Whores Drop Hardest Quotes

The moment Isabella left the safety of the car, she felt exposed. The hum of the city surrounded her—the distant thrum of music from a nearby club, the muffled laughter of passersby, and the ever-present buzz of neon signs flickering above. But it was the women standing just a few feet away that made her most uneasy. They were confident in a way she couldn't comprehend—comfortable in their own skin, talking freely, laughing, smoking. The air around them seemed charged with something she couldn't touch.

She approached them slowly, her heart hammering in her chest, trying to appear casual despite the knots twisting in her stomach. One of the women noticed her, flicking the ash off her cigarette as her eyes narrowed in on Isabella.

"Lost, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement, the other women glancing over, their conversations pausing.

Isabella forced herself to meet the woman's gaze, her mouth suddenly dry. "N-no, I'm… not lost," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "I, um, I wanted to ask something."

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smirk. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Isabella hesitated, glancing back at the car where Dick sat watching, his eyes trained on her. She couldn't back down now. With a shaky breath, she turned back to the woman. "How much do you charge?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by a burst of laughter from the group. The woman took a slow drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out with a lazy grin. "Depends on what you're asking for, honey," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Isabella felt her face flush, but she pressed on. "Why… why are your rates higher than others?"

The laughter faded into murmurs, the women exchanging glances. The woman who had spoken first took a step closer, her eyes sharp now, sizing Isabella up. "You doing some kind of research project or something?"

Isabella shook her head quickly. "No, I just… I wanted to know how you decide. What makes you… worth more?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, her smile fading into something more serious. "You think we're not worth it?"

"No!" Isabella blurted, her heart racing. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—"

"Relax, honey," the woman cut her off, her tone softening slightly, though there was still a sharp edge to it. "But you asked the question you memorized before you even learned how much we charge. So, school project?"

Isabella's eyes widened. "No! I'm not here for… that," she stammered, quickly shaking her head. She glanced at the ground, trying to find the right words, anything to not seem as out of place as she felt.

The woman took another drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly as her gaze never left Isabella's face. "Okay then, what is it? You don't look like you belong here, not in that little blazer. What's your deal?"

Isabella swallowed, forcing herself to stand a little straighter. "I'm trying to understand… how confidence works. You seem… confident." She cringed internally at how awkward she sounded, but pressed on. "I want to know how you got there. How you, um, learned not to care what people think."

The group of women exchanged amused glances, but the one in front—clearly the leader of the pack—just smirked. "Sweetheart, confidence doesn't come from asking strangers about their rates. You either know what you're worth or you don't."

The bluntness hit Isabella harder than she expected. She opened her mouth to respond, but the woman wasn't done. "You've gotta stop worrying about what other people see. Start focusing on what you want, what makes you feel good. That's where it starts."

Isabella nodded slowly, but the woman's eyes narrowed. "But you're not here for that, are you?" Her voice dropped, carrying a weight that made Isabella's pulse quicken. "Someone sent you, didn't they?"

There was no point in lying. Isabella glanced at the car again, her face flushing as she saw Dick watching. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "He… he wants me to stop second-guessing myself."

The woman followed Isabella's gaze, smirking when she spotted Dick. "Ah, that explains it. So, the boy's got you out here doing fieldwork." She flicked her cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her heel as she stepped closer. "Here's the deal, honey. Confidence ain't something he can give you. You gotta want it for yourself. And if you don't, well…" She shrugged. "You'll keep standing here, asking pointless questions until you figure that out."

Isabella shifted uncomfortably, but something about the woman's words struck her. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond, so she just nodded again, swallowing hard.

The woman's smirk softened just slightly. "Listen, kid. You're not gonna figure this out overnight. But here's a tip for free: Stop trying so hard to be perfect. Own your shit. The good, the bad, all of it. People respect that a hell of a lot more than someone pretending to have it all together."

Isabella blinked, processing her words, but before she could say anything, the woman was already turning back to her friends. "Now, go back to your boy over there before he gets bored. And next time? Try not to overthink it."

Isabella nodded quickly, mumbling a soft "thank you" before turning and practically rushing back to the car. Her heart was racing, her palms sweaty as she climbed back inside and closed the door behind her.

Dick didn't say anything at first, just raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her. "Well?"

Isabella stared ahead, her mind spinning. "They… they told me to stop worrying so much," she said quietly. "To just own who I am."

