Allow me to introduce you to Ghost. She'll be pleased to
meet you, I'm sure. At least, she will appear to be so, with
a quiet hesitance and gentility, a shyness that makes fat
men drool. So pretty is she, in her dirty white corset and
white lingerie, her long uncared locks of loose blond curls,
her translucent white skin. 

Oh, and the eyes. It's the eyes that draws her customers in.
Tear smuged mascara sinks them into deep black hollows, the
white glints seen like candle lights from afar. It's this
ethereal beauty that keeps her bed occupied - despite its
small size in her less than humble abode. A small unkempt
room surrounded by city smog and downbeaten souls. 

"Anything you want, sir. Anything you want, madam." Hurt
her, and she won't mind, anything you please. So long as you
pay the price, she'll submit to your innermost filth-ridden
fantasies. She's your lollirot, your bitch, your bride, your
machine. She's your world. She IS a world. A
smoke-and-mirrors horizon where all you can see is a
reflection of your own personal cancer, your dark side,
dressed up like a may queen with the glamour and fakery of
love. Dressed up to fit your mood, dressed down if you'd
prefer. A world that twists round poles, whilst at that very
moment is drifting amongst insignifanct stars in an
unfeeling sky.

But Ghost will simply LOVE you. You're her favourite
customer, mind over matter, fantasies taking over reality,
passive to your own dreams. She has found a likeminded soul
in you, sweet ma'am, good sir. And she knows you'll come
back for more.

As long as the city lights keep twinkling, she'll keep
twirling round your world, fufilling your fantasies, the
prom queen of a diseased dimension. She'll be yours.
Providing you pay the price.