X-3-19 cracked her door open, peeking inside like a kid sneaking into their parents’ bedroom late at night. Was she married too? Like him.

"Come in," she said.

"Thanks." He wondered if he’d get more than just a place to sleep, maybe even the luxury of a hot shower. His eyes landed on a three-tiered shelf filled with different pairs of women’s shoes: ballerinas, ankle boots, peep-toes, pumps, heels, boots, wedge booties, and moccasins. There was something for every occasion. He wondered if X-3-19, like Lilu, led a shady double life. The thought immediately bothered him. Could this beautiful woman with the angelic face really be a prostitute, mixing with the dregs of men? Billy quickly dismissed the idea.

"Nice place," he said, placing his dirty boots on the floor in the only free spot he could find, while she hung his rain-soaked work jacket on the coat rack and told him he should take off the rest of his clothes too. Otherwise, he’d catch a cold.

"You got any spare clothes for me?" he asked, unzipping his overalls and peeling them down to his knees. That’s when he realized he was still wearing the same boxers from the day of the theater show—the silly ones with the happy little pig faces on them. Had he really gone a whole week without a shower?

A sudden wave of embarrassment hit him.

"I should have some old men’s clothes in the closet," X-3-19 said.

"Great," Billy said, rolling his eyes internally. He tugged off one dirty sock and then the other. There was something inside them, thin, kind of elastic but also hard. He glanced at his sock, then reached in with two fingers.

"What is it?" X-3-19 asked.

"There’s something in here," Billy said, concentrating, and suddenly pulled out his own toenail.

There was a moment of silence.

His gaze shifted from the hardened nail between his fingers to the shocked look on X-3-19’s face. Slowly, he lowered his eyes to his feet. The nails on all his toes were thick and peeling away from the nail beds. But something else caught his attention when he looked down: He had never been on a beach holiday (he’d never had a vacation, period) but even so, he couldn’t remember ever being this pale. His skinny legs were chalk-white, and a web of fine veins and tiny capillaries was clearly visible under his paper-thin skin.

His heart pounded against his chest.

The first thing he did in his rising panic, which he tried to hide from X-3-19, was to ask where the bathroom was.

His feet left sweaty marks on the dark laminate floor all the way down the hallway, marks that lingered until the moisture evaporated into the air.

Thankfully, the overpowering scent of an air freshener (or maybe more than one) covered the smell of his feet, preventing the situation from getting even more awkward than it already was.

The bathroom window was open, letting in the chill of winter. He paused for a moment, considering. The chill of winter. When had he ever heard himself say something like that? Since the day he was born, winters had always been mild. It seemed like his life wasn’t the only thing falling apart—now the weather was joining in too. After everything impossible that had happened over the last few hours, though, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the next Ice Age was about to hit.

He put his foot, the one that still had most of its toenails, on the edge of the bathtub and inspected it up close. Then he slid a finger under his big toenail, applying a little pressure, and then a bit more, until the dead nail slowly peeled away from the nail bed. Moments later, he was holding it in his hand, grimacing in disgust before tossing it into the small waste bin next to the sink. He hesitated, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Then, he pulled off the rest of his toenails. They came off with about the same amount of effort it takes to peel the lid off a yogurt cup.

When he was done, he scrubbed his hands with soap for a long time, trying not to think about anything at all. Somehow, losing himself in the routine calmed him, at least for the moment. He splashed cold water on his face, reached blindly for the faucet handle, turned off the water, and grabbed a small hand towel hanging beside the sink. He dried his face and glanced up into the large bathroom mirror.

He was so startled, he forgot to breathe.

He just stared.

Stared in silence.

"Are you okay in there?"

X-3-19’s voice came muffled through the door.

"No," he said after a while.

"I’ve got another painkiller here. It’s stronger. You should take it. I’ll leave it on the nightstand."

He didn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on the figure staring back at him from beyond the mirror.

He raised his hand.

The figure did the same.

