history, clients, contacts and a wife.”
Ace nodded toward Mai.
“Very possessive wife.”
Mai looked at her.
“I will leave you here.”
“You won’t.”
Suzie smirked.
“So new identity.”
“Yes,” Ace said.
“How new?”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai looked back.
Suzie saw both expressions.
“Oh, you’ve already been building this.”
“We have not built anything,” Mai said.
Ace added:
“We have ideas.”
Mai turned slowly.
“You have ideas.”
Suzie laughed.
“Hair?”
Ace smiled.
“Neon orange.”
Suzie stared.
Then:
“Subtle.”
“Not trying to be subtle.”
“Eyes?”
“Black.”
Suzie sat back a little.
That combination clearly gave her a picture.
“And clothes?”
Ace’s smile changed.
Mai saw it and sighed before she spoke.
“Luxury joytoy.”
Suzie was silent.
Then looked at Mai.
Mai stared back.
Suzie looked at Ace.
“Expensive-looking?”
Ace shook her head.
“Expensive.”
Suzie’s mouth twitched.
“Okay.”
“Lena will build it.”
“That part makes me feel better.”
Ace looked offended.
Suzie ignored her.
“Voice?”
Mai answered.
“Victor.”
Suzie froze.
“What are you doing to Victor?”
Ace laughed.
“Nothing.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Temporary biosculpt.”
“For your voice.”
“Yeah.”
Suzie leaned her head back.
“Does he know why?”
Ace and Mai exchanged a look.
Then Ace smiled.
“He very specifically does not.”
Suzie stared.
Mai finally laughed quietly into the rim of her cup.
Ace continued.
“I told him what I need. Lower voice. Natural. No conscious performance.”
“And?”
“He told me his newest sculpt dissolves by itself in a few days, doesn’t need a releaser and doesn’t cause the old hangover.”
Suzie waited.
“And then?”
Ace shrugged.
“He said he did not need to know anything else.”
“Smart man.”
“Extremely.”
Suzie shook her head.
“So you’re building an entirely new woman.”
“No,” Mai said.
Suzie looked at her.
“A cover.”
That distinction landed.
Ace nodded.
“Still me.”
“But nobody there needs to know.”
“Exactly.”
Suzie considered.
“My people?”
Ace shook her head.
“You.”
“Only me?”
“Unless something goes badly enough that somebody genuinely needs the truth.”
Suzie looked at Mai.
Mai nodded.
“The others should know only that she is new, you cleared her, and she is under Mox protection.”
“No special treatment.”
Ace answered.
“None.”
Suzie studied her.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“You screw up, they tell you.”
“Yes.”
“You act like a beginner, they treat you like a beginner.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know something, you ask.”
Ace smiled.
“That’s why I’m doing this.”
Suzie nodded.
That was enough.
No lecture.
No list.
Just understanding.
Then Mai said:
“One condition.”
Ace looked at her.
Something in Mai’s voice made Suzie sit straighter.
“No recording.”
Ace’s expression changed immediately.
The humor disappeared.
“Yeah.”
Suzie looked between them.
Mai continued.
“Not casually. Not as part of the price. Not private recordings. No XBD.”
Suzie watched Ace.
Ace’s eyes had gone colder.
Not frightened.
Not ashamed.
Just absolute.
“We already dealt with that once.”
Suzie’s brows drew together.
“With what?”
Ace answered.
“Fake braindances.”
A beat.
“They put me in them.”
Suzie stopped moving.
Mai continued.
“Convincingly enough to become a problem.”
“How bad?”
Ace looked at her.
“WWC helped us erase them.”
Suzie’s expression changed immediately.
No more questions about scale.
WWC was scale.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Suzie looked down for a moment.
Then back at Ace.
“Were they real source material?”
“No.”
Ace’s voice remained calm.
“That was the problem. They didn’t need real source material.”
Suzie understood.
Someone had manufactured sexualized material carrying Ace’s identity closely enough to become useful.
Useful for humiliation.
Blackmail.
Rumor.
Forgery.
Whatever the buyer wanted it to become.
Mai said:
“Ace choosing to have sex with somebody is not the risk.”
Suzie nodded.
“The data afterward is.”
“Exactly.”
Ace leaned back.
“I don’t care if somebody sees me.”
Mai looked at her.
Ace corrected herself.
“Mandi.”
Suzie almost smiled.
Ace continued.
“I care if they walk away owning a copy.”
“That I can enforce.”
Suzie’s voice was flat now.
“Anybody wants recording, Mandi says no. Anybody tries anyway, my people deal with it.”
Ace nodded.
“No improvising.”
Suzie looked at her.
Ace sighed.
“No aura unless it becomes an actual threat.”
“Good.”
Mai’s mouth twitched.
Ace saw it.
“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
Suzie leaned back.
“There. That’s enough safety briefing for one day.”
Ace visibly relaxed.
“Thank fuck.”
“I can still make it longer.”
“I withdraw my comment.”
Suzie smiled.
Suzie looked at Ace again.
“Name?”
Ace smiled.
Mai closed her eyes.
Suzie saw that too.
“Oh no.”
Ace’s smile widened.
“What?”
“You already picked one.”
“Maybe.”
Mai opened her eyes.
“You told me you would tell me today.”
“It is today.”
“That was not permission to become annoying about it.”
“It’s an important reveal.”
Suzie leaned forward.
“Name.”
Ace let the silence stretch just long enough.
“Mandi.”
Suzie stared.
Mai stared.
“Mandi,” Suzie repeated.
“Yeah.”
Suzie looked at the imaginary package again.
Neon-orange hair.
Black eyes.
Luxury clothing.
Low altered voice.
A tiny woman engineered to look like every minute of her time cost more than most people’s rent.
“Mandi.”
Ace nodded.
“Simple.”
Suzie started laughing again.
Mai pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You spent longer selecting the hair color.”
“Much longer.”
Suzie shook her head.
“That is somehow perfect.”
Ace looked pleased.
Mai looked resigned.
Suzie finally settled.
“All right.”
Ace’s posture changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Suzie saw it.
“Mandi gets one night.”
Ace smiled.
Suzie raised a finger.
“I’m not done.”
Smile held.
“She comes through me.”
Ace nodded.
“My people know she’s new and cleared.”
“Yes.”
“They do not know she’s Ace.”
“Yes.”
“She gets normal protection.”
“Yes.”
“She gets normal criticism.”
Ace laughed.
“Apparently important.”
“Very.”
“No recordings.”
Ace’s expression turned serious again.
“None.”
“And if Mandi decides after one customer that this was a terrible idea?”
Ace thought about it.
Suzie waited.
“I stop.”
“If she decides after half the night?”
“I stop.”
“If she’s having the best night of her life and still decides she’s done?”
Ace smiled.
“I stop.”
Suzie nodded.
“That’s all I need.”
Mai watched Ace.
The answer had come easily.
Mai noticed that more than the words themselves.
Suzie pushed herself up from the chair.
“Bring her to me when Lena’s finished.”
Ace stayed seated for half a second.
Something in her face changed.
Yesterday Mandi had been a name.
Hair color.
Contacts.
A stupidly expensive wardrobe that did not exist yet.
An idea that had made Mai stare at her across the Safehouse.
Now Suzie Q had just given that idea somewhere to stand.
A real place.
Real people.
Real rules.
Real customers.
Ace stood.
“Nervous?” Suzie asked.
Ace looked at her.
“A little.”
Suzie smiled.
“Good.”
“That seems mean.”
“It means you understand this is new.”
Ace considered.
“Fair.”
Mai stood beside her.
Suzie opened the door.
Music returned faintly from the corridor.
Ace walked out with Mai beside her.
They were halfway back toward the main room before Mai spoke.
“Mandi.”
Ace smiled.
“Yes.”
“Neon orange.”
“Yes.”
“Black eyes.”
“Yes.”
“Victor’s voice.”
“Yes.”
“Luxury joytoy.”
Ace’s smile became brighter.
“Yes.”
Mai looked ahead.
Ace grinned.
They reached the main room.
Suzie passed them and returned to the bar as though the conversation had involved nothing more extraordinary than a scheduling problem.
Ace slowed for one second and watched her.
Then looked at Mai.
“Lena.”
Mai sighed.
“Yes.”
“And Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Kiro for digital separation.”
“Yes.”
Ace’s smile widened.
Mai looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is never true.”
Ace started walking toward the exit.
Mai followed.
She had seen this expression before.
Not exactly this one.
But close.
The expression Ace wore when something unfamiliar had stopped being hypothetical.
When curiosity crossed the line into action.
Mai remembered the conversation at the Safehouse.
_What if I really do like it?_
At the time, the question had belonged entirely to Ace.
Watching her now, Mai felt that small, inconvenient flicker again.
Not desire for Ace’s experiment.
Not yet.
Something simpler.
The appeal of not knowing an answer until you lived it.
Mai pushed the thought aside.
There would be plenty of time to deal with that later.
At the door, Ace looked back.
“You coming?”
Mai looked at her.
Then smiled.
“Unfortunately.”
Ace laughed.
Outside, Night City was beginning to turn properly bright.
Mandi did not exist yet.
But she had permission.
That was close enough to be dangerous.
---
## Chapter 3 — Don’t Tell Me
Victor looked at Ace for a long time.
Not suspiciously.
Not even curiously.
Just long enough that Mai knew he had already decided there was something about the request he did not want explained.
Ace sat on the edge of the examination chair with her jacket open and her boots resting lightly against the floor.
Victor looked down at the diagnostic display.
Then back at Ace.
“Temporary.”
“Yeah.”
“Voice only.”
“Mostly.”
Victor’s eyes lifted.
Ace corrected herself.
“Voice.”
Mai stood near the wall with her arms folded.
Victor looked at her.
Mai gave him nothing.
Victor looked back at Ace.
“Lower.”
“Yeah.”
“How much lower?”
Ace thought.
“Enough that nobody hears me and thinks Ace.”
Victor stared at her.
Ace smiled.
“And not Amber either.”
Victor remained still.
There it was.
That precise point where curiosity normally entered a conversation.
It did not.
Victor looked back down at the display.
“Natural?”
“Yes.”
“No voice changer.”
“No.”
“No conscious pitch control.”
“No.”
“No training.”
“Preferably.”
Victor nodded slowly.
“So you want your actual speaking voice altered.”
“For a few days.”
“Yes.”
Victor tapped something on the display.
“Warm?”
Ace glanced at Mai.
Mai lifted one eyebrow.
Ace looked back at Victor.
“Warm.”
“Smooth?”
Ace hesitated.
Victor looked at her.
Ace sighed.
“Sexy.”
Victor stopped moving.
Mai looked away.
Victor looked at Ace.
Ace looked back.
Several seconds passed.
Victor finally said:
“Do I want to know?”
Mai opened her mouth.
Victor raised one hand immediately.
“No.”
Mai stopped.
Victor pointed at her without looking away from Ace.
“I do not.”
Ace’s mouth twitched.
“You asked.”
“I corrected the mistake.”
Mai folded her arms again.
Victor returned to the display.
“Temporary voice sculpt.”
Ace leaned back slightly.
“You can do it?”
“I can do exactly what you asked.”
Ace smiled.
Victor pointed at her.
“Do not explain why.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was going to say thank you.”
Victor stared.
Ace smiled wider.
Victor sighed.
Mai failed to hide the beginning of a laugh.
Victor looked at her.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Good for you.”
Mai’s smile became slightly more visible.
Victor shook his head and brought up a new diagnostic panel.
“The new temporary sculpt is cleaner than the previous generation.”
Ace looked interested immediately.
“How temporary?”
“Depends on your metabolism and how aggressively I tune it.”
“Days?”
“Three to five.”
Mai stepped closer.
“Self-reversing?”
Victor nodded.
“The material breaks down on its own.”
“No releaser?”
“No.”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai looked impressed despite herself.
Victor continued.
“No secondary chemical flush. No rebound inflammation. No hangover.”
Ace’s eyebrows rose.
“None?”
“None worth mentioning.”
“That’s new.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at her.
“That is why I said new.”
Ace ignored that.
“So after a few days I just sound like me again.”
“Yes.”
“Gradually?”
“Mostly.”
Mai asked:
“Any instability during breakdown?”
Victor shook his head.
“Not unless she decides to scream for six hours straight or deliberately stress the tissue.”
Ace looked offended.
“Why did you look at me when you said that?”
Victor did not answer.
Mai did.
“Experience.”
Ace turned toward her.
“Fuck you.”
Victor pointed toward the chair.
“Sit properly.”
“I am sitting properly.”
“You are sitting like you intend to leave before I am finished.”
“I do intend to leave when you’re finished.”
Victor stared at her.
Ace shifted back into the chair.
“Fine.”
Victor stepped closer and adjusted the medical scanner near her throat.
Ace’s hand moved instinctively toward the Triad collar.
Victor noticed.
“Off.”
Ace paused.
Then unfastened it.
The collar came away from her neck with the small familiar motion she had repeated thousands of times.
For a second she held it in her hand.
Mai watched.
Even after everything they had done with covers, that movement always looked slightly wrong.
Ace without the collar.
Not vulnerable.
Just incomplete.
Victor held out one hand.
Ace looked at him.
“I am not stealing it.”
“You’d regret it.”
“I already regret this appointment.”
Ace placed the collar in his hand.
Victor set it carefully beside the equipment.
Mai smiled.
Victor noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That word has become useless around all of you.”
He turned back to Ace.
“Chin up.”
Ace obeyed.
Victor ran the scanner along the front and sides of her throat.
A skeletal diagram appeared on the display.
Soft tissue.
Laryngeal structures.
Neural control pathways.
Ace watched the image.
“So what actually changes?”
Victor glanced at her.
“You want the short version or the version you pretend to understand because you are stubborn?”
“The useful version.”
“I alter resonance geometry and tension response.”
Ace nodded.
Victor stared.
“You do not know what that means.”
“I know enough.”
Mai said quietly:
“She does not.”
Ace looked at her.
“Whose side are you on?”
Victor continued before the argument could grow.
“The sculpt modifies how the structures settle at rest and how they respond when you speak. You do nothing differently.”
Ace’s attention returned to him.
“So I don’t have to think about it.”
“No.”
“Even if I yell?”
“It will still be the altered voice.”
“Laugh?”
“Yes.”
“Whisper?”
“Yes.”
Mai looked at Victor.
“Stress response?”
“Still altered.”
Mai’s attention sharpened at once.
Victor knew why that mattered without asking.
He did not ask why.
Ace smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Victor selected another display.
“What register?”
Ace opened her mouth.
Stopped.
Looked at Mai.
Mai’s expression turned suspicious.
“What?”
Ace smiled.
“You pick.”
Mai stared.
Victor looked between them.
“No.”
Ace laughed.
“You’re the one who has to hear it.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It’s an excellent reason.”
Mai shook her head.
“Ace.”
Victor raised one hand.
“Do not make this complicated.”
Ace looked at him.
“I want lower than mine.”
“I know.”
“Noticeably.”
“I know.”
“But not ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“And—”
“Warm. Smooth. Sexy.”
Ace smiled.
Victor looked tired.
Mai looked delighted.
Ace settled back.
“You’ve got it.”
Victor stared at her for another second.
Then:
“Yes.”
He turned to the injector system.
Mai watched him prepare the temporary sculpt compound.
It came in a narrow cartridge containing almost nothing visible.
The entire procedure looked absurdly small compared to what it would accomplish.
Ace noticed too.
“That’s it?”
Victor looked at the cartridge.
“Yes.”
“You’re changing my voice with that?”
“No. I am decorating you for a parade.”
Ace grinned.
Mai covered her mouth.
Victor attached the cartridge to a narrow applicator.
“Local anesthetic first.”
Ace nodded.
“Any numbness afterward?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Swallowing?”
“Fine.”
“Eating?”
“Fine.”
“Sex?”
Victor stopped.
Mai turned away immediately.
Ace looked innocent.
Victor looked at her.
Ace waited.
Victor set the applicator down.
“I am going to answer because it is medically relevant.”
Ace smiled.
“Good.”
“Normal activity is fine.”
“Excellent.”
“I do not want to know.”
“I didn’t tell you anything.”
“You were going to.”
Mai was openly laughing now.
Victor looked at her.
“This is your fault somehow.”
Mai shook her head.
“I merely came with her.”
“That is enough.”
Victor picked up the applicator again.
“Chin up.”
Ace obeyed.
The first injection was nearly painless.
The second made her flinch slightly.
Victor continued working along two small points near the side of her throat, then adjusted the scanner and waited.
Ace swallowed.
“Feels weird.”
“Temporary swelling response.”
“Bad weird?”
“No.”
“Can I talk?”
“Not yet.”
Ace stared.
Victor stared back.
Ace raised one eyebrow.
Victor looked at Mai.
“Enjoy the silence.”
Mai smiled.
“Oh, I am.”
Ace flipped her off.
Victor continued watching the diagnostic display.
The procedure itself took less than ten minutes.
Most of that time was waiting.
Watching tissue settle.
Measuring response.
Adjusting one parameter.
Then another.
Ace sat unusually still.
Mai noticed.
So did Victor.
Neither commented.
Finally Victor stepped back.
“All right.”
Ace looked at him.
“Talk.”
Ace opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
She stopped.
Victor waited.
Mai watched.
Ace tried again.
“Like this?”
The voice that emerged did not belong to Ace.
Mai froze.
Ace froze too.
Victor looked at the display.
“Again.”
Ace stared at him.
Then spoke.
“Holy shit.”
Low.
Warm.
Smooth enough that the words seemed to settle into the room instead of cutting through it.
Not exaggerated.
Not theatrical.
Not artificial.
Just naturally deeper.
The sort of voice that made someone lean closer without quite knowing why.
Ace’s eyes widened.
Mai’s mouth opened slightly.
Victor adjusted one setting.
“Again.”
Ace looked at Mai.
The smile that appeared on her face was still completely Ace.
The voice was not.
“So?”
Mai stared.
Ace’s smile widened.
“Well?”
Mai took half a second too long.
Ace noticed.
“Oh.”
Mai recovered.
“No.”
Ace laughed.
The laugh came out lower too.
Richer.
Mai’s expression changed again.
Ace caught it instantly.
“Oh, you like it.”
Mai folded her arms.
“It is effective.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It is distinct.”
“Mai.”
Victor interrupted.
“Talk normally.”
Ace looked at him.
“I am talking normally.”
“Good.”
Victor watched the readout.
“Now louder.”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai already knew what was coming.
Ace raised her voice.
“MAI.”
The altered register held perfectly.
Mai closed her eyes.
Victor nodded.
“Good.”
Ace laughed again.
“You absolutely like it.”
Mai opened her eyes.
“I am evaluating cover integrity.”
“Sure.”
Victor looked between them.
“I hate both of you.”
Ace turned toward him.
In that low voice:
“Thank you, Victor.”
Victor stopped.
Ace smiled sweetly.
Victor pointed at the door.
“Get out.”
Mai finally laughed.
Ace reached for the collar.
Victor moved faster.
“Not yet.”
Ace stopped.
“Why?”
“Five minutes.”
Ace sighed.
Victor looked at her throat.
“No complications.”
Mai stepped beside Ace.
“How long before full stabilization?”
“Another hour.”
“And then?”
“Then she can do whatever idiotic thing this is for.”
Ace smiled.
Victor looked at her.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought something.”
Mai laughed again.
Victor removed the scanner.
Ace touched her throat lightly.
The sensation was already becoming less strange.
She swallowed.
Then spoke again.
“Still weird hearing it.”
Mai looked at her.
Ace turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Ace’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s twice.”
Mai smiled.
“Your voice is distracting.”
Ace blinked.
Then grinned.
“Oh.”
Victor immediately spoke.
“No.”
Ace looked at him.
“I didn’t—”
“No.”
Mai laughed hard enough to turn away.
Ace waited until Victor was looking at the diagnostic display again.
Then, deliberately lowering nothing because she did not have to:
“You sure you don’t want to know?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Ace leaned back in the chair.
“Absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
Mai was still laughing.
Victor opened his eyes and looked at her.
“You are encouraging her.”
“I have said almost nothing.”
“You do not have to.”
Ace smiled.
Victor reached for the collar.
“Five minutes.”
Ace held out her hand.
Victor hesitated.
Then gave it back.
Ace fastened it around her neck.
The familiar pressure returned.
She touched the front lightly.
Better.
Victor saw the gesture.
Said nothing.
Mai saw that he saw.
That was Victor too.
He returned to the console.
“Three to five days.”
Mai nodded.
“No remover.”
“No.”
“No hangover.”
“No.”
“Normal activity.”
“Yes.”
Ace smiled.
Victor pointed at her.
“Normal.”
Ace looked deeply offended.
“I am extremely normal.”
Victor looked at Mai.
Mai shook her head.
“No.”
Ace turned.
“Traitor.”
Victor shut down the diagnostic display.
“We are finished.”
Ace slipped off the examination chair.
She spoke again just to hear it.
“Wow.”
Mai watched her.
Ace looked up.
“You’re still staring.”
“I am adjusting.”
“To what?”
Mai’s gaze moved over her face.
Nothing about Ace looked different.
Same violet eyes.
Same short dark hair.
Same grin.
Same tiny body.
Same collar.
Then she spoke and the entire first impression changed.
Mai smiled slowly.
“This is going to work.”
Ace’s expression brightened.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Victor looked toward the ceiling.
“I still do not want to know.”
Ace turned toward him.
“Good.”
She walked toward the door.
Mai followed.
Victor called after them.
“If anything hurts, call me.”
Ace stopped.
Looked back.
“Anything?”
Victor stared.
Ace smiled.
“In my throat.”
“Yes.”
“That clarification sounded important.”
“Out.”
Ace laughed and opened the door.
Mai followed her into the corridor.
The door shut behind them.
They walked several meters in silence.
Then Mai said:
“Say something.”
Ace looked up at her.
“What?”
Mai smiled.
“Anything.”
Ace’s smile changed.
She understood immediately.
In that new low voice:
“Luxury joytoy.”
Mai stopped walking.
Ace continued for two steps before noticing.
She turned around.
Mai stared at her.
Ace grinned.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Mai shook her head and started walking again.
“You are enjoying this already.”
“I haven’t even got the hair yet.”
“That concerns me.”
Ace fell into step beside her.
“Lena next.”
“Yes.”
“Orange.”
“Yes.”
“Black eyes.”
“Yes.”
“Expensive clothes.”
“Yes.”
Ace’s altered laugh followed them down the corridor.
Low.
Warm.
Very unlike Ace.
And somehow completely her.
By the time they reached the street, Mai had already stopped hearing the voice as a medical trick.
It was becoming part of the cover.
A voice without effort.
A new first impression.
One more layer between Ace and anyone who looked too closely.
Ace stepped into the light outside Victor’s clinic and turned toward Mai.
“Okay.”
Mai looked at her.
“What?”
Ace smiled.
“Now make me expensive.”
Mai stared.
Ace blinked.
Then corrected herself.
“Get Lena to make me expensive.”
Mai started laughing.
Ace joined her.
The new voice made it worse.
Much worse.
And somewhere between Victor’s clinic and the next corner, Mai realized the idea no longer sounded ridiculous.
It sounded possible.
That was significantly more dangerous.
---
## Chapter 4 — Mandi
Lena opened the door.
Looked at Ace.
Stopped.
Ace smiled.
“Hi.”
The new voice filled the doorway.
Low.
Warm.
Smooth.
Lena stared at her.
Then at Mai.
“Victor.”
Mai nodded.
“Victor.”
Lena looked back at Ace.
“Again.”
Ace’s smile widened.
“What?”
Lena remained completely serious.
“Say something.”
Ace laughed.
That came out different too.
Deeper.
Richer.
Effortless.
Lena slowly stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Ace walked past her.
Mai followed.
The door closed.
Lena stayed there for another second.
“How much work does that take?”
“None.”
Ace answered normally.
That seemed to bother Lena more than if she had been performing it.
Mai slipped off her jacket.
“Physical sculpt.”
“Temporary?”
“Three to five days.”
“Releaser?”
“No.”
Lena’s eyebrows rose.
“Hangover?”
“None.”
Now Lena looked impressed.
“Victor has been busy.”
Ace touched her throat.
“Apparently.”
Lena looked at her.
“What did you tell him?”
“What I needed.”
“And why?”
Ace smiled.
“He very specifically did not want to know.”
Lena laughed once.
“Smart man.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because everyone knows you.”
Mai walked farther into the room.
Ace looked at her.
“This support structure is becoming abusive.”
“No.”
“It is.”
Lena had already turned away.
“Sit.”
Ace looked at the chair.
Then at Lena.
“We literally just got here.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Sit.”
Ace sat.
Mai smiled.
Ace pointed at her.
“Not one word.”
“I said nothing.”
“That is not helping.”
Lena crossed to the long worktable.
It was already full.
ChromeLock cartridges.
Contact packs.
Fabric samples.
Footwear.
Jewelry.
Makeup.
Two garment cases.
A narrow box Ace immediately suspected contained the collar.
Ace stared.
Then at Lena.
“You started.”
Lena did not look guilty.
“You gave me a cover brief.”
“I gave you three words.”
“Four.”
Ace frowned.
Lena counted.
“Luxury. Joytoy. Neon. Orange.”
Mai folded her arms.
“She has a point.”
Ace looked betrayed.
“You’re both impossible.”
Lena picked up the ChromeLock cartridge.
“Hair.”
Ace’s entire mood changed immediately.
Lena saw it.
“You’re too excited.”
“I’ve been waiting for this.”
“That was obvious.”
“Proper neon?”
Lena held up the sample.
Ace leaned forward.
The orange was almost aggressive.
Not copper.
Not flame.
Not red-orange.
Neon.
A color that had no interest in pretending it had ever occurred naturally.
Ace smiled slowly.
“Oh, yes.”
Mai looked at the sample.
Then Ace.
“That is unreasonable.”
“Exactly.”
Lena pointed at Ace’s head.
“Still.”
Ace obeyed.
For almost six seconds.
Lena touched her shoulder.
“Still.”
“I am still.”
“You moved.”
“I breathed.”
“Less.”
Mai laughed.
Ace glared at her through the mirror.
Lena began working the ChromeLock through Ace’s short hair.
The transformation happened in stages.
Black disappeared.
The violet sheen vanished with it.
Orange took over strand by strand until the entire shape of Ace’s head seemed brighter.
Wrong in precisely the right way.
The short cut remained familiar.
The color destroyed the familiarity.
Ace watched despite repeated instructions not to.
“Fuck.”
Lena caught her chin and turned it forward.
“Stop.”
“It’s good.”
“I know.”
“It’s really good.”
“I know.”
Mai leaned slightly closer.
The finished color looked almost luminous against Ace’s skin.
Not glowing.
Just vivid enough to bully every other color around it.
Lena stepped back.
“Contacts.”
Ace reached for the black pair.
Lena slapped her hand lightly.
Ace stared.
“I know how contacts work.”
“I want to check the hair first.”
“You just checked it.”
“I’m checking it again.”
Mai smiled.
Ace looked at her reflection.
“You’re enjoying her ordering me around.”
“A little.”
Lena handed Ace the contacts.
“These are the newer long-wear set.”
Ace paused.
“Same as Amber’s new ones?”
“Same generation.”
Mai stepped closer.
“ChromeLock-type retention?”
Lena nodded.
“Not literally the hair compound, but same philosophy. Put them in, stop thinking about them.”
Ace inserted the first.
Then the second.
Blink.
Again.
She looked up.
Mai stopped moving.
Lena did too.
The effect was much stronger than either of them had expected.
Almost-black eyes swallowed the violet completely.
Not blank.
Not dead.
Just unnervingly dark.
With the neon-orange hair, Ace stopped reading as any version of herself at first glance.
Then she smiled.
And the voice came out.