Dick smirked, starting the engine again. "Smart advice."

Dick drove through the winding streets. The conversation with the street women had been a warm-up, but now it was time to push Isabella further out of her comfort zone. The neon lights and gritty streets faded behind them as they moved toward a more upscale part of town—one that catered to a different class of clientele. It was still seedy, still filled with lust and vice, but there was a refinement to it, a veneer of luxury over the grime. The escorts here didn't stand under flickering streetlights. They sat in plush lounges, dressed in designer clothes, their makeup immaculate, their prices high enough to make most men balk.

As they drove, Dick glanced over at Isabella. She was still quiet, her eyes fixed on the window as the city rushed by. She hadn't fully processed what was coming next.

"We're not done yet," he said, breaking the silence.

Isabella blinked, turning to him, the confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean? Where are we going now?"

"You're going to do more than just ask questions tonight," Dick replied, his tone calm but firm. "You're going to learn by doing."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn't ask for details. She had learned by now that Dick didn't explain everything upfront. He liked to keep people on edge, to push them into situations they weren't ready for.

They pulled up to a building with a glossy black door, the type of place that tried to blend in, but the few lingering luxury cars outside gave it away. This was where the high-end escorts waited, not on the street corners but behind closed doors, their services reserved for men with deep pockets and a taste for discretion.

Dick parked the car, pulling out a small makeup kit from the glove compartment. Isabella looked at it, then at him, her confusion deepening.

"Take this," he said, handing it to her. "You're going to need to change your look. Put on some heavy makeup, something different. You don't want to be recognized. A few moles, darker lips, and thicker eyeliner will do. Hide behind it. No one needs to know who you really are."

Her hands shook slightly as she took the kit, her voice quiet. "You want me to pretend to be one of them?"

"I want you to learn from them," Dick corrected. "Talk to the men who approach you. See how they react. If they agree to your price without hesitation, you're doing it wrong. You should get pushback. If they curse and drive off, then you're just spouting numbers without understanding the value behind them."

Isabella swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest as she opened the kit and started applying the makeup. The dark lipstick made her lips look fuller, more striking, while the thick eyeliner gave her a more intense, sultry look. She added a few beauty marks here and there, carefully crafting a new face for herself, one that felt foreign and uncomfortable.

When she was done, Dick looked her over, nodding in approval. "Good. Now go."

Her pulse quickened. "What… what do I say?"

"You'll figure it out," Dick said simply. "Watch the others. See how they handle negotiations. If you're too agreeable, they'll walk all over you. If you're too rigid, you'll scare them off. Find the balance. Learn to read them."

Isabella stepped out of the car, her legs feeling like jelly as she approached the building. The women outside weren't like the ones she'd seen earlier. These were polished, sophisticated, their movements graceful, their eyes sharp. They didn't catcall or laugh loudly; they simply waited, poised and confident, knowing the men would come to them.

Isabella stood awkwardly at first, unsure of where to go or what to do. But then she noticed a few of the escorts glancing her way, their expressions unreadable. One of them, a tall woman with long legs and dark hair pulled into a sleek bun, walked over, her eyes sweeping over Isabella with curiosity and mild amusement.

"You new here?" the woman asked, her voice low and smooth.

Isabella nodded, her throat dry. "Yeah, kind of."

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Well, you've got the look down. But you're standing like a deer caught in headlights. Loosen up."

Isabella swallowed, forcing herself to stand straighter, trying to mimic the confidence she saw in the other woman. "Any advice?"

The woman chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming. "Yeah. Don't be desperate. The moment they think you need their money, you lose. You're the prize, remember that."

Before Isabella could respond, a sleek car pulled up, and a man stepped out. He was dressed in an expensive suit, his eyes scanning the women like he was shopping for something specific. When his gaze landed on Isabella, he smirked, walking over with a casual swagger.

"How much?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Isabella's mind raced, trying to recall the prices she'd heard earlier. She blurted out a number, her voice trembling slightly. The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"Not worth that," he muttered, turning to leave.

Panic flashed in her eyes, but before she could say anything, the woman who had spoken to her earlier stepped forward, cutting the man off with a sharp glare. "She's new, but she's worth it," the woman said smoothly, her voice dripping with confidence. "And if you don't think so, then you're wasting your time."

The man paused, his eyes flicking between the two women. After a moment of hesitation, he shrugged and got back into his car, driving off with a curse under his breath.