An escort service

Amanda did a double take as Mark stopped the van. It was a three story building in an upscale part of town, and it certainly looked like the employer could handle just about any financial fiasco Amanda found herself in. However, the name of this business quickly dampened the mood. "Stand-Ins." A few friends told her that this was a brothel, though they used a nicer term.

"Um, Mark" Amanda chimed in. "Aren't these things illegal?"

"Absolutely not," he retorted. "It's perfectly legal to hire company for dinners, parties, and anything else you don't want to be seen going to alone. They just can't bring sex into it. Besides, he runs other businesses, this is just where he holds all the interviews."

"Oh, okay."

​Amanda quickly ceased to care about this turn of events and walked in the door confidently. She was quickly treated to the sound of soft music and light banter between the clients and escorts. The gentle lighting pointed out the marble floors and imitations of famous artwork without being bothersome and unnatural to the eyes. Beyond a podium was a large room furnished with dining tables, a bar, and an empty dance floor, while a few couches and a coffee table were in front serving as a waiting area. At the podium was a raven haired bombshell whose inviting smile quelled the lingering doubts in Amanda's mind and heart. And her obsessions with fixing her make-up and bob-cut while ensuring her massive mammaries were still concealed despite the commotion from the other room seemed to confirm everything Mark promised about this job.

The woman spoke first. "Mark, welcome back. And I imagine this is the fresh talent you mentioned?"

"You got that right," he answered. "Ready for us?"

"Almost. First, you need to report upstairs, alone, to make sure everything is in order. After that she goes through the interview. I'm here to keep the new girl company while she's waiting."

"Alright." Mark turns to Amanda, "You heard her. Back in a flash."

The top floor of the building was much less tasteful than the remaining floors, the boss arguing the more administrative area shouldn't be distracting. Instead of something flashy and memorable, it was only a long hallway with several rooms embedded in the white walls, and the layout was a giant 8 like the ones on a digital clock. It made navigation fairly easy, but exuded the eerie feeling of total entrapment that comes with an office job.

Announced only by the clicking of his shoes on the tiled floor, Mark slowly made his way to the middle of the floor, where he could find his employer waiting for him. On the way, he passed by one of the inner rooms and was treated to an agonizing scream, a voice crying in anguish for salvation before being silenced by a loud snapping sound. In the next moment, a woman emerged from the room in question, clad in various red splotches along her slim, toned waist and 36C boobs. Mark felt certain that there was more blood on her underwear, but it wouldn't show on the red cotton until it dried and blackened, and he could only imagine how much would have been hidden in the length of red hair grabbing for her bra strap if she hadn't pulled it back into a ponytail. Contrasting against her fair skin were the pitch black gloves adorning her hands, the stains streaked as if she had been holding something moments ago.

"Mark!" she called with a soft smile on her face. "I wasn't expecting you for another 10 minutes."

"No traffic," Mark said. "What were you..."

"Pimp on my turf. Little lesson and demonstration. But enough of that, let's focus on the new girl."

Marianna's methods confused Mark a bit, such as the fact that she insisted Mark always reference her to prospective new comers as a man, but if he got paid what she promised, he had no intention of arguing, especially since she was all around larger than him. Marianna, commonly called Annie around her places of business, perfectly embodied the Shakespeare quote "Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't" to the point some people thought she was a bit of a psychopath. One moment she'd seem completely docile and fragile like a snowflake, and in the next moment turned into a merciless hail stone targeting the nads of anyone at hand. Everyone around her was always very careful to avoid making her angry, and often times earnest effort was all that was necessary to stave off her attacks. What made this difficult was her amazing ability to read people, to know when they lied and when the only reason for their work was to chase away her bad moods. And such slackers were all too common. Annie's businesses outside Stand-Ins were strip clubs, other escort services, bars, night clubs, and more of the like, all of which, and a few street corners, included some of her working girls and **** dealers (though, officially, they were employed by her driver for his second job). When it came to the night life, Annie held the monopoly in this city, and not just on the fun aspects.

Mark thought it was all hype to scare the new guys, arguing he'd easily be able to hide his impulsiveness, but after an apparent mood swing, he was starting to fear it was real.

Upon returning to the center office, the red cotton undies were swiftly deposited in a case full of other dirtied clothing which she needed to carefully cleanse of criminally incriminating evidence. Annie seemed oblivious to Mark as she wiped herself clean with packets of wet naps. Once again, Mark didn't complain about the magnificent view of the landing strip and perky pink nipples, all slightly glowing in the light of the office.

"Didn't you bring a girl here for me to interview?" Annie asked, now sitting atop her desk, not even hinting at a desire to dress.

"Right! Uh, well, I met her on my rounds this morning. She was behind on her cable bill and my company sent me to turn it off. She went a little nuts when she found out that she already blew most of her cash, I helped her get a grasp on her finances, and that's when I mentioned you. I mentioned the nice things you do for your employees, how you're looking for good looking girls like her, and how most just have to look good and then learn the rest of their skills as they go."

"Did you take advantage of her?"

Mark chuckled. "You made me sign a contract that says I can't do that."

"Not what I asked."

"No," Mark lied, still clinging to his hopes. "I told her the truth about her financial situation, and I didn't do anything in violation of the contract."

"Mark," Annie sighed, "why did you lie?"

"What lie? I'm serious!"

"Sweety, I don't even care about that clause, most guys do sample these girls. They all want to get their rocks off, and it helps me ascertain a position for them. The clause is only their to ensure I can trust my scouts to be honest and not steal employees from me."

"Alright, I..."

"Too late," Annie interrupted. "Now, you're the city's problem. They'll pick you up when they come pick up the moron who stained my old undies."

Mark wanted to argue the point further, but he thought it better to beat a hasty retreat and try to get Amanda out of here. His feet carried him as fast as they could, knowing Annie couldn't chase him once he got down to the floors that required more than a birthday suit. All he really had to worry about were the other members of her mob, odds are they were a bit less hindered.

In truth, Mark was done the moment he lied. He didn't know at the time, but Annie's web over this city went much further than he could have realized.