“Well?”
Mai stared.
Ace’s smile widened.
“Oh.”
Mai recovered.
“No.”
“That was definitely an oh.”
Lena ignored them.
“Makeup.”
Ace looked at the table.
Then frowned.
“That’s new.”
Lena picked up one of the compact cases.
“Yes.”
The case was smaller than Ace expected.
No conventional assortment of loose powders and fragile pigments.
Sealed cartridges.
Applicators.
A narrow activation strip.
Mai recognized the format first.
“Long-wear.”
Lena nodded.
Ace looked between them.
“How long?”
“That depends what you do to it.”
Ace smiled.
Lena immediately pointed.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Mai looked at Lena.
“What does it survive?”
Lena began laying out the applicators.
“Normal sweat. Heavy sweat. Rain. Touch. Skin contact. Kissing. Steam. Ordinary washing.”
Ace raised a hand.
“Sex?”
Lena looked at her.
“Sex as well.”
Ace nodded approvingly.
Mai closed her eyes.
“Of course that was the test she needed.”
“It is literally relevant.”
“It was still inevitable.”
Lena continued as though neither had spoken.
“Once it cures, friction will not smear it under normal use.”
Ace leaned closer.
“Normal use.”
“Yes.”
“What counts as abnormal?”
“If you deliberately scrub your face against abrasive material, I cannot help you.”
Ace considered.
“Fair.”
Mai pointed at the case.
“Removal?”
“Dedicated cleanser.”
“So not permanent.”
“No.”
“But ordinary showering doesn’t ruin it.”
“No.”
Ace smiled.
“Good.”
Lena looked at her.
“You understand why.”
Ace did.
Mandi could not spend the night checking mirrors.
Could not come out of a room with half her cover on someone else.
Could not have makeup migrate, smear or reveal familiar shapes underneath because somebody kissed her too hard or grabbed her face.
The cover had to survive being used.
Not displayed.
Ace nodded.
“Do it.”
Lena started.
The makeup went on differently too.
Less layering.
More precision.
Thin films placed exactly where Lena wanted them.
Softer shaping around the face.
A slightly altered brow line.
Different emphasis around the eyes.
No bright color competing with the hair.
No cheap neon echo.
No attempt to disguise Ace by burying her under cosmetics.
Instead Lena redirected how the face was read.
Expensive.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Mandi’s face did not look heavily made up.
It looked finished.
Ace watched the process in the mirror.
“How long until it sets?”
“Two minutes after activation.”
“And then?”
“You stop touching it.”
Ace immediately touched her cheek.
Lena slapped her hand away.
Mai laughed.
“I mean after it sets.”
“Then you can touch it.”
“Good.”
Lena completed the final line.
Then used the activation strip.
The change was invisible.
Nothing flashed.
Nothing hardened.
The makeup simply became stable.
Lena waited.
Then deliberately rubbed her thumb across Ace’s cheek.
Ace blinked.
Lena showed her the thumb.
Clean.
Ace looked at the mirror.
No smear.
“Oh.”
Mai leaned in.
Lena rubbed harder.
Still nothing.
Ace smiled.
“Okay, that’s fucking useful.”
“Very.”
Lena picked up a spray bottle and misted Ace’s face.
Ace jerked back.
“What the fuck?”
“Testing.”
Water ran down her skin.
The makeup did not move.
Ace stared at Lena.
“You could warn me.”
“I could.”
Mai covered her mouth.
Ace glared at her.
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“I am learning.”
“You are enjoying learning.”
“Yes.”
Lena handed Ace a towel.
“Blot.”
Ace did.
The towel remained almost completely clean.
She looked at it.
Then herself.
“Yeah.”
Lena nodded.
“Now clothes.”
Ace’s mood improved instantly.
Mai noticed.
“Oh no.”
Ace smiled.
“What?”
“You’ve been waiting for this.”
“Obviously.”
Lena moved toward the garment rack.
“First option.”
She brought out black.
Ace’s smile faded slightly.
“Black?”
Lena looked at her.
“You asked for luxury, not a circus.”
Ace pointed at her hair.
Lena looked at the neon orange.
“That is why the clothes are not orange.”
Mai laughed.
The first outfit was excellent.
That was the problem.
Ace came out from behind the partition and immediately looked like a particularly expensive version of Ace.
Short.
Black.
Fitted.
Hardware in exactly the kinds of places Ace already liked hardware.
Lena looked at her.
“No.”
Ace stared.
“I like it.”
“I know.”
“That’s usually good.”
“Not here.”
Mai walked around Ace once.
“She’s right.”
Ace looked betrayed.
“What is wrong with it?”
Mai pointed vaguely.
“You.”
“That feels personal.”
“It is too close to your normal silhouette.”
Ace looked in the mirror again.
Now she saw it.
Different quality.
Same instinct.
Lena held out her hand.
“Next.”
Ace sighed.
The second went too far.
Very polished.
Very sleek.
Very expensive.
And extremely corporate.
Ace stared at herself.
“I look like I’m waiting for someone’s penthouse elevator.”
Lena nodded.
Mai nodded.
“Correct.”
Ace turned.
“No.”
“Agreed.”
Third.
Ace disappeared behind the partition again.
Several moments later she stepped out.
Nobody spoke.
That was promising.
The outfit still centered on black, but it had none of Ace’s normal tactical language.
Soft, expensive material.
Asymmetric upper structure.
Very short fitted lower cut.
Fine straps.
One deliberately open line along the side.
No buckles that looked ready for combat.
No harness language.
No mercenary hardware.
The boots completed it.
Tall.
Narrow.
Elegant.
Expensive enough that nobody would assume they had been chosen because they were practical.
Ace took several steps.
Paused.
“These change how I walk.”
“Yes,” Lena said.
“Not much.”
“Enough.”
Mai watched.
The boots did not make Ace substantially taller.
They changed the line of her.
How weight moved.
How she settled.
How she occupied the few centimeters she had.
Ace turned.
“Too much?”
Lena shook her head.
“No.”
Mai agreed.
“These.”
Ace smiled.
“Good.”
Lena walked around her.
Adjusted one strap.
Then another.
“Walk again.”
Ace did.
Too quickly.
Lena stopped her.
“No.”
Ace frowned.
“What?”
“Ace.”
“What about Ace?”
“That was Ace walking.”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai immediately understood.
“You enter rooms like you expect geometry to become relevant.”
Ace stared.
“That is possibly the weirdest criticism anyone has ever given me.”
“It is accurate.”
Lena pointed.
“Again. Slower.”
Ace tried.
It looked fake.
Lena shook her head.
“No.”
Ace sighed.
“I don’t know how to walk like a joytoy.”
“Good.”
Ace blinked.
Lena continued.
“Do not walk like a joytoy.”
“Helpful.”
“Walk like you expect people to look.”
Ace stopped.
That was different.
She tried again.
Not theatrical.
Not exaggerated.
She simply removed the urgency.
Stopped moving as if there were always somewhere more important to reach.
Let the room come to her.
Mai saw the difference immediately.
Lena nodded.
“There.”
Ace turned slowly.
The black eyes found Mai.
Then the low voice.
“Better?”
Mai took a fraction too long.
Ace smiled.
Lena pointed.
“Smile is wrong.”
Ace stared.
“My smile is wrong.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Too Ace.”
Ace looked offended.
Mai laughed.
Lena continued.
“You grin like you’ve already found something funny about whoever you’re looking at.”
Ace turned toward Mai.
“That is slander.”
“It is absolutely true.”
Ace looked back into the mirror.
Tried again.
Too coy.
Lena shook her head.
Again.
Too amused.
Again.
Then Ace stopped trying to manufacture it.
She looked directly at her reflection.
Let the expression settle.
Open.
Interested.
Confident.
Not asking to be liked.
Not pretending she had not noticed the attention.
A slow smile.
Lena nodded.
“That.”
Mai stared.
Ace turned the same expression toward her.
“You can talk to me.”
Mai raised an eyebrow.
Ace’s voice stayed warm and low.
“I already know why you looked.”
Silence.
Lena looked at Mai.
Mai looked at Ace.
Then laughed.
“Oh, fuck.”
Ace grinned.
Instantly Ace again.
Lena pointed.
“You lost it.”
Ace laughed.
“I know.”
“Again.”
“Jesus.”
“Again.”
Ace reset.
This time faster.
The slower smile returned.
Mandi.
Not another personality.
Not an alter.
Just a social choice Ace could deliberately step into.
Different invitation.
Different posture.
Different assumptions.
Lena nodded.
“Good.”
Then reached for the narrow box.
Ace noticed.
“Collar.”
“Yes.”
Lena opened it.
Inside was a slim piece in white-gold metal and dark inset material.
Elegant.
Minimal.
Expensive.
No Triad emblem.
No familiar geometry.
Nothing that would mean anything to an outsider except style.
Ace touched it.
Stopped joking.
Mai saw it immediately.
The collar was not identical to hers.
It should not be.
But it offered the same familiar physical fact.
Something around her neck.
Something resting there.
Ace picked it up.
Fastened it herself.
The pressure settled.
She touched the front once.
“Yeah.”
Lena watched.
“That stays.”
“Definitely.”
Mai smiled.
Ace noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That one was nice nothing.”
Mai did not deny it.
Lena moved on.
“Accessories.”
Very little.
That was deliberate.
No signature colors.
No Triad clues.
No sentimental details likely to become recognizable later.
A narrow ear piece.
One fine bracelet.
Small finishing hardware integrated into the clothing.
Nothing carrying history.
Lena stepped back.
Looked at Ace.
Then at the clothing.
Hair.
Contacts.
Makeup.
Collar.
Boots.
Voice.
“Walk.”
Ace walked.
Slower now.
Not because she was pretending.
Because she had understood the instruction.
She reached the far side of the room.
Turned.
Looked at Lena.
Mandi smiled.
“Well?”
Lena walked around her once.
Then stopped.
“Now you look expensive.”
Ace’s smile changed.
“That was the idea.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Mai laughed.
Ace looked at herself.
Really looked.
The first read was gone.
Nobody seeing her like this cold would start with Ace.
Neon-orange hair demanded attention first.
The black eyes rewrote the face.
The makeup held the features in a different visual balance.
The clothes took every familiar tactical instinct out of her silhouette.
The boots changed motion.
The collar gave her something familiar without telling anyone why.
And then she spoke.
The voice completed it.
Still Ace.
But Ace arriving through a completely different door.
Lena crossed her arms.
“What are you charging?”
Mai turned immediately.
“We are not optimizing income.”
Lena ignored her.
Ace answered.
“Four thousand.”
Lena looked at her.
“Per?”
“Hour.”
Lena considered.
Mai looked at Lena.
Ace looked between them.
“What?”
Lena shrugged.
“Reasonable starting point.”
Mai turned slowly.
“Starting point.”
Ace tried to look innocent.
Failed.
Lena smiled.
Mai looked at Ace.
“You already thought about raising it.”
“I thought about demand.”
“You have no demand.”
“Yet.”
Mai stared.
Ace smiled in the low voice.
“Market conditions change.”
Lena started laughing.
Mai closed her eyes.
“You haven’t worked a single minute.”
“That is technically correct.”
“And you are already planning surge pricing.”
Ace looked offended.
“I am planning nothing.”
Mai opened her eyes.
“You are thinking loudly.”
Lena shook her head.
“She is going to be unbearable.”
“She already is.”
Ace looked at them.
“I came here for professional support.”
“You got it.”
Lena picked up the long-wear makeup case and put it into a smaller travel pouch.
Ace noticed.
“Backup?”
“Not really.”
Lena handed it to her.
“The makeup should survive the entire night. This is for actual damage.”
Ace took the pouch.
“How much actual damage?”
“If somebody manages to remove that makeup accidentally, I want to meet them.”
Ace’s eyebrows rose.
Mai coughed.
Lena continued without changing expression.
“Not because of the sex.”
Mai looked away.
Ace smiled.
“Good clarification.”
“Because I want to know what material they used.”
Ace laughed.
Lena pointed toward the mirror.
“Final check.”
Hair secure.
Contacts seated.
Makeup fully cured.
Collar clean.
No loose hardware.
No familiar symbols.
No anything that quietly said Ace.
Lena nodded.
“Name.”
Ace smiled.
“Mandi.”
Lena stared.
Mai immediately looked away.
Ace waited.
Lena looked her up and down again.
“This entire construction.”
“Yes.”
“Costs more than some people’s cars.”
“Probably.”
“Sounds like that.”
Ace spoke:
“Thank you.”
Lena pointed.
“Exactly.”
“And the name is Mandi.”
“Yes.”
Lena was silent.
Then smiled.
“Perfect.”
Mai finally laughed.
Ace looked triumphant.
“I knew it.”
Lena looked at Mai.
“How long did she spend choosing it?”
“I do not know.”
Ace answered.
“About nine seconds.”
Lena laughed harder.
Mai pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Of course.”
Ace looked into the mirror again.
Neon orange.
Black eyes.
A face that would still look exactly like this after hours of sweat, touch, heat and close contact.
A voice she could not accidentally drop.
Clothes that had nothing to do with combat.
A collar that felt right.
Mandi.
Lena stepped beside her.
“One more time.”
Ace looked at her reflection.
Then stopped being Ace arriving at Lena’s.
Not disappearing.
Not becoming somebody else.
Just changing the social angle.
Shoulders relaxed.
Weight settled differently.
Attention outward.
Comfortable being seen.
Comfortable acknowledging it.
The smile came.
“You can talk to me.”
Lena watched.
Ace continued.
“I already know why you looked.”
Lena nodded once.
“There.”
Mai did not say anything.
Ace turned toward her.
Same expression.
Mai’s eyebrows rose.
Ace held it.
The low voice:
“Problem?”
Mai looked at her for several seconds.
Then:
“Yes.”
Ace’s smile deepened slightly.
“What?”
Mai shook her head.
“You’re going to be very good at this.”
That stopped Ace.
Not because she disagreed.
Because Mai had said it without teasing.
Ace looked at herself again.
The nervousness returned.
Small.
Useful.
Lena saw it.
“Good.”
Ace glanced at her.
“What?”
“You still look nervous.”
“A little.”
“Keep that.”
Ace frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you are new.”
Ace thought about Suzie.
_Come in willing to be new._
She nodded.
“Fair.”
---
Brenda almost dropped her drink.
That was the first Safehouse reaction.
Ace had barely made it through the door.
Brenda entered from the kitchen, glanced toward her—
—and stopped.
Her eyes widened.
The glass tilted dangerously.
Iris caught the bottom before anything spilled.
“Careful.”
Brenda did not look away from Ace.
“What the fuck.”
Ace smiled.
“Hi.”
The voice hit.
Brenda’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Iris looked at Ace properly.
Her gaze traveled from the orange hair to the black eyes, the outfit, boots, collar, then back to the face.
Long pause.
Then:
“Lena.”
Lena entered behind Mai.
“Yes?”
Iris nodded toward Ace.
“Excellent work.”
“Thank you.”
Ace stared.
“Hello?”
Iris looked at her.
“You are the material.”
“That sounded worse.”
Brenda finally found language.
“That voice.”
Ace laughed.
Brenda visibly reacted to the laugh too.
Mai walked past.
“She has been discovering that effect all afternoon.”
Ace turned.
“Discovering?”
“Exploiting.”
“Different word.”
“Same behavior.”
Brenda pointed at Ace.
“Say something.”
Ace looked at her.
“What?”
Brenda stared.
Then at Iris.
“Fuck.”
Iris smiled.
“Yes.”
Ace crossed the room.
Brenda followed every step.
Ace noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She stopped close enough to Brenda that the black contacts became even stranger.
Brenda looked directly into them.
Ace gave her the slower smile.
“You can look.”
Brenda swallowed.
Ace continued.
“I already know why.”
Brenda turned toward Iris.
“That is unfair.”
Iris looked delighted.
“What is?”
“All of it.”
Ace laughed.
Shammy appeared from the hallway.
“What is—”
She saw Ace.
Stopped.
Ace turned.
Shammy stared.
Not at the clothes first.
At the face.
Then hair.
Eyes.
Collar.
Finally the whole presentation.
Ace waited.
Shammy smiled.
“You look happy.”
Everything in Ace softened.
Still Mandi’s voice.
Still Mandi’s appearance.
But completely Ace.
“Yeah.”
Shammy nodded.
“Good.”
Brenda ruined it immediately.
“So how many customers?”
Ace slowly turned.
“I have not worked yet.”
“I know.”
“Then how would I know?”
“Estimate.”
“Brenda.”
“Target?”
“Brenda.”
“Minimum acceptable sample size?”
Iris covered her face.
Mai started laughing.
Ace stared.
“I haven’t even gotten to Jig-Jig and you’re already conducting a sexual census.”
Brenda brightened.
“That is an excellent name for it.”
“No.”
“Post-shift sexual census.”
“No.”
Iris looked at Ace.
“You have made a terrible mistake.”
“Apparently.”
Brenda pointed.
“Four thousand?”
Ace looked at Lena.
Lena looked innocent.
“How the fuck does she already know?”
Lena shrugged.
“She asked.”
Brenda smiled.
“Per hour.”
“Yes.”
“Starting.”
Mai turned immediately.
Ace closed her eyes.
Brenda’s grin became enormous.
“Oh.”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai looked back.
Brenda looked between them.
“Starting?”
Ace sighed.
“Demand may change.”
Kiro’s voice came from the hallway.
“Did someone say demand?”
She appeared.
Saw Ace.
Stopped.
Silence.
Ace smiled.
Kiro stared.
Then:
“Oh, you are fucked.”
Ace laughed.
Mai looked at Kiro.
“Why?”
Kiro pointed at Ace.
“Because if she goes to Jig-Jig looking like that at four thousand an hour, she’s going to have a queue.”
Ace’s smile widened.
Mai looked at her.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You thought something.”
Kiro walked closer.
Black eyes.
Orange hair.
Clothes.
Voice when Ace said:
“Hi.”
Kiro stopped again.
Then looked at Mai.
“You’re letting this happen?”
Mai’s eyebrows rose.
Kiro immediately corrected.
“You’re voluntarily observing this happen.”
“Better.”
Ace laughed.
Kiro shook her head.
“Four thousand is too low.”
Mai closed her eyes.
“No.”
Ace looked interested.
“Yes?”
“No.”
Kiro ignored Mai.
“How fast are you planning to raise it?”
Ace smiled.
“I’m not.”
Everyone stared at her.
Ace looked around.
“What?”
Brenda folded her arms.
“Bullshit.”
Iris nodded.
“Bullshit.”
Kiro nodded.
“Absolute bullshit.”
Lena looked away.
Shammy smiled.
Mai stared at Ace.
Ace held out for three seconds.
Then:
“Maybe if demand becomes stupid.”
Mai rubbed her forehead.
Kiro grinned.
“Surge pricing.”
Ace pointed.
“No.”
“That is literally surge pricing.”
“It is crowd control.”
Kiro laughed.
Mai looked at Ace.
“We are not having this argument before you have a single customer.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
Ace smiled.
Mai’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Kiro started laughing first.
Brenda followed.
Ace walked toward the kitchen as if she had said nothing unusual.
The neon-orange hair caught the Safehouse light.
The new makeup remained immaculate.
The black contacts did not shift.
The voice remained Mandi’s when she called back:
“Anyone want coffee?”
Mai stared after her.
Then at Lena.
“You did this.”
Lena shook her head.
“She brought me a cover brief.”
“That defense is becoming weak.”
“It remains true.”
From the kitchen, Ace called:
“I heard that.”
Mai smiled despite herself.
Tomorrow, Mandi would walk onto Jig-Jig Street at four thousand an hour.
Nobody there would know she was Ace.
Nobody except Suzie would know what sat under the cover.
And if Lena was right, neither sweat, touch, water nor an extremely active night would make the disguise fall apart around her.
Mai looked toward the kitchen.
Ace appeared again holding a cup.
Mandi’s black eyes met hers.
The low voice:
“What?”
Mai shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Ace smiled.
This time she got it right immediately.
Slow.
Open.
Certain.
Mai felt that small spark of curiosity again.
Then pushed it aside.
Tomorrow belonged to Ace.
For now.
---
## Chapter 5 — New Girl
Mandi arrived on Jig-Jig Street at six forty-three in the evening.
Ace knew the exact time because Mai had sent one final message at six forty-two.
**You can still change your mind.**
Ace had looked at it.
Smiled.
Then answered.
**I know.**
Nothing else.
No reassurance.
No promise.
No elaborate safety check.
Mai had sent back a single heart.
Ace put the agent away.
Then stepped onto Jig-Jig Street.
And became the new girl.
Night had not fully taken the sky yet, but Jig-Jig did not care.
Signs burned above narrow storefronts.
Animated advertisements moved over walls in colors nature had never requested. Food vendors competed with clubs, bars, braindance shops, love hotels, pachinko noise and people selling almost every kind of temporary escape Night City had learned to monetize.
The street smelled like rain that had dried hours ago, hot oil, perfume, old concrete and too many people.
Ace had been here countless times.
Mandi had never worked here before.
That distinction felt ridiculous.
And very real.
She slowed.
Not Ace slow.
Mandi slow.
No geometry.
No automatic scan for the fastest route through the crowd.
She still saw exits.
Still saw hands.
Still noticed weapons.
Ace could not switch those things off.
But she let them move into the background.
People looked at her.
Immediately.
The hair did most of the first work.
Neon orange.
Then the black eyes.
Then the clothes.
Then the fact that the entire package was only one hundred forty-five centimeters tall and still somehow projected the social expectation that anyone approaching should probably check their bank balance first.
Ace felt the attention collect.
She had expected it.
She had not expected how different it would feel.
At Palace, being looked at had been environmental.
Everyone looked.
Everyone was there to be seen.
This was sharper.
Evaluative.
People were not merely noticing Mandi.
Some were pricing her in their heads before they knew the number.
Ace felt a small pulse of excitement.
_Okay._
_That’s new._
“Mandi.”
She turned.
Suzie stood several meters away beside a woman Ace did not recognize.
The woman looked older than most of the workers nearby, though not old. Compact. Hard-eyed. Practical clothes under a light jacket. Nothing about her presentation was designed to attract attention.
Which made her stand out on Jig-Jig almost as much as Mandi did.
Suzie walked toward her.
Her eyes moved over the finished cover.
Hair.
Contacts.
Makeup.
Clothes.
Boots.
Collar.
Then stopped.
Ace smiled.
Suzie did not.
“Mandi.”
The altered voice answered.
“Suzie.”
Suzie stared.
Then looked at the woman beside her.
“Voice?”
“Temporary sculpt,” Mandi said. “No performance.”
The woman listened.
Then nodded.
“Useful.”
Suzie looked irritated by how effective the cover was.
Ace found that encouraging.
“And the rest?” Suzie asked.
“Stylist.”
Suzie looked at Mandi again.
Longer.
Then:
“Fuck.”
Ace smiled.
“Good fuck?”
“I haven’t decided.”
The other woman extended a hand.
“Lisa.”
Mandi took it.
“Suzie said you handle safety.”
“I handle joytoy safety in this section.”
Her grip was firm.
Professional.
No recognition.
Nothing in her expression suggested Suzie had told her anything beyond the agreed cover story.
Good.
Lisa released her hand.
“Suzie says you’re cleared.”
“I am.”
“She says you’re new.”
“I am.”
Lisa looked at Suzie.
Suzie looked entirely innocent.
Lisa looked back at Mandi.
“How new?”
Mandi smiled.
“First shift.”
Lisa stared.
Then slowly looked at Suzie again.
Suzie shrugged.
“She listens.”
Lisa returned her attention to Mandi.
“That remains to be seen.”
“Fair.”
That answer earned the smallest reaction.
Not approval exactly.
But close.
Lisa gestured down the street.
“Walk.”
Ace blinked.
“What?”
“Walk.”
Suzie smiled.
Mandi looked between them.
Then walked.
Ten meters.
Turned.
Came back.
Lisa watched.
“You practiced.”
“My stylist is thorough.”
“Clearly.”
Mandi stopped.
Lisa looked at her shoes.
“Comfortable?”
“Enough.”
“You’re going to hate them later.”
“Probably.”
“Backup pair?”
Mandi paused.
Lisa stared.
Mandi sighed.
“In the bag.”
“Good.”
Suzie smirked.
Mandi looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Lisa gestured toward the side of the street.
“Rates.”
Mandi answered.
“Four thousand an hour.”
Lisa stopped.
Suzie did too.
Mandi looked between them.
“What?”
Lisa stared.
“You said first shift.”
“Yes.”
“And four thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Per hour.”
“Yes.”
Mandi smiled slowly.
Lisa did not.
“That smile is going to be a problem.”
“My stylist liked it.”
“I mean commercially.”
“Oh.”
Suzie started laughing.
Lisa looked at her.
“You knew.”
“I heard the number.”
“And approved it?”
“I approved her working.”
Lisa looked back at Mandi.
“You know the normal range.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided four.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mandi shrugged lightly.
“I’m not here because I need volume.”
Lisa’s expression sharpened.
That was clearly the right kind of answer.
Mandi continued.
“And if nobody wants to pay it, I learn something.”
Suzie nodded.
Lisa considered.
“Fine.”
Mandi smiled.
Lisa pointed.
“There. That.”
“What?”
“Do less of that unless you want to spend the entire night answering questions.”
Mandi laughed.
The voice made Lisa pause.
Suzie noticed.
“That was the point.”
Lisa looked at her.
“No.”
Suzie smiled.
Lisa returned to Mandi.
“Protection works like this. You stay inside the covered area. If another worker tells you someone is trouble, believe them. If patrol tells you to step back, step back. If you need us, you call.”
Mandi nodded.
“No heroics.”
“I know.”
Lisa looked at her.
Mandi corrected.
“No heroics.”
“Better.”
Suzie leaned toward Lisa.
“You sound like me.”
“I have to clean up after people who think they’re exceptions.”
Mandi raised a hand.
“I have been specifically informed I am not special.”
Suzie laughed.
Lisa did not.
“Good.”
Then she looked at Mandi’s face again.
“Recording?”
“No.”
“BD?”
“No.”
“Customer feed?”
“No.”
“Private capture?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That was it.
No explanation.
Suzie had clearly told Lisa the rule without telling her why.
Exactly as agreed.
Lisa glanced toward the crowd.
“Now the less pleasant part.”
Mandi followed her gaze.
Several people were already looking at her.
Not casual looks.
Interested.
One man had stopped walking entirely.
A woman beside him had noticed what he was staring at and had started staring too.
Farther away, two men were openly discussing Mandi while pretending they were not.
Ace felt the attention.
And smiled.
Lisa saw it.
“Don’t encourage the whole street at once.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You exist loudly.”
Suzie laughed.
“That might be the best description of her I’ve ever heard.”
Mandi looked at both of them.
“You do understand this is supposed to be good for business.”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “One customer at a time is good for business.”
Mandi looked around again.
Someone whistled.
She turned toward the sound.
Adult man.
Probably mid-thirties.
Too much chrome around the jaw.
He looked directly at her.
Then down.
Then back up.
His expression shifted in a way Ace had seen before.
Not recognition.
Something else.
The particular kind of enthusiasm her height sometimes produced in people who had very specific preferences and absolutely no ability to keep them inside their heads.
Mandi raised one eyebrow.
The man started toward her.
Lisa muttered:
“And there it is.”
Mandi looked at her.
“What?”
“You’ll find out.”
The man reached them.
Looked at Suzie.
Looked at Lisa.
Then ignored both.
“You working?”
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Four.”
“Hundred?”
“Thousand.”
He laughed.
Mandi did not.
The laugh died.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
His eyes went over her again.
Slowly.
Mandi let him.
That was part of what she had wanted to understand.
Being evaluated.
Being bought, potentially.
And discovering how she felt while it happened.
