In the dimly lit room, the teenagers' breath hitches as they await their 'clients'. A boy, barely out of puberty, watches as a woman, her eyes cold and calculating, counts out the bills for his cherry. The camera zooms in as she guides his small, trembling hand to her breast, whispering, "It's okay, baby. You can do this." Across the room, a girl, her legs shaking, spreads them wide, her eyes locked on the man standing between them, his pants already unzipped. The room fills with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, moans, and the rustle of crumpled bills.