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“Kind of like the good word you’re going to put in for me?” I bat my eyelashes at my friend. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head vehemently.
“What? No, I can’t—”
“Please, Zo. You know how desperate I am,” I plead. “I’m five seconds away from selling blow jobs on the corner. At least this way you’ll know I’m safe.”
I’m only half joking, too. That’s how far I would go to get me out of that house. I had even thought about approaching a strip club to enquire about dancing, but what puts me off is the thought of ending up somewhere with a bad reputation, especially since I know nothing about the business. Sex doesn’t scare me, which makes me perfect for this. I’m confident in my own skin and I’m certainly not a prude. At this point, anything would be better than living with my mum. She moved her latest ‘fling’ in with us after meeting him two weeks earlier in Fiji and now blames me because her creeper boyfriend can’t keep his hands to himself. It’s gotten to the point where I avoid being home as much as possible to escape his attention and the inevitable fight with Mum that always follows.
“I’ve only been there a few weeks,” Zoe protests. “I can’t ask them—”
“Then get your cousin to vouch for me,” I interrupt, refusing to give up. “Please, Zo. I’ll owe you big time if you do this for me.”
“Fine,” she sniffs. “Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re the best friend in the world,” I shout, wrapping my arms around her.
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles and twists out of my embrace. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.” I give my friend a cheeky smile as I follow her out of her room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
* * *
Later that night,I settle in front of the television with my latest university assignment, fully making the most of having the house to myself. Mum is out on another drinking bender with her boyfriend and with any luck, they won’t be back until well into tomorrow.
My phone pings. I pick it up, my interest piquing when I see Zoe’s name. I click open her name and read the message.
Zoe:
Get your ass over here.
I glance at the time. It’s almost eleven in the evening on a Wednesday night.
Me:
Now?
Zoe:
Yup. I scored you an interview, but it has to be tonight.
My heart skips a beat. Holy shit, she actually did it.
Jumping off the couch, I race upstairs and rummage through my closet, looking for the one decent sexy dress I own that will get me through this interview. I don’t let myself think too hard about what I’m about to do, because this is all so far outside my comfort zone it’s not funny. The bit where I said I was confident? I lied. I’ve had exactly three sexual partners in my life, two of whom were long-term boyfriends.
What if I’m not cut out for this?
If it gets me out of this house, then I don’t have a choice.
Ihaveto make this work.
* * *
It’s nearlymidnight by the time I make it to the address Zoe sent me. I’m sitting in a room in the back of what appears to be a deserted office space in the industrial area in the outskirts of Melbourne. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. The place looks more like a car repair shop than a secret, elite men’s club. When I arrived, I was so unsure of where I was, I called Zoe to confirm the address.
“You’ll need to sign this.”
The woman sitting across from me gives me a steely-eyed stare and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow as she pushes a piece of paper across the table to me. She looks to be in her sixties, and with her short, silver blonde hair and perfectly made-up face, she’s not exactly who I imagined running a high-class prostitution ring, but whatever.
My hands shake as I reach over and retrieve the form. I quicky scan through the document. It’s a straightforward NDA, stating that I won’t reveal anything about what I am told or see from this point forward. I read through it a second time, then I take the pen from the middle of the table and sign my name.
