M.

Moving into a new apartment holds many feelings: excitement, nostalgia, and maybe fear...

Mila was looking at the sun rising, and her eyes became teary. They had made it. They got a place to stay, a place in which nobody would hurt her, a place in which she felt safe for the first time.

It had not been easy at all, and she still felt bad for Dan, the man whose wallet she stole while he was flirting with Dasha, bewitched by her beauty.

Desperate times require desperate measures, I guess. A fleeting thought meant to bandage her bleeding conscience.

He had had six hundred thirty-five pounds in cash there. They were lucky; he could have had nothing. That money sufficed for food after they paid the deposit and first rent.

Petra was beyond displeased when she told her that they would not be receiving money that month and she didn't hesitate to remind the already very guild-driven Mila about everything she owed them. Her mother's words were still echoing in her head, calling her an ungrateful daughter and many other more explicitly unpleasant adjectives. Despite their flaws, her parents raised her and took care of her as well as they could. She would have to find a solution, a legal one, to be able to provide for them. That night in the club had been extreme. She felt her heart pounding to almost get out of her chest when she grabbed that wallet.

"Hey, you're up."

It was Dasha's sleepy voice echoing from behind her. Luckily, Dasha was a heavy sleeper because now they had to share a bedroom for quite a while till they would be able to afford a bigger apartment.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep anymore. What about you, why are you up?"

"I have horrible period cramps. I need to take an Ibuprofen. You know how that is," said Dasha.

"Yeah..."

That was actually a lie; she didn't know how that was. Mila never had had a period.

When she was a teenager her mother never had that coming-of-age talk with her about periods and sex. She had been too absorbed by her own person and the lover she had at that time, but there were changing room talks between girls and Mila always wondered if there was something wrong with her.

After she turned sixteen, her mother started being interested in the subject. She was a little uncertain where the sudden interest came from, but it resulted in her mom assuming she was pregnant and a horrible beating from her father. She still had the scar on her stomach from that one time and the ones in her mind of him screaming 'you are a whore like your mother'.

They soon noticed they had been wrong about the pregnancy, none of them apologized though and none of them cared enough to look for an explanation.

After three months in London, she decided to do something for herself and get the diagnosis she put herself based on internet knowledge confirmed.

Amenorrhea. It sounded like the name of a freaking flower.

It was strange, however, that the cause seemed not so obvious. All hinted at a hormonal imbalance with a surprisingly untraceable cause.

Further tests would have cost money she did not have, so she decided to drop the matter.

It did answer some questions, though. The low hormonal level explained her inexistent sex drive, which lead to the fact that she was a virgin at twenty-three. She didn't really care. In the depth of her being, she always felt like a freak and an outcast in many ways.

The peace she was experiencing living with Dasha was just beautiful and the other girl was bringing so much joy to her life. They were watching movies on weekends, walking the streets window shopping, and had fun doing housework together.

Three months had passed already and the new routine was settling in.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Dasha, handing her a cup of coffee in the nurse's break room at the center.

"My childhood, mom and dad. They were angry because I didn't send them enough money this month."

"They are ungrateful pricks."

"You know life is difficult over there, Dasha."

"Of course I do, but does it look like it's easy here? We also work ten hours a day for little cash if you subtract all the things that need to be paid for. They should cut you some slack."

"I still feel guilty for being a bad daughter."

"You are not," said Dasha leaning in to hug her.

Later when they took the bus to go home that evening, Mila's eyes fell on the gigantic full moon.

Its beauty was hypnotic. It was shimmering red that evening, displaying an unusual nuance. Then a shadow slowly crept over it swallowing it whole.

"Look, Dasha, an eclipse is happening. Wanna watch it?"

"Oh, wow! Looks interesting. The moon is huge and so red. It seems to be a special night."

When they went to bed that evening, the moon was still covered in shadows and the air felt heavy to breathe. Mila was looking at it through the roof window over her bed till her eyelids were too heavy to stay open.

**

"Milena, wake up." It was the most enchanting voice Mila ever heard.

She opened her eyes slowly to find out it belonged to the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her silver hair reminded her of Dasha's but there was something unearthly in her features, that perfection that often frightens one. Everything was flawless, every curve so smooth and immaculate, every color so deep.