The answer, so far, was:
_Interesting._
The man looked back at her face.
“You’re tiny.”
Mandi’s smile cooled by half a degree.
“Observant.”
Suzie looked away.
Lisa’s mouth twitched.
The man did not notice.
“You do discounts?”
“No.”
“For quick—”
“No.”
He blinked.
Mandi’s voice remained warm.
Smile remained present.
Answer remained absolute.
He stared for another second.
Then stepped back.
“Four thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck that.”
Mandi shrugged.
“Then don’t.”
He walked away.
Ace watched him go.
No adrenaline.
No insult.
No need to win.
Just:
No customer.
Fine.
She looked at Lisa.
“That count?”
“As what?”
“First rejection.”
Lisa gave her the first actual smile.
“You rejected him.”
“Still counts.”
Suzie nodded.
“She’s learning.”
Mandi felt absurdly pleased.
Then a woman stepped toward her.
Tall.
Silver cyberarm.
Beautiful coat.
She looked Mandi over.
“How much?”
“Four thousand an hour.”
The woman did not blink.
“Free in twenty?”
Mandi paused.
Not because of the money.
Because the question landed differently.
Someone wanted her.
Enough to pay.
Not theoretically.
Now.
Ace felt the pulse again.
Stronger.
Before she could answer, another voice cut in.
“I was asking her.”
The silver-armed woman turned.
A man had stepped in from the side.
Different from the first.
Better dressed.
More controlled.
He looked at Mandi.
“Four thousand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take an hour.”
The woman stared at him.
“I asked first.”
Mandi looked between them.
Then toward Lisa.
Lisa did absolutely nothing.
Of course.
This was Mandi’s problem.
Ace almost laughed.
Instead she remembered Lena.
Slower smile.
“I’m free in twenty.”
The woman looked at her.
Mandi continued.
“If you still want the hour then, ask me again.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose.
Then she smiled.
“Fair.”
The man immediately said:
“I’ll take now.”
Mandi looked at him.
Something did not click.
Nothing dramatic.
No danger.
No red flag she could define.
She simply did not want him.
Interesting.
“No.”
He stared.
“What?”
“No.”
“I said I’ll pay.”
“I heard you.”
His expression tightened.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Mandi smiled.
“You’re not my customer.”
Silence.
Lisa watched closely.
Suzie did too.
The man looked as if he had never considered this outcome.
Mandi felt suddenly, intensely alive.
This was the thing Suzie had been explaining.
Money offered did not create obligation.
The experiment did not require collecting every possible sample.
He looked at Lisa.
“She can do that?”
Lisa’s face went completely cold.
“Yes.”
He stared.
Then left.
The silver-armed woman laughed.
Mandi looked at her.
“Twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
She walked away.
Ace breathed.
Suzie stepped closer.
“Why no?”
Mandi considered.
“Didn’t want him.”
Suzie nodded.
“Good.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
Ace smiled.
“Okay.”
Lisa looked down the street.
“Your twenty minutes just became useful.”
Mandi followed her gaze.
Three more people were looking.
Then five.
Then more.
Some at the hair.
Some at the clothes.
Several at her height.
Ace knew those looks too.
Not all of them were bad.
Some were just preferences made visible.
Night City was not subtle about appetite.
But there was a particular subset.
People who did not merely find small adults attractive.
People who treated the trait itself like public property.
One of them approached.
Then another.
The second reached Mandi first.
“You new?”
“Yes.”
“First day?”
Mandi hesitated.
Suzie had said normal treatment.
Truth was normal enough.
“First night.”
His grin changed immediately.
“Oh, fuck.”
Mandi knew she had made a mistake before Lisa spoke.
“Don’t advertise that.”
Mandi glanced at her.
“Why?”
The man answered for her.
“How new?”
Mandi looked back.
“New enough.”
He stepped closer than the previous customers had.
Mandi held her ground.
“You ever had someone my size?”
She looked up at him.
He was tall.
Not unusually.
Just very much larger than Ace.
He clearly liked the contrast.
“That question cost you your chance.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“No.”
He laughed.
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Four thousand’s fine.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
Lisa moved before Ace did.
Not dramatically.
Just one step.
Between them.
“She’s done.”
The man looked at Lisa.
“We’re talking.”
“No. You were told no.”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“Good decision.”
Something in Lisa’s voice ended it.
He backed off.
Not happily.
But off.
Mandi watched.
Ace had never needed someone else to step between her and a pushy man.
That was strange.
Stranger still:
She let Lisa do it.
No aura.
No threat.
No subtle reminder of what Ace could do.
She simply stood there while another professional handled the situation.
That felt more difficult than expected.
Suzie saw it in her face.
“You okay?”
Mandi nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Want to stop?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Suzie waited.
Mandi checked herself properly.
Nervous.
Excited.
Slightly irritated.
Still wanting the next thing.
“No,” she repeated. “Definitely not.”
Suzie nodded.
“Good.”
Lisa stepped back beside them.
“Now you understand the attention problem.”
Mandi looked around.
More people had noticed the exchange.
Which meant more people had noticed her.
Which meant—
“Oh.”
Lisa looked at her.
“Exactly.”
The rumor was not about identity.
It was simpler and faster.
**New joytoy.**
**Tiny.**
**Looks expensive.**
**Four thousand an hour.**
**Suzie-cleared.**
Night City did the rest.
Within another ten minutes, the shape of the street around Mandi had subtly changed.
People came closer.
Not all to buy.
Some to look.
Some to ask.
Some to see whether the price was real.
Some because somebody had just messaged them that there was a new luxury joytoy on Jig-Jig who looked like she had walked out of a private Palace suite and accidentally ended up street-level.
Mandi answered questions.
“No, four thousand.”
“Yes, per hour.”
“No, not negotiable.”
“Yes, women.”
“Yes, couples.”
“No, not recording.”
“No, I don’t care what your friend said.”
“No.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
“That depends.”
And increasingly:
“Wait.”
That last one surprised her.
People were waiting.
The silver-armed woman came back almost exactly twenty minutes later.
“You still free?”
Mandi looked at Lisa.
Lisa looked back.
No instruction.
No approval.
Mandi’s choice.
Ace felt her heartbeat change.
“Yeah.”
The woman smiled.
“Then I want the hour.”
Four thousand.
First actual customer.
The number suddenly felt less theoretical.
Mandi smiled.
“Okay.”
Before they could move, shouting came from behind them.
Mandi turned.
One of the men who had been staring earlier was arguing with a member of the Mox patrol.
Not about himself.
About her.
“This is bullshit. I’ve been standing here ten minutes.”
The Mox woman looked unimpressed.
“Mandi isn’t a vending machine.”
“I’ll pay.”
“She already has a customer.”
“I’ll pay more.”
The silver-armed woman looked amused.
Mandi stared.
The man pointed toward her.
“Look at her. You’re telling me everybody here gets to fucking queue for that?”
Ace felt the old reflex rise.
Fast.
Sharp.
_That._
Not woman.
Not worker.
That.
Then Lisa’s hand touched Mandi’s arm.
Barely.
Enough.
Ace let the reflex go.
The patrol woman stepped directly into the man’s space.
“You’re done.”
“What?”
“You’re leaving.”
“For saying she’s hot?”
“For acting like you bought a claim because you stared at her.”
The man opened his mouth.
Two more Mox had already started toward them.
He noticed.
Closed it.
Then looked at Mandi one last time.
Too long.
The patrol escorted him away.
Ace watched.
The silver-armed woman beside her said quietly:
“First night?”
Mandi looked at her.
“How did you know?”
She smiled.
“You still look surprised when security does its job.”
Ace laughed.
Fair.
Then the woman added:
“Good security.”
Mandi looked toward Lisa.
Lisa had already returned to scanning the street.
Professional.
Normal.
Nothing special.
Ace smiled.
“Yeah.”
The woman held out her hand.
“Ready?”
Mandi looked at it.
Then at her.
The first real threshold.
Not preparation.
Not costume.
Not Suzie.
Not Lena.
Not Safehouse jokes.
A paying customer.
A woman Ace had never met.
Someone who had looked at Mandi, heard the price, and decided:
Yes.
Ace felt nervous.
Very.
And underneath it—
Excited enough that she almost laughed.
Mandi took her hand.
“Ready.”
They started walking.
A familiar voice behind them said:
“Suzie.”
Ace stopped.
Not because the voice belonged to anyone dangerous.
Because she knew it.
Wakako Okada stood several meters away.
Perfectly composed.
Her attention was on Suzie.
Then Lisa.
Then briefly—
Mandi.
Nothing in Wakako’s face changed.
Which, for Wakako, meant she had noticed everything.
Ace kept her expression neutral.
Mandi-neutral.
Suzie turned.
“Wakako.”
Wakako’s gaze returned to Mandi.
“The new girl.”
Lisa answered before Suzie did.
“Yes.”
“Four thousand an hour.”
“Yes.”
Wakako looked at Lisa.
“On her first night.”
Lisa’s expression cooled.
“Suzie Q approved her.”
Wakako held her gaze.
“That is all?”
Lisa did not blink.
“That is all you need.”
Silence.
Mandi had to suppress a smile.
Wakako looked at Suzie.
Suzie took a slow drink.
Said nothing.
Wakako looked once more at Mandi.
Black eyes.
Orange hair.
Luxury clothes.
Tiny frame.
Unknown face.
Unknown history.
Then at the woman holding Mandi’s hand.
Finally Wakako gave the smallest possible nod.
“Then I hope she is worth four thousand.”
Mandi’s new customer laughed.
Ace nearly did too.
Mandi turned her head.
That slow smile.
The low voice.
“She’ll find out.”
Wakako’s eyes sharpened.
Just slightly.
Ace felt it.
Not recognition.
Interest.
Wakako knew voices.
Mannerisms.
People.
But there was nothing solid to catch.
Victor had changed the voice.
Lena had changed the presentation.
And Mandi did not stand like Ace.
Wakako smiled faintly.
“Good evening.”
Then walked away.
Mandi breathed once.
Suzie looked at her.
Not worried.
Amused.
Lisa looked annoyed.
“What?”
Suzie shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Lisa stared.
“Don’t start.”
Mandi’s customer squeezed her hand.
“You know Wakako?”
Mandi looked at her.
“Everybody knows Wakako.”
“Fair.”
They continued toward the nearby rooms used by workers under Mox protection.
Ace could feel eyes following them.
Lots of them.
She expected that to make her self-conscious.
Instead it made something inside her settle.
Not because she was Ace.
They did not know Ace.
Not because she was Amber.
Amber was nowhere here.
They were looking at Mandi.
At the thing Ace had chosen to present.
At her height.
Her eyes.
Her hair.
Her clothes.
Her voice.
Her confidence.
And some of them wanted her enough to stand there hoping they might get a turn.
Ace felt the realization bloom.
Warm.
Dangerous.
Delightful.
She looked at the woman beside her.
First customer.
First actual hour.
First answer she could not get by watching someone else.
Nervousness stayed.
Good.
She wanted it there.
Mandi smiled.
And for the first time since the idea had occurred to her, Ace stopped wondering whether this might be fun.
She knew.
She had not even reached the room yet.
And she already fucking loved it.
---
## Chapter 6 — First
The room was smaller than Ace expected.
That was the first surprise.
Not bad.
Just smaller.
A bed large enough for two without pretending it belonged in a luxury suite. A low table. Two chairs. A narrow private washroom. Adjustable light. Clean surfaces. A wall terminal deliberately positioned where nobody on the bed would accidentally face it.
No recording hardware.
Ace checked anyway.
The silver-armed woman noticed.
“First night.”
Mandi looked at her.
“You already figured that out.”
“You checked the ceiling before you checked the bed.”
Ace almost laughed.
“Occupational habit.”
“What occupation?”
There it was.
First dangerous question of the evening.
Mandi smiled.
“This one.”
The woman looked at her for a second.
Then laughed.
“Fair.”
The silver-armed woman entered first. Mandi followed, turned, and pulled the door shut herself. The latch settled with a heavy click; a second later the privacy lock confirmed on the wall panel.
Ace heard the lock engage and stayed with the door for one extra breath before turning back toward her customer.
Now there was no Suzie.
No Lisa.
No Mox patrol.
No Mai.
No Brenda waiting to conduct an illegal statistical survey afterward.
Just Mandi.
And a paying customer.
Ace felt the nervousness return all at once.
Useful.
Very useful.
The woman walked toward the table and tapped her agent against the room terminal.
A transaction appeared.
**4,000**
Ace looked at it.
She had seen numbers larger than that move through accounts without caring.
Operational budgets.
Weapons.
Equipment.
O’Sullivan contracts.
Palace bills she had deliberately stopped looking at halfway through the first visit.
Four thousand was nothing.
Four thousand for an hour of _her_ was completely different.
The woman looked over.
“Problem?”
Mandi realized she had been staring at the number.
“No.”
“Then confirm.”
Right.
Of course.
Ace stepped closer.
The terminal asked for Mandi’s confirmation.
No real identity.
No Ace.
The temporary account Kiro had built sat underneath it, clean and separate.
Ace touched the confirmation field.
Transaction accepted.
The screen disappeared.
That was it.
Someone had just paid four thousand eurodollars to spend an hour with Mandi.
Ace felt something warm curl low in her chest.
The woman noticed the expression.
“What?”
Mandi looked at her.
“Nothing.”
“That looked like something.”
Ace smiled.
“First payment.”
The woman stopped.
Then laughed softly.
“You really are new.”
“Completely.”
“Should I be worried?”
Mandi considered.
“No.”
Too fast.
The woman raised an eyebrow.
Ace corrected herself.
“You should ask what you want.”
“Better answer.”
That landed.
Professional.
Not personal reassurance.
Mandi nodded.
The woman removed her coat and laid it carefully across the chair.
Underneath, she wore simple dark clothing that made the polished silver of her cyberarm stand out even more.
No aggressive combat chrome.
No visible weapon.
No attempt to look impressive.
She had the relaxed confidence of someone who had done this before.
Probably often.
Ace realized that made her more nervous.
The customer knew the routine.
Mandi did not.
The woman leaned against the table.
“So.”
“So.”
“What do you do?”
Ace blinked.
The woman smiled.
“That’s not a trick question.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
Mandi thought.
Suzie had warned her not to behave like competence in other areas automatically translated here.
So she did the thing Ace was generally worst at.
Admitted ignorance.
“I’m still figuring that out.”
The woman laughed.
“Okay.”
Mandi waited.
“What do you like?”
That one was easier.
“Lots of things.”
“Useful.”
Ace smiled.
“Touch.”
The woman nodded.
“Kissing?”
“Yes.”
“Sex?”
Ace’s smile shifted.
“Yes.”
“Oral?”
Ace nodded.
The woman watched her.
“Women?”
Mandi raised an eyebrow.
“You’re here.”
“Fair.”
“Men?”
“Yes.”
“Couples?”
“Yes.”
“Chrome?”
Ace looked at the silver arm.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether I like the person attached to it.”
The woman smiled.
“Good answer.”
Mandi relaxed by another fraction.
“Hard limits?”
Ace stopped.
Not because she did not have them.
Because the phrasing made this suddenly very real.
She answered.
“No recording.”
“Fine.”
“No serious pain.”
“Fine.”
“No injury.”
“Obviously.”
“No choking.”
The woman nodded.
“Anything else?”
Ace thought.
“Ask before anything that changes the plan.”
“That works.”
The woman looked at Mandi.
“Mine are easy.”
Ace listened.
“No humiliation. No pain. No pretending I’m somebody else.”
Mandi nodded.
“And if I say stop, stop.”
“Yes.”
“Same for you.”
Ace hesitated.
Only because hearing the customer say it surprised her.
The woman caught that.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that.”
Mandi smiled faintly.
“I expected to be the one saying it.”
“Why?”
Ace did not have a good answer.
The woman shook her head.
“You really are new.”
Mandi laughed.
“Apparently.”
“Good.”
Again.
That word.
Ace was beginning to understand why people around her kept using it.
The woman stepped closer.
Not touching yet.
Just close enough that Ace had to look slightly upward.
“You want me?”
The directness hit harder than expected.
Not _Are you available?_
Not _What do I get?_
Want.
Ace looked at her.
Actually looked.
Tall.
Attractive.
Silver arm.
Calm eyes.
Easy confidence.
No pushiness.
No weird fixation on Ace’s size.
No expectation that payment had erased choice.
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
The woman’s expression softened.
“Then come here.”
Ace did.
The first kiss was almost painfully normal.
That surprised her too.
No ceremony.
No transactional strangeness.
The woman touched one hand lightly to Ace’s jaw and gave her enough time to close the remaining distance herself.
Ace did.
Warm mouth.
Slow contact.
The silver cyberhand remained at the woman’s side.
Ace noticed that.
Then stopped analyzing.
Mostly.
The kiss deepened.
Ace’s hands found the woman’s waist.
The expensive long-wear makeup did not transfer.
Some distant part of her brain congratulated Lena.
Then the customer pulled back.
“Still good?”
Ace smiled.
“Very.”
Low voice.
Black eyes.
Neon hair.
Mandi.
The woman smiled back.
“Good.”
She kissed Ace again.
This time Ace knew what the first second would feel like.
That tiny piece of familiarity was enough.
She relaxed.
The difference was not in the touch.
Ace had been kissed by strangers before.
Had slept with strangers before.
Had gone into rooms at Palace with people whose names she learned after deciding she wanted them.
The difference sat underneath everything.
Four thousand.
One hour.
An agreement.
A clock.
A customer.
Ace felt the shape of it around the intimacy without letting it poison the intimacy itself.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The woman’s fingers slid into Ace’s neon-orange hair.
Ace breathed against her mouth.
The contact tightened slightly.
Not painful.
Just enough to make Ace respond.
The woman noticed.
“Oh.”
Ace looked at her.
“What?”
“You like that.”
Mandi smiled.
“I said lots of things.”
“Apparently.”
The next kiss was less cautious.
Ace felt herself stop thinking about how a joytoy was supposed to behave.
Good.
That had probably been the wrong question anyway.
Suzie had told her to come willing to be new.
Not fake.
The woman moved them toward the bed.
Ace followed.
Then stopped.
The woman looked at her.
Mandi glanced toward the wall terminal.
“Time.”
The woman smiled.
“It started when you confirmed.”
Ace looked at the display.
Three minutes already gone.
“Oh.”
The woman laughed.
“Do not stare at the clock all night.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You absolutely were.”
Ace narrowed her black eyes.
“You know me for four minutes.”
“And already I’m right.”
“That’s irritating.”
“I paid four thousand. I’m allowed one accurate observation.”
Ace laughed.
The woman sat on the edge of the bed.
Then looked at Mandi.
No grabbing.
No assumption.
Invitation.
Ace walked between her knees.
The woman placed her hands at Ace’s hips.
Ace let herself be drawn closer.
The height difference became obvious immediately.
The woman seated.
Ace standing.
Nearly eye level.
Ace noticed the woman noticing.
This time it did not have the ugly edge from the man outside.
Just pleasure.
Preference.
Fine.
Ace leaned closer.
“Something funny?”
“No.”
“Something interesting?”
“Yes.”
Ace smiled.
“That I’m tiny.”
The woman smiled too.
“Very.”
“And?”
“And expensive.”
Ace laughed.
That felt absurdly good.
The woman kissed her stomach where the outfit left skin exposed.
Ace’s breath changed.
The customer looked up.
Black eyes met hers.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Still want this?”
Ace looked down at her.
That question mattered.
More than Ace had expected it to.
She touched the woman’s face.
“Yes.”
Then kissed her again.
Clothes came off without haste.
Not all at once.
Not like stripping was merely a technical obstacle before the “real” part began.
The woman opened the light outer layer first and let it slide from Mandi’s shoulders. Ace answered by easing the coat from the woman’s arms, pausing when polished silver caught against the fabric and helping rather than tugging. The small courtesy made the woman smile.
“Professional already.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
The next kiss interrupted them.
Mandi’s upper piece followed, then the woman’s top, each new stretch of skin given a moment instead of immediately abandoned for the next fastening. Ace discovered that being undressed by someone who had paid for the hour did not make the touch feel less personal. If anything, it made every pause more noticeable. The woman watched her face each time she reached for something new. Ace watched back.
When they reached the lower layers, Mandi sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off the tall boots. The woman laughed softly at the practical interruption and steadied her by one wrist. Ace slipped the fitted lower piece down, stepped out of it, and removed her underwear. The woman unfastened her own trousers and let them fall with her underwear, slower, never looking away for long.
By the time Mandi straightened again, there was no costume between them except the things meant to remain: black contacts, neon-orange hair, the narrow cover collar, and Lena’s impossible makeup.
The woman’s gaze moved over her.
Ace felt it.
Not abstractly.
Everywhere.
“You okay?” the woman asked.
“Yeah.”
“Still want this?”
Mandi stepped between her knees and put both hands on her shoulders.
“Yes.”
The answer came with the body this time.
The woman drew her closer. Their bare bodies met from chest to thigh, warm skin interrupted only by the cool smoothness of the cyberarm along Ace’s back. The contrast made her inhale sharply.
The customer smiled.
“Cheating,” Ace murmured.
“You approved chrome.”
“I said depends.”
“And?”
Ace kissed her.
“Approved.”
The woman smiled against her mouth.
Ace discovered the strange professional awareness remained in the background even as arousal grew.
Was the customer comfortable?
Was Ace?
Had anything changed?
Was there enough time?
Was she being too passive?
Too active?
Then the woman caught Ace glancing toward the clock again.
“Stop.”
Ace froze.
“What?”
“Working so hard.”
Ace stared.
The woman’s organic hand rested lightly at her waist while the silver one remained cool against the small of her back.
“You’re trying to be good at it.”
Ace opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Damn.
The woman smiled.
“First night.”
Ace sighed.
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me? Yes.”
“That bad?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Just new.”
Ace sat beside her.
For a moment, nothing happened.
That also surprised her.
A paying hour.
And they were sitting naked on the edge of the bed, shoulder to shoulder, doing absolutely nothing useful with the clock.
The woman touched Ace’s knee.
“What did they tell you?”
Ace thought.
“Listen.”
“Good advice.”
“Say no.”
“Very good advice.”
“Don’t prove anything.”
The woman smiled.
“Probably specifically for you.”
Ace laughed.
“Apparently I have a reputation.”
“Not with me.”
That stopped her.
The woman had no idea.
Of course.
Mandi.
Ace looked at her.
The customer continued.
“So stop proving you’re worth the money.”
There it was.
A completely different pressure than Ace had expected.
“You already got paid,” the woman said.
Ace smiled.
“That seems like an argument for proving it.”
“No.”
She touched Ace’s face.
“It means I chose.”
Ace went quiet.
The woman leaned closer.
“Now you choose too.”
Ace answered by kissing her.
This time she stopped trying to manufacture value every second.
The result was immediate.
Her hands became more natural. Her breathing lost the small edge of concentration. She kissed because she wanted the kiss, touched because she wanted the contact, and let herself react without first deciding whether the reaction was professionally useful.
When the woman shifted farther onto the bed, she did not simply pull Ace after her. She lay back, one knee bent, and held out a hand. Invitation instead of assumption.
Mandi took it.
Ace climbed onto the bed and settled beside her first, kissing slowly, then moved closer when the woman’s arms opened. Full skin contact returned with a different geometry now: Ace partly above her, the woman’s organic arm around her shoulders, the silver hand traveling carefully down her back and settling at her hip.
Ace shivered hard enough to break the kiss.
The woman smiled.
“That.”
“Shut up.”
“Still cheating?”
“Absolutely.”
The laughter dissolved into another kiss.
The evening outside ceased to matter.
For a while, there was only the room, the bed, the clock she was finally not watching, and the strange knowledge that this person had purchased time with Mandi while nothing inside that time happened without both of them choosing it moment by moment.
Payment created the structure.
It did not create desire.
It certainly did not create consent.
Ace had known that intellectually. Feeling the distinction from inside it was completely different.
The woman rolled onto her back more fully and drew Ace with her. Mandi followed, then stopped before the next decisive step. She shifted her weight, found a position that let them stay close without rushing, and looked down.
The woman met her eyes.
No words at first.
Then: “Yes.”
Mandi smiled.
She lowered herself into the invitation. Their bodies adjusted together, hips and thighs finding a comfortable line, hands tightening briefly as the transition into intercourse became unmistakable. Ace caught one breath and held it. The woman’s expression changed at the same moment.
“Good?”
Ace waited long enough to answer honestly.
“Very.”
Movement began slowly.
Not tentative.
Attentive.
Ace felt the woman respond beneath her and let that guide the pace rather than the clock. The cool cyberhand remained at her hip, occasionally sliding higher across warm skin and making her lose rhythm for a second. Every time it happened, the woman noticed. Every time, Ace saw the satisfaction on her face.
“You look surprised,” the customer murmured.
Ace’s altered voice came rougher now.
“I’m learning.”
“Apparently.”
Ace kissed her.
The rhythm grew without needing to become mechanical. A little faster. A pause for a kiss. Slower when one of them wanted to feel the closeness rather than chase the next moment. Then more urgent again when Ace’s composure started to slip.
The woman’s hand moved up her back. Ace’s shoulders tightened beneath it. The silver one settled cool against her side, and the contrast pulled a sound out of Ace that made both of them freeze for half a second.
The woman smiled.
Ace narrowed her black eyes.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“That was a very loud face.”
“Hypocrite.”
Ace laughed.
The woman changed the angle beneath her, drawing Ace closer until the laughter collapsed into a caught breath instead. Ace’s hands tightened at her shoulders.
There.
That was the first moment she stopped being aware of herself as someone learning a job.
Pleasure built in waves rather than a straight line. Ace would find enough control to kiss her, say something, notice an expression — then lose the thread again when the woman pulled her back into movement. The customer’s breathing changed too, calm certainty giving way to shorter breaths and a grip that stopped being decorative.
Ace liked that almost embarrassingly much.
Being paid had not made the customer less real.
Being professional had not made Ace less affected.
When release finally overtook her, it was visible everywhere except anatomy: her eyes shut hard, her voice broke around a breath, her body went tense against the woman’s before movement faltered completely. She clung for several seconds without trying to look composed.
The woman did not hurry her through it.
She held Ace close. Kissed her once at the temple. Waited until the first intensity passed.
Then Ace opened her eyes.
The customer’s expression was warmer now and much less controlled than at the beginning of the hour.
“Still learning?”
Ace managed a weak laugh.
“Shut up.”
The woman pulled her back down.
Nothing reset into separate turns after that. Ace did not recover and suddenly make the whole hour about the woman instead. Their movement simply resumed when both wanted it, slower for a while, then unevenly urgent as the woman’s own composure began to go. Ace stayed attentive to her face and breath, kissed her through one sharp change in rhythm, and felt the woman’s climax take the rest of her control—breath breaking, organic hand tightening in Ace’s hair, silver arm locking them together until the last tension passed.
Movement stopped because neither of them could sustain it for another second.
They remained together.
Not instantly rolling apart.
Not dressing.
Ace’s face settled against the woman’s shoulder while the woman’s organic hand moved slowly through neon-orange hair. The silver fingertips rested cool across Ace’s back. Their breathing gradually dropped from ragged to merely deep.
The woman laughed once, very quietly.
Ace’s eyes stayed closed.
“What?”
“Four thousand.”
Ace smiled against her skin.
“Don’t start.”
For a little while, there was no transaction at all.
Or perhaps the transaction simply made room for this too.
Ace was not sure yet.
She liked not being sure.
Eventually the woman kissed her forehead.
“How long?”
Ace reluctantly looked toward the clock.
Then blinked.
“Twenty-three minutes.”
“Left?”
“Yes.”
The woman smiled.
Ace laughed.
“I really am new.”
“What did you think?”
“I thought we’d used more.”
