Chapter 5 – The Clinic
by Kleo EriliThe Valley Health Clinic was so inconspicuous that Chloe walked right past it at first. The sign above the door was very discreet, just “Health Clinic” in simple white letters on a blue background. No neon lights, no flashy advertising, very unusual for Valley City.
Chloe pushed open the glass door and stepped inside, letting out a sigh of relief as the air-conditioned air cooled her down. The entrance area was meticulously clean and smelled faintly of disinfectant.
Behind the reception desk sat a middle-aged woman with a round, friendly face. She looked up from her computer and smiled, and it seemed to be a genuine smile, not the professional grin Chloe had mostly seen in Valley City so far.
“Hi honey, can I help you?”
Chloe stepped closer. “I’m here for STI testing. For, um… for work. I’m new to… the industry.”
The woman’s smile grew even warmer, as if she knew exactly how uncertain Chloe was feeling right now. “I understand, sweetie. Don’t worry, we do this all the time. Have a seat and fill out the questionnaire.”
She handed Chloe a clipboard with several pages of paperwork. Chloe took it and sat down on one of the chairs.
There were two other people sitting in the waiting area: a young woman with bright red hair and huge headphones, bobbing to some inaudible beat, and a nervous-looking man in a wrinkled suit, leafing intently through the previous day’s edition of the Valley City Times.
Chloe filled out the forms. Name, date of birth, medical history, and reason for visit. There was even a separate box for industry testing.
When she was done and returned the clipboard, the receptionist nodded. “Won’t be long, honey.”
Fifteen minutes later – during which Chloe checked her phone and noticed that her Instapic post already had twenty likes, mostly from accounts with names like “BigDickTenderloin” and “HornyBoyyy,” but hey, engagement was engagement – a door opened.
“Ms. Thompson? This way, please!”
A slender woman in a white coat stood in the doorway. She was perhaps in her early forties, with dark hair showing the first strands of gray and eyes that seemed both professional and warm.
Chloe followed her down a narrow hallway into a treatment room that was small but clean.
“I’m Dr. Patel. Please, have a seat.” She pointed to the examination table.
Chloe sat down, the red dress stretching across her thighs. Dr. Patel began to put on gloves and prepare various things, like needles, test tubes and cotton swabs.
“We’re going to do several tests today. Blood test, urine sample, and a few swabs. It will all be quick, and we’ll have the results by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Chloe nodded.
Dr. Patel looked at the form. “I see this is your first industry test?”
“Yes.”
The doctor sat down on a swivel stool and rolled closer. “I understand this can be a little overwhelming, especially when you’re new to the industry. Do you have any questions?”
Chloe hesitated. The question she really wanted to ask – “How many of the girls come through here and regret it later?” – remained unspoken. Instead, she said, “I guess… what are the risks? How careful do I need to be?”
Dr. Patel paused, put the utensils aside, and looked Chloe straight in the eye. “That’s a good question. It shows you’re taking your health seriously.”
She folded her hands in her lap and gave Chloe her full attention. “There are still remaining risks, I can’t deny that. But with regular testing and a responsible approach to safety, you can do a lot to stay safe.”
“How often do I need to get tested?”
“At least every two weeks, but some performers do it weekly, since there are a few production companies that are a bit stricter. We enter all the results into a database that the producers can access. But you also have access to it yourself.”
She explained how the database worked, what was tested, and how quickly the results were available. Chloe listened and stored the information.
“Most people in the industry pay close attention to the regulations,” Dr. Patel continued. “After all, it’s in everyone’s best interest.”
Then her tone became more serious, almost motherly. “But always remember that you can say no at any time.”
Chloe gave her a questioning look.
Dr. Patel seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Look, I don’t want to scare you. It’s just important to me to assure new performers that it’s okay and healthy to set boundaries. I knew Pam Williams, she was a performer who committed suicide after a preventable HIV infection, and I had to think of her because you two look a bit alike. Sorry for rambling a bit, what I want to say is: No scene is worth your health.”
Chloe felt unexpected emotions welling up inside her. At least someone in this damn city seemed to care a little.
“Um, thank you. Really.”
“No worries!” Dr. Patel smiled gently. “My colleagues and I are here if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to stop by if you have any questions.”
Chloe nodded.
“Then let’s get started.” Dr. Patel became businesslike again. “First, I’ll take a small blood sample.”
Chloe held out her arm. Dr. Patel tied a rubber band around her upper arm and tapped a vein.
“Just a tiny prick…”
There was a brief sting, and Chloe tried not to look.
“That’s it.” Dr. Patel removed the rubber band and stuck a small bandage on the puncture site. “There are cups for the urine sample over there, and the bathroom is right next door.”
Chloe took the plastic cup and went to the bathroom. It was cramped, but she managed without accidentally spilling anything on her dress. The glamorous world of show business.
