Aanya pulled her dupatta tighter around her shoulders as she stepped onto the dimly lit street. The city hummed around her-distant honks, the occasional burst of laughter, and the rhythmic clatter of a passing auto-rickshaw. Yet, as she stood in front of the address she had memorized from the website, everything else seemed to fade.

A neon butterfly flickered above the entrance, casting a soft glow on the cracked pavement. The café-or whatever this place truly was-was discreet, almost hidden between two larger buildings, its entrance marked only by a sleek black door with no windows. No music spilled out, no loud chatter-just an air of exclusivity that made her stomach twist.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle.

This was a mistake.

It had to be.

And yet, she was still standing here.

Her phone buzzed. A reminder.

Electricity bill due tomorrow!

Aanya closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, and stepped inside.

The door shut behind her with a quiet click.

The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and something darker-something indulgent. Dim lighting bathed the space in warm amber, casting soft shadows against velvet walls. A faint hum of music played in the background, slow and seductive, yet the place was eerily quiet.

At the far end of the room, a woman sat behind a sleek reception desk. She wore a red satin dress that clung to her body like a second skin, the deep neckline revealing just enough to command attention. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her lips, painted the same shade as her dress, curled into a slow, knowing smile.

Aanya swallowed, suddenly aware of how out of place she looked in her simple salwar kameez and scuffed shoes.

The woman's gaze swept over her, assessing. Then she tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes.

"Are you lost, darling?" Her voice was smooth, velvety, dripping with confidence.

Aanya's pulse hammered. This was her last chance to turn around, to walk away and pretend she had never been here.

But then she thought of her empty wallet. The unpaid bills. The long, exhausting shifts that left her drained, barely surviving.

She lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet the woman's gaze.

"I'm here for a job."

The woman arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her lips curving in intrigue. She didn't speak right away-just let her gaze linger, slow and deliberate, taking in every inch of Aanya. From her wide, uncertain eyes to the way she clutched the strap of her worn-out bag like a lifeline.

Then, with an almost lazy flick of her fingers, she beckoned.

"Come closer."

Aanya's breath hitched.

For a second, she hesitated. The air in this place was thick, humming with something she couldn't quite name. It pressed against her skin, urging her forward and warning her all at once.

But she forced her feet to move, closing the space between them until she was standing just a breath away from the desk.

The woman leaned in slightly, her perfume intoxicating-sweet, sultry, with a dangerous edge. Her gaze settled on Aanya's lips, then drifted lower, taking her in like she was sizing up a purchase.

"Turn around for me," she murmured, voice dipped in amusement. "Let me have a look at you."

Aanya stiffened. "Why?"

The woman chuckled softly, as if she enjoyed the resistance. "Because I need to see if you belong here."

Aanya hesitated. Then, slowly, she turned. Heat crept up her neck under the woman's scrutinizing gaze. She felt exposed, judged.

The woman hummed in approval, tapping a manicured finger against the desk before reaching for the sleek phone beside her. Pressing a single button, she brought it to her ear.

"Send someone to the front," she said, voice smooth, almost lazy. "We have a new one."

Aanya's stomach tightened.

New one?

Before she could ask what that meant, the woman at the desk placed the receiver down and looked up, a slow smile curving her lips.

"Wait here, darling," she said. "Your night is about to begin."

Moments later, a man in a crisp blue shirt appeared. His expression was unreadable, his posture firm. "Follow me," he said.

Aanya swallowed hard but did as instructed, trailing behind him down a dimly lit corridor. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and something richer-leather, perhaps, or aged whiskey. The plush carpet muted their footsteps, adding an eerie quiet to the walk.

At the end of the hallway, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Inside, the room was elegantly furnished, warm golden lights casting a soft glow over the space. A woman in an emerald-colored dress sat on a deep velvet sofa. As Aanya stepped in, the woman rose gracefully and approached her, her movements fluid, practiced.

She took Aanya's hand, her touch cool yet firm, and led her toward the sofa with a bright, welcoming smile.

"What is your name?" she asked.

Aanya hesitated for just a breath before answering. "Aanya."