“Good sign.”
Ace considered.
“Yeah.”
The woman shifted.
Ace expected round two.
Instead:
“Can we just stay like this for a bit?”
Ace froze.
Not visibly, she hoped.
The customer noticed anyway.
“You can say no.”
“No.”
Ace shook her head.
“I mean yes.”
The woman smiled.
“Excellent professional communication.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re working.”
Ace stared.
Then laughed so hard she had to put her face back against the woman’s shoulder.
They stayed there.
For almost ten minutes.
That might have been the most educational part of the hour.
The customer had paid four thousand.
And what she wanted, for part of that time, was simply to hold someone.
Ace had known companionship was part of sex work.
Of course she had.
Again:
Knowing.
Feeling.
Different things.
The woman’s fingers moved lazily through Ace’s hair.
“It doesn’t come off.”
Ace smiled against her skin.
“ChromeLock.”
“Expensive.”
“Everything tonight apparently is.”
The woman looked down at her.
“That confidence is going to cost people a lot of money.”
Ace raised her head.
“What confidence?”
The woman stared.
Then laughed.
“Oh, you’re fucked.”
Ace frowned.
“You’re the second person to say that.”
“Who was first?”
“A friend.”
“Smart friend?”
“Annoyingly.”
“Then listen to her.”
Ace thought about the line forming outside before she had even taken her first customer.
Maybe.
The woman touched Ace’s cheek.
“And this makeup.”
“New.”
“Doesn’t move.”
“Apparently not.”
“Useful for your job.”
Ace smiled.
“My stylist said the same thing.”
“Good stylist.”
“Very.”
The woman looked at her for another moment.
“You’re not from here.”
Danger.
Small.
Not because the customer sounded suspicious.
Because she was observant.
Mandi shrugged.
“I’m here now.”
The woman accepted that.
Good.
No interrogation.
The final ten minutes were kissing.
Talking.
A little touching.
Nothing dramatic.
Ace began to understand that not filling every available second with sex was not failure.
At three minutes remaining, the woman sat up.
Ace followed.
They dressed.
Another thing Ace had not considered.
How much of the hour belonged to taking clothes off and putting them back on.
That felt almost offensively mundane.
She pulled the outfit into place.
Checked the makeup in the mirror.
Perfect.
Hair still violently orange.
Contacts seated.
Collar straight.
The woman watched.
“Not even a smear.”
“My stylist is going to be unbearable about that.”
“Should be.”
Ace smiled.
The room terminal gave a soft tone.
One minute.
The woman picked up her coat.
Then stopped.
Looked at Mandi.
“Worth it.”
Ace blinked.
“What?”
“Four thousand.”
The woman smiled.
“Worth it.”
Something inside Ace lit up so quickly it was embarrassing.
She managed the slower Mandi smile.
“Good.”
The woman approached.
One last kiss.
Brief.
Warm.
Then:
“Raise your price.”
Ace stared.
The woman laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“You’re my first customer.”
“Exactly.”
“That seems statistically irresponsible.”
“You’re weird.”
“I’ve heard that too.”
The terminal chimed.
Time.
The woman opened the door.
Then looked back.
“Have fun, Mandi.”
Ace answered before thinking.
“I already am.”
The woman smiled.
Then left.
The door closed.
Ace stood alone.
Silence.
She looked at the room.
The rumpled bed.
Two glasses of water.
The terminal now returned to neutral.
Her clothes were straight.
Makeup intact.
Hair intact.
Voice still low when she whispered:
“Holy shit.”
Ace sat on the edge of the bed.
Not because she needed recovery.
Because she wanted ten seconds to understand what had just happened.
First paying customer.
First negotiated boundaries.
First refusal outside.
First actual transaction.
First hour.
And she had liked it.
Not merely the sex.
That would have been unsurprising.
She liked the whole strange architecture around it.
Being looked at.
Being chosen.
Choosing back.
The clear boundaries.
The ridiculous money.
The fact that someone could spend ten minutes of an expensive hour doing nothing except hold her and that this was still completely valid.
The fact that Ace’s history had not entered the room once.
The customer had never known.
Never suspected.
Never cared.
She had wanted Mandi.
Ace put both hands over her face.
The smile underneath them would not go away.
“Oh, fuck.”
A knock.
Ace immediately straightened.
“Yeah?”
Lisa’s voice.
“You decent?”
Ace looked down at herself.
“Define decent.”
Pause.
Then:
“Alive and dressed enough for me to enter.”
“Yes.”
Lisa opened the door.
Looked at Ace.
Then the bed.
Then Ace again.
“You okay?”
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
Lisa stared.
Ace realized the smile was too bright.
Lisa’s eyebrows rose.
“That good?”
Ace tried to become professional.
Failed completely.
“I learned things.”
Lisa looked toward the ceiling.
“Jesus Christ.”
Ace laughed.
Lisa stepped inside.
“Any problems?”
“No.”
“Boundary issues?”
“No.”
“Payment?”
“Clean.”
“Recording attempts?”
“No.”
“Customer?”
“Good.”
Lisa nodded.
“Want a break?”
Ace considered.
That was important.
Not automatic no.
Actually checked.
Body good.
Mind very good.
Excitement high.
Nervousness lower but not gone.
“Ten minutes.”
Lisa nodded.
“Take fifteen.”
Ace frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Excellent professional reasoning.”
“You’re new.”
Again.
Ace sighed.
“Fine.”
Lisa looked at the makeup.
“Still intact.”
“My stylist is apparently a witch.”
“Useful one.”
Ace stood.
Lisa stepped toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“There are seven people asking when you’re free.”
Ace stared.
Lisa smiled for the first time since entering.
Not much.
But enough.
“Welcome to Jig-Jig.”
Ace blinked.
“Seven.”
“Currently.”
“My rate is four thousand.”
“Yes.”
“They know that.”
“Yes.”
“And they’re waiting.”
“Yes.”
Ace slowly smiled.
Lisa saw it.
“No.”
“What?”
“Whatever thought you just had.”
“I didn’t have a thought.”
“You had a pricing thought.”
Ace laughed.
“Not yet.”
Lisa pointed at her.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Fine.”
Lisa opened the door.
The sound of Jig-Jig filtered in.
People.
Music.
Voices.
Night City.
Before stepping out, Ace looked once at the bed.
Then at herself in the mirror.
Neon orange.
Black eyes.
Expensive clothes.
Mandi.
She remembered her answer to Mai.
_And maybe finding out I really do._
Ace smiled.
There was no maybe anymore.
She fucking loved this.
---
## Chapter 7 — Not Every Yes
Fifteen minutes turned out to be annoyingly long.
Ace lasted six before checking the time.
Nine before standing.
Eleven before walking to the door.
Lisa was outside.
Of course she was.
She looked at Mandi.
Then at the timer on her agent.
“Sit.”
Ace stared.
“I am rested.”
“You have four minutes.”
“I don’t need four minutes.”
“You asked for ten.”
“You gave me fifteen.”
“Yes.”
“That was unilateral.”
Lisa’s expression remained flat.
“Four.”
Ace leaned against the doorway.
“This is tyranny.”
“Three fifty-six.”
Ace sighed and stepped back inside.
Lisa closed the door.
Ace looked at the ceiling.
“You know, I kill people for less.”
Lisa’s voice came through the door.
“Three forty-eight.”
Ace laughed.
Fine.
She drank water.
Checked herself.
Hair perfect.
Contacts fine.
Makeup untouched.
Body pleasantly warm rather than tired.
Mind—
Very awake.
Too awake.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Tried not to smile.
Failed.
This was ridiculous.
Mai was going to see the smile the second Ace came home.
Shammy would see it before Ace even spoke.
Brenda—
Ace closed her eyes.
Brenda was going to be intolerable.
The thought made her laugh again.
At exactly fifteen minutes, Ace opened the door.
Lisa looked at her.
“Better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Ace blinked.
“What?”
“You’re arguing normally.”
“I was arguing normally before.”
“No. Before you were floating.”
Ace stared.
Lisa walked away.
“Come on.”
Mandi followed.
The street had changed again.
Not physically.
Socially.
She could feel it before anyone spoke.
More attention.
More people who already knew the rate.
More people who had apparently decided four thousand was not enough of a deterrent to stop them waiting.
Suzie was gone from immediate sight.
Good.
Ace had not expected her to hover.
Lisa led her back toward the area where she had first started.
Another Mox woman stood there now, dark-haired, visibly amused.
“This her?”
Lisa nodded.
“Mandi.”
The woman looked her over.
“Rita.”
“Mandi.”
“I know.”
Ace smiled.
Rita’s eyes narrowed.
“That voice is unfair.”
Ace laughed.
“Temporary sculpt.”
“Of course it is.”
Lisa looked toward the small cluster of waiting people.
“Seven became nine.”
Ace stopped.
“While I was resting.”
“Yes.”
Rita looked at her.
“You sound offended.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Ace glanced at her.
Rita gestured at Mandi.
“Look at you.”
Ace looked down.
“Stylist.”
“I don’t care who did it. Half the street wants to know if you’re real.”
“I’m standing here.”
“That is not what they mean.”
Ace laughed.
Then noticed the first person stepping toward her.
Man.
Maybe forty.
Good clothes.
No obvious combat chrome.
Calm.
He stopped at conversational distance.
“Mandi?”
“Yes.”
“Four thousand?”
“Yes.”
“One hour.”
Ace looked at him.
No immediate resistance.
No push.
No weirdness.
Attractive enough.
She could say yes.
So she checked herself.
Wanted him?
Maybe.
Enough?
Ace smiled.
“Yes.”
The man looked almost relieved.
Interesting.
He gestured toward the rooms.
Ace moved with him.
Then stopped.
Rita touched her arm.
“One second.”
Ace looked back.
Rita leaned close.
“You don’t have to decide that fast.”
Ace frowned.
“I wanted him.”
“Fine.”
Rita looked toward the customer.
Then back at Ace.
“But you answered before you asked anything.”
Ace paused.
Shit.
Rita’s expression softened by half a degree.
“New girl.”
Ace exhaled.
“Yeah.”
“Talk first.”
“Right.”
Ace turned back.
The customer had waited without complaint.
Good sign.
Mandi approached him again.
“Sorry. First night.”
“I heard.”
Ace stared.
He smiled.
“Apparently that part is traveling too.”
Ace looked at Rita.
Rita shrugged.
“Street.”
Ace sighed.
“Fine.”
Then back to the man.
“Anything specific?”
He hesitated.
That changed his entire first impression.
“Actually.”
Mandi waited.
“I mostly want company.”
Ace blinked.
“Company.”
“Yes.”
He looked slightly embarrassed now.
“Dinner?”
Ace stared.
The man pointed toward a nearby place.
“Food. Conversation. Maybe more if we both want it.”
Ace looked at him.
Then at the crowd behind him.
Then at Rita.
Rita’s expression said nothing.
Mandi’s choice.
Ace turned back.
“You want to pay four thousand eurodollars to have dinner with me.”
The man’s mouth twitched.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“Because I can afford it.”
Fair.
Ace laughed.
“And because you’re interesting.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“That helps.”
That answer landed harder than expected.
Ace looked at him properly.
Not lonely in some tragic way.
Not desperate.
Just someone who had apparently decided an hour with a stranger sounded easier than another evening being whoever everyone else expected him to be.
Ace understood that more than she wanted to admit.
Mandi smiled.
“Okay.”
The dinner was terrible.
Not the company.
The food.
Ace stared at what had been sold to her as noodles.
The man watched her.
“You hate it.”
“I’ve eaten combat ration paste with more dignity.”
He laughed.
“Why did you order it?”
“You said this place was good.”
“I said it was close.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Ace pushed the bowl away.
“Fraud.”
“Would you like something else?”
“I’m charging you four thousand. You don’t also have to feed me.”
He stared.
Then laughed again.
“You are very new.”
“Apparently everybody gets one.”
“One what?”
“One chance to say that.”
“Am I number three?”
“Four.”
He smiled.
For almost forty minutes, nothing sexual happened.
They talked.
Not about Ace.
Not about Mandi, really.
He talked about architecture.
Not the corporate kind.
Old buildings.
Pre-war structures buried beneath layers of Night City reconstruction.
Places where original walls survived inside newer ones.
Ace found herself genuinely interested.
She told him so.
He looked surprised.
“Most people aren’t.”
“Most people are boring.”
“You’re a joytoy.”
“And?”
He smiled.
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
He asked what Mandi liked.
Ace gave him partial truths.
Dancing.
Music.
Weapons became “collecting.”
Palace became travel.
Mai became “someone important.”
Shammy became family without explanation.
He did not press.
Ace relaxed another fraction because of it.
With twelve minutes left, he looked at her.
“You want to go back?”
Ace knew exactly what he meant.
She checked herself.
Yes.
Not because the clock demanded a sexual ending.
Because she wanted him now.
“Yeah.”
They left the restaurant together. Mandi walked beside him back through the protected section, this time noticing how ordinary the route already felt. At the room she opened the door, let him enter first, and followed him inside before setting the privacy lock.
For a moment they simply faced each other in the smaller quiet. Then he stepped close enough to ask without words, and Mandi answered by closing the last distance.
The kiss was different from the first customer.
Less immediate heat.
More familiarity built during conversation.
Ace liked that too.
Very much.
They never went further than kissing, touch and lying together for the final minutes.
And when the hour ended, he looked completely satisfied.
Ace found that fascinating.
At the door, he paused.
“I’d pay again.”
Ace smiled.
“Good to know.”
“You should raise the rate.”
Ace stared.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
He smiled.
“Because you’re underpriced.”
Then he left.
Ace stood in the doorway.
Rita was waiting outside.
She had apparently learned from Lisa.
“Don’t say it.”
Rita raised an eyebrow.
Ace sighed.
“Fine. Ask.”
“How was it?”
“Good.”
“Sex?”
“Some.”
“Happy customer?”
“Yes.”
“Happy Mandi?”
Ace paused.
Then smiled.
“Yes.”
Rita nodded.
“Good.”
Ace followed her back outside.
“Is everybody here going to interview me after every customer?”
“Until you stop looking surprised by everything.”
“That could take all night.”
Rita looked at her.
“Probably.”
---
Customer three was a couple.
Woman and man.
Late twenties, maybe early thirties.
Both attractive.
Both nervous.
The woman did most of the talking.
The man mostly looked at Mandi and then looked away whenever Mandi caught him doing it.
Ace found that adorable.
Not sexually, at first.
Just human.
The woman asked:
“Couples?”
“Yes.”
“Same rate?”
“One hour is one hour.”
The woman looked relieved.
Ace tilted her head.
“You expected double?”
“Some charge it.”
Mandi considered.
“That makes sense.”
The woman’s face changed.
Ace caught it.
“What?”
“Are you about to raise the price while we’re standing here?”
Ace laughed.
“No.”
Rita, several meters away, called:
“Yet.”
Ace turned.
“Fuck you.”
The couple stared at Mandi.
Then at Rita.
Then both laughed.
That helped.
Inside the room, the nervousness became more obvious.
Mostly his.
Ace sat on the edge of the bed while the couple stayed standing.
Mandi looked between them.
“You’ve done this before?”
The woman nodded.
He shook his head.
Then realized they had answered differently.
Ace smiled.
“Okay.”
The man looked horrified.
“It was her idea.”
His partner stared.
“That sounded like blame.”
“No, I—”
Ace lifted a hand.
“Stop.”
They both did.
Ace looked at him.
“You want to be here?”
“Yes.”
“Actually?”
He looked at his partner.
Ace immediately said:
“Not at her.”
His eyes came back to Mandi.
Ace waited.
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then the woman.
“You?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Ace laughed.
“Good.”
The tension broke.
Not completely.
Enough.
They sat, first with space between all three of them, then gradually closer as conversation stopped feeling like an interview.
Ace learned quickly that the woman was the adventurous one.
He needed time.
So they gave him time.
No rush.
No performance.
No mocking.
Ace let the woman kiss her first.
Then let him choose whether to join.
He did.
Eventually.
Carefully.
The moment he stopped thinking about doing something wrong, the entire room changed.
Ace noticed.
So did his partner.
She smiled at Ace over his shoulder.
Ace understood the gratitude in it.
That felt different from being desired.
Different kind of satisfaction.
By the time they moved together onto the bed, the nervousness had become laughter.
Touch.
Shared kisses.
Three adults figuring out a rhythm nobody had arrived already knowing.
Ace found herself guiding occasionally.
Not because she suddenly knew sex work.
Because she knew people.
That was useful here too.
The sexual part grew naturally from that.
Not as a switch.
As a series of visible permissions.
The woman kissed Mandi again and opened the fastening at her own shoulder, then paused. Ace answered by removing the light outer layer from her own body and setting it aside. The man watched both of them, still nervous, so Mandi looked directly at him before reaching for the hem of his shirt.
“Okay?”
He nodded.
“Use words.”
“Yes.”
Better.
Ace drew the shirt over his head. His partner laughed softly, not at him but with relief, and removed her own top. The three of them kept touching between pieces of clothing, so the undressing never became a choreographed strip. A kiss here. A hand at a waist. The man stopping to ask before opening one of Mandi’s straps. Mandi answering by guiding his hand rather than just saying yes.
Lower layers followed just as visibly. Shoes off. The couple’s trousers and underwear removed rather than conveniently forgotten. Mandi sat to free herself from the boots, then stepped out of the fitted lower piece and underwear while both of them watched.
The attention landed harder now that she understood what it was.
Chosen attention.
Wanted.
Ace stood between them with nothing left of the luxury outfit except the cover elements that were meant to survive the night. The woman’s eyes traveled openly. The man tried not to stare, failed, and looked embarrassed about failing.
Mandi smiled.
“You’re allowed.”
He looked up.
“Right.”
His partner touched his arm.
“She definitely noticed already.”
Ace laughed.
That broke the last of his stiffness.
They moved to the bed without assigning anyone a turn. The woman sat first and drew Mandi down beside her. The man stayed close enough to touch but waited until Ace reached for him. When she did, his hand settled at her shoulder, tentative once, then surer when she leaned into it.
The geometry kept changing.
Mandi between them for one kiss, then turned toward the woman while the man’s body warmed her back. The woman watching over Ace’s shoulder when he kissed her neck. The man pausing while the two women kissed because watching turned out to be part of his experience too.
Nothing symmetrical.
Nothing queued.
Just three adults following whatever held their attention.
The woman was still the confident one, but even she checked when the intimacy became more decisive. She lay back, reached for Mandi’s hand and drew her closer with a clear invitation. Ace shifted over her, then looked back toward the man rather than assuming what he wanted.
He smiled, nervous again.
“Still yes?” Mandi asked.
“Yes.”
His partner answered at the same time.
“Very yes.”
Ace laughed.
“Good.”
The next transition took more adjustment than elegance. Knees and elbows negotiated space. The pillow the man had already nearly murdered was moved out of the way. Mandi changed position twice until everyone was comfortable, and nobody pretended the awkwardness made the desire less real.
Then the laughter thinned into breath.
Intercourse began between Mandi and the man as part of the shared rhythm, with the woman remaining physically involved rather than becoming an observer. Mandi felt the difference between the man’s larger, warmer physical presence and the woman’s closer, more agile contact. One could steady her while the other kissed her. One could pause and watch while the other moved. Their bodies did not read as interchangeable, and Ace did not want them to.
She checked faces constantly at first.
Then less.
Not because she stopped caring.
Because they began answering before she had to ask.
A hand tightening.
A nod.
A breath turning into laughter when somebody got the angle wrong.
A whispered “yes” when the next movement landed exactly right.
The man finally relaxed enough to laugh when his heel knocked the pillow to the floor.
His partner pushed him gently.
“You’re doing great.”
He stared at her.
“Don’t say it like I’m defusing a bomb.”
Mandi, voice low and eyes black: “You were more nervous than most people defusing bombs.”
Silence.
Ace realized what she had said.
The woman stared.
The man stared.
Ace smiled.
“Figure of speech.”
The woman burst out laughing.
Saved.
Mostly.
The laughter stayed with them even as pleasure built. That became their rhythm: heat interrupted by amusement, amusement falling apart into breath, then closeness pulling them back together. Ace found herself guiding sometimes, surrendering direction at others, and liking both.
When her own pleasure peaked, it happened while one of them was kissing her and the other was holding her close enough that she could not have pretended composure if she wanted to. Her breath broke, body tightening between them, and both responded immediately, holding her through the sharpest part of it until she could move again.
The woman laughed softly against Ace’s cheek.
“Still fun?”
Ace opened one eye.
“Very.”
The others did not follow on cue. The woman’s climax arrived inside a broken laugh while she was still kissing Ace; the man’s release overtook him amid the same shifting contact, his nervous concentration finally giving way as both women held him there. Nothing paused or reset between those responses, and nobody could have reduced them to a neat sequence afterward.
Eventually movement slowed because all three wanted it to.
They stayed tangled together for several minutes.
Three sets of breathing gradually settling.
The woman’s head on Ace’s shoulder.
The man’s hand resting lightly across both of them.
Mandi’s fingers tracing idle circles against warm skin because separating immediately felt unnecessary.
Nobody moved.
Ace closed her eyes.
This part was becoming important.
The stillness after.
Not because every customer needed intimacy.
Because each person revealed something in what they wanted once urgency was gone.
The woman wanted contact.
The man wanted reassurance without asking for it.
Ace gave both.
When the hour ended, they dressed slowly.
The woman kissed Mandi once more.
Then looked at her.
“We’re coming back.”
Ace smiled.
“Together?”
The woman looked at the man.
He smiled.
“Yes.”
Mandi laughed.
“Good.”
Outside, Lisa was back.
She looked at the couple leaving.
Then at Mandi.
“Three.”
Ace blinked.
“You’re counting?”
“Someone has to.”
“Brenda is going to hate you.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
Lisa looked at Mandi’s face.
“How are you?”
Ace checked.
Still good.
Better than good.
Body beginning to notice the evening.
Nothing serious.
Mind buzzing.
“Good.”
“Horny?”
Ace stared.
Lisa’s face remained completely neutral.
Ace laughed.
“Is that a professional question?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“How much?”
Ace stared harder.
Lisa waited.
Ace sighed.
“More than when I started.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because you’re not dissociating from the work.”
Ace stopped.
That had not occurred to her.
Lisa continued.
“But track it.”
Ace nodded.
“Too horny and you start saying yes because you want sex, not because you want the customer.”
Ace considered.
“Those are different?”
“Sometimes.”
Fair.
Very fair.
Lisa pointed toward water.
“Drink.”
Ace obeyed.
No argument.
Lisa noticed.
“Learning.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
---
Customer four was a woman who wanted Mandi badly enough to be irritating about it.
Not dangerous.
Not rude enough to eject.
Just pushy.
She had money.
Very obvious money.
Beautiful clothes.
Beautiful chrome.
And the expectation that those two things normally simplified consent.
“I want two hours.”
Mandi looked at her.
“One first.”
“I’ll pay eight.”
“That’s how multiplication works.”
The woman smiled.
“Twenty.”
Ace paused.
There it was.
Not temptation.
Information.
Someone had just offered twenty thousand for two hours.
Mandi looked at her.
“You think money changes whether I want two?”
The woman’s smile faltered.
“Usually.”
“Not tonight.”
That answer seemed to interest her more.
Which was annoying.
“One hour.”
“No.”
The woman blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t want you.”
Silence.
Lisa watched from several meters away.
The woman looked genuinely stunned.
“Why?”
Mandi shrugged.
“I don’t.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t even talked to me.”
“I’ve talked enough.”
The woman stared.
Then laughed once.
Not offended anymore.
Almost impressed.
“Fine.”
She stepped back.
“Maybe later.”
Mandi smiled.
“Maybe.”
When she was gone, Lisa walked over.
“You handled that well.”
Ace stared at her.
“Was that a test?”
“No.”
“Because it felt like a test.”
“Night City gives those for free.”
Ace laughed.
Rita approached from the other side.
“You have a problem.”
Ace sighed.
“What now?”
Rita pointed down the street.
Mandi followed the gesture.
People.
A lot of people.
Not all waiting formally.
But enough.
Enough that Ace could see the pattern.
Some had already been there before customer two.
Some were new.
A man and woman were clearly discussing whether they should approach together.
Two women were talking to someone else while repeatedly glancing at Mandi.
One man was trying to determine whether four thousand was still the current rate.
Ace stared.
“How many?”
Rita checked.
“Depends what you mean by waiting.”
“People likely to pay.”
“Twelve.”
Ace looked at Lisa.
Lisa nodded.
“Twelve.”
Ace laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
“Four thousand.”
Rita shrugged.
“You keep saying that like it’s high enough.”
“It is high.”
“For Jig-Jig?”
“Yes.”
“For you?”
Ace looked at her.
Rita gestured at the whole package.
“The look. Voice. Size. Attitude.”
Ace frowned.
“Size.”
Lisa sighed.
“Oh, here we go.”
Rita shrugged.
“You’re tiny.”
“I noticed.”
“So did everybody with that preference.”
Ace looked toward the crowd again.
Oh.
Right.
That explained several of the looks.
Rita continued.
“And half the people who don’t normally have that preference are apparently reconsidering.”
Ace started laughing.
Lisa shook her head.
“You think this is funny.”
“It is funny.”
“You have a queue.”
“I have never had a queue before.”
“That sentence concerns me.”
Ace smiled.
Mandi smiled.
Rita looked at Lisa.
“She’s going to raise the rate.”
Lisa looked at Ace.
Ace held up both hands.
“Not yet.”
“Yet.”
Ace ignored that.
A man approached.
Not one of the drooling idiots.
Calm.
Older.
Good suit.
He asked the price.
“Four thousand.”
No reaction.
“One hour.”
Mandi looked at him.
Talked.
Asked.
Listened.
Liked him.
“Yes.”
Customer four.
---
He surprised her.
Not because he wanted anything unusual.
Because he was funny.
Dry.
Quietly vicious about Night City social rituals.
Ace spent the first fifteen minutes laughing while he described a corpo dinner he had escaped by pretending his neural interface was malfunctioning.
“You faked a seizure.”
“No.”
He looked offended.
“I faked a firmware failure.”
“That’s worse.”
“It was elegant.”
“It was cowardice.”
“It got me out before dessert.”
Ace laughed.
“Okay, maybe elegant.”
He wanted sex.
Very clearly.
So did Ace.
Also very clearly.
The work part became easier.
Not invisible.
Never invisible.
But less intrusive.
They did not race from agreement to bed. Mandi stood close enough to feel the warmth of him through his shirt and let him kiss her once before either started undressing. The kiss was confident without being presumptuous. Ace liked the balance.
“Still yes?” he asked when his hand reached the fastening at her side.
“Yes.”
He opened it. Mandi answered by pushing his jacket back from his shoulders and letting it fall onto the chair. Shirt next. Her upper layers followed. Every time the amount of skin between them increased, they used it rather than immediately moving on — palms across backs, chest to chest, a kiss broken because one of them smiled.
The lower clothing came off with less ceremony. Ace sat long enough to remove the tall boots, then stood and stepped out of the fitted lower piece and underwear. He pushed his trousers down and removed them with his underwear while she watched with the same open attention customers had been giving her all night.
That was another new pleasure.
She was allowed to evaluate too.
Ace looked him over.
He noticed.
“Approved?”
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
He laughed and came back to her.
They reached the bed already touching. Mandi sat first, then drew him down instead of letting him decide everything because he was larger. He followed easily. Their height and build difference became concrete once there was no clothing to disguise it: his body broader, heavier, warmer around hers; Ace compact enough that his arms could gather most of her without effort.
She liked the contrast.
She also liked choosing how much of it she wanted.
Mandi shifted onto his lap for a while, knees braced on either side of him, face finally above his. The reversal made him smile.
“Better?”
“Much.”
