That's Why You're Beautiful

Chapter One

One of the main reasons why I tend to avoid family reunions and deny any invites to visit is that it can all get a little... awkward.

Simple and seemingly harmless questions like, "So, what do you do for a living?" can cause a whole load of problems and panic for me. I can't exactly respond to them with, "Oh, y'know, I'm a prostitute. It's nothing special, but it pays the bills, I guess."

Yeah... so that's one of the reasons why I haven't seen my parents in years.

Most people have the typical views on prostitutes; desperate women plastered in bright make up, wearing skimpy underwear, hanging around on the street corners waiting for random men to have fun with.

They couldn't be more wrong.

It's tough, both physically and mentally. Several times I've broken down and just cried, wondering what on earth I was doing. But then again, Yvonne (my devastatingly pretty and forceful boss) was always there ready to persuade me to stay with some of her best lines. It's either that, or crazy threats.

"Oh, Bella, you're everyone's favourite!"

"You'll never make money like this in another job..." she'd say, her voice deep and husky from the years of smoking.

I don't really agree about being everyone's favourite, far from it actualy, but the second part is kind-of true. It's the only reason why I stay. As soon as I've got enough money, I'll quit. That's what I keep telling myself. The only problem is that it's quite difficult to suddenly stop; there's always someone or something there to persuade you to carry on, and the 'what ifs' gradually begin to settle in, especially considering the current decrease in jobs available.

Life is tough and it just seems easier to stay.

Which is what I'm doing. For now.

Luckily, I have an understanding flatmate by the name of Alice. She's the one I confide in after every hard day at work, the one who truly understands what I go through. Why I do it.

"Morning," Alice smiled as I stepped out from my room, yawning wildly. Another downside to my job (that's what I usually call it, 'my job'; it's weird, but I don't like calling it prostitution. It makes it all seem so final and serious) is that you can't fit the times around your own schedule; you're given the appointments and you have to stick to them. Sometimes they're first thing in the morning and sometimes they're late at night. I have to be pretty flexible, in more ways than one.

"Hey," I grumbled, reaching in the fridge for some form of liquid. My throat felt sore and croaky today; not the greatest of starts.

"Have you got much work on today?" she asked, slowly eating a spoonful of cereal. I nodded my head solemnly, having just checked my diary before leaving my room.

"Five clients," I muttered, taking a sip from my orange juice.

I saw Alice nod. "Anyone new?"

I shrugged. "I can't really remember. I only skimmed through the names." Actually, I could briefly recall a particular name sparking some interest, but soon forgot and continued making myself some toast.

"I'm seeing Jasper again today," she grinned, and I smiled a little at her.

"That's a good sign, then," I replied. Alice hadn't exactly had much luck with love in the past, kind of like me, and it seemed that the mysterious Jasper had made her very happy.

She gushed a little in response. "Yeah. I really like him."

I nodded. "I'll have to meet him sometime."

My toast popped up and I quickly caught it (feeling like a ninja of some sort) and reached for the butter. It was then that I caught sight of the clock, ticking threateningly away on the wall.

"Hang on, I thought it was half past eight?" I frowned, checking my watch. Half nine.

Oh God.

"Please tell me my clock hasn't stopped..." I shrieked, racing back into my room. Sure enough, it still said 8.30.

Crumbs.

I made a strange noise of distress once again and quickly reached for some clothes before sprinting into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna have to go," I called. "Remind me to violently stamp on my clock when I get back! Stupid piece of junk..."

Just before I could slam the door behind me, I heard Alice's voice. "Er, Bella?"

"Sorry, Alice, I really don't have any-"

"I think it's best to go out without your underwear wrapped around your thigh."

I jogged up the stairs, panting uncontrollably and praying for time to somehow slow down. Seriously, though, why did it have to go by so fast at the wrong times?

Eventually, I reached the apartment door and fumbled for my key, silently thanking God that my client hadn't arrived yet. That certainly wouldn't have gone down too well.

After locking the door behind me, I ran for the bedroom and quickly picked up my clothes (if you could call them that; they barely cover me), then darted towards the bathroom to prepare myself.