Mila was intimidated by her frightening perfection.

"Oh, mea innocentes" said the woman, touching Mila's face.

Her hand was cold and the touch sent a shiver through her body.

"I have been searching for you, Mila."

"Why?" asked Mila wondering.

"Because you are special," she replied simply.

Everything about that woman was fascinating. Her voice sounded like velvet and nightingale songs.

"How?" asked Mila in trance, lost in the woman's dark blue eyes. They were so beautiful she just couldn't look away. It seemed like her gaze was a galaxy of stars.

"You have never experienced desire, did you?"

"No." The answer came out of her without thinking. It was like she had no willpower to filter her thoughts.

"Now you will become desire," she said, smiling.

The woman's full lips were lowered on hers and when they touched, Mila's whole body felt like catching fire. It was intense and almost painful. It was something she never felt before, like every cell of her body was under the spell of that woman. Something in her snapped. It was a fleeting moment that felt like supreme awareness when she could hear the music of the world.

That kiss tasted somehow forbidden, like fear, excitement, secrets, and something Mila felt like calling magic.

The feeling intensified, till everything exploded into energy and wonder.

**

"Girl, you look like you have been run over by a truck," said Dasha that was already up making coffee before their six am shift.

"I had a really weird dream. I was making out with a really hot chick but she was also creeping the living hell out of me."

"Hotter than me? I don't think that's possible. Did you change your mind and are a lesbian after all since you have now wet dreams with girls?" asked Dasha, laughing.

"Ah shut up and let's go. We will be late," answered Mila mildly annoyed, but she knew she could not be mad at Dasha for long.

One hour later, they were running their morning rounds at the center.

"Hello, Dasha. Mila, you look great today. Did you do something to your hair or so?" asked Martin, one of their colleagues.

"Thank you," said Mila wondering, since she had the same hairstyles since day one at work.

"He seems to like you," whispered Dasha into her ear.

"He barely acknowledged my existence till today," answered Mila, rolling her eyes.

Mila had agreed to a double shift that day to gain some extra money. Luckily the day went by swiftly.

At eleven pm she packed her belongings and took the bus home, fully exhausted. Dasha had left some hours earlier.

She must have fallen asleep on the bus because when she woke up it was in an unfamiliar environment, five or six stations further than the one she should have gotten off at.

Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, she descended to the nearest metro station and cursed that she had to waste money on a ticket.

Sitting in the metro, she tried to concentrate on the surroundings to not fall asleep again. Her gaze wandered to the people in the tube. Even at eleven forty-five in the evening, the subway was very lively.

She noticed a tall, handsome man with ebony skin that seemed to have his gaze fixed on her. He was walking towards her from the other end of the train.

The driver announced her station and she exited the vehicle. He was still looking at her. It was somehow strange but she didn't think he was dangerous so she smiled and waved at him while the doors were closing.

When she arrived at the apartment she just sank onto her bed. Dasha was asleep, but as tired as she was, she somehow couldn't sleep. The moonlight was shining through the roof window over her bed.

For a brief moment, she felt like her body was burning again like in that strange dream.

The next three weeks passed peacefully, and blissfully uneventful.

On the first weekend of November, Mila allowed herself to sleep a bit longer. When she finally woke up and walked into the kitchen, she caught Dasha turning away from her in a hurry.

"What's wrong with you, girl?" asked Mila when she saw Dasha drying her eyes and wiping off her smeared mascara.

"Nothing. I just talked to my sister. My nephew broke his leg and needs surgery, of the expensive ones. Like three thousand pounds. Where do people think one just gets spontaneously three thousand from in Ukraine, unless you are rich? This world is fucked up. What can they do? The kid will be limping forever if it is not done now."

Mila sat down beside her.

"I can give you like two hundred. How much do you have? Can they maybe take a loan?"

"Nah, nobody has that much and well, they cannot borrow from the bank either... My sister never worked and my brother-in-law briefly visited prison for having stolen a car or two."

"Oh..."

"Yeah oh... I don't come from the best family."