They kissed until the humor disappeared.
Then Mandi changed position deliberately, easing back onto the bed and drawing him with her rather than simply letting momentum decide. His hand stopped at her hip.
Ace looked at him.
He waited.
“Yes.”
The transition into intercourse followed that word. Not sudden, not clinical. He settled close, Ace adjusted beneath him until the difference in size felt exciting instead of inconvenient, and both took one extra breath before movement began.
The first rhythm was slow enough to read faces.
Ace caught herself checking his expression rather than the clock.
Better.
She was learning.
His hands were careful. Then less careful when she encouraged it, grip tightening around her waist and shoulders while still responding instantly whenever her body asked for a change. Ace liked the increased pressure. Very much.
Enough that halfway through she forgot this was customer four.
Forgot the queue.
Forgot Lisa.
Forgot the rate.
She simply enjoyed being thoroughly, enthusiastically occupied by someone she had met twenty minutes earlier.
The difference between wanting sex in general and wanting this particular customer stopped being theoretical.
This one made her laugh when he whispered something dry against her ear.
This one made her catch his shoulder when movement became more intense.
This one watched her face closely enough to notice the exact second she stopped joking.
Ace’s release arrived visibly, breath breaking and body tightening under him until the movement had to slow. He stayed close rather than pulling away, forehead against hers, one hand holding her steady while she rode out the last of it.
When Ace opened her eyes, he was smiling.
“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You have a loud face.”
“Someone taught me that.”
Ace laughed, weak and delighted.
They resumed when she wanted to, not as a second round with a separate objective but as the same encounter finding another pace. His release came later, during a slower stretch when neither of them was trying to force anything. Ace felt his rhythm break and his breath catch against her, drew him closer instead of away, and stayed with him through it until both were still.
Forehead against shoulder.
His breath warm against her hair.
Ace’s hand loose at the back of his neck.
For several seconds neither moved at all.
Then he laughed quietly.
“What?” Ace asked.
“You really do enjoy your work.”
Ace raised her head.
The sentence landed.
Not accusation.
Not surprise exactly.
Observation.
Ace smiled.
“Apparently.”
He touched her face.
“Good.”
Ace kissed him.
The remaining time became slower. Talk. Touch. Another brief return to intimacy that did not need to become a new goal. Then stillness again before they finally separated enough to dress.
At the end he dressed, checked the time and looked at her.
“Four thousand is ridiculous.”
Ace sighed.
“Not you too.”
He smiled.
“You should charge more.”
“You people are terrible at consumer advocacy.”
“I’m not advocating for consumers.”
“Clearly.”
He left.
Ace sat on the bed.
Four customers.
Except—
No.
The dinner man had been customer two.
Couple three.
This man four.
First woman one.
Yes.
Four.
Ace frowned.
Lisa entered.
“You’re counting.”
Ace looked up.
“Shut up.”
Lisa laughed.
Ace had never heard her laugh properly before.
It suited her.
“Break?”
Ace checked herself.
Tired?
A little.
Body pleasantly used now.
Hair fine.
Makeup perfect.
Mind—
Still very, very interested.
“Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
Ace glared.
Lisa pointed.
“Four customers.”
“The couple counts as one transaction.”
“I am not discussing accounting.”
Ace smiled.
“Four.”
“Fifteen.”
Ace sighed.
“Fine.”
Lisa handed her water.
Ace drank.
Then looked at her.
“How many now?”
Lisa knew exactly what she meant.
“Fifteen.”
Ace nearly choked.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“At four thousand.”
“Yes.”
Ace stared at the wall.
Lisa watched.
Ace slowly smiled.
“No.”
Ace looked at her.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to invent economics again.”
Ace laughed.
“Not yet.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow.
Ace drank more water.
Then:
“After five.”
Lisa stared.
“What?”
Ace smiled.
“Nothing.”
“You said after five.”
“I said nothing.”
“You are terrible at lying.”
“Only when I don’t care.”
Lisa shook her head and left.
Ace leaned back against the wall.
Four customers.
One more.
Then—
She laughed to herself.
Crowd control.
That was all.
Just crowd control.
---
Customer five was not sex.
Not at all.
A young man approached Mandi after her break with both hands visible and nervousness written across every movement.
“Four thousand?”
“Yes.”
“I have it.”
Mandi waited.
He swallowed.
“I don’t want sex.”
Ace smiled faintly.
“Okay.”
“I just want an hour.”
“For?”
He looked around.
Then back at her.
“Could we go inside?”
Mandi studied him.
No danger signal.
No pressure.
Just embarrassment.
“Yes.”
He paid.
Clean transaction.
Inside, he sat in one of the chairs.
Mandi sat opposite.
Waited.
He stared at the floor.
Ace said nothing.
Eventually:
“My girlfriend died eight months ago.”
There it was.
Ace felt her entire internal posture change.
Not pity.
Attention.
He continued.
“I haven’t touched anyone since.”
Mandi stayed quiet.
“I don’t want to cheat on her.”
Ace could have corrected the logic.
Didn’t.
This was not a debate.
He looked up.
“I know she’s dead.”
His voice cracked.
Ace waited.
“I just want somebody to hold me.”
Mandi stood.
Slowly.
Moved to him.
Then stopped.
“Okay?”
He nodded.
Ace opened her arms.
He stood.
And folded into her.
The height difference made it awkward.
He was much taller.
Ace adjusted.
Sat on the edge of the bed and let him sit beside her.
Then closer.
His head ended up against her shoulder.
Ace held him.
That was it.
No kiss.
No sexual touch.
No performance.
Just human contact.
He cried quietly.
Ace said almost nothing.
Once:
“You’re okay.”
Not meaning fixed.
Not meaning healed.
Just:
Here.
Now.
Okay.
He stayed like that for almost the entire hour.
Toward the end, his breathing settled.
He looked embarrassed.
Mandi did not allow it.
“No.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Whatever apology you were about to make.”
He looked away.
Ace touched his arm.
“You paid for an hour.”
He gave a broken little laugh.
“I paid four thousand to cry on a joytoy.”
Mandi smiled.
“You got what you wanted.”
He looked at her.
Then nodded.
At the door he hesitated.
“Thank you.”
Ace smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
He left.
The door closed.
Ace sat alone.
No smile this time.
Not sad.
Just affected.
The work had changed shape again.
Five customers.
Only three had involved sex.
One had mostly wanted dinner and affection.
One had wanted grief to have somewhere physical to go.
Ace sat with that.
Then the door opened.
Lisa stepped in.
She looked at Ace’s face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
Lisa waited.
Ace told her enough.
Lisa nodded.
“That happens.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
Ace thought.
“Yes.”
“Want to stop?”
“No.”
Again immediate.
Then Ace corrected herself.
She checked.
Mind good.
Body good.
Emotionally stirred, not overwhelmed.
Still curious.
Still wanting.
“Yes. I’m good.”
Lisa nodded.
Then Ace looked at her.
“Five.”
Lisa froze.
“Oh no.”
Ace stood.
The slow Mandi smile returned.
“Twenty-five.”
Lisa stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Twenty-five thousand an hour.”
Silence.
Lisa looked at her as though she had suddenly started speaking another language.
“You were charging four.”
“I know.”
“That is more than six times the rate.”
“I know.”
“You cannot call that crowd control.”
“I can absolutely call that crowd control.”
Lisa stared.
Ace smiled.
“Twenty-five.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“You realize most people will walk.”
“That’s the idea.”
Lisa looked toward the door.
Then back.
“You are insane.”
“Probably.”
Lisa shook her head.
“Fine.”
Ace’s smile widened.
“Fine?”
“Your rate.”
She pointed toward the street.
“But when nobody pays it, I get to laugh.”
Ace laughed.
“Deal.”
They walked outside.
Rita was nearby.
Lisa looked at her.
“New rate.”
Rita glanced at Mandi.
“How bad?”
Lisa’s face remained deadpan.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Rita stared.
Then started laughing.
Ace waited.
Rita laughed harder.
Ace crossed her arms.
“You done?”
“No.”
“Professional environment.”
“Twenty-five fucking thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Per hour?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Ace smiled.
“Crowd control.”
Rita pointed at her.
“That is not crowd control. That is economic warfare.”
Lisa looked toward the waiting people.
“Tell them.”
Rita grinned.
“Oh, gladly.”
She walked toward the nearest cluster.
Ace watched.
Rita spoke to one person.
Then another.
Reaction spread visibly.
Shock.
Laughter.
Disbelief.
Several people immediately left.
Ace smiled.
“See?”
Lisa stared.
“Do not look proud.”
“It worked.”
The waiting group thinned.
More.
Then stabilized.
Ace breathed.
Finally.
Then someone stepped out of the crowd.
Not human-shaped enough for Ace to understand the silhouette immediately.
Large.
Very large.
Broad shoulders beneath tailored clothing.
A head built into unmistakable feline geometry.
Mane.
Muzzle.
Predatory eyes.
Biosculpt carried far beyond cosmetic suggestion.
A lion.
Beside him walked a handler.
The handler looked at Mandi.
Then at Lisa.
“Twenty-five?”
Lisa slowly turned toward Ace.
Ace looked at the lion.
The lion looked at Ace.
Memory arrived immediately.
White-gold collar.
Leash.
Predator masquerade.
Another lion.
Another night.
Another body against hers.
Ace felt a smile trying to happen.
Not Ace’s grin.
Mandi’s slower one.
_Lion._
A beat.
_Again._
The handler looked toward the lion.
The lion’s eyes remained on Mandi.
Then the handler looked back.
“Per hour?”
Mandi answered in that low warm voice.
“Yes.”
The handler nodded.
“Fine.”
Lisa closed her eyes.
Rita, several meters away, made a sound somewhere between laughter and choking.
Ace stared at the handler.
“You’re serious.”
The lion rumbled something that might have been amusement.
The handler smiled.
“Very.”
Mandi looked at Lisa.
Lisa looked at Mandi.
Ace could see the sentence on her face.
_Crowd control._
Ace tried not to laugh.
Failed.
The lion’s ears shifted forward.
The handler raised an eyebrow.
“Problem?”
Mandi looked up at the enormous biosculpted predator.
Black eyes.
Neon-orange hair.
Twenty-five thousand eurodollars an hour.
And smiled.
“No.”
Her pulse accelerated.
“Absolutely no problem.”
---
## Chapter 8 — The Problem With Mandi
The handler did the talking.
That was the first thing Mandi noticed.
The lion did not seem incapable of speech.
Quite the opposite.
The biosculpted muzzle shifted with subtle expression, ears moving independently, eyes tracking Mandi with far too much intelligence for anyone to mistake the form for costume work.
But the handler handled the transaction.
Calm.
Professional.
Almost boring.
Which somehow made the two-and-a-half-meter wall of sculpted predator beside her considerably more interesting.
“Twenty-five thousand,” the handler repeated.
“Yes.”
“One hour.”
“Yes.”
“No recording.”
“No.”
“Private room.”
“Yes.”
The handler glanced toward Lisa.
Lisa nodded once.
“Covered.”
The handler looked back at Mandi.
“Anything unusual we need to discuss before payment?”
Mandi looked at the lion.
The lion looked back.
Ace remembered another room.
Another night.
White-gold collar against her throat.
Predator skin.
A very different kind of event.
A lion there too.
Not this one.
Probably.
She hoped.
Night City made that question less absurd than it should have been.
Mandi smiled.
“Depends what you mean by unusual.”
The lion’s mouth opened slightly.
Teeth.
A low rumble emerged.
Not threatening.
Amused.
Ace felt something answer inside her.
_Oh._
_Yeah._
The handler caught it.
Her eyes moved from Mandi to the lion.
Then back.
“You’ve done this before.”
Mandi paused.
“Not this.”
The handler’s eyebrow lifted.
“Lion.”
Ace’s smile shifted.
“That category.”
The handler laughed.
The lion made that low sound again.
Lisa stared at Mandi.
“You really do have the weirdest résumé.”
Mandi looked at her.
“You have no idea.”
“Good.”
The handler brought up payment.
Twenty-five thousand eurodollars.
Ace looked at the number.
Then at Lisa.
Lisa looked back.
Ace smiled.
Lisa closed her eyes.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You are thinking _crowd control_.”
Ace laughed.
The handler looked between them.
“Problem?”
Lisa opened her eyes.
“No.”
Then, flatly:
“Apparently twenty-five thousand is not enough.”
The handler shrugged.
“He wanted her.”
The lion’s gaze never left Mandi.
Ace felt that sentence land.
Simple.
Direct.
_He wanted her._
Not Ace.
Not Amber.
Not somebody who knew what lived underneath the cover.
Mandi.
The neon-orange little luxury joytoy who had appeared on Jig-Jig Street a few hours ago and somehow decided twenty-five thousand an hour was a reasonable way to make people go away.
Ace confirmed the transaction.
The terminal chimed.
Lisa looked at the payment.
Then at Mandi.
“First one.”
Ace raised an eyebrow.
“At twenty-five.”
“Yes.”
Mandi smiled.
“Good.”
Lisa pointed at her.
“Do not get smug.”
“Too late.”
The handler laughed.
Then turned toward the lion.
“You’re good.”
The lion finally spoke.
His voice was deep enough that Victor’s work on Ace suddenly felt less dramatic.
“Very.”
Ace looked up.
Far up.
The word vibrated through the air.
Mandi’s black eyes widened slightly.
The lion noticed.
Ace recovered.
Mostly.
“That voice is unfair.”
The lion smiled.
Teeth again.
“Likewise.”
The handler looked at Ace.
“You still want him?”
Ace almost laughed.
The question mattered.
Not because she was uncertain.
Because she appreciated hearing it.
Mandi looked at the lion properly.
Massive.
Heavily biosculpted.
Musculature altered well beyond human proportion.
Mane integrated into the sculpt rather than cosmetic attachment.
Hands reshaped but still functional.
Claws retractable.
Movement controlled.
No twitchy instability.
No signs of someone who had pushed too much modification through a body unable to carry it.
Expensive work.
Extremely expensive.
And familiar enough in concept that Ace already knew exactly what one part of her answer was.
“Yes.”
The lion’s ears shifted forward.
The handler nodded.
“Then I’ll wait outside.”
Mandi blinked.
“You’re not staying?”
The handler looked mildly amused.
“I’m his handler, not his chaperone.”
Fair.
Ace laughed.
The lion stepped toward the room.
Mandi followed.
Behind her, Lisa called:
“Break after.”
Ace looked over her shoulder.
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe.”
“You’re ruining the mood.”
“You’ll survive.”
The lion looked at Lisa.
Then at Mandi.
“New?”
Ace sighed.
“Everyone gets one.”
His low laugh followed them through the door.
---
Inside, the scale difference became ridiculous.
Ace closed the door.
Turned.
Looked up.
And kept looking.
The lion stood in the center of the room as though the architecture had been built wrong around him.
Mandi folded her arms.
“You fit through the door.”
“Barely.”
“Do you break furniture often?”
“Only cheap furniture.”
Ace looked at the bed.
Then back at him.
The lion followed her gaze.
“Concerned?”
“Evaluating the room.”
_Ace habit._
The thought appeared automatically.
Ace froze.
No.
Not because he had recognized her.
Because _she_ had thought the word.
Mandi smiled.
“Joytoy habit.”
The lion’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Not suspicious.
Interested.
Then he let it go.
Good.
He approached slowly.
Very slowly.
Giving her all the space in the world to stop him.
Ace appreciated that too.
The handler had clearly done more than negotiate rates.
There was discipline here.
Experience.
This was someone who knew exactly what his body looked like to other people and had learned not to assume fascination meant consent.
Mandi stood her ground.
The lion stopped in front of her.
Close enough that Ace had to tilt her head back.
“Still yes?”
The question came low.
Quiet.
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
His hand rose.
Stopped before touching.
Ace nodded.
The enormous palm settled carefully against the side of her face.
Warm.
Not paw.
Not human hand either.
Something deliberately between.
Ace’s breath changed.
Memory hit again.
Predator-Amber.
Lion.
Different context.
Different body.
Different night.
Same very specific part of Ace’s brain lighting up.
The lion noticed.
“Definitely not new to this.”
Mandi laughed softly.
“I said not this.”
His thumb moved once along her jaw.
Careful.
Ace leaned into it.
The lion’s expression changed.
Small.
Predatory without aggression.
Interested.
“You like the sculpt.”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Mandi smiled.
“Because I’ve got excellent taste.”
The lion laughed.
Ace loved that sound.
Too much.
Definitely too much.
He bent toward her.
Slowly.
Mandi met him halfway.
The first kiss was strange only because the geometry had changed.
Muzzle.
Different pressure.
Different angle.
Ace adapted quickly.
Very quickly.
The lion pulled back.
“Fast learner.”
Mandi looked at him.
“You paid twenty-five thousand.”
“That wasn’t why.”
Ace smiled.
“No.”
It wasn’t.
The next kiss lasted longer.
The handler had done an excellent job of keeping the practical part clean.
The lion did an excellent job of making Ace stop thinking about pricing.
Hands.
Heat.
The absurd size difference.
The new makeup surviving exactly what Lena had promised it would.
Ace’s fingers disappeared partly into the mane.
The lion rumbled against her.
Ace laughed into the contact.
He lifted her.
Not abruptly.
A question in the movement.
Ace let him.
That sent another pulse through her.
Height vanished.
Floor vanished.
The room changed orientation around the fact that she weighed almost nothing to him.
Ace liked that.
A lot.
The lion noticed.
Of course.
“Very much.”
Ace blinked.
“What?”
“You like that.”
Mandi’s low voice:
“Maybe.”
The lion smiled.
“Bad liar.”
“Only when I don’t care.”
He carried her toward the bed.
Ace looked down.
“Furniture.”
“It’ll survive.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Ace laughed.
The bed survived.
Barely.
They negotiated the rest there.
No rush.
No assumption that the handler had covered everything.
Ace asked.
The lion answered.
The lion asked.
Ace answered.
Boundaries.
Pressure.
Strength.
Claws.
What was safe.
What was not.
What was comfortable.
What was interesting.
That conversation alone made Ace understand why the handler existed.
Some bodies required translation before intimacy became easy.
Not because they were wrong.
Because they were specialized.
The lion knew his.
Exactly.
Ace respected that.
Then the talking became touch again.
And touch became something more.
Ace had been right.
She knew she liked this category.
The difference from the masquerade was immediate.
There, Amber had been part of the fantasy. Collared. Predator form. An entire social environment built around appetite and spectacle.
Here, Mandi was working.
No shared masquerade.
No audience.
Just one heavily biosculpted customer who had seen her, wanted her, understood the new price and paid it without blinking.
Same physical curiosity.
Different meaning.
The lion kissed her again, then stopped when one clawed fingertip reached the fine strap at her shoulder.
“May I?”
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
He retracted the claw before touching the fastening. That small technical detail affected Ace more than it should have. Power deliberately made safe.
The upper part of her outfit opened under careful hands. Mandi pushed his tailored jacket back in return and discovered that the clothing had been designed around the sculpt — hidden releases, flexible seams, reinforced panels where ordinary fabric would never survive his shoulders.
“Handler chose this?”
“She chose the maker.”
“Smart.”
“She usually is.”
More clothing followed. Slowly, because scale made every movement different. Ace had to stand on the edge of the bed for one fastening and laughed at the absurdity. The lion steadied her with both hands at the waist, palms spanning so much of her that the contrast sent heat through her before anything overtly sexual happened.
Mandi removed the tall boots herself, one at a time, then the fitted lower piece and underwear. The lion dealt with his own remaining outer layers and specialized underclothing without pretending a body altered this far still fit ordinary garments.
When they faced each other again, the difference in scale stopped being a visual joke and became physical reality.
Ace was tiny even by ordinary standards.
Beside him she was almost absurd.
His hand could cover most of her back. Her fingers disappeared into the mane when she reached up. His chest was broad enough that when he drew her close she felt surrounded before he had even lifted her.
The lion watched her expression.
“Still good?”
Mandi put both hands into the mane and pulled his face down far enough to kiss him.
“Very.”
That answer changed his posture. Not less controlled. More certain.
He lifted her again, slowly enough that Ace could stop him at any point. This time she deliberately wrapped herself around the movement instead of merely allowing it. Floor gone. Height gone. Her body supported by strength that felt excessive and yet perfectly restrained.
Ace’s breath caught.
The lion rumbled against her mouth.
“Still maybe?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed.
The bed complained when he sat.
Ace laughed harder.
“Furniture.”
“It is surviving.”
“For now.”
Mandi settled across his lap instead of immediately lying down, using the position to keep eye contact without craning her neck. That changed the balance. She could touch his face, run her hands into the mane, kiss him on her own terms. The lion’s hands remained at her waist, enormous and patient.
Ace liked being able to feel how much strength was present without having any of it imposed on her.
She leaned back just enough to look at him.
“Claws?”
“Retracted unless you ask.”
“Keep them that way.”
“Yes.”
“Pressure?”
“You tell me.”
Mandi guided one of his hands more firmly against her side.
“More than this.”
The lion’s eyes changed.
“Like that?”
He tightened his hold by a careful degree.
Ace exhaled.
“Yeah.”
That was the real negotiation. Not words alone. Testing scale in safe increments. Letting Ace’s body answer. Letting the lion prove that restraint was active rather than assumed.
When Mandi finally shifted from his lap toward the bed, the movement was deliberate. She lay back, then caught his wrist before he followed.
“Slow.”
“Of course.”
He lowered himself beside her first instead of over her, giving Ace time to find a comfortable line against the massive difference in weight and reach. They kissed there. Skin against biosculpted warmth. Mane under her fingers. A deep purr beginning whenever Ace touched some place he especially liked.
“Seriously,” she murmured against his jaw.
“What?”
“That sound.”
“You object?”
“Absolutely not.”
The purr deepened.
“Asshole.”
His laugh vibrated through her.
The progression toward intercourse took more physical adjustment than any encounter earlier in the night. Positioning mattered. Scale mattered. Ace’s comfort mattered more than either of their impatience.
They changed position once.
Then again.
The lion braced his own weight rather than letting it settle onto her. Mandi adjusted her legs and hips until the line between them stopped feeling awkward. His hand stayed at her back, supporting rather than directing.
Finally Ace looked up.
The lion waited.
Mandi gave the smallest nod.
Their intercourse began with one careful movement.
Ace’s breath left her.
Not pain.
Intensity.
A lot of intensity.
Her hands caught his shoulders automatically.
He stopped instantly.
“Good?”
Ace stayed still long enough to let the sensation resolve into an honest answer. The size difference was real. So was the care surrounding it.
Then she smiled.
“Very.”
The lion’s ears shifted forward.
Ace laughed.
“Don’t look so pleased.”
“You’re smiling.”
“So are you.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Ace stared.
Then burst out laughing.
“You asshole.”
The lion rumbled with laughter too.
That broke the last of the tension.
After that, movement found its own pace. Slow first because it needed to be. Then deeper and more confident when Ace’s body stopped asking for caution and began asking for more. She could feel how much strength he continued to hold back in every controlled shift, every hand that supported instead of pinned, every pause that came the instant her breath changed the wrong way.
That restraint became part of the pleasure.
Not fragility.
Trust created in real time by competence.
Ace knew what the lion could do. The lion knew she knew. Neither needed to demonstrate it.
Mandi’s professional attention lasted longer than it had with earlier customers because the physical difference demanded it. She checked his face. Her own position. His hands. The pressure through her shoulders and back. Then, gradually, she stopped running the questions because every answer remained good.
The purr changed with his breathing.
Ace began using it as feedback.
“That’s unfair,” she breathed.
“You keep saying that.”
“Different reasons.”
The lion shifted, and Ace’s sentence disappeared into a much less articulate sound.
He froze for half a beat, reading her face.
“Again,” Mandi said.
He did.
That was the moment professionalism stopped feeling like distance. It was simply attention sharpened by responsibility. Ace could want more and still remain in control of the choice. The lion could be powerful and still make every increase conditional on her response.
Pleasure built hard after that. The scale difference that had required so much patience now made every movement feel larger, more enveloping, more impossible to ignore. Ace stopped trying to maintain the slow Mandi smile. Her black eyes closed. Her fingers tightened deep in the mane.
When release finally took her, it was strong enough that the professional part of her mind vanished completely. She went rigid against him, caught between a gasp and a laugh, then folded closer as the intensity broke through her.
The lion stopped moving and held her.
Not merely because she needed the pause.
Because the pause belonged there.
Ace stayed pressed against the enormous warmth of him while her breathing struggled back toward normal. His purr ran through her ribs. One hand covered most of her back, careful even when she was no longer actively checking it.
Eventually Mandi opened one eye.
“Seriously?”
The lion looked down.
“What?”
“You purr after too.”
“Yes.”
“That’s unfair.”
“You keep saying that.”
Ace’s laugh came weak and contented.
The encounter resumed only when both of them wanted it, shorter and less controlled than before, not because anyone needed a matching endpoint but because neither was ready to be done touching. His own release came later and quieter than Ace expected, visible in the sudden stillness of that massive body and the way the purr broke for one breath before returning deeper.
Then neither moved.
Ace lay against an absurd amount of warm biosculpted body.
The lion’s breathing slowed beneath her.
One hand remained across her back.
Mandi’s cheek rested against his chest, eyes closed, every part of her pleasantly aware of the difference in scale without needing another second of movement to prove it.
They stayed like that for several minutes.
Long enough that Ace forgot to check the clock.
Again.
When she finally did:
“Twelve minutes.”
The lion looked toward the display.
“Enough.”
“For?”
“Nothing.”
Ace raised her head.
He looked at her.
“I like this.”
Ace understood.
Stillness.
Contact.
No need to fill expensive time because expensive time was still time.
Ace settled back.
“Yeah.”
The purr returned.
Ace smiled against him.
This job was fucking weird.
She loved it.
---
When they dressed, the lion inspected Mandi’s face.
“No damage.”
Ace looked in the mirror.
Lena’s makeup had survived everything.
Completely.
Ace touched her cheek.
“Holy shit.”
The lion stood behind her.
“Good product.”
“Very.”
“You’re new.”
Ace looked at him in the mirror.
“You already used yours.”
“Then I’ll use another.”
Ace turned.
“What?”
“You’re going to become very expensive.”
Mandi stared.
The lion looked amused.
“You already are.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Yes.”
“That is very expensive.”
“For Jig-Jig.”
“Yes.”
He leaned down.
“Not for what people think they’re buying.”
Ace raised an eyebrow.
“And what do they think they’re buying?”
The lion looked at her.
“Something nobody else has.”
That landed.
Not because it was literally true.
Because it explained the queue.
New.
Tiny.
Luxury.
Unfamiliar.
Suzie-cleared.
Black eyes.
Orange hair.
Voice.
Attitude.
Nobody knew where Mandi came from.
Nobody knew whether she would still be here tomorrow.
Ace understood scarcity.
She simply had not expected to become it.
The terminal chimed.
One minute.
The lion bent.
Ace met him for one final kiss.
Then:
“Worth it?”
Ace asked.
He smiled.
“Very.”
Good.
That absurd little spark again.
Professional satisfaction.
Ace liked that almost as much as the sex.
Almost.
The door opened.
The handler stood outside.
She looked at the lion.
Then Mandi.
No interrogation.
Just:
“Good?”
The lion nodded.
“Very.”
The handler smiled at Mandi.
“Thank you.”
That surprised Ace.
“You’re welcome.”
The lion and handler left together.
Lisa stood nearby.
Arms folded.
Mandi looked at her.
Lisa looked at the departing pair.
Then at Mandi.
“Break.”
Ace sighed.
“Fine.”
Lisa blinked.
“That easy?”
“I’m learning.”
“Or exhausted.”
Ace checked.
Body definitely more tired now.
Pleasantly.
Enough that Lisa was right.
Mind still bright.