When she returned with the sample, Dr. Patel took it and set it aside.
“Since this is your first time today, we’ll do the full program, including all the swabs. Open your mouth, please.”
Chloe opened her mouth. Dr. Patel inserted a cotton swab and rubbed it against her throat. It tickled, and Chloe struggled to suppress her gag reflex.
“And we also need a vaginal swab. You can do it yourself if you prefer, or I can help.”
“I can do that.”
Dr. Patel handed her the cotton swab and discreetly turned away. Chloe pulled up her dress, moved her underwear aside, and inserted the swab. It was uncomfortable, but over quickly. She handed it back and pulled her dress back into place.
“Perfect, that’s it. The rapid tests will be ready in about twenty minutes, and the rest will be in the database by tomorrow morning. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Dr. Patel left the room with the samples. Chloe remained alone, staring at the posters on the wall. One showed the symptoms of gonorrhea in gruesome detail.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through Instapic. BigDickTenderloin had left a slightly too cheeky thirsty comment, which she deleted.
Time crawled by. Twenty minutes turned into twenty-five, then thirty. Chloe began to worry. What if something is wrong? What if-
The door opened. Dr. Patel returned, an apologetic smile on her lips.
“Sorry, it took a little longer. Another patient had a tiny nervous breakdown.”
“It’s okay.” She hoped her smile didn’t look as tense as it felt.
Dr. Patel was holding a printout. “Good news. The rapid tests are all clear. The other results will be in the system by tomorrow morning, but I expect everything will be fine.”
She handed the printout to Chloe, who took it with relief.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Dr. Patel stood up and held out her hand. “And don’t forget, you can come back anytime if you have any questions or concerns. The link and login details for the database are on the printout.”
They shook hands. Dr. Patel’s grip was firm and warm.
“Good luck, Chloe. Take care.”
At the reception desk, she paid $160 in cash. Her savings continued to dwindle, but she was officially clean. At least if the results were in the database by tomorrow morning.
She checked the time. Early afternoon. Nothing to do but wait now. For tomorrow, for the results, for the photo shoot. But she didn’t feel like just sitting around for that long.
Back in the apartment, she threw her clutch on the narrow bed, pulled the red dress over her head, and tossed her high heels into a corner.
She hated inactivity. She had mentally prepared herself for action, for forward movement, and now she had to sit around like an idiot.
She grabbed her phone and opened Instapic again. Her profile stared back at her reproachfully: a single post and twelve followers.
That’s not enough. I need to post more.
She grabbed her laptop, sat cross-legged on the bed, and looked at the profiles of other performers. The feed of Maddy Bliss, for example, one of Ben’s other blondes, was full of beach photos, gym selfies, and strategically placed thirst traps. Nothing too obvious, but nothing too reserved either. Her Hitter profile, on the other hand, where adult content was allowed, was quite explicit.
Chloe thought about which direction she wanted to go with her image. After her research the day before, she actually thought that a mix of “sexy” and “approachable” should work best. Girl-next-door vibe with a hint of “I would do things with you that my daddy shouldn’t know about”.
She closed her laptop and pulled one of her new outfits out of her shopping bag. Short denim shorts that barely covered her butt and a crop top in bright pink. She put both on and looked at the result. The top ended just below her breasts, the fabric stretched across her chest. The shorts… well. She wasn’t sure she would get used to such skimpy clothes so quickly.
But for Chloe Heart, it’s just perfect.
She squeezed her cell phone in the tiny pocket of her shorts and a few folded dollar bills in the other, and set off.
Outside, the afternoon heat hit her quite hard, so the skimpy clothes actually suited her. She marched toward the Hub, and it was so hot that the soles of her sneakers sometimes stuck slightly to the tar of the pavement.
The Hub looked different in daylight. Less glamorous and much dirtier. The neon lights were dull and sad, and the buildings looked pretty run-down without the darkness to hide their flaws.
Chloe stood on a street corner, the Hub’s main street behind her, and lifted her phone with the front camera activated. Her face appeared on the display, but the sun made her squint. The lighting was completely awful.
She turned slightly, finding a better angle.
Click.
Oh crap, she was still squinting too much.
New attempt. This time she turned her back to the sun as best she could.
Click.
Much better. The light now fell softly on her face, her hair glowed golden.
She took several shots from different angles. Head slightly tilted. Smiling. Serious. Running her hand through her hair. After the tenth photo, she had gotten the hang of it.
“Hey, need a photographer?”
A guy, maybe in his mid-twenties, wearing a backwards cap and a sweaty muscle shirt, grinned at her. His gaze was fixed on her legs.
“No, thanks.” She turned away and walked on.
“Come on, baby, I’ll take some really hot pictures of you!”
She ignored him, turned the corner as quickly as she could, and then moved from location to location, until it became routine. Finding a position, checking the light, taking several shots, deleting the bad ones, and moving on.
