"Double espresso and a Red Bull." I leaned against the counter. The barkeeper glared at me, as if I had ordered a shot of tequila. "I'm a virgin, okay?" I took out my magenta credit card and waved it in front of his face.

"Can I see some credentials, Miss?" He took a step back, not the least bit impressed.

"Are you serious?" I fumbled through my purse. This was the first time someone had asked me for my Virgin Card. Up until now my credit card had always done the trick.

"Bar policy, Miss. ID needed after nine." He crossed his arms and waited. Obviously, the entire universe was conspiring against me. I'd hoped after the day I'd had that I could at least get a cup of coffee. Seems I was wrong.

Fumbling through my bag, I found the laminated piece of plastic that identified me as an Interpreter, and showed it to the barkeeper. He took precisely one glance at it, then went to the espresso machine.

"Recent graduate?" he asked, starting to brew my shot. I ignored him, tapping impatiently on the counter. "Part of the group?"

"Group?" I asked, confused. The barkeeper pointed behind me.

A group of three was sitting quietly at a table in the corner, enjoying a few drinks. One look was enough for me to tell they were fellow graduates: they had that air of calm tenseness that only someone dealing with unicorns could acquire. I could also see their magenta cards on the table—the universal way of saying "non-virgins not welcome".

This was the first time I'd come across virgins outside work. Everyone from my class, myself included, had scattered all over the country after the graduation. In this line of work the money was where the unicorns were, which, for the most part, meant New York or somewhere in the orchard states. So far I had spent most of my time getting accustomed to city life and hadn't bothered to getting to know any of the local interpreters on a personal level.

"Can you bring it there when it's done?" I asked. The barkeeper's mouth twisted into a frown, but he nodded. "Thanks." I grabbed my bag and went towards the group.

Of the three, two were girls, both dressed in elegant grey business suits. If I had to guess, I'd say they were working for an insurance company or a law firm. I could see us getting along fine. The third was a babyfaced blond who gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘casual’. Messy hair, baggy jeans, and a T-shirt I wouldn't be caught dead wearing outside of home, he laughed along with his friends, drinking Pepsi straight out of a glass bottle. If it wasn't for his card on the table I'd have taken him for a lurker.

"Excuse me." I smiled, holding my magenta card so they could see. "Okay if I join you? I'm Katie."

The three looked at each other. The obligatory measuring up, so typical of virgin culture. A few moments passed in silence, while they were determining if I was good enough.

"Sure." The bronze-skinned girl took the initiative. "I'm Carla," she stood up and greeted me with a cheek brush before I could react. "That's Alice—" the other girl waved from her seat "—and Mike."

"Yo." The babyface gave me a thumbs up.

I nodded to each in turn, trying to hide the rush of blood to my face. Mumbling a response of sorts, I sat in one of the free chairs, adding my credit card to the others on the table.

"So, what's your deal?" Mike asked, as he leaned back. "Administration? Bank? Big ass company?"

"Business liaison," I corrected. The bartender came by, bringing my order. I muttered a thanks, then took a sip of my espresso. "Full staff contract."

"Cool, cool." The brunette across me, who had been introduced as Alice, nodded several times. "United Nations," she added with a smug expression.

"Hell, please don't start measuring contracts," Carla sighed. Now that I was close I could see her suit wasn't as high-end as I initially thought. Most likely she hadn't managed to make a good contract and was left picking up whatever was available. "Can't we spend one evening without going into whose unicorn's more important? In four years all of us will be replaced and the capitalist machine will keep on turning. Business as usual."

"Sweetie, you really need to find new employers," Alice gave her a consolatory hug. "Tourists mess up your brain."

"You can say that again," Carla grumbled. "Bjorn," she said loudly, turning towards the bar. "Another one, please."

"Are they that bad?" I shuffled, both hands around my small espresso cup. The comment peaked my curiosity. "I thought tourists were fun."

"Fun?" Carla snorted—a habit one acquired after spending too much time among unicorns. Personally, I found it disturbing. "Know what I did today? Spent ten hours visiting sugar factories... again! I don't know what's with unicorns and sugar. You'd say they'd found the Holy Grail or something. And then the souvenir shops? Don't get me started!" Beside me, Mike chuckled. "Good luck trying to convince them they're buying crap for ten times its actual value. I swear if I have to voice another discussion about the 'traditional earth pony gardening techniques' I'll throw up!"