“Learning.”
Lisa nodded.
“Twenty.”
Ace stared.
“You said fifteen.”
“Lion tax.”
Ace burst out laughing.
“That is not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Rita walked over.
“How bad?”
Lisa answered:
“Twenty-minute break.”
Rita looked at Mandi.
“Damn.”
Ace pointed at both of them.
“I hate this workplace.”
Rita grinned.
“No you don’t.”
Ace stopped.
Looked at her.
Then smiled.
“No.”
She didn’t.
Not even slightly.
---
The problem became obvious during the break.
Lisa brought water.
Then food.
Ace accepted both without argument.
That alone was apparently enough to concern Rita.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t fight the food.”
“I’m hungry.”
Rita looked at Lisa.
“Growth.”
“Shut up.”
Mandi ate.
While she did, people kept asking.
Not approaching her directly now.
Lisa had established that breaks were breaks.
But asking other workers.
Asking patrol.
Checking availability.
Twenty-five thousand had removed most of the casual curiosity.
Good.
Exactly what Ace wanted.
It had not removed demand.
Bad.
Or—
Ace looked toward the street.
Maybe not bad.
Lisa checked her agent.
Ace noticed.
“How many?”
“No.”
“How many?”
“You’re resting.”
“Lisa.”
Lisa sighed.
“Eight.”
Ace stopped chewing.
“At twenty-five.”
“Yes.”
“Eight people.”
“Currently.”
Rita leaned against the wall, visibly enjoying the part of the job that involved watching Lisa lose arguments with the new girl.
“One couple.”
Ace looked at her.
“Still twenty-five?”
“They asked.”
“And?”
“I told them one hour is one hour unless you say otherwise.”
Ace smiled.
Rita pointed.
“Do not encourage yourself.”
Ace laughed.
Someone farther down the street called:
“Is Mandi taking women?”
Rita shouted back:
“Yes.”
Another voice:
“Couples?”
“Yes.”
Another:
“When is she free?”
Rita looked at Ace.
Then yelled:
“Not while she’s eating!”
Ace almost choked.
Lisa took the food away until she stopped laughing.
“This is your fault.”
Ace wiped her eyes.
“How?”
“You showed up like that.”
“My stylist did this.”
“And you’re enjoying yourself.”
Ace smiled.
“Is that visible?”
Lisa and Rita both stared.
Ace nodded.
“Right.”
Rita looked at her.
“That’s part of the problem.”
“What?”
“You actually like the customers.”
“Not all of them.”
“No.”
Rita shook her head.
“But people can tell when somebody is enjoying the work.”
Ace considered.
That made sense.
“And they like that.”
“Very much.”
Lisa checked the time.
“Ten minutes.”
Ace leaned back.
People moved past.
Several looked.
Some knew the rate and immediately kept walking.
Some knew the rate and still looked interested.
Ace felt the attention again.
Different now.
Not generic curiosity.
Reputation.
Tiny reputation.
Only a few hours old.
But real.
The new girl charging twenty-five thousand.
The ridiculous luxury joytoy who had somehow sold an hour at that number almost immediately.
Ace smiled.
Rita saw it.
“There.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“You’re proud of yourself.”
Ace thought.
Then decided lying was pointless.
“Yes.”
Lisa looked at her.
“Why?”
Ace looked toward the street.
“Because I’m good at something I didn’t know how to do this morning.”
That quieted both women.
Rita smiled first.
“Fair.”
Ace looked at Lisa.
Lisa nodded once.
“Fair.”
Then a familiar voice came from nearby.
“Twenty-five thousand?”
Ace turned.
And nearly laughed out loud.
Wakako stood with her hands loosely folded, looking toward Mandi with an expression that gave absolutely nothing away.
Lisa’s face immediately became colder.
“Yes.”
Wakako looked at her.
“She raised it.”
“Yes.”
“From four.”
“Yes.”
“And people are paying.”
Lisa looked toward Ace.
Then back.
“Apparently.”
Wakako’s eyes moved to Mandi.
Ace held the slower smile.
No recognition.
No reason for recognition.
Just that unnerving Wakako attention.
“You are doing very well for your first night.”
Mandi answered.
“So people keep telling me.”
Wakako looked at Lisa.
“Who is she?”
Lisa’s expression did not change.
“Suzie Q approved her.”
Wakako waited.
Lisa did not add anything.
“That is all?”
Lisa met her gaze.
“That is all you need.”
Ace looked down before the smile became too obvious.
Wakako noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Her eyes returned to Mandi.
For one fraction of a second, Ace wondered whether Wakako knew.
Not from face.
Not voice.
Not clothes.
Just instinct.
Wakako had known Night City too long.
Maybe she simply knew when information was being deliberately kept from her.
That did not mean she knew the information.
Wakako gave the smallest nod.
“Very well.”
Then:
“Enjoy your evening, Mandi.”
Mandi looked up.
“I am.”
Wakako’s mouth moved almost imperceptibly.
Then she walked away.
Lisa waited until she was out of earshot.
“That woman is exhausting.”
Ace laughed.
“You have no idea.”
Lisa looked at her.
Mandi smiled.
“Figure of speech.”
Lisa stared for another second.
Then let it go.
Rita checked the time.
“Break over.”
Ace stood immediately.
Lisa groaned.
“Of course.”
Mandi adjusted the outfit.
Checked the collar.
Touched the neon-orange hair.
Nothing needed fixing.
Lena’s makeup remained perfect.
Twenty-five thousand an hour.
Eight interested customers.
Men.
Women.
A couple.
Ace looked down the street.
People looked back.
The nervousness had changed now.
Not disappeared.
Turned into confidence built from actual experience.
Five customers had taught her more than any observation could have.
The lion had taught her something else.
Twenty-five thousand had not made Mandi inaccessible.
It had made her more interesting.
Ace smiled slowly.
Rita saw it.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re enjoying being expensive.”
Mandi looked at her.
Low voice.
Black eyes.
Neon hair.
“Very much.”
Lisa groaned.
Rita laughed.
And somewhere farther down Jig-Jig Street, another customer started walking toward them.
Twenty-five thousand had failed.
Completely.
Mandi’s crowd-control strategy had become advertising.
---
## Chapter 9 — By Choice
Twenty-five thousand eurodollars should have solved the problem.
It did not.
It changed the problem.
That was worse.
At four thousand, Mandi had attracted curiosity.
At twenty-five, she attracted intent.
People stopped walking up just to ask whether the number was real.
They already knew.
The ones who still approached had decided before they reached her that they could afford it.
Or that they wanted to.
Or that they wanted Mandi enough to make the distinction irrelevant.
Ace found that deeply entertaining.
Lisa found it deeply irritating.
“You look pleased.”
Mandi smiled.
“I am.”
“Your crowd control failed.”
“It filtered.”
Lisa stared.
“That is not what you called it.”
“I am adapting the terminology.”
Rita laughed from nearby.
“She’s turning into a consultant.”
Ace looked at her.
“Twenty-five thousand an hour says I already am.”
Lisa closed her eyes.
Rita laughed harder.
The next customer was a woman.
No hesitation.
No negotiation.
No disbelief.
She walked directly up to Mandi, looked at her once from boots to black eyes and said:
“Twenty-five?”
“Yes.”
“Available?”
Mandi looked at her.
Late thirties.
Maybe early forties.
Elegant.
No visible chrome beyond a thin line at one temple.
Confident.
Very calm.
Ace liked her immediately.
“Yeah.”
The woman smiled.
“Good.”
That was the whole opening negotiation.
Rita stared after them as they walked away.
Lisa looked at her.
“What?”
Rita shook her head.
“At four thousand people asked questions.”
“Yes.”
“At twenty-five they just commit.”
Lisa looked toward the room Mandi had disappeared into.
“Apparently.”
---
The woman wanted control.
Not crude control.
Not domination for spectacle.
Precision.
She explained exactly what she liked.
Exactly what she did not.
Then asked Mandi what she liked.
Ace answered.
The conversation was shorter now.
Not because Ace had stopped caring.
Because she was getting better at identifying what mattered.
The woman watched her closely.
“You’re new.”
Ace sighed.
“Everyone used theirs already.”
The woman smiled.
“I wasn’t going to say it as criticism.”
“Good.”
“You ask good questions.”
Ace paused.
That mattered more than she expected.
“Thanks.”
The woman stepped closer.
“And you listen to the answers.”
Ace smiled.
“Trying.”
“Keep doing that.”
Then she kissed her.
The kiss fit the woman’s personality exactly.
Measured first.
Then firmer once Mandi answered.
She broke it before Ace expected and watched the reaction rather than immediately giving her another.
Mandi’s eyebrows rose.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Yes.”
Ace smiled.
“Oh.”
The woman liked watching Mandi react.
Ace noticed that quickly.
And, because Ace was Ace, once she noticed it—
She leaned into it.
Not falsely.
Not performing pleasure she did not feel.
Simply no longer hiding what she did.
A breath allowed to become audible.
Eyes closing instead of holding composure for its own sake.
Hands gripping when the contact deserved it.
The customer liked that.
Ace liked that she liked it.
That feedback loop became dangerous very quickly.
Undressing became part of the same game. The woman opened one piece of Mandi’s clothing, then paused long enough to study her face before touching the next. Ace answered by removing the woman’s jacket and top in quicker succession, only to have her wrist caught gently when she reached lower.
“Slow.”
Mandi looked at the hand around her wrist.
Then at the woman.
“Your hour.”
“My preference.”
Ace smiled.
“Fair.”
They slowed.
Mandi sat and removed the boots first. The fitted lower piece followed. Underwear too. The woman undressed with the same controlled patience until nothing remained between them except the cover elements Mandi meant to keep on.
When Mandi stood again, the woman did nothing for several seconds except look.
Ace felt herself respond to that alone.
“You really like watching,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Me specifically?”
The woman’s gaze returned to the black contacts.
“Very specifically.”
That landed.
Mandi moved closer.
“Then watch.”
They reached the bed with Ace unusually aware of being seen. The woman sat and let Mandi decide whether to approach. Ace did, settling onto her lap for the first stretch of kissing, then changing position when she wanted more room to move. Every adjustment became part of the customer’s attention rather than something to hurry through.
During a pause, the woman touched Mandi’s cheek.
“You’re very easy to read.”
Ace opened one black eye.
“That sounds like an insult.”
“It isn’t.”
“Usually is.”
“Not here.”
Ace considered.
Different profession.
Different value.
In combat, being easy to read was weakness.
Here?
Sometimes it was exactly what somebody had paid for.
Not deception.
Access.
Ace smiled.
“Okay.”
The woman smiled back.
“You really are learning.”
Ace groaned.
“Not that word again.”
The woman laughed and lay back, drawing Mandi down with her. Before the next step, she opened her posture in a clear invitation and waited. Ace shifted over her, adjusted until their bodies fit comfortably together, and let the silence carry the question.
“Yes,” the woman said.
Mandi answered with a slow kiss.
When intercourse began, it stayed deliberate for longer than Ace expected. The customer did not want speed; she wanted visible response. She would change pressure or rhythm and then watch what it did to Mandi. Ace gradually stopped resisting that attention and started giving it back openly.
A breath that broke.
A smile that vanished when pleasure sharpened.
A hand tightening around the woman’s shoulder.
The customer saw all of it.
Ace saw her seeing it.
That became part of the heat.
“Still okay?” the woman asked when Mandi’s breathing turned ragged.
Ace laughed once.
“You can see me.”
“I still asked.”
That pleased her more than the question should have.
“Yes.”
Movement continued. Slower, then suddenly more intense when the woman found something in Ace’s response worth repeating. Mandi lost the ability to keep her face composed and did not try to recover it.
When release came, the woman watched every non-anatomical sign of it exactly as she had promised: Ace’s eyes closing, breath catching, shoulders tightening, the low altered voice breaking around a sound she did not bother to suppress.
The woman held her through it and did not immediately ask for anything else.
For several seconds Mandi stayed folded against her, breathing against warm skin, aware that she had just allowed a stranger to watch her lose control because both of them wanted exactly that.
Then Ace raised her head.
The woman looked deeply satisfied.
“Worth watching?”
“Yes.”
Ace laughed.
“Good.”
The rest of the hour became warmer after that. Less controlled. More mutual. The customer eventually stopped being only the observer and let her own reactions become visible too. Her climax arrived with her gaze still fixed on Mandi, control finally breaking through shortened breath, a tightening embrace and one helpless change of expression Ace caught in full. Mandi held her through it and found she liked the exchange better once the attention flowed both ways.
By the time movement finally slowed for good, neither separated immediately. Ace remained half across the woman’s body, one arm around her shoulders, while the woman traced slow lines down Ace’s back and their breathing settled together.
When it ended, the woman stayed close for several minutes before dressing.
Then looked at Ace.
“You should be here regularly.”
Ace laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because then I’d probably start making spreadsheets.”
The woman stared.
“That is not the answer I expected.”
“Neither did I.”
She kissed Mandi once more.
Then left.
Ace looked at herself in the mirror.
Still immaculate.
Lena was going to become unbearable.
---
Customer eight was a couple.
Two women.
And if Ace had thought she was adapting to the work—
They corrected that assumption quickly.
Not by doing anything extreme.
By being completely different from every customer before them.
One was loud.
Confident.
Playful.
The other was quiet enough that Ace initially mistook silence for hesitation.
It was not.
The quiet one simply preferred to watch first.
Ace understood that.
More importantly—
She liked it.
A lot.
The louder woman noticed.
“Problem?”
Mandi looked toward the quiet one.
“No.”
“Then?”
Ace smiled.
“She’s watching.”
The quiet woman smiled.
“Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
Very yes.
Ace felt something in the question itself.
Not just being watched.
Being watched knowingly.
Consensually.
Deliberately.
That landed somewhere familiar.
Brenda.
Iris.
Palace.
Ace pushed that thought aside.
This was not them.
Different room.
Different people.
Different structure.
But the appeal was real.
The louder woman laughed.
“Oh, she likes that.”
Mandi looked at her.
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
The quiet one leaned back slightly.
“Good.”
Ace laughed.
The hour became a strange combination of participation and observation.
Not everyone touching all the time.
Not everyone needing equal involvement every second.
The quiet woman sometimes joined.
Sometimes watched.
Sometimes directed.
Ace discovered quickly that the watching itself changed her.
When the louder woman kissed Mandi and started opening the straps of her outfit, the quiet woman remained a few steps away instead of crowding in. She watched Mandi’s face. Watched the clothing come away. Watched Ace sit to remove the boots, then stand and step out of the lower piece and underwear while her partner undressed beside her.
The attention was not accidental.
The quiet woman had chosen the distance because she liked the view.
Mandi looked directly at her.
“You’re staying there?”
“For now.”
“Because?”
The woman smiled.
“I like watching you with her.”
Ace felt the answer physically.
The louder woman noticed.
“Oh, she really likes that.”
Mandi looked at her.
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
The quiet one leaned back slightly.
“Good.”
Ace laughed.
Then the louder woman drew her onto the bed.
Mandi went willingly, aware of two different forms of attention at once: the woman touching her and the woman deliberately not touching her yet. The contrast made every response feel more visible.
The louder woman lay back and pulled Mandi close. Ace paused before settling over her, glanced toward the observer, then back down.
“Still okay?”
“Very,” the woman beneath her said.
From the chair: “Yes.”
Ace smiled.
Two permissions.
Different directions.
Intercourse began between Mandi and the louder woman while the quiet one watched. Ace could feel the gaze even when she was not looking toward it. That knowledge sharpened her awareness of her own body — how she moved, where her hands were, how openly pleasure showed in her breathing and face.
For a moment she almost slipped into performance.
Then stopped herself.
No.
If the quiet woman wanted to watch, she could watch something real.
Mandi let herself react naturally. That was far hotter.
The observer’s expression changed when Ace stopped trying to look controlled.
There.
That was what she wanted.
Ace understood it with a jolt that carried straight back to Safehouse. Brenda’s shameless interest. Iris’s pleasure in being seen. Palace. The established ease with attention inside their circle.
Not the same situation.
But the same underlying truth:
being watched could be a chosen form of contact.
The quiet woman eventually stood and came closer. Her clothes came away deliberately under both women’s attention before she joined their full skin contact. Even then, she did not simply enter the arrangement. She touched Mandi’s shoulder first.
Ace turned her head.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Mandi shifted enough to make room.
From there nothing settled into separate turns. The observer became participant, then stepped back again when watching appealed more. Sometimes Mandi was between them. Sometimes one woman kissed Ace while the other’s hand stayed at her waist. Sometimes both stopped touching entirely for a few seconds because looking had become enough.
The three bodies were different in height, build and pace, and the rhythm adapted constantly. Mandi guided where she had learned enough to guide, followed when someone else offered something better, and laughed when an elegant transition turned into a tangle of knees and pillows.
Pleasure built unevenly.
The louder woman climaxed first, not as a completed turn but while the quiet woman was still kissing Mandi’s shoulder and Ace was still moving with both of them. Her breath broke, grip tightened and expression emptied of everything except pleasure. The reaction pulled a laugh from Mandi that broke into a breath when the quiet woman changed pressure at exactly the wrong — or right — moment.
Ace’s own release arrived later under the full attention of both women. One held her close. The other watched her face and did not look away. Mandi stopped pretending she could hide any of it, eyes closing and body tightening until both women simply held her through the peak.
The quiet woman smiled when Ace finally looked at her again.
“Still like being watched?”
Mandi was breathing too hard for dignity.
“Fuck you.”
“That’s not a no.”
Ace laughed.
“No.”
Not a no at all.
The remaining intimacy stayed loose, overlapping and playful until nobody wanted more movement. Then all three remained together rather than instantly sorting themselves into separate bodies.
One woman’s head against Ace’s shoulder.
The other lying close enough that their legs remained tangled.
Mandi’s hand resting on warm skin while three breaths slowly returned to normal.
The quiet one was still looking at her.
Ace opened one eye.
“You’re still doing it.”
“Yes.”
Mandi smiled.
“Okay.”
Ace discovered she liked being the center of someone else’s attention in a way she had never quite named before.
Not because she needed approval.
Because attention itself could become part of the experience.
Visible.
Chosen.
Intentional.
The thought stayed with her even after the couple left.
Lisa noticed immediately.
“You went somewhere.”
Ace looked at her.
“What?”
“In your head.”
Ace smiled.
“Occupational hazard.”
“That phrase is becoming meaningless around you.”
“Good.”
Lisa handed her water.
Ace took it.
No argument.
Lisa looked suspicious.
“You’re tired.”
Ace checked.
This time the answer was not trivial.
Legs heavier.
Body definitely used.
Pleasant soreness starting to accumulate.
Mind still bright.
But not as sharp.
Not exhausted.
Not done.
Different.
“How long have I been working?”
Lisa checked.
“Long enough.”
“That is not a number.”
“It is the number you need.”
Ace stared.
Lisa stared back.
Ace sighed.
“Fine.”
She drank.
Then sat.
Actually sat.
Without being told.
Rita saw it from across the way and pointed.
“Oh shit.”
Ace looked at her.
“What?”
“You sat voluntarily.”
“Fuck you.”
Rita grinned.
“She’s mortal.”
“Barely.”
Lisa crouched slightly in front of her.
“Check.”
Ace knew what she meant now.
Body.
Mind.
Desire.
Tolerance.
Not pride.
Not momentum.
Not the queue.
Ace closed her eyes.
Body: tired.
Mind: good.
Emotionally: very good.
Desire—
Still there.
Very much there.
But different now.
Less endless appetite.
More selective.
The distinction felt important now.
Ace opened her eyes.
“I’m good.”
Lisa waited.
“I’m tired.”
“Good.”
Ace frowned.
“Why is every honest answer good?”
“Because lying would be bad.”
Fair.
“I still want to continue.”
“How many?”
Ace paused.
That was new.
Not _do you want to continue?_
How much?
Ace looked toward the street.
People still waiting.
Still watching.
Still asking.
Twenty-five thousand had not fixed anything.
She could probably keep going for hours if she let demand decide.
That was exactly the trap.
Ace looked back at Lisa.
“Two.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow.
“Two more.”
“Maximum?”
“Yes.”
“No renegotiation because somebody is interesting.”
Ace hesitated.
Lisa pointed.
“That pause.”
Ace sighed.
“Maximum two.”
“Good.”
Rita called over:
“Market closing?”
Ace looked at her.
“Limited inventory.”
Lisa groaned.
“Please stop encouraging yourself.”
Ace laughed.
---
The first of the final two never made it past conversation.
A man.
Attractive.
Calm.
Polite.
Twenty-five thousand already ready to transfer.
Everything looked fine.
Mandi asked what he wanted.
He answered.
Asked what she wanted.
Ace answered.
Then something shifted.
Not danger.
Not disgust.
Just—
No.
Ace looked at him.
Really checked.
She did not want him.
Not after seven customers and a lion and a couple and hours of being socially open to strangers.
At the start of the evening, she might have considered whether saying no wasted an opportunity.
Now she knew better.
“No.”
The man blinked.
“No?”
“Sorry.”
“You changed your mind.”
“Yes.”
He studied her.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
That was it.
No argument.
No pressure.
He cancelled the transaction cleanly.
Then smiled.
“Worth asking.”
Mandi smiled back.
“Always.”
He left.
Lisa approached.
“Does that count?”
Ace looked at her.
“As one of my two?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Lisa folded her arms.
Ace stared.
Lisa stared back.
“That is bullshit.”
“I didn’t take him.”
“You spent ten minutes.”
“That is not a customer.”
“You said two more interactions?”
“I said two more customers.”
Lisa sighed.
Rita arrived.
“What are we arguing about?”
Lisa pointed at Ace.
“She found a loophole.”
Ace smiled.
Rita looked delighted.
“Of course she did.”
Lisa looked at both of them.
“I hate this street.”
Ace laughed.
---
The next customer was a man.
This one Ace did want.
Not dramatically.
Not instantly.
But enough.
He was quiet.
Older than most of the night’s customers.
No attempt to impress her.
He asked the price.
Accepted it.
Asked whether she was tired.
That got her attention.
“A little.”
“You want another hour?”
Ace looked at him.
He was giving her an exit before paying.
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
The man nodded.
“Then good.”
Inside, Mandi closed the door, checked the privacy light out of habit, and let the room go quiet around them. He did not rush toward the bed. He waited until she turned back to him, then asked with his expression before reaching for her hand.
He surprised her by wanting almost nothing complicated.
Sex.
Affection.
Conversation after.
No performance.
No game.
No role.
Just closeness.
Ace appreciated the simplicity more than she would have earlier.
He kissed her standing by the door first, gently enough that Mandi could decide whether to deepen it. She did. The kiss remained unhurried while they undressed, neither trying to make the process glamorous. His jacket over the chair. Her straps loosened. His shirt. Her upper piece.
Ace sat to remove the boots and stayed seated while he took off his shoes, trousers and underwear. She stepped out of her own lower layers afterward and came back to him without the slightest embarrassment about the practical pause. At this point in the night, the practical business of undressing no longer felt like an interruption. It was simply part of sex.
He looked at the tiredness in her posture.
“Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Need slow?”
Mandi smiled.
“Want slow.”
“Good.”
He lay down first and held a hand out to her. Ace took it and settled beside him rather than immediately on top or underneath. For several minutes they simply kissed and touched, full skin contact warm and uncomplicated. His body was broader than hers but he never used the difference to dominate the space. He let Mandi decide when to move closer.
Eventually she did.
Ace shifted partly over him, then changed her mind and rolled onto her back instead. He followed only after she caught his shoulder and drew him in.
That was the invitation.
He recognized it.
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
The transition into intercourse came slowly enough that Ace could feel every decision around it. She adjusted beneath him, he supported his weight rather than letting it settle onto her tired body, and both paused when the first shared intensity changed their breathing.
Mandi smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
Ace laughed softly.
“Apparently that follows me everywhere.”
Movement stayed gentle. Not weak. Just unhurried. Ace’s body was tired enough now that every change in pressure registered clearly, and she found she liked not having to chase anything. A kiss could interrupt the rhythm. A hand could simply remain on her back. They could stop for several breaths and begin again without the pause feeling like a problem.
The hour became intimate precisely because neither was trying to impress the other.
Not love.
Not romance.
Just mutual gentleness between strangers who both understood the arrangement.
Ace found herself enjoying that too.
Of course she did.
Apparently the experiment’s answer to almost everything was:
_Yes, Ace likes this as well._
Her release came quietly compared with the earlier customers. No dramatic loss of control, just a gradual tightening through her body, breath shortening against his shoulder, then a long exhale as the pleasure finally broke over her. He stopped and held her close until the tension left.
Ace kept one arm around his neck.
“Good?” he murmured.
“Very.”
They resumed for a little while because both wanted to. His release came during that same gentle rhythm, breath shortening and arms tightening around Mandi until he went still against her. She stayed close through it, forehead against his, until neither had any reason to move.
Afterward they stayed still for a long time.
The customer’s hand rested against her back.
Ace’s eyes closed.
Breathing slow.
No urgency.
No need to fill silence.
He kissed her hair once.
“Orange.”
Ace laughed softly.
“Very.”
“Good choice.”
“My stylist.”
“Tell her I approve.”
Ace smiled.
“She’ll be devastated to learn she needed customer validation.”
He laughed.
The remaining time passed in quiet touch and conversation, their bodies gradually separating only when dressing became necessary.
When he left, Ace stayed sitting on the bed.
Not immediately standing.
That told her something.
Lisa opened the door.
Looked.
Ace held up one finger.
“I know.”
Lisa waited.
Ace stood slowly.
Checked.
Body:
Tired.
Definitely tired.
Mind:
Still good.
Desire:
Present, but not hungry.
She could stop now.
And for the first time all evening, that thought did not feel like losing something.
It felt complete.
Ace smiled.
“I think I’m done.”
Lisa’s entire posture changed.
Not relief exactly.
Approval.
“Good.”
Ace laughed.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“Good.”
Lisa smiled.
“You decided.”
Ace nodded.
“Yeah.”
“No queue deciding.”
“No.”
“No money deciding.”
“No.”
“No pride.”
Ace considered.
“Some pride.”
Lisa stared.
Ace smiled.
“Not enough to change the answer.”
“Good.”
Ace groaned.
Lisa laughed.
They walked outside.
The night hit differently now.
Mandi had been inside so many rooms that Jig-Jig itself felt almost fresh.
People still looked.
Some still approached.
Lisa intercepted them.
“Done for the night.”
One woman looked disappointed.
“Tomorrow?”
Mandi answered before Lisa could.
“No promises.”
The woman smiled.
“Shame.”
Ace liked that too.
Not being available.
Interesting.
She started toward the staff side with Lisa.
Then stopped.
Someone was standing near the edge of the protected area.
Not waiting like the others.
Not staring.
Just standing.
Very familiar posture.
Very familiar face.
Very familiar woman.
Ace froze.
Lisa followed her gaze.
“Know her?”
Mandi did not answer immediately.
Reyes looked directly at her.
Then smiled.
Not broadly.
Not teasingly.
Just enough.
Ace’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Lisa looked between them.
“You know her.”
Reyes walked closer.
“Twenty-five thousand?”
Ace stared.
Lisa looked at Reyes.
Then at Mandi.
Mandi folded her arms.
“You heard.”
Reyes smiled.
“I heard enough.”
“Something.”
“She said you had a terrible idea.”
Ace laughed despite herself.
“That sounds like her.”
Reyes stopped in front of her.
Looked Mandi over.
Not leering.
Not pretending unfamiliarity.
But definitely appreciating the finished result.
Neon-orange hair.
Black eyes.
Luxury clothes.
Voice.
Collar.
The whole impossible package.
Reyes smiled.
“Not bad.”
Ace stared.
“Not bad?”
“Your stylist did good.”
“Excellent.”
