“Sam lived alone,” Jake spoke into the intercom. This was the phrase he used every time he visited this building—this haven. The night air was cold as he stood in the dark alley by the steel door.

The door buzzed, releasing the lock. Jake opened the door and entered the building. There was nowhere else on this planet where he felt more accepted. Wherever he went, he was viewed as some monster. The burns and scars that covered his face and body frightened most; worse, they treated him like an invalid.

Jake walked the challenging climb up the grey steel staircase, the pain in his joints slowing his ascent. No, Jake couldn’t do physical activities as he did before the war, but he was still capable, he thought. When Jake finally reached the top, he noticed the apartment door ajar, as is the usual routine. He always knocks, regardless, to announce his arrival.

“Come in, Jake. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right with you.” her voice rang for the other room.

Jake made his way into the living room with its simple, plain, mismatched furniture. He places an envelope on an end table and removes his coat and beanie before sitting on the sofa. He was always a little nervous when first arriving here. What if, this time, she detracts from him? The usual doubt and negative feelings begin bouncing around in his head, like some of the fragments of the IED that made him into the grotesque creature he is today. His thoughts spring back to the present upon hearing her heels clicking on the floor, signaling her approach.

“Jake, my love,” she says, beaming as she touches the envelope that Jake left. “It’s so good to see you!” She says as she leans in to kiss his cheek.

“I’m sorry for the short notice tonight, Samantha,” Jake mumbles as he looks at her. Samantha is a woman in her thirties with a lithe, curvaceous figure. Her hair is a dark red that cascades over her shoulders and frames her classically beautiful face. She is dressed in a red lace bodysuit with matching heels.

“That’s okay, sweetie. I’m glad you called, but I am in a bit of a rush because I am booked for a date in a little while.” Sam says as she kneels in front of Jake. “I hope you understand. I promise I’ll make the time up to you next session.”

Sam began slipping Jake's sweatpants off while Jake lifted as best as possible to assist. The skin on Jake’s legs was, much like the rest of his body, deformed with burn and shrapnel scars. Yet, Samantha didn’t seem to notice. She lovingly ran her fingers along his scars, smiling as she looked upon his face.

“I’m sorry that I’m so gross, Samantha,” Jake said in self-pity. How could she not be grossed out? He was disgusted to see his deformities himself.

“My sweet Jake. I don’t see your scars. I see the man inside.” Sam whispered as her fingers found their way between his thighs. “The man who has needs.”

Samantha took all of Jake’s cock into her mouth and began to ply her craft. Jake’s only relief from the world of misery that he experiences everywhere but here. Samantha’s compassion was his saving grace.