Basically, as part of the job, they supply me with a swanky apartment to do all the... business inside. It's equipped with everything I need and allows me to escape from my other life, leaving no suspicious traces behind. It really does make me feel very secretive sometimes... it's not really a nice feeling.

Everywhere inside is modernly furnished and the main piece is, unsurprisingly, a king size bed, covered with silk sheets and fluffy pillows. I decided to go against the standard pink theme; I didn't want to look so predictable after all. Despite my job, I do actually have taste, even if that's difficult to believe.

I sat at the dining table (I had no idea why that was there; it wasn't like anyone ever came over there to eat), drumming my fingers on the cold wood. I really didn't like this place; it was so unlike me. My real flat is full of clutter and things which mean a lot to me; CDs, DVDs and books... not just furniture and ridiculously shaped ornaments (there's something on one of the many shelves that I have no idea about what it's meant to be; it looks like a mixture of a carrot and a banana).

My heart was hammering against my nightgown; it wasn't like me to get nervous, especially after so much experience, yet I still felt a silent worry. It had been such a close shave arriving here that everything seemed doomed. I just had the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Talking of close shaves, another slight downside to the job is that it is incredibly high maintenance. Every week I have to make sure that my legs are smooth, my nails are painted, my hair is perfect... it's all very draining and leaves practically no time for anything else.

I don't even think I'm that pretty, but people still seem interested enough. I should be flattered, really. Then again, they don't exactly visit me for me. There's only ever one thing on their minds and that's plainly obvious.

The loud sound of the doorbell suddenly rung throughout the apartment and I took in a sharp breath. I slowly stood up, smoothing myself down and taking a quick look at myself in the mirror. The over-groomed hair and make up was a little nauseating, but I pushed this out of my mind as I pasted on a smile and opened the door.

I suppose that when the clients are fairly good looking, it makes it all a little easier. Take Riley, for example. He's one of my regulars and has thick, blond hair and intense brown eyes. He's always really considerate of my feelings, because he was very nervous during our first meeting and we had a nice conversation together. I think that we... bonded, if that's the right word.

One thing that makes me uncomfortable, though, is knowing that the client has a wife or partner. Riley admitted this to me during one of his visits, and I couldn't help wincing. The usual reason why they visit me is that they have unfulfilled fantasies or are just bored, but I can't stop myself picturing an innocent looking woman, glancing at the clock with dinner ready on the table, wondering when her love is going to return home.

"So, how are you today?" he asked as I removed his heavy coat for him.

"I'm fantastic, thank you," I replied cheerily; another lie to add to my ever-growing collection. But I had to pretend that I was enthusiastic.

"That's good to hear," he grinned, flashing me a toothy smile. I slowly closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself.

You can do this, I told myself, fingering his coat in my hands. I couldn't ignore the feeling of his wallet in the pocket. Think of the money. You need the money.

God... all this made me seem really shallow.

After placing his coat on the table, I tiptoed towards him and put on my best seductive voice.

"So," I breathed, placing a hand on his chest. "What do you want to do?"

I could see the familiar excitement flicker in his eyes.

"Well," he smirked, pulling me close towards him. "You know what I like." He waggled his eyebrows.

I forced out a laugh. "Alright, then." I reached for the buttons on his shirt and slowly unbuttoned each one, feeling him running his hands along my body. I had my mental block perfectly in place for what I was doing so this was all fine. I was going to be fine.

Soon enough, his clothes were on the floor and I was pushing him towards the bed. He looked up at me greedily as I led on top of him, preparing for what I had to do. I took a deep breath and started.

"You know what?"

I peeked over towards Riley who was lying next to me, smiling happily. He reached for my hand, rubbing it with his thumb. "You're pretty amazing."

No, my skills in bed are amazing, not myself, I mentally corrected.

Despite this, I still grinned at him. "Why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself."

I turned my gaze to the ceiling, thinking absently. Riley would be leaving in five minutes and I was feeling strange again. I always felt a little guilty straight afterwards; you'd think I would get used to it after all these months.

But maybe it shows that I'm only human.

"I do want to thank you though. For... uh, for what you do."

I turned towards him in surprise; those were words I never really expected to hear.

"It's... it's no problem," I murmured, smiling in his general direction.

"Have you got much planned this week?" he asked, making light conversation. I searched my mind for possible answers.