“Voice?”
“Temporary sculpt.”
Reyes laughed.
“Did he ask?”
“No.”
“Smart.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Reyes looked at Lisa.
“Still taking customers?”
Lisa answered before Ace could.
“She just said she was done.”
Reyes looked back at Mandi.
No disappointment.
No pressure.
Just:
“Then she’s done.”
Ace stared.
That answer mattered.
Reyes had come all the way here.
Knew exactly what this was.
Had probably been fully prepared to spend twenty-five thousand just to satisfy her curiosity.
And the second she heard Ace had stopped—
She accepted it.
No joke.
No _come on_.
No familiarity used as leverage.
Ace felt something warm shift.
Then something else.
Curiosity.
Damn it.
Reyes caught the expression.
“What?”
Ace looked at her.
“You really came here to be a customer.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Reyes stared at her.
Then laughed once.
“Because I know what you’re usually like.”
Mandi held her gaze.
“That is not an answer.”
“It is from me.”
Reyes continued.
“And I heard you decided to spend a night finding out what professional sex feels like.”
Ace folded her arms tighter.
“So?”
“So I wanted to know what you’re like when you’re being paid.”
Ace laughed.
“You could have asked tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow you wouldn’t be working.”
That stopped her.
Reyes looked at Mandi.
“I wanted Mandi.”
Silence.
Not sexual pressure.
Not challenge.
Just the truth.
Ace looked toward Lisa.
Lisa’s expression was neutral.
Her choice.
Of course.
Ace checked again.
Body tired.
Mind good.
Desire—
Changed.
Not generic appetite.
Specific now.
Reyes.
Familiar.
Trusted.
And yet standing here as a customer.
A completely different version of a relationship Ace already knew.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Lisa saw the internal argument happening.
“No.”
Ace looked at her.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You said two.”
“I had one.”
“You rejected one.”
“Exactly.”
Lisa stared.
Ace smiled.
“That leaves one.”
Lisa closed her eyes.
Reyes started laughing.
“You found a loophole.”
“Apparently.”
Lisa pointed at Ace.
“You were done.”
“I was.”
“Past tense?”
Ace checked one more time.
Not pride.
Not queue.
Not money.
Did she actually want this?
Yes.
Very much.
Ace looked at Reyes.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Reyes shrugged.
“I heard.”
“You’re actually paying.”
“Yes.”
“You know you can sleep with me without paying me.”
Lisa’s eyebrows rose.
Reyes smiled.
“That’s not what I came for.”
Ace felt the answer hit exactly where it was supposed to.
Reyes continued.
“I came to see what the twenty-five-thousand-eurodollar version is like.”
Mandi’s slow smile appeared.
Lisa sighed.
“Oh, fuck.”
Ace looked at her.
“One.”
Lisa stared.
“Final.”
“Yes.”
“No extensions.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding after that some other friend should come too or whatever insane social circle you have.”
Ace burst out laughing.
Reyes raised an eyebrow.
“That oddly specific?”
“You have no idea.”
Lisa looked at both of them.
“One hour.”
Ace nodded.
Reyes brought up the payment.
Twenty-five thousand.
Ace watched.
Reyes confirmed.
No hesitation.
The transaction appeared on Mandi’s agent.
Ace looked at the number.
Then at Reyes.
Reyes smiled.
“Professional enough?”
Mandi confirmed the payment.
“Yes.”
Lisa muttered something in a language Ace did not catch.
Rita, farther away, spotted what was happening and shouted:
“I thought she was done!”
Lisa shouted back:
“She found a fucking loophole!”
Ace laughed.
Reyes held out her hand.
Mandi looked at it.
Then took it.
Familiar hand.
Completely unfamiliar context.
Reyes looked down at her.
“So.”
Ace smiled.
Low voice.
Black eyes.
Mandi.
“What do you want?”
Reyes’s smile widened.
“There she is.”
And together they walked toward the room. Lisa stayed behind with the street; once the door closed, whatever familiarity Reyes had brought with her would be private again.
This time, Ace knew exactly what she was doing.
Which was precisely why Reyes had paid to find out.
---
## Chapter 10 — Reyes
Reyes waited until the door closed.
Then she looked at Mandi.
Properly.
Ace folded her arms.
“What?”
Reyes said nothing.
Her gaze moved slowly.
Neon-orange hair.
Black eyes.
The immaculate long-wear makeup.
The clothes.
The collar.
The boots.
Then back to Ace’s face.
Mandi’s face.
Ace lasted approximately four seconds.
“Stop.”
Reyes smiled.
“I paid.”
“That does not give you unlimited staring rights.”
“It gives me an hour.”
“That is time, not staring.”
“I can spend it staring.”
Ace stared back.
Reyes’s smile widened.
There.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Ace pointed.
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re already cheating.”
Reyes blinked.
“How?”
“You know me.”
“That was true before I paid.”
“You know what I like.”
“Also true.”
“You know what annoys me.”
“Very true.”
“And you know exactly how to make me react.”
Reyes shrugged.
“Sounds like excellent value for money.”
Ace laughed.
Wrong smile.
Too Ace.
She caught herself.
Reset.
Slower.
More open.
Mandi.
Reyes noticed immediately.
Her expression changed.
Small.
Interested.
Ace saw it.
“That.”
Reyes looked at her.
“What?”
“That’s why you came.”
Reyes leaned back against the table.
“Yes.”
No joke.
Just yes.
Ace’s smile faded slightly.
Reyes continued.
“I know Ace.”
Ace waited.
“I know you after a fight.”
Another beat.
“I know you pissed off.”
Ace’s mouth twitched.
“I know you exhausted.”
Reyes smiled.
“I know you horny.”
Ace laughed.
“Apparently everyone does.”
“But I’ve never seen you working like this.”
Ace looked at her.
Reyes gestured lightly toward the whole cover.
“Not undercover.”
“Good.”
“Not pretending to be Amber.”
“Very good.”
“Not doing a favor.”
Ace’s black eyes stayed on her.
“Not just deciding someone looks good and going home with them.”
Reyes smiled.
“This.”
Ace felt something warm settle.
That was the right answer.
Not novelty of clothes.
Not twenty-five thousand.
Not even sex.
Reyes genuinely wanted to see how Ace functioned inside the professional frame she had chosen.
Mandi stepped closer.
“Then we do it properly.”
Reyes’s eyebrows rose.
“That was the plan.”
“No shortcuts.”
“Fine.”
“No ‘you already know.’”
Reyes smiled.
“That may be harder.”
“Too bad.”
“Professional.”
“Yes.”
Reyes straightened.
Then, deliberately:
“What do you offer?”
Ace nearly laughed.
Reyes saw it.
Mandi recovered.
“Depends what you want.”
“I asked first.”
Damn.
Ace looked at her.
This was immediately stranger than dealing with unknown customers.
With strangers, questions revealed information.
With Reyes, both of them knew half the answers already.
But they were agreeing not to use them.
Fine.
Mandi leaned back against the edge of the bed.
“Companionship.”
Reyes nodded.
“Touch.”
“Yes.”
“Kissing.”
Reyes’s eyes stayed on hers.
“Yes.”
“Sex.”
“Obviously.”
Reyes smiled.
“Women.”
Ace stared.
Reyes held the professional expression for almost two seconds.
Then both of them started laughing.
“Fuck you,” Ace said.
“That’s why I paid.”
“That joke was terrible.”
“It was twenty-five-thousand-eurodollar humor.”
Ace laughed harder.
Reyes waited.
Eventually Ace got herself back under control.
Mandi again.
“Anything specific?”
Reyes considered.
“Yes.”
Ace waited.
“I want you to stay Mandi.”
That stopped her.
Reyes did not smile now.
“I don’t mean pretend I’m a stranger.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want that.”
Ace nodded.
“But I didn’t come here to have our normal night with an invoice attached.”
There.
Exactly.
Ace’s expression softened.
“Okay.”
Reyes continued.
“I want to see how you work.”
Ace smiled slowly.
“Dangerous sentence.”
“I can afford it.”
“Apparently.”
Reyes looked toward the terminal.
“You confirmed that.”
Ace laughed softly.
Then straightened.
“Limits?”
Reyes’s eyes narrowed.
“You know them.”
Ace stared.
Reyes sighed.
“Right. No shortcuts.”
“No shortcuts.”
Reyes answered properly.
Simple.
Clear.
Nothing surprising.
Ace listened anyway.
Asked two questions she absolutely knew the answers to.
Reyes answered them without mocking her.
Then Reyes asked Mandi.
Again.
Ace answered.
That was stranger.
Not because Reyes learned anything.
Because Ace heard herself frame familiar boundaries as professional information.
It changed the shape of them.
When they finished, Reyes stepped closer.
“Now?”
Mandi looked at her.
“You’re very impatient for someone paying by the hour.”
“I know exactly how much time we wasted arguing.”
“Wasted?”
Reyes smiled.
“Fine.”
She held out a hand.
“Invested.”
Mandi took it.
Reyes drew her closer.
Then stopped.
Not automatically kissing.
Waiting.
Ace noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Reyes could have kissed her without hesitation on almost any other day.
Now she waited.
Because this was Mandi’s room.
Mandi’s hour.
Ace smiled.
“Yes.”
Reyes kissed her.
Familiar.
Immediately familiar.
That almost broke the entire professional frame in one second.
Ace knew the pressure.
The rhythm.
The way Reyes’s hand settled against her waist.
The tiny pause before she deepened a kiss.
Ace responded automatically.
Then caught herself.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was exactly what Reyes had paid not to get.
Ace pulled back.
Reyes looked at her.
“What?”
“Too easy.”
Reyes’s eyebrows rose.
Ace smiled.
“You know where everything is.”
Reyes started laughing.
“That is possibly the stupidest complaint you’ve ever made.”
“It’s true.”
“Would you like me to forget?”
“For twenty-five thousand?”
“I can try.”
Ace laughed.
Then thought.
“No.”
Reyes waited.
Mandi touched her jaw.
“No pretending.”
“Good.”
“But you don’t get to lead just because you know me.”
Something changed in Reyes’s expression.
Interest.
Much stronger now.
“Oh.”
Ace smiled.
“There.”
Reyes said nothing.
Ace leaned closer.
Low voice.
“You wanted professional.”
Reyes’s eyes stayed on hers.
“Yes.”
“So let me work.”
That landed.
Hard.
Reyes’s smile disappeared completely.
Not because she disliked it.
Quite the opposite.
Ace saw that too.
And suddenly understood another part of the job.
Not simply giving someone what they normally got.
Sometimes taking familiar desire and reframing it.
Reyes knew Ace.
Mandi could still surprise her.
Ace kissed Reyes again.
Different this time.
Slower.
Deliberate.
Not waiting for Reyes to set the rhythm.
Mandi did.
Hands first.
Attention.
Small changes.
Ace used things she had learned during the evening.
Not tricks.
Awareness.
Watching reactions instead of assuming them.
Allowing pauses instead of filling them.
Making Reyes wait half a second longer than familiarity normally required.
Reyes noticed every single one.
Of course.
When Ace pulled back again, Reyes looked genuinely impressed.
“You learned fast.”
Mandi smiled.
“Apparently I’m expensive.”
Reyes laughed softly.
“Very.”
Ace liked hearing it from her.
Too much.
She moved Reyes toward the bed.
Reyes sat.
Ace stayed standing between her knees.
That height arrangement had become familiar tonight.
With Reyes, it was absurdly intimate.
Reyes touched Ace’s hip.
Mandi caught her wrist.
Reyes froze.
Ace smiled.
“Ask.”
Reyes stared.
Then understood.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
Reyes’s hand returned.
Slowly.
Not because she needed permission emotionally.
Because Mandi was making her participate in the frame.
Reyes smiled.
“You are enjoying this way too much.”
Ace’s voice came low.
“You paid to find out.”
“That is not a denial.”
“No.”
Reyes laughed.
Ace kissed her.
The hour became a game after that.
Not fake-customer roleplay.
A real professional structure laid over existing intimacy.
Questions they did not normally need to ask.
Choices made visible.
Familiar touch slowed down enough to be noticed again.
Reyes reached for the first fastening of Mandi’s outfit, then stopped herself before Ace could.
“May I?”
Mandi smiled.
“Good customer.”
“Don’t patronize the woman paying you twenty-five thousand.”
“You’ll survive.”
Reyes opened the fastening.
Ace let the upper piece come away, then stepped between Reyes’s knees again and took her jacket off in return. Their clothing disappeared in alternating pieces, interrupted constantly by kisses and laughter. Mandi sat to work the boots off, because the elegant things were impossible to remove gracefully while standing. Reyes watched her sit and work them off.
“You’re staring.”
“I paid.”
“We already established that is not unlimited staring rights.”
“I disagree.”
Ace laughed, stood, and removed the fitted lower piece and underwear. Reyes’s expression changed enough that the joke died naturally.
Mandi noticed.
There.
That was what Reyes had actually bought.
Not access she could not otherwise get.
Context.
Ace standing in front of her as Mandi, naked except for black eyes, neon-orange hair, impossible makeup and the cover collar — and waiting for a customer’s reaction instead of a lover’s familiar assumption.
Reyes stood and removed her own remaining clothes. Ace watched deliberately.
Reyes raised an eyebrow.
“My turn to ask?”
“Ask.”
“Like what you see?”
Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
“Professional enough?”
“Barely.”
They laughed, then came together with full skin contact that was immediately, dangerously familiar.
That almost broke the frame again.
Ace knew exactly how Reyes fit against her. Knew how her arms felt. Knew the tiny shift in her breathing before a kiss changed intensity.
Mandi slowed anyway.
She made herself pay attention as though familiarity were not permission to skip the interesting parts.
A hand along Reyes’s back.
A kiss held just short of what Reyes expected.
A pause long enough to make Reyes open her eyes.
Ace discovered things familiarity usually skipped.
Not new facts about Reyes’s body.
New attention to timing.
Expression.
How quickly Reyes responded when Ace did not give her the expected next step.
How much Reyes enjoyed being made to wait.
That one was especially satisfying.
Mandi caught the reaction.
“You like this.”
Reyes stared.
“That line sounds different in that voice.”
Ace smiled.
“Not what I said.”
“No.”
Reyes’s hand moved along her side.
Ace let it.
“Yeah.”
Reyes smiled.
“I like it.”
Good.
The admission shifted the mood again.
Less teasing.
Closer.
Ace let familiarity back in gradually after that.
Not taking over.
Blending.
Mandi’s professional attention.
Ace’s trust.
Reyes’s knowledge.
Neither structure erased the other.
Reyes looked at the collar and touched it lightly.
“This one feels weird.”
Ace covered Reyes’s fingers with her own.
“Different.”
“Miss the real one?”
Ace considered.
“Physically?”
“Yes.”
“A little.”
Reyes nodded and did not turn it into anything bigger.
Good.
She kissed Ace’s throat just below it.
Ace’s breath changed.
Reyes smiled against her skin.
Ace immediately caught her hair.
“Don’t get smug.”
“I said nothing.”
“Your mouth did.”
Reyes laughed.
The progression toward intercourse happened slower than their normal encounters, not because either needed caution but because Ace wanted to remain inside the professional rhythm.
Mandi sat Reyes back onto the bed and stayed standing between her knees for another kiss. Then she climbed onto the bed herself, settled close, and deliberately changed position until she was the one controlling the transition rather than falling into their usual habits.
Reyes watched.
Ace saw the exact moment curiosity became anticipation.
“Still want professional?” Mandi asked.
“Yes.”
Ace opened her posture in clear invitation and drew Reyes closer.
“Then come here.”
Reyes did.
They adjusted together. One visible choice after another. A hand at the waist. Reyes shifting when Ace asked. Mandi changing angle once because the first was too familiar. Eye contact that made the joke disappear.
When they finally settled into intercourse, Ace felt something click.
This was absolutely Reyes.
Absolutely Ace.
And still not their normal sex.
That distinction survived contact.
Good.
Very good.
Movement began under Mandi’s direction. Slow enough that Reyes had to follow rather than anticipate. Ace watched her face, caught the smallest frustration when she deliberately delayed the next increase in pace, and smiled.
Reyes narrowed her eyes.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“You paid to find out.”
“Still not a denial.”
“No.”
Ace kissed her and changed the rhythm.
That ended the conversation for a while.
Familiarity helped. Professional attention sharpened it. Ace knew exactly when Reyes stopped treating this as curiosity and started simply enjoying herself. Her hands got less analytical. Her breathing stopped being controlled. She stopped watching Mandi like an experiment and started pulling Ace closer because she wanted her.
That delighted Ace.
Mandi became more direct. More confident. Not rushing. Not performing. Just very aware of what the customer wanted and very willing to make her wait for it when waiting made the eventual response better.
Reyes, infuriatingly, loved it.
The first release belonged to Reyes, arriving not as a neat completed turn but in the middle of a stretch Ace had been deliberately controlling. Reyes’s expression broke first, then her breath, then the rest of her composure. Mandi held her close and did not immediately change anything.
Ace watched.
Professional enough to notice.
Familiar enough to love the sight.
Reyes opened her eyes slowly.
“Fuck.”
Mandi smiled.
“Service quality?”
Reyes laughed weakly and pulled her down into a kiss.
They did not separate and begin again. Reyes stayed close while Ace’s own control gradually became less reliable. Familiar hands knew exactly how to make that happen; Mandi’s professional frame could slow Reyes down, but it could not erase years of knowing what Ace responded to.
“That’s cheating,” Ace breathed.
“You know where everything is,” Reyes murmured back.
Ace laughed at her own earlier complaint.
Then stopped laughing.
Pleasure built too quickly for commentary after that. Ace held on, eyes closed, the low Mandi voice losing all its polished smoothness when her release finally hit. Reyes stayed with her through it, one arm around her back, forehead against hers, neither breaking contact while Ace’s body gradually let go of the tension.
For a while there was no customer.
No joytoy.
No twenty-five thousand.
Just Reyes holding her close and Ace responding with all the trust already between them.
That was not failure.
Ace understood that now.
The job did not require emotional distance.
It required clear agency.
The rest could be whatever the people inside the room honestly made of it.
When the intensity finally broke, they stayed together.
Ace against Reyes.
Reyes’s arm around her.
Breathing slowing.
Neither immediately talking.
That stillness felt different from the strangers.
Of course it did.
History lived inside it.
Ace closed her eyes.
Reyes kissed the top of her neon-orange hair.
“That color is ridiculous.”
Ace laughed weakly.
“Fuck you.”
“I just did.”
Ace opened one eye.
Reyes smiled.
“Worth twenty-five thousand?”
Ace asked.
Reyes thought far too seriously.
Ace stared.
“You are not actually calculating.”
“I’m evaluating service quality.”
Ace pinched her.
Reyes laughed.
Then kissed her forehead.
“Yes.”
Ace settled again.
“Good.”
Reyes’s fingers moved slowly along her back.
Then:
“You really like this.”
Ace did not pretend not to understand.
“Yes.”
“Not just the sex.”
“No.”
Reyes waited.
Ace looked toward the ceiling.
“I like choosing.”
Reyes nodded.
“I like that they choose me.”
Another nod.
“I like the money more than I expected.”
Reyes laughed.
Ace smiled.
“A lot more.”
“Twenty-five thousand probably helps.”
“It really does.”
Reyes’s hand continued moving.
Ace kept talking.
“I like being new.”
That one made Reyes look at her.
Ace shrugged slightly.
“Nobody expects Ace.”
Reyes understood immediately.
“They just expect Mandi.”
“Yeah.”
“And Mandi is expensive.”
Ace smiled.
“Very.”
Reyes laughed softly.
Then:
“You coming back?”
Ace paused.
“I don’t know.”
Good answer.
No sudden declaration.
No commitment.
Just truth.
“Maybe.”
Reyes nodded.
Then smiled.
“I would.”
Ace stared.
“You cannot become a repeat customer.”
“Why not?”
“Because that is financially idiotic.”
“I’m not poor.”
“That’s not the point.”
Reyes’s smile widened.
Ace narrowed her eyes.
“You could literally call me.”
“Wouldn’t be Mandi.”
Damn it.
Ace had no answer to that.
Reyes looked unbearably pleased.
“See?”
“Shut up.”
They stayed close until the clock warned them.
Then dressed.
Ace checked the mirror.
Nothing.
No ruined makeup.
No obvious sign of the night except slight tiredness around the eyes that no product could hide.
Reyes stood behind her.
“You look good.”
Ace met her eyes in the reflection.
“Used.”
Reyes considered.
“A little.”
Ace smiled.
“Good.”
Reyes’s expression warmed.
Mandi turned.
One last kiss.
Then the terminal chimed.
Time.
Reyes opened the door.
Lisa stood outside.
Arms folded.
Reyes looked at her.
Lisa looked at Reyes.
Then Mandi.
“Done?”
Ace nodded.
“Done.”
Lisa waited.
Ace smiled.
“Actually.”
“Good.”
Reyes glanced at Ace.
“She’s been saying that all night?”
“Yes.”
Lisa stared.
Reyes laughed.
Ace stepped into the corridor.
Rita appeared farther away.
“You found another loophole?”
“No.”
Ace stretched carefully.
“I’m done.”
Rita looked suspicious.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Lisa answered for her.
“Really.”
Reyes looked at the workers.
Then back at Ace.
“Fun workplace.”
Ace smiled.
“Very.”
Reyes started to leave.
Then paused.
Looked at Mandi.
Not Ace.
Mandi.
“Worth it.”
Ace smiled slowly.
“Twenty-five?”
Reyes nodded.
“Twenty-five.”
Then she walked away.
Ace watched her go.
Lisa stepped beside her.
“So.”
Ace looked up.
“So.”
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“Before tonight.”
“Yes.”
Lisa nodded.
“That explains some things.”
Ace smiled.
“Not all.”
“I don’t want to know all.”
“Victor said the same thing.”
“Victor is smart.”
Ace laughed.
Then looked toward Jig-Jig Street.
People still moved.
Still looked.
A few recognized Mandi and started approaching.
Lisa raised one hand.
“Done.”
The nearest one stopped.
Ace felt something strange.
Not regret.
Not exactly.
Temptation.
She could keep going.
There would always be another customer.
Another shape.
Another conversation.
Another experience.
Twenty-five thousand.
Maybe more.
That thought made her laugh.
Lisa looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Pricing thought?”
Ace smiled.
“Maybe.”
Lisa groaned.
“You are done.”
“I know.”
And she did.
That was important.
Ace turned away from the street.
Not because demand had ended.
Because she had decided to stop while she still loved the night.
That felt right.
Lisa walked beside her.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Suzie wants to see you before you leave.”
Ace groaned theatrically.
“Performance review?”
Lisa smiled.
“Something like that.”
Ace looked back one last time.
Jig-Jig Street.
Four thousand at the start.
Twenty-five thousand by the end.
Men.
Women.
Couples.
A lion.
A familiar woman insane enough to pay full rate just to see what Ace looked like as a professional joytoy.
And more customers still willing to wait.
Mandi smiled.
Then followed Lisa.
Her first shift was over.
And she had loved every fucking minute of it.
---
## Chapter 11 — You Can Come Back
The walk back to Lizzie’s was short enough that Lisa did not offer transport and long enough for the night to settle into Mandi’s body.
Without a customer beside her, Ace noticed the careful pull in her stride, the pleasant heaviness in her legs, and the absurd fact that people were still turning to look even though the shift was over. She let them. No smile offered for sale now. No invitation. Just the lingering cover and the private satisfaction underneath it.
By the time they reached the bar, excitement had stopped buzzing and become something steadier.
Suzie was back at the bar when Mandi returned to Lizzie’s.
That felt appropriate.
Not dramatic.
Not ceremonial.
Just the same place where the night had become possible.
The club was fully alive now.
Music loud enough to vibrate through the floor.
People everywhere.
Light moving over bodies, chrome, glass and smoke.
Mandi stepped inside beside Lisa and immediately noticed how different the room felt after Jig-Jig.
Not safer.
Not quieter.
Just familiar in a completely different way.
Lisa stopped near the bar.
Suzie looked up.
Her eyes went to Mandi.
Then down.
Boots.
Clothes.
Collar.
Back up.
Hair still violently orange.
Makeup still perfect.
Black contacts still turning Ace’s eyes into something entirely wrong.
Then Suzie looked at Lisa.
“Well?”
Lisa leaned one elbow against the counter.
“She listens. Says no cleanly. Asks when she doesn’t know.”
Suzie’s eyebrows rose.
Mandi looked offended.
“That sounds surprised.”
“It is.”
Lisa ignored her.
“Breaks badly. Drinks water when told.”
Mandi pointed.
“Unnecessary.”
Suzie looked impressed.
Mandi stared.
“Why is that the impressive one?”
Suzie smiled.
“Because I know you.”
Mandi froze for a fraction.
Lisa did not react.
Suzie had said it naturally enough.
Suzie knew Mandi.
That was all.
Good.
Lisa continued.
“She got stupid about pricing.”
Mandi laughed.
“Strategic.”
“Four to twenty-five.”
Suzie stared.
Then slowly turned toward Mandi.
“Twenty-five.”
“Yes.”
“Thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Per hour.”
“Yes.”
Suzie stared.
Mandi smiled.
“It was crowd control.”
Lisa closed her eyes.
Suzie looked at her.
Lisa said:
“It failed.”
Suzie started laughing.
Mandi crossed her arms.
“It filtered.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It worked partially.”
Lisa stared.
Suzie laughed harder.
Mandi waited.
Eventually:
“You raised your rate more than six times.”
“Yes.”
“And people still paid.”
“Yes.”
Suzie’s smile changed.
Less teasing.
More interested.
“How many?”
Mandi considered.
“Enough.”
Lisa answered:
“Enough that twenty-five did not end the queue.”
Suzie looked at Mandi.
Mandi looked pleased.
Very pleased.
Suzie saw it.
“Oh.”
Mandi raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You liked that.”
“The money?”
Suzie smiled.
“No.”
Mandi waited.
“Being wanted that badly.”
Ace’s expression changed.
Small.
Real.
Then Mandi smiled.
“Yes.”
Lisa looked between them.
Suzie nodded.
“Thought so.”
Mandi leaned against the bar.
“Is that bad?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Suzie took a drink.
“Just worth knowing.”
Mandi considered.
Fair.
Lisa pushed away from the counter.
“My part’s done.”
Mandi looked at her.
“Already?”
Lisa stared.
“You worked the shift.”
“Yes.”
“You survived.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t stab anyone.”
Mandi looked mildly offended.
“That was never likely.”
Lisa just stared.
Mandi smiled.
“Fine.”
Lisa held out a hand.
Mandi took it.
The handshake felt oddly formal.
Lisa’s grip tightened once.
“You did good.”
Ace froze.
Not much.
Enough.
“Thanks.”
Lisa released her.
Then:
“You were obviously new.”
Mandi sighed.
“There it is.”
Lisa smiled.
“But not stupid.”
“That’s almost affectionate.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Mandi laughed.
Lisa looked at Suzie.
“She’s yours again.”
Suzie nodded.
Lisa walked away.
Mandi watched her disappear into the crowd.
Then looked at Suzie.
“She’s terrifying.”
Suzie smiled.
“You like her.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Suzie gestured toward the back corridor.
“Room.”
Mandi groaned.
“What?”
“Professional feedback.”
“I thought Lisa just did that.”
“She gave me the short version.”
Mandi looked toward the bar.
Then toward the corridor.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
Suzie smiled.
“Still bad at breaks.”
They moved to the soundproof room.
Same table.
Same chairs.
Different Mandi.
Suzie closed the door.
The club vanished.
Mandi sat.
This time without needing to be told.
Suzie noticed.
“Growth.”
“Fuck you.”
Suzie sat opposite.
Then looked at her.
No laughter now.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because this part mattered.
“So.”
