“It wasn’t about the sex for me either. It was about the money… period. I went into this with my eyes open. I needed to make money quickly in order to move on with the rest of my life, except…” She paused. Her lip quivered. She took in a breath to soothe her nerves. “I was wrong. Selling myself like that, it wasn’t for me. Some women love it, they thrive off of it. It makes them feel powerful. Being desired by so many different men and to such a degree. These guys throw enormous amounts of money at you. Some of the women loved the sex. They loved climbing from one bed into the next. They got off on it.”

Torrent poured himself another glass of wine and downed half of it.

Candy reached for her own glass and took a tentative sip. It felt like vinegar going down her throat. “It wasn’t like that for me. It was soul destroying. I needed the money but I wasn’t willing to just do anything or anyone to get it.” She needed to tell him everything but it was a struggle for her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “The sex did nothing for me. It was all fake. I never had one orgasm, not ever.”

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at her.

“Then one day, one of my clients left, I refused to have him replaced. You won’t believe it, but that started an even bigger frenzy. There was a waiting list. Ellis went to my three remaining clients and they agreed to pay more. One of the three guys I saw started dating a woman and then there were two.”

Torrent nodded. “How long were you”—he cleared his throat—“an escort?”

“I was seventeen when Ellis put a roof over my head. A few months later I started dating and by the age of nineteen I was having sex with my dates for money. I’m twenty-four now, so that’s almost five years.”

“How many men have you had sex with?” His jaw was tight. His brow furrowed.

“How is that even relevant? How many women have you had sex with? I’m sure your list is a hell of a lot longer than mine. All of my sexual experiences barring two were business transactions.”

“Two.” He said, finally looking at her.

“My first boyfriend and you.”

He made an irritated snorting noise. “I didn’t pay anyone or expect anyone to pay me.”

His words stung. “At nineteen, it seemed like a good idea. By the time I was twenty-four, not so much. Like I said, I was down to two clients. I only had sex with the one. Harold is impotent.”

Torrent finished the rest of his wine. “What do you mean? Impotent…I’m not sure…”