He tilted his head to the side.

And so did the thing beyond the glass.

That’s me.

Is that really me?

What in the world happened to me during that missing week?

His eyes were so large, it seemed like they might pop right out of his skull. His fingers were long and thin, like a spider’s legs. His entire body was sickeningly thin. He even seemed taller than he remembered. His lips were bloodless and pale, barely distinguishable from the rest of his skin. He could see the intricate web of veins just beneath the surface, slowly becoming more visible. It was grotesque.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Which raised a new question for him: Was X-3-19 blind?

----------------------------------------

It felt more than strange to be undressing in front of a woman who wasn’t Vivian, and it felt even weirder when he, now only wearing his boxers, walked into the unfamiliar bedroom and sat on the edge of a large double bed. Despite the cozy decor, it reminded him of his sixteenth birthday (the only birthday he could still remember), when two of his school friends pressured him into a dingy room in a red-light district, where he sat nervously waiting for two prostitutes who were cleaning up after their last client in a small, grimy bathroom nearby.

Back then, he’d managed to make his escape in time, but this time, there was nowhere to run. Even though sitting half-naked in a stranger’s bedroom felt wrong, it was still better than falling asleep on the street and waking up on an organ harvester’s table—if you woke up at all.

Next to the painkiller and glass of water X-3-19 had left for him, something else glimmered under the small lamp on the nightstand. He grabbed the fish oil-sized pill first, swallowed it with a sip of water, and then picked up the XXL condom, eyeing it suspiciously from both sides.

"Don’t tell me you don’t keep those at home," X-3-19 said, entering the room at precisely the right moment.

Billy awkwardly tossed the condom onto the bed. "Of course I do," he lied, looking down at his skinny frame, embarrassed.

The solar technician turned off the harsh ceiling light and lit some small candles scattered around the room. In their soft glow, his pale skin wasn’t as noticeable. The gentle, rhythmic tapping of the rain on the sloped roof above invited relaxation, but Billy sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, tense and anxious.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, "don’t sit there like a schoolboy stuck in detention with Miss Teacher." She walked over to her laptop, which was hooked up to a speaker system, and started playing soothing piano music. Shadows of the objects in the room danced playfully along the picture-covered walls. The flickering light wrapped around the photos like a silken veil. On them, X-3-19 posed in various erotic positions, sometimes in lacy lingerie, other times completely nude. They were all just pictures of her body, as if that was the only thing about her worth knowing. Yet Billy found her gentle yet assertive personality to be her most captivating trait.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked, glancing around the room. "You didn’t even offer me coffee, so... what’s this all about?"

"It’s about sex," she replied.

"About sex?" Billy stared at her, his mouth open. Suddenly, he could feel his pulse pounding in his neck. The world seemed to spin at thirty times its normal speed, making him feel dizzy. But X-3-19 didn’t react to the shock written all over his face.

"Sex is the simplest thing in the world," she said. "Even a mayfly doesn’t hesitate to reproduce, even though it dies afterward. Don’t worry, sweet stranger. You don’t need to prove anything to me. I’m not here to grade your performance. Just lean back, relax, and do whatever you like with me. Finish as quickly as you want."

"You’re a..." Billy began, pausing for what felt like an eternity. "A prostitute?"

"Almost every woman earns a little money with her body nowadays. There’s nothing shameful about it," X-3-19 said, noticing his gaze lingering on the photos.

Billy looked at her, his disappointment and heartbreak impossible to hide.

"I think I should..." he started, but she placed a finger on his lips, not even letting him finish. She moved across the floor like she was weightless, her woolen socks softly padding on the ground as she left the room.

Where was she going?

What was she doing?

As the door closed, a light breeze carried the scent of vanilla and wild berries. Billy wrapped himself in dark red silk, his head sticking out from the top, his toenail-less feet peeking out from the bottom. In the silence, he could feel his heart pounding even harder. It felt as though it had grown three sizes too big for his chest, which, given all the other physical changes, didn’t seem all that impossible.