"Gardening techniques?" I blinked. "What does that have to do with sugar factories and souvenir shops?"

"See?" Carla turned to the rest. "She understands me!"

"So what's your employer like?" Mike asked. His curiosity was getting annoying. "Talker? Snob? Parent?"

"She's a businessmare," I replied, not going into details.

"What Mike is trying to ask, is whether she's nice to you," Clara clarified.

"Sorry." Talk about embarrassing. They probably took me for a country bumpkin. "She's nice. I've only been with her for a day."

"Fresh to the big city?" Alice leaned forward. "Don't sweat it. Same here. Six months after graduation. I was so lost the first few weeks. Good thing I ran into these two."

"Good is a strong word," Carla sighed. I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "I still blame that unicorn couple. If only they'd turned left."

The conversation moved on to anecdotes and past experiences they had together. I tried to make sense as much as I could, joining in the laughter every now and again. At one point my phone started pinging. In the three seconds it took to take it out, seven messages had arrived. All were from Ms. Dis Lee—sent through Alex—asking if I was doing better, along with a long list of YouTube links.

“Huh?” Curious, I tapped on the first one. A video of a kitten playing with a unicorn popped up, filling the screen—one of the "Unicorns on Earth" clips that had been flooding the web since the start of tourist season. None of them shined with any originality, just unicorns doing something stupid. In this case, a middle-aged, beige unicorn stood still, annoyed expression on his face, while a kitten on his head was doing its best to claw its way up his horn.

"What's that?" Carla glanced at my screen.

"I've no idea," I watched on as the kitten leapt, grabbing hold of the tip of the horn with its front paws. "My boss sent it to me."

"Oh my goodness!" Across me Alice burst laughing, as the frightened kitten started dangling from the horn, while the unicorn grumbled at his wife not to take pictures of him. "Please, send me the link."

"Sure." I stopped the video. I never expected to get such a clip from Ms. Dis Lee of all people.

"And we have a parent," Mike started clapping. "Prepare to get calls any time of the day and night."

"Eh?" I gave my phone to Alice so she could add herself to my contacts. "What's that?"

"Parents are unicorns that are obnoxiously close to their virgins," Carla explained. "Female, successful, authoritative, slightly aging, but not middle aged, and without children."

That description matched Ms. Dis Lee to a tee, possibly with the exception of the last part. There was no way for me to know whether she had children. Keeping in mind the lack of photos in her office it was more than likely.

"They tend to seek out new graduates to 'adopt' and keep them on contract for as long as possible," Carla went on. "That's why we call them 'parents'. Best text yours that you're doing fine or she'll keep spamming you."

"You know what you should do?" Mike asked. "Quit. It's not worth it. Get into the call business. That's where the real money is."

"Here we go again." Carla rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious!" The babyfaced wouldn't stop talking. I'd known him for less than ten minutes and I already suspected he was high. "Look at you! All dressed in those suits, getting five hours of sleep, and for what? Ten hours of stress? I work from home in my underwear and I still make twice as much!" He waved to the barkeeper to bring him another drink. "Calls are where it's at!"

"Like a sex line?" I snubbed him. It was obvious him and I wouldn't get along.

"Do you know how many unicorns want to hear a human?" He ignored me. "Thousands! I'm not talking scared tourists who want to hear someone tell them they'll be fine. Think pen pals, think social networks!"

"There's such a thing?"

"HummCall." Alice gave back my phone. "It's this big idea about unicorns getting to talk to humans between worlds. You get paid based on call length and customer satisfaction. Mike thinks it'll become the next virgin Uber." She didn't seem at all impressed. "You can download the app for free."

"It's ten times better than kissing hooves in the U.N.!" Mikes was getting a bit loud. "Or horsing around with tourists. Try it out, you'll see!"

"Mike, if it was legit, then why—"

"Well, well, well," a mocking voice cut Alice short. "If it isn't a pack of virgins."

I froze. That wasn't a phrase I wanted to hear.