"I'm..." I shrugged. "Y'know, shopping and stuff. The usual."

He grinned mischieviously. "Some new underwear for me, I hope."

Hahaha.

No.

"Maybe," I answered through clenched teeth. Sometimes he did overstep the mark. I sneakily glanced at my watch.

"Well, I'd better go," he said, standing up and gathering his clothes. Perhaps he'd taken the hint. "Thanks again."

I nodded and watched as he took his wallet out of his pocket.

"$100, was it?"

"Please." I smiled as he handed me the money. "Thanks."

And without another word and a wink, he was gone.

When lunchtime finally arrived, I hurried back to my flat to meet Alice. She looked up at me suspiciously from her magazine as I wandered into the kitchen, reaching for a sandwich.

"Something up, Bells?"

I leaned against the counter, thinking. Yes, I was beginning to dive into a low part of my life and I knew it.

After I had left the apartment, I had experienced the familiar urge to run and cry, feeling that it was all too much for me again. It usually happens after particularly rough, bossy clients who think they actually own me.

Well, I suppose for the hour, they really do.

What a depressing thought.

"No, I'm fine," I answered, forcing a smile. "Just a bit tired."

Her face dropped with sympathy. "Nasty client?"

I nodded slowly. "Yup."

Before I could blink, she was hugging me and I relaxed from the warmth of her body.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. If it makes you feel better, I've had a bit of a crappy morning as well," she sighed.

I pulled apart from her. "Oh?"

She shrugged. "It was probably nothing, I just had a really nasty headache... y'know the ones where you honestly believe your skull is about to explode?" I nodded. "I even took some painkillers."

My hand clamped over my mouth; I could have sworn Alice was mentally allergic to painkillers. A few weeks ago during a particularly horrific hangover (believe me, we've had many) she had felt incredibly sick and I offered her an aspirin - she practically raced around the room screaming after she'd swallowed it, screeching that she was going to vomit. A slight over-reaction.

She nodded encouragingly. "Yup. I'm proud of myself."

I joined her on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through some channels.

"Jasper phoned me earlier," she suddenly chirped and I grinned.

"Oooh, he sounds keen."

She squealed. "Yeah... he does. How do you think 'Alice Hale' sounds? It has a ring to it."

I frowned. Hale. Jasper Hale... that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Alice, you've only been together a few months," I replied, putting my thoughts aside. "The phrase 'jumping the gun' comes to mind..."

This didn't seem to mean anything to her. "You were only with David for three months before you married him."

"That's different," I answered straight away, shuddering instinctively at the sudden memory. "And anyway, you might scare him away."

She huffed. "Well, we shall see."

I nodded. "Yes. We shall."

After the fourth of my day's clients left, I slumped back against the bed, feeling completely exhausted. What a day.

I still had one person left, however, and, to make matters worse, it was a new person. These were usually the most awkward; I could just picture it all in my head, the usual nerves and worry, mixed together with a whole lot of pointless small talk.

How thrilling.

I paced around, freshening myself up and I jumped as the doorbell suddenly rang. I frowned, glancing at the clock; it was early... he must be really keen.

I headed towards the door and had to ashamedly admit that my eyebrows rose in surprise as the man in the doorway stared back at me.

He was wearing a dark, buttoned cardigan which was way too big for him and seemed to completely drown his body; I could see that it was stretched to cover most of his hands almost protectively. As my eyes travelled upwards I noticed his large, thick glasses which seemed to dominate his face. He had green eyes which were darting around nervously, not once meeting my gaze. His brown hair was combed neatly and I realised that he was shaking a little.

Basically, summed up in one word, he was a nerd.

Wow, that rhymed. Perhaps that's a new career path...

I snapped out of my dazed trance and smiled weakly at the man in front of me.

"Hi... are you alright?"

He nodded frantically and I saw him wince behind his glasses. "Y-yes, are you B-Bella S-S-Swan?"

Small problem with the stammering... maybe he was nervous?

Screw the maybe; he looked bloody terrified.

"Yes, that's me." I added a smile for good measure and saw him stare at the floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"G-good. I, uh, I should think you have been e-expecting me... I'm... I'm," he swallowed loudly, "I'm E-Edward C-C-Cullen."