A white wall in front of an office building. Clean, minimalist. Click.
An abandoned parking lot with interesting shadows. Click.
A row of trees in a side street, unexpected and unexpectedly pretty in this urban environment. She leaned against a trunk and smiled gently. Click.
“Chloe? Is that you?”
She froze. But it was just Mia, the stripper from the night before. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt and looked completely different from her club outfit.
“Oh, hey Mia!”
“Wow, you look good!” Mia eyed Chloe’s outfit, cell phone in hand. A knowing grin spread across her face. “Instapic?”
Chloe shrugged slightly, embarrassed. “Gotta build up my social media.”
“Girl, I feel you. Half my life is taking selfies.” Mia lit a cigarette. “Want a tip?”
“Sure.”
“Golden hour. An hour before sunset, the light is absolutely amazing, especially towards the sea. Turns even an average girl into a fucking goddess.” She blew out smoke. “Not that you’d need it.”
“Thanks!”
“No problem.” Mia took another drag on her cigarette. “I have to go, my shift is about to start. Good luck, and let me know if you need a job!”
“Will do!”
She disappeared around the corner, leaving Chloe alone.
After two hours, she had enough material and followed Mia’s advice to take advantage of the golden hour, even though she didn’t quite make it down to the sea. She started her way back, the sun now lower in the sky, bathing Valley City in orange light.
Back at the apartment, she drank a whole small bottle of water from the refrigerator in one go and transferred the photos to her laptop.
She opened a free photo editing app and edited the photos a little. Nothing exciting, just a few filters, increasing the contrast, cropping here and there.
She now had enough pictures to last a week. Shortly after, she posted the first one:
“Getting to know my new city! Valley City is full of surprises💕 #ValleyCityVibes”
No sooner had she posted it than the first like came in. BigDickTenderloin, of course. She sighed.
She scrolled through her timeline, followed more accounts, including three other performers from Ben’s agency.
Ben’s private account was a disaster. Blurry photos, weird capitalization, and his attempts at using hashtags were unintentionally funny. #SexyGirls #HotNewTalent #BookNow #BestAgentInValleyCity #QualityTalent
Boomer gonna boom. His receptionist probably manages the agency’s account.
When her stomach growled, she made instant noodles and ate them straight from the pot. As she did so, she scrolled through the photos she would be posting over the next few days. In one picture, she was leaning against a tree, the setting sun making her skin glow golden. She looked… good. Really good, in fact.
It was a strange feeling. Of course, she knew she wasn’t ugly, but seen through the camera, in this light, in these clothes… she looked like someone else. Like Chloe Heart.
Exhaustion slowly crept up on her. It had been a long day and she had been walking around in the heat for hours. Her feet hurt and her shoulders were tense.
She put the empty pot in the tiny sink and collapsed onto the bed, where she peeled off her shorts and top.
She set the alarm for 8 a.m. She wanted to check the test results as soon as they were online.
Tomorrow would be the photo shoot. Nude photos. Professional nude photos. Of her.
The fear slowly crept up on her. Not the fear of being naked itself, she had worked hard on her body over the last few years and was proud of her fitness. But the fear of someone photographing her. Studying her. Documenting every inch of her.
That’s part of it. You knew that beforehand. So don’t be such a baby. People will see much more of you if all goes as planned.
She closed her eyes, tried to block out the sounds of the city coming through the window, and shortly afterwards, sleep came quickly and dreamless.
~
The alarm clock woke Chloe at 8 a.m. sharp. She fumbled blindly for her cell phone, tapping the screen until the piercing noise finally stopped.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Why did she have to get up so early? The results.
Suddenly wide awake, she reached for her phone again.
Nervously, she opened the link to the database that Dr. Patel had given her. She had already typed the login details the night before.
Loading…
The little circle spun. And spun.
As soon as I have a little money, I need a better cell phone.
Then the table appeared.
PASS Database
Thompson, Chloe
HIV: Negative ✅
Gonorrhea: Negative ✅
Chlamydia: Negative ✅
Syphilis: Negative ✅
Hepatitis B: Negative ✅
Hepatitis C: Negative ✅
Everything was green and clean.
The tension fell away from her. Of course, she knew everything would be fine. After all, she’d only had two boyfriends in her life, and that was a while ago, but still.
She shuffled over to the kitchenette and made herself a peanut butter sandwich. The bread was already a little dry, but her budget didn’t stretch to anything more.
Just as she was about to roll out her yoga mat after breakfast, her phone vibrated. Ben Ziegler had sent her a message.
That was it. No “Good luck” or “You can do it.” Just a damn thumbs up.
When she thought about what the whole thing was actually for, it was a bit ridiculous to feel nervous, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bit of anxiety rising inside her.
In five hours, a stranger named Julian would be photographing her naked.
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