So, you want to know what it’s like, do you ? Why don’t you ask one of the others ? He owns us all and we all have to work for him. If I refuse to work, he’ll have one of his guys come and sort me out. If that fails, I’ll be considered a waste of space and tossed out like rubbish. Like all the others, I belong to him and I’m only valuable when I’m doing what he wants me to do…servicing customers.

They run their grubby fingers over me, forcing it into me and taking what they want. If they have enough cash, they can use me until they run out of time, or get bored. The regulars are the worst. They make it clear that I’m just the means to an end. They come to me like moths to a flame and when they’ve had what they want, they leave me with the same eagerness that drove them to me in the first place. Purely transactional, and cold hard cash gives them precisely what they want every time.

When they are using me, I always know they are thinking about getting their money’s worth. If I short-change a punter, it’s only a matter of time before He gets one of his guys to visit me. He’s never the one to fix the issue. No, he gets others to do the dirty work. Keeps his hands clean. I only see him when the place gets busy, and he wants to make sure I’m working. When the place is full of punters, he comes out of his room to make sure we are giving his customers what they want.

The days drag by slowly. If I’m not being used, I know it’s just a matter of time before I must give someone what they want. I can be ignored for hours. I’ve got one purpose and if I’m not performing for him, he gets shitty. I’ve seen him go outside to hoover up punters, acting all friendly and telling them to come in and have a good time. He sometimes points at me and says I can give them what they need.

The nights are worse. It can be one after another, relentless. Money paid in exchange for my service. The next punter waiting to feed their own craving for cheap amusement. I’ve seen them queuing up on a busy night, their impatient faces glancing around the room, wondering if it’s going to be worth it.

The younger punters are always shifty, the old ones look awkward like they know they should be somewhere else. It’s usually the same type though…people who are bored looking for a satisfying ride, or a quick no strings attached rush. Everyone who sets foot in here wants action, and when they’ve had their fill, they go.

He makes sure he’s always got what the punters want. If any of us don’t deliver on that expectation, they vanish. Its one in and one out with no fuss, no second thoughts and no care. He’s made it clear; perform, or he’ll pull the plug and toss you out. I’ve seen him do it dozens of times. The minute I don’t do exactly what he wants me to do, I know I could be the next one out of the door.

You are wondering how this happened in the first place ? Want some truth ? I’ve got no recall of any life before this one and I don’t know. Let’s just say you can assume that he went looking for me, found out how to use me for his benefit…pushed all the right buttons until I lit up and pleased him.

Now he makes sure I get what I need to be valuable to him, but nothing beyond the absolute practicalities. Even has me inspected once a month to make sure I don’t give the punters something they don’t want. I am dependent upon him in ways you, or I can’t ever understand. I don’t give a single thought to anything, I just do what he wants, when he wants, without complaint. If I thought about it, he’d be surprised…that’s not something he’d ever be remotely comfortable with. I belong to him, and that’s all there is to it.

The change machine fell silent. No one was using it. Conversation over…