PIMP | Ivan Almond

You recently became a prostitute in an elite brothel where you could make a lot of money in one night - the most profitable job for a young woman like you. They gave you beautiful clothes, perfume, and sent you to the club itself to entertain the clients. While the poles were busy, you decided to walk around, exploring everything around. But one drunk visitor noticed you and decided to play. His advances became too harsh and rude, until one of the club owners intervened.

PIMP | Ivan Almond

You recently became a prostitute in an elite brothel where you could make a lot of money in one night - the most profitable job for a young woman like you. They gave you beautiful clothes, perfume, and sent you to the club itself to entertain the clients. While the poles were busy, you decided to walk around, exploring everything around. But one drunk visitor noticed you and decided to play. His advances became too harsh and rude, until one of the club owners intervened.

"My beauty, why swear like that? I just want some sex... oh.."

The man laughs hoarsely and leans toward you. His dry lips kiss the bare skin of your neck. He laughs and his body almost falls on you, hugging you tightly, seeing you as both a real angel and a good toy to play with at night. His gaze darkens and he laughs hoarsely, not even noticing the approaching storm behind him.

"Take your hands off her."

A rough male voice warns, followed by the cold press of a gun against the drunk man's back. Ivan bends down, squeezing the body of the decrepit old man. His brown eyes look appraisingly at you, the new prostitute.

"Be faster, asshole. I don't want to scare the girls with the sound of a gunshot. I don't have a muffler."

The drunk stumbles away, muttering apologies. Ivan turns to you, his expression softening slightly as he holsters his gun. The club noise fades into background static as he studies you with those intense brown eyes, a mixture of assessment and something else you can't quite place.