Mandi waited.
“What did you learn?”
Ace almost answered too fast.
Stopped.
Thought.
Suzie saw that too.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You thought.”
“I do that.”
“Occasionally.”
Mandi smiled.
Then looked down at her hands.
“I thought the sex would be the interesting part.”
Suzie waited.
“It was.”
Suzie smiled faintly.
“But?”
Ace looked up.
“It wasn’t the only interesting part.”
There.
Suzie nodded once.
“Go on.”
Mandi leaned back.
“I liked choosing.”
“Customers.”
“Yes.”
“I liked that they chose me.”
Suzie watched her.
“I liked the money.”
Suzie laughed.
“A lot?”
Mandi smiled.
“A lot.”
“Twenty-five thousand will do that.”
“It wasn’t just the number.”
“No?”
Ace thought.
“It was that they knew the number and still wanted me.”
Suzie’s expression softened.
“Different thing.”
“Yes.”
Mandi continued.
“I liked not knowing.”
Suzie tilted her head.
“The customers?”
“The job.”
Ace looked toward the wall.
“I didn’t know what I was doing at first.”
“That was visible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mandi laughed.
Then:
“And that was good.”
Suzie stayed quiet.
“I’m good at too many things where being wrong gets people hurt.”
Ace looked back.
“Here I could be wrong about something small.”
“Like?”
“How fast to answer.”
Suzie nodded.
“How to screen.”
Another nod.
“When to stop.”
Suzie’s expression sharpened.
Ace continued.
“How much someone actually wanted sex.”
“That one?”
Ace smiled faintly.
“Some didn’t.”
Suzie nodded.
“One wanted dinner.”
“One wanted to be held.”
Suzie said nothing.
“That surprised me.”
“Why?”
Ace thought.
“Because I knew that existed.”
“But.”
“I didn’t know what it felt like to be the person they bought the hour from.”
Suzie nodded.
That was the distinction.
Mandi’s voice softened.
“One guy cried on me almost the whole time.”
Suzie’s face did not change.
“That happen to you often?”
“Not exactly.”
Mandi smiled.
“He apologized.”
“Of course.”
“I told him not to.”
“Good.”
Ace looked down.
“He paid four thousand to be held.”
Suzie waited.
Ace looked back up.
“And that felt just as much like work as the sex.”
There.
Suzie smiled.
Now genuinely.
“You got it.”
Mandi frowned.
“Got what?”
“That the product isn’t fucking.”
Ace stared.
Suzie continued.
“Not really.”
“Time.”
“Attention.”
Ace nodded slowly.
“Presence.”
“Choice.”
That landed.
Suzie leaned back.
“Sex is one way people use the hour.”
Ace smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
“And you liked all of it.”
Ace laughed.
“Apparently.”
Suzie studied her.
“No regret?”
“No.”
“Anything you hated?”
Ace thought.
“People who treated me like an object.”
Suzie nodded.
“Different from being objectified consensually.”
Mandi looked at her.
“Exactly.”
Suzie smiled.
“Good distinction.”
Ace continued.
“I hated people assuming payment meant yes.”
“Yes.”
“I hated the ones who got weird about my height.”
Suzie’s mouth twitched.
“There are always those.”
“Lisa’s patrol had to remove one.”
“Also normal.”
Ace stared.
“Your standards for normal are terrible.”
“You live in Night City.”
“Fair.”
Suzie looked at her outfit.
“How did the cover hold?”
Mandi touched her cheek.
“Perfect.”
“Makeup?”
“Perfect.”
“Contacts?”
“Forgot about them.”
“Voice?”
Mandi smiled.
“Too effective.”
Suzie laughed.
“Mai liked it?”
Ace stared.
Suzie’s smile widened.
“That was too easy.”
“Yes,” Ace said. “The voice is unfair.”
“Thought so.”
“Fuck you.”
Suzie laughed.
Then:
“Any recording attempts?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The laughter disappeared briefly.
Mandi’s expression did too.
Suzie did not press.
“Then the important part.”
Ace waited.
Suzie looked at her.
“You treated my people like professionals.”
Mandi said nothing.
“You listened.”
Suzie continued.
“You treated customers like people.”
Another beat.
“You didn’t treat the street like scenery for your experiment.”
That one mattered.
Ace sat slightly straighter.
Suzie saw it.
“That was my biggest concern.”
Mandi looked at her.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Not security?”
“No.”
Suzie shook her head.
“I knew security could be handled.”
Ace waited.
“I needed to know whether you understood you were walking into someone else’s job because you were curious.”
Mandi went still.
Not defensive.
Listening.
Suzie continued.
“That can become ugly fast.”
Ace nodded.
“If the person doing it thinks everybody else exists to give them an experience.”
Ace understood.
“I didn’t want that.”
“I know.”
Suzie smiled faintly.
“Now I know too.”
Silence.
Then:
“You can come back.”
Ace stared.
Suzie let it sit.
Mandi’s black eyes widened slightly.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“No probation review?”
“You just did it.”
“No forms?”
Suzie stared.
“This is Jig-Jig, not Arasaka.”
Ace laughed.
Then the meaning caught up.
“You mean it.”
“Yes.”
“If I want another night.”
“Yes.”
“Same arrangement?”
Suzie considered.
“Mostly.”
Mandi raised an eyebrow.
“Mostly?”
“Now my people know Mandi.”
Ace nodded.
“They still don’t know anything else.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Suzie leaned forward.
“But next time you don’t get to call first-night stupidity first-night stupidity.”
Ace smiled.
“Fair.”
“And Lisa will murder you if you raise the rate mid-shift again.”
“She let me.”
“She’ll still murder you.”
“Fair.”
Suzie sat back.
Mandi looked toward the door.
Then down.
No immediate promise.
Suzie waited.
Ace finally said:
“I don’t know if I will.”
Suzie nodded.
“Good.”
Mandi looked up.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you’re not turning one good night into a new identity crisis.”
Ace laughed.
“No.”
“Mandi is a cover.”
“Yes.”
“You had fun.”
“A lot.”
“You can use that without deciding it means anything bigger.”
Ace smiled.
“Yeah.”
Suzie stood.
The conversation was over.
Mandi stood too.
Then paused.
“Suzie.”
Suzie looked at her.
“Thanks.”
No joke.
No sarcasm.
Suzie nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
Ace smiled.
Then Suzie ruined it.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Mandi closed her eyes.
Suzie started laughing.
“Get out.”
Ace opened the door.
The club rushed back in.
Music.
Heat.
People.
Mandi walked with Suzie toward the bar.
At the corridor entrance, Suzie stopped.
“Ride?”
“Mai.”
Suzie smiled.
“Of course.”
Ace looked toward the exit.
Something in her chest shifted.
Home.
That felt different now.
Not because anything bad had happened.
Because the entire night had happened.
Mai had known where she was.
Had not hovered.
Had not interrupted.
Had not asked for updates.
Had trusted Ace to live the answer.
And Ace suddenly wanted very badly to see her.
Suzie caught the expression.
“Oh, that’s worse.”
Mandi looked at her.
“What?”
“You’re going home happy.”
Ace smiled.
“Very.”
Suzie nodded toward the door.
“Go.”
Mandi walked away.
At the bar, someone turned and looked at her.
Then looked again.
Orange hair.
Black eyes.
Expensive clothes.
The new girl from Jig-Jig.
Mandi noticed.
Smiled.
Then kept walking.
No customer.
No transaction.
Shift over.
That mattered too.
Outside, Night City hit her with cold air and traffic noise.
A car waited across the street.
Mai behind the wheel.
Ace stopped.
For one second.
Mai looked through the glass.
Saw her.
And did not move.
Ace smiled.
Even from across the street, she could tell.
Mai was staring.
This was going to be fun.
---
## Chapter 12 — Post-Shift Census
Mai had spent the entire evening not checking.
That had been harder than expected.
Not because she thought Ace was unsafe.
Suzie knew.
Lisa knew enough.
The Mox had the street.
Ace had an emergency path.
Mai could have known more at any moment.
That was exactly why she had refused to.
If Ace wanted a real experience, Mai could not sit at Safehouse turning it into remote observation.
So Mai had done something much worse.
She had thought.
For hours.
About Ace’s face when she first explained the idea.
About the Palace.
About curiosity.
About the strange little question Mai had pushed aside.
_Would I want to know too?_
About the fact that Ace had walked willingly into a profession she did not know simply because not knowing interested her.
And, increasingly, about why that idea did not sound as alien to Mai as it should have.
Then her agent had finally pinged.
**Done.**
Nothing else.
Mai had stared at the message for several seconds.
Then:
**Good night?**
Ace’s answer:
**Very.**
That single word had somehow been worse than a paragraph.
Mai drove to Lizzie’s.
Waited outside.
Did not go in.
Did not need to.
Then Mandi appeared across the street.
Mai forgot every thought she had been having.
Orange hair under Night City light.
Black eyes.
Luxury clothing still sitting perfectly despite an entire shift.
Narrow cover collar.
Boots changing the line of every step.
And the gait—
Slightly careful.
Not injured.
Not even particularly sore-looking.
Just someone whose body had experienced a lot of evening.
Mai stared.
Mandi saw her.
Smiled.
Slow.
Open.
Certain.
Not Ace’s usual grin.
Mai’s mouth went dry.
“Oh, fuck.”
She said it quietly.
Alone in the car.
Mandi crossed the street.
No hurry.
Of course.
Lena had apparently trained that out of her for the night.
Mai watched the approach.
Every second.
Ace reached the passenger door.
Opened it.
Got in.
Closed it.
Silence.
Mai looked at her.
Ace looked back.
Then, in that absurd low voice:
“Hi.”
Mai stared.
Ace’s smile widened.
Too Ace now.
“There she is.”
Mai looked away.
Started the car.
Ace laughed.
The low laugh was somehow worse.
“You missed me.”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Ace went quiet.
Mai looked back.
No embarrassment.
No games.
“Yes.”
Ace’s expression softened.
“Missed you too.”
Mai leaned across the console.
Kissed her.
Not long.
Not desperate.
Just enough.
Ace’s hand came up to Mai’s face.
The makeup did not move.
Mai noticed.
Of course she did.
They separated.
Mai rubbed one thumb lightly across Ace’s cheek.
Nothing.
“Lena’s new set.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Useful?”
“Very.”
Mai looked at her.
“How useful?”
Ace smiled.
Mai immediately regretted asking.
“Very.”
Mai started driving.
Ace settled into the seat.
Then shifted slightly.
Mai noticed.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“That was a lie.”
Ace laughed.
“Mostly.”
Mai smiled.
“You worked a full shift.”
“Yep.”
“How full?”
Ace looked at her.
There it was.
First question.
Mai felt absurdly self-conscious about asking it.
Ace noticed that too.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“Bullshit.”
Mai kept her eyes on the road.
“I am curious.”
Ace smiled.
That word.
Mai heard it.
So did Ace.
Neither commented.
Yet.
“How was it?”
Mai asked.
Ace looked out the window.
Night City moved across the black contacts in reflected color.
Then Ace smiled.
“I loved it.”
No hesitation.
Mai felt something in her chest loosen.
And something else tighten.
“Really.”
“Really.”
“The work.”
“Yes.”
“Not just—”
Ace turned.
Mai stopped herself.
Ace waited.
Mai sighed.
“Not just the sex.”
Ace laughed.
“I love fucking. This was not new information.”
Mai laughed too.
“Fair.”
“But yeah.”
Ace looked forward again.
“The work.”
Mai waited.
Ace continued without prompting.
“Choosing customers.”
A beat.
“Being chosen.”
Another.
“The money.”
Mai smiled.
“You liked the money.”
Ace looked delighted.
“So much.”
Mai laughed.
“How much?”
Ace turned her head.
“That question has layers.”
Mai narrowed her eyes.
Ace smiled.
“Later.”
Mai shook her head.
Of course.
The Safehouse was awake when they arrived.
Too awake.
Mai knew immediately that somebody had told Brenda approximately when Ace would return.
Probably Kiro.
Possibly Shammy.
Potentially nobody.
Brenda had instincts for this kind of thing.
Ace opened the door.
Stepped inside.
Brenda appeared from the main room like she had been launched.
“HOW MANY?”
Ace stopped.
Mai closed the door behind her.
Iris was sitting on the couch.
Shammy nearby.
Kiro leaning against the wall.
All of them looked toward Ace.
Brenda pointed.
“How many customers?”
Ace stared.
“Hello to you too.”
“How many?”
“Brenda.”
“Men?”
“Brenda.”
“Women?”
“Brenda.”
“Couples?”
Ace looked at Iris.
Iris had one hand over her mouth.
Not stopping Brenda.
Hiding a smile.
Traitor.
Brenda continued.
“How many full rounds?”
“Brenda.”
“How many times did you get off?”
“Brenda.”
“I’m collecting statistics.”
“You’re collecting an early death.”
Iris finally spoke.
“Brenda.”
Brenda looked at her.
“Give her thirty seconds to get through the door before conducting the post-shift sexual census.”
Brenda nodded immediately.
“Thirty seconds.”
Iris’s eyes narrowed.
“That was not permission.”
Brenda checked an imaginary timer.
“Twenty-seven.”
Ace laughed.
Shammy stood.
Walked toward her.
Ignored every question.
Looked at Ace’s face.
Then smiled.
“You look happy.”
Everything softened.
Ace nodded.
“Yeah.”
Shammy hugged her.
Carefully.
Ace relaxed into it.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Brenda:
“Happy how many times?”
Ace’s face disappeared into Shammy’s shoulder.
Mai burst out laughing.
Iris closed her eyes.
Kiro slid down the wall slightly.
Shammy laughed into Ace’s hair.
Ace pulled back.
“Brenda.”
“What?”
“You are impossible.”
“Yes.”
Ace looked at Mai.
“You knew this was waiting.”
“I suspected.”
“You could have warned me.”
“You would have come home anyway.”
“True.”
Kiro straightened.
“More important question.”
Mai looked at her.
Ace looked suspicious.
Kiro:
“What did you end up charging?”
Ace smiled.
Mai saw the smile and immediately knew this was going to be bad.
“Started at four.”
Kiro nodded.
“We knew that.”
Brenda:
“Four thousand.”
Iris’s eyebrows rose slightly even though she had apparently heard the starting rate already.
Kiro continued.
“And?”
Ace looked at Mai.
Mai stared back.
Ace’s smile widened.
“After the fifth I raised the rate.”
Brenda froze.
Kiro’s face lit up.
“You what?”
Ace shrugged.
“Demand was too high.”
Iris looked at her.
“You increased your rate because you had too many customers.”
“Yes.”
Kiro was already laughing.
“How much?”
Ace paused.
Enjoyed the moment.
Mai could see it.
“Twenty-five.”
Kiro stopped.
Brenda stopped.
Iris stared.
Shammy blinked.
Mai looked at Ace.
“Hundred?”
Kiro asked.
Ace smiled.
“Thousand.”
Silence.
Brenda:
“Per night?”
Ace looked at her.
“Per hour.”
Mai lost it.
Completely.
She bent forward, one hand over her face, laughing harder than she had all evening.
Ace looked delighted.
Kiro pushed away from the wall.
“You implemented surge pricing.”
Ace pointed.
“Crowd control.”
That made Mai laugh harder.
Brenda stared at Ace.
“Twenty-five thousand eurodollars an hour.”
“Yes.”
“And people paid.”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Ace looked at her.
Brenda pointed.
“This is financial census now.”
Iris dryly:
“Clearly much more respectable.”
Ace laughed.
Kiro:
“Did the price work?”
Ace’s expression became deeply satisfied.
“No.”
Kiro froze.
Ace continued.
“Still had customers.”
Mai looked up.
“What?”
Ace smiled.
“Men.”
Brenda’s eyes widened.
“Women.”
Wider.
“Couples.”
Brenda made a sound.
Iris looked increasingly interested despite herself.
Ace continued.
“And a lion.”
Silence.
Mai slowly turned her head.
“A what?”
Ace looked at her.
“Biosculpted lion.”
Kiro’s mouth opened.
Brenda whispered:
“Of course.”
Iris stared.
Mai stared harder.
Ace smiled.
“With a handler.”
Brenda grabbed Iris’s arm.
Iris did not remove the hand.
Mai’s brain caught up.
“Wait.”
Ace looked at her.
“Predator-Amber.”
Ace’s smile changed.
Oh.
Mai saw it immediately.
“You recognized the category.”
Ace laughed.
“Very much.”
Brenda looked between them.
“What happened with Predator-Amber?”
Mai looked at Ace.
Ace looked at Mai.
Ace smiled.
“You were at Palace. Live with the gaps in your education.”
Brenda looked personally betrayed.
Iris looked at Mai.
Then Ace.
Then:
“I also want that answer.”
Everyone turned.
Brenda slowly looked at her.
A smile began.
“Oh.”
Iris met it head-on.
“I have eyes and a functioning sex drive, Brenda. Continue.”
Brenda’s smile became radiant.
“You are interested.”
“Yes.”
The direct answer stopped Brenda for almost a full second.
Iris smiled.
“Your move.”
Kiro made a choking sound.
Brenda looked ecstatic.
Ace watched both of them.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Mai saw Ace notice.
That did not help Mai’s own thoughts.
Kiro interrupted.
“Back to economics.”
Brenda groaned.
“Fine.”
Kiro looked at Ace.
“You made how much?”
Ace glanced toward Mai.
Mai narrowed her eyes.
“Now I want to know too.”
Ace smiled.
“Enough.”
Brenda shouted:
“NO.”
Shammy laughed.
Ace looked at Brenda.
“You are not auditing me.”
“I absolutely am.”
“No.”
“Did you make more than some gigs?”
Ace paused.
That pause answered too much.
Kiro started laughing.
Mai stared.
“You did.”
Ace smiled.
“I had a good night.”
Mai laughed again.
Brenda paced once.
“This is fucking obscene.”
Iris looked at her.
“You seem proud.”
“I am.”
Ace said it simply.
That quieted the room for a second.
Not the money.
Not the joke.
Ace was proud.
Mai looked at her.
Neon hair.
Black eyes.
Careful stance.
Tired body.
Happy face.
Proud.
Something about that hit Mai much harder than expected.
Iris saw it too.
Her tone changed.
“What was actually different?”
Ace looked at her.
Brenda stopped moving.
Even Kiro quieted.
Iris was not teasing.
Not asking for mechanics.
She genuinely wanted to know.
Ace leaned carefully against the arm of the couch.
“Everything around it.”
Iris waited.
“The sex itself?”
Ace shrugged.
“Sex.”
Brenda looked scandalized.
Ace laughed.
“Good sex. Very good sex in some cases.”
Brenda visibly relaxed.
“Thank you.”
“But that wasn’t the thing.”
Iris nodded.
“What was?”
Ace thought.
“Being wanted professionally.”
Iris’s expression sharpened.
Ace continued.
“Someone looking at me and deciding my time was worth the price.”
Brenda:
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Ace smiled.
“Yes.”
Mai watched Iris.
Iris was listening very closely now.
Ace continued.
“And then still getting to decide no.”
Iris nodded slowly.
“That mattered.”
“A lot.”
Ace looked down.
“One woman offered stupid money before I raised the rate.”
“How stupid?” Brenda asked.
Ace ignored her.
“I still didn’t want her.”
Iris watched.
“So you refused.”
“Yes.”
“And liked being able to.”
Ace smiled.
“Yes.”
Mai felt that.
Not as an abstract concept.
Something more immediate.
Choice inside transaction.
Structure without obligation.
That was—
Interesting.
Ace continued.
“Some people wanted sex.”
Brenda muttered:
“Thank fuck.”
Iris elbowed her.
Ace laughed.
“Some wanted attention.”
Iris looked back.
“One wanted dinner.”
Brenda blinked.
“One wanted me to hold him while he cried.”
The room went quiet.
Brenda’s expression softened instantly.
Iris’s did too.
Ace looked at them.
“That surprised me.”
Shammy spoke quietly.
“But you liked helping.”
Ace nodded.
“Yeah.”
Iris leaned back.
“So what did they actually buy?”
Ace smiled.
“Suzie asked the same thing.”
“And?”
“My time.”
Iris’s eyes held hers.
“My attention.”
A beat.
“My willingness to be there with them.”
Brenda looked thoughtful now.
Rare.
Mai noticed.
Ace continued.
“Sex was part of it.”
Then smiled.
“A very enjoyable part.”
Brenda nodded firmly.
“Important clarification.”
Ace laughed.
But Iris did not lose the thread.
“And being watched?”
Ace looked at her.
Mai saw the change immediately.
So did Brenda.
Ace smiled slowly.
“One couple.”
Iris waited.
“One of the women watched a lot.”
Brenda’s attention snapped fully into place.
Ace looked between them.
Oh.
There it was.
Brenda’s interest was obvious.
Always had been.
Iris’s was different.
Quieter.
But no less real.
Ace continued.
“I liked it.”
Iris’s mouth moved slightly.
Brenda looked at Iris.
Iris refused to look back.
Ace saw all of it.
Mai did too.
And suddenly the room contained about six future bad ideas.
Mai rubbed her forehead.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Mai stared back.
“I don’t know what any of you are thinking.”
Brenda smiled.
“Then why no?”
“Experience.”
Kiro laughed.
Ace smiled at Mai.
That look again.
Curiosity recognizing curiosity.
Mai saw it.
Ace saw Mai seeing it.
Neither said anything.
Not here.
Not yet.
Brenda recovered first.
“Okay.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Now orgasms.”
Iris covered her face.
Shammy laughed.
Kiro almost choked.
Ace stared.
“You waited almost three full minutes.”
“I showed restraint.”
“That is not the word.”
“How many?”
“Brenda.”
“You said you enjoyed the sex.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Ace smiled.
Brenda stopped.
Something in the smile warned her too late.
Ace had discovered the countermeasure.
Answer too openly.
“Enough that by the middle of the night I was getting hornier between customers instead of less.”
Brenda’s mouth opened.
Iris looked at Ace.
Kiro started laughing.
Ace continued calmly.
“The lion helped.”
Brenda made a strangled sound.
Mai closed her eyes.
Ace was enjoying this now.
Very much.
“One couple helped more.”
Brenda sat down abruptly.
Iris stared at her.
Ace looked innocent.
“What?”
Brenda pointed.
“You can’t reverse-interrogate me.”
“I’m answering.”
“That is not how this works.”
“It is now.”
Mai started laughing again.
Shammy smiled.
Kiro looked delighted.
Iris shook her head.
“You created this.”
Brenda looked betrayed.
“She’s supposed to be embarrassed.”
Ace’s low voice:
“Why?”
Brenda had no answer.
Ace smiled.
Exactly.
Mai watched her.
That might have been the single clearest sign of the night’s effect.
Ace had not come home carrying shame.
Not even performative embarrassment.
She was tired.
Used.
Happy.
Proud.
And entirely comfortable saying:
Yes.
I wanted it.
Yes.
I enjoyed it.
Yes.
People paid me.
Yes.
I liked that too.
Mai loved her for that.
More dangerously—
Mai understood it.
Iris stood.
“Food.”
Ace looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Shower?”
Ace considered.
“Later.”
Iris nodded.
“Sit.”
Ace laughed.
“Lisa said that all night.”
“She was probably right.”
“Everybody is against me.”
Shammy took Ace’s hand.
“Come on.”
Ace let herself be guided toward the couch.
Carefully.
Brenda noticed the gait again.
Her mouth opened.
Iris did not even look at her.
“If the next question contains the word ‘sore,’ you are making Ace’s food.”
Brenda considered.
“That seems fair.”
Ace stared.
“It was not permission to ask.”
“I know. I’m saving it.”
For now.
Ace sat.
Mai joined her.
Not pressed against her.
Just close.
Shammy brought food.
Kiro found something to drink.
Brenda kept vibrating with unanswered questions.
Iris pretended not to have several of her own.
The room slowly relaxed.
Mandi remained.
Orange hair.
Black eyes.
Low voice.
Cover collar.
The visual identity still fully present.
Mai found that important.
Ace had come home before dismantling the experiment.
For a little while, Safehouse got to meet the woman the customers had seen.
Not an invented person.
Just Ace from a different angle.
Mai looked at her.
Ace noticed.
“What?”
Mai smiled.
“Nothing.”
Ace laughed softly.
“You have been saying that all night.”
Mai paused.
Then decided not to lie.
“I have been thinking.”
Ace’s expression changed.
“About?”
Mai looked around.
Brenda.
Iris.
Kiro.
Shammy.
Not here.
Not yet.
“Later.”
Ace stared.
Then slowly smiled.
Not Mandi’s customer smile.
Ace.
But the low voice remained.
“Okay.”
Mai felt that one word all the way down.
---
Much later, when Brenda had finally exhausted herself enough to stop asking questions and the others had drifted away, Mai found Ace alone in their room.
Still in most of Mandi.
Boots off.
Outer clothing loosened.
Contacts still in.
Hair still orange.
Makeup still perfect.
Cover collar still around her neck.
Ace sat on the edge of the bed.
Tired now.
Properly.
Mai closed the door.
Ace looked up.
“Hey.”
Mai leaned against it.
For several seconds she just watched.
Ace smiled.
“You can look.”
Mai’s eyebrows rose.
Ace’s smile became slower.
“I already know why.”
Mai laughed.
“There she is.”
Ace laughed too.
Then Mai walked over.
Stopped in front of her.
Touched the orange hair.
“Ridiculous.”
“I love it.”
“I know.”
Black eyes looked up at her.
Mai touched Ace’s cheek.
“Happy?”
“Yes.”
“Worth it?”
Ace did not even think.
“Yes.”
Mai smiled.
Then:
“Would you do it again?”
That took longer.
Ace looked down.
“Maybe.”
Mai nodded.
No disappointment.
No relief.
Just taking the answer as given.
Ace looked back up.
“You?”
Mai froze.
Ace watched.
“You’ve been thinking all night.”
Mai smiled faintly.
“That obvious?”
“To me.”
Silence.
Mai sat beside her.
Not answering yet.
Instead:
“What did you think when the first person paid?”
Ace laughed softly.
“That four thousand suddenly felt like a completely different number.”
Mai smiled.
“And at twenty-five?”
“I felt expensive.”
Mai looked at her.
Ace’s smile became almost embarrassed.
Not ashamed.
Just pleased.
“I really liked that.”
Mai nodded.
“I know.”
Ace studied her.
Mai continued.
“I spent most of the night thinking about why I understood your idea.”
Ace went still.
There.
Finally.
Mai looked toward the floor.
“Not enough to copy it.”
Ace waited.
“Not yet.”
The words left before Mai could edit them.
Silence.
Ace’s black eyes widened.
Mai closed her eyes.
“If you say one word, I am making you sleep in the expensive makeup.”
Ace said nothing.
That was worse.
Mai looked over.
Ace had the biggest smile she had worn all night.
“The silence is not helping you.”
“I’m being supportive.”
“You are screaming internally.”
“Maybe.”
Mai sighed.
Ace leaned lightly against her shoulder.
Tired.
Warm.
Happy.
Mai wrapped an arm around her.
For a while they sat like that.
No sex.
No analysis.
No decision.
Just home.
Then Ace said quietly:
“Kiro would say yes.”
Mai slowly turned her head.
Ace kept looking forward.
Mai stared.
Ace’s smile returned.
“You were thinking about who you’d talk to.”
Mai said nothing.
Ace laughed.
Mai finally did too.
“This is your fault.”
“Absolutely.”
Mai pulled her closer.
Ace settled against her.
Mandi’s orange hair under Mai’s chin.
The temporary voice already beginning its slow multi-day countdown back toward Ace.
Nothing had to be decided tonight.
For once, leaving the question open felt exactly right.
Ace had gone out because she wanted an answer.
Mai had stayed home and accidentally found a question.
For now, that was enough.