Mila wiped Dasha's tears away. It pained her deeply to see her friend like that. After a long silence, she asked hesitantly.

"How about we do that... thing again?"

"I was thinking about doing it on my own but I just feel bad. It's not the person I would like to be," said Dasha sighting.

"I bet nobody does it for fun and I would not like you to go alone."

"You know, until now, nobody really cared what I was doing. It is odd when somebody does." Dasha's voice was only a whisper.

"I know. Same here. I guess it's you and me against the world, Dasha," said Mila, smiling.

That evening Dasha was not her usual happy, striking self. She was still beautiful but there was no light in her eyes.

Mila felt she had to have more initiative than last time.

She borrowed again one of her friend's dresses. This time it was golden and a bit flashy, not quite to her liking, but it was good for the purpose.

"You should let your hair down and wear this, " said Dasha handing her a deep red lipstick.

Mila took the lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror thinking for the first time in a while that she looked quite pretty. Her long, silky, golden hair was blending with the color of the dress. It was a nice touch.

Everything was very smooth in the first club they entered. Dasha caught the eye of a seemingly wealthy man in his fifties. He bought them both champagne and was all smiles.

This time, men were noticing her significantly more than the previous time.

The lipstick and the dress are doing the job quite well.

In forty-five minutes they were out of the club and three hundred pounds richer.

In the second club, Dasha walked confidently to the table where four middle eastern men were sitting.

Mila didn't like that. If it was more than one, it was more likely for somebody to notice.

She smiled and sat on the sofa between two of them. A group of three other girls came over and started dragging them to the dancefloor.
Mila could not believe her eyes when she saw that the wallet of one of them had fallen on the sofa without him noticing.

She grabbed it swiftly, put it into her purse, and headed to the ladies' room.

Inside the cabin, she opened her purse.

Eight hundred pounds in cash. Ding ding ding, jackpot, thought Mila and cursed under her breath when she scratched her finger in the metal emblem of the Louis Vuitton wallet.

"Damn it, why is this sharp?" she whispered wiping the drops of blood from the metal. Luckily it didn't produce a stain.

Her heart was again pounding wildly when she placed the empty wallet between the cushions and went on the dancefloor to search for Dasha.

Dasha was dancing seductively to a slow song. She leaned over and kissed Mila on the cheek.

"Let's go" whispered Mila in her ear.

She exhaled sharply when they were finally out of that club.

"Fuck, I had to drink three glasses of champagne," said Dasha.

"I noticed you are too happy. This was a good one. He had eight hundred. One more like this and we are good."

"Don't you think we are pushing our luck with three in a row?" asked Dasha.

"Psst, don't jinx it. Tonight is a good night," said Mila throwing the tissue she wrapped around her finger in the trashcan in front of the club.

The next location was a wine bar and jazz club. Dasha said that refined guys were gathering in places like that.

The atmosphere was different there. The music was not so loud, the furniture did not have striking colors, and everything was minimal. If a word should describe it, that would be 'classy'.

"Fancy place," said Dasha, taking a seat at the bar.

"Indeed" answered Mila, wrapping her hands around her torso. She felt her dress was too flashy for that place.

After ten minutes of waiting, the bartender placed two margaritas in front of them.

"Courtesy of the gentleman over there," said the bartender gesturing towards a young man at a table in the corner of the room.

"He is handsome and young... Too young," said Dasha.

He had indeed very handsome features, a sharp jawline, olive skin, and deep, brown, almond-shaped eyes. He was probably Asian or mixed, and Mila had to agree that he was quite attractive.

"I am going over. Maybe I am lucky."

"But you said he is too young."

"Yes, but I am thinking I might want to have half an hour of fun too."

Even if not very pleased, Mila understood somehow that Dasha longed for some kind of intimacy, that she was searching for a partner to fulfill her needs and bring her joy. Maybe her life would indeed change when she would find one.

Left alone, she turned to her margarita and took a big sip. After fifteen minutes, Dasha was still talking to the man and didn't call her over yet. She stood up bored and headed to the toilet.

Right after stepping into the dark corridor leading to the restrooms she felt a hand on her wrists and turned her head to see a bewitching beautiful face...