“I’m nervous,” I said to Penthouse as I pulled on my clothes and went to head out to a meeting. 

He turned to face me, “how come?”

“Uh, because I’m about to go into an important meeting with the word ‘whore’ carved into my stomach.” I stared down at the shirt that covered it, willing it to stay opaque. 

“Oh,” he smirked, “yeah. I guess that’d do it.”