The woman's smile didn't waver. "And what brings you here?"

Aanya forced herself to breathe steadily. "I... I need money," she admitted, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. "I have bills to pay, and I don't know where else to go."

The woman's lips curved slightly, as if she had expected this answer. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her emerald dress shimmering under the light.

"Desperation has a way of leading people to interesting places," she mused, her voice smooth and knowing.

Aanya's hands clenched at her sides.

The woman studied her for a long moment before offering a small, almost amused smile. "My name is Riya," she finally said. "And this place? It's called The Butterfly Café."

Aanya glanced around, taking in the luxurious décor, the dim, intimate lighting, and the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses beyond the room. She had expected something different-something less... refined.

Riya watched her closely. "We offer exclusivity, pleasure, and an escape from the ordinary," she continued. "For the right price, of course."

Aanya's breath hitched. "And... what exactly would I have to do?"

Riya's smile deepened. "That depends, darling. What are you willing to do?"

Aanya's fingers curled around the strap of her bag. "I just want to earn enough to-"

"Survive?" Riya finished for her, tilting her head slightly.

Aanya nodded.

Riya exhaled slowly, considering. Then, in a smooth, commanding tone, she said, "Stand up."

Aanya hesitated for a second before obeying, rising from the sofa.

"Go to the center of the room," Riya instructed, her voice soft but firm.

Aanya's pulse quickened as she stepped forward. The plush carpet beneath her feet felt both foreign and grounding, like she was stepping into another world-one she barely understood. She could feel Riya's eyes on her, watching, waiting.

"Now," Riya said, tilting her head slightly. "Undress."

Aanya's breath caught. She searched Riya's face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. The woman was composed, expectant, as if this was just another ordinary request.

Aanya didn't hesitate. Desperation had already stripped her of choices-what was a little more?

She reached for the hem of her kurta and pulled it over her head, letting it drop to the floor. Her hands moved to the waistband of her salwar. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her resolve didn't waver. She had made her decision the moment she walked through those doors.

Riya's gaze remained unreadable, her expression calm as she watched.

Aanya stepped out of her clothes, standing there in nothing but her undergarments. She lifted her chin slightly, forcing herself to own the moment. She wasn't here to stop. She was here to earn.

"I said undress," Riya said, her tone smooth but firm. "That means everything."

Aanya's fingers twitched, but she didn't hesitate. She reached behind her, unclasped her bra, and let it fall. Then, with a final inhale, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The air felt heavier, charged.

Riya's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile-more an acknowledgment. "Good," she murmured. "You follow instructions well."

Aanya remained still, waiting.

Riya leaned forward, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch, studying her with the same calm, assessing gaze. "Tell me, Aanya... how far are you willing to go?"

Aanya frowned. The question confused her. She was standing here, completely bare-what else was left? She glanced at Riya, searching for meaning.

Riya chuckled softly, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, shaking her head. "You think standing naked in a room is the hard part?"

Aanya's brows furrowed. "Isn't it?"

Riya leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs gracefully. "Undressing means nothing here," she said smoothly. "You might have to roam around like this. This place isn't about simply showing off your body."

Aanya swallowed. "You mean... sex?"

Riya laughed, this time louder, genuinely entertained. "Oh, you're funny."

Aanya stood there, confused.

Riya's laughter faded, but the amusement lingered in her eyes. "Sex is... a small part of what happens here. But what we sell, Aanya, is far more than that." She tilted her head, watching her closely. "Tell me, what do you think a man really pays for?"

Aanya hesitated. "Pleasure?"

Riya's lips curled, almost playfully. "Pleasure, yes. But not just of the body." She stood gracefully, stepping toward Aanya, close enough that Aanya could smell the sultry mix of jasmine and something darker, something expensive. "They pay for an escape. For control. For surrender."

Aanya shivered, not from cold, but from the weight of those words.

Riya traced a manicured finger along the rim of her wine glass on the table, her gaze never leaving Aanya. "The question isn't whether you can take off your clothes, darling." Her voice was smooth, hypnotic. "The question is... can you become what they desire?"

Aanya's heart pounded. She didn't know the answer. Not yet.

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