When X-3-19 returned, she held another pill between her thumb and forefinger, a small blue tablet, which she handed to him along with another glass of water. Billy took both and examined the pill. "A stimulant?"

She nodded.

He placed both the pill and the glass back on the nightstand.

"You don’t want it?" she asked.

"I think... I’d rather just talk tonight," he said.

She nodded in understanding. "If all you want is to talk, that’s fine with me too."

"It’s just... I don’t even have any money to pay you," he admitted.

She smiled softly. "You don’t need to."

"Really?"

"No."

"Well, if you don’t want money, what do you want? You can’t possibly tell me you find me attractive. At least, I wouldn’t believe you. I know I look pretty... off right now."

"I think you’re beautiful just as you are," X-3-19 said, sitting down on the bed next to him and folding her legs into a cross-legged position.

She wasn’t wearing any underwear under her short nightgown.

His heart raced to his throat as he glanced down between her legs.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Billy’s throat tightened. "Everything," he said.

"Alright. Let’s talk about everything. Let’s start with our employer, the Thandros Corporation. What do you think about them?"

He paused to think.

But without waiting for his answer, X-3-19 continued: "We have the knowledge to eradicate malaria in the Third World. But the Thandros Corporation and the rest of the pharmaceutical industry, independent or not, wouldn’t make any profit if they just gave their medicine away to the world’s poorest. So instead, they focus on developing drugs that sell well in wealthy industrial nations. sex-pills for anyone who can afford them, because in a productivity-obsessed society, men can’t perform anymore."

"Well, I think I’m still doing fine in that department, but…"

"Not quite as saintly as the media makes the corporation out to be, huh?"

Billy pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Tell me, would you save the world, Billy Jones? Would you free us from oppression if you could?" X-3-19 looked at him, her gaze expectant. "Would you give up everything, risk it all, to save us? To save me?"

He wondered if what she wanted to hear was the same as what he wanted to say. Was he ready to give up everything? Was it even possible for one person to save the world? Doubts began to creep in. It felt like such a cliché question, he thought. Just a moment of sentimentality that had led her to ask.

"For you, I’d give up everything," he said. "I’d give up anything for that."

X-3-19 immediately seemed relieved. She smiled at him. "You’re a good person, Billy Jones. Maybe you’re the first truly good person in the world."

"Well, I… may I give you a compliment?" he asked.

She didn’t answer, just looked at him, as if she didn’t want to be put on the spot.

"You look perfect, really young and beautiful," Billy said. "But your eyes... they’re not. Your eyes are old. In a good way, though, if that makes sense. They tell me you’ve been through a lot."

"Haven’t we all?"

The bitterness in her question made a lump form in his throat. He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, probably."

"Tell me something about yourself."

"There’s not much to say about me," Billy began his brief life story. "I can’t remember much about my childhood or my father. My mom... she said it’s probably for the best that I don’t remember him. Neither my dad nor my childhood were particularly kind to me."

X-3-19 stretched out her legs from their crossed position, pulling her socks up to her knees. "Do you like this?" she asked. "Do I look good like this?"

"Yeah," he replied.

She didn’t give him a chance to resist. The next moment, the red silk sheets were on the floor, and she was on top of him. Only the thin fabric of his boxers remained between them. She pushed him down by the shoulders onto the bed and leaned in, kissing him as she pulled his boxers off. He helped her a little. His heart pounded in his chest, and the rush of excitement drowned out any moral thoughts of marriage. His mind shut off, and in some subconscious way, Billy was grateful for that. She gave him one of those rare moments in life where only the present mattered. And in this moment, there was no ruined marriage, no accident, no life, no problems. He was reborn. Without a past, without a future.

With the last flicker of thought, Billy blindly reached for the condom on the bed, but X-3-19 took his hand and placed it on her chest.

"But," he said, between kisses.

"Trust me," she whispered.

And he did.