Looking For Work

Lois took a cab. Too far to walk in these heels, at least not without risking another encounter—and she didn't have time for that.

I'm on the clock. She reminded herself, shifting her ass in the back seat of the car. There were butterflies in her stomach, and her pussy felt wet; the reporter had applied a little more lube before she left, and hoped that she wasn't dripping onto her skirt or the seat.

The cab driver gave her an eyeful once or twice, but wasn't the chatty type.

Probably used to driving working girls around. Lois mused. So they rode in silence, driving past the club, and the cab let her off in the alley that led to the brothel. The reporter paid cash, not wanting to leave a trace by paying with her phone or a credit card...and then the cabbie was off, and she was on her own.

"Margot" kept her head high, shoulders back as she strolled through the alley like she owned it. Lois didn't have much time to get in character, but he felt confidence was the key—if you acted like you knew what you were doing, most people wouldn't question it. Streetwise Margot was looking for a possibility to get off the streets, if the terms were right...

The alley opened up to a space that might have once been a loading dock office, now converted into a storefront. Your typical palmistry shop, at first glance: a red neon hand glowed in a window edged with astrological symbols. The name Madame Alexa's sprawled across the top, and at the bottom the legend: Your future is in our hands.

"Cute." The reporter muttered.

Lois didn't see any other way in or out than the single door, but she did notice the discreet camera on the wall of the alley opposite the door, and the fairly heavy-duty lock on the door itself. Whoever was running this operation paid at least a little attention to security.

With head held high, "Margot" pulled open the door and stepped inside...to the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood. The "lobby" was small, little more than a glass display case before a beaded doorway, the walls covered with semi-erotic 'occult' paintings of nude mythological figures. The case was filled with various oils and what looked to Lois to include various popular gas station **** like Horny Goat Weed and poppers; it was topped by a cash register, a credit card reader, and a bell.

Behind the counter, smiling graciously, was a buxom blonde in headband and loose, flowing, almost diaphanous dress that must have been a nymphomaniac's idea of a Hollywood gypsy. The material was very nearly transparent, it was apparent the woman wasn't wearing any underwear beneath, except for an open-cup bra that lifted her breasts and put her nipples prominently forward.

"Welcome, welcome to Madame Alexa's! I see...you do not have an appointment."

"No, I don't." Lois couldn't suppress an easy smile at the theatricality.

"No matter! You wish to have your fortune told?"

"I am interested in my future," the reporter looked the woman dead in the eye. "I was told you might be hiring."

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Ah...and do you have your letter of recommendation?"

Lois produced the bill with the address written on it. The blonde scrutinized it closely...and Lois scrutinized the blonde.

There were tell-tales there...pale lines that suggested trips to the tanning booth, dark roots for bleached hair, pubis shaved and bare beneath the thin, clinging material of the dress...and Lois was sure that she had "work" done. Not the best work either, the reporter admitted; the breasts were large and plump but also slightly lopsided. No wonder she was on greeter duty...

The blonde looked up from the bill, smile relaxed into something a little more natural, although the eyes were sharper now.

"We may have an opening. Our girls work on a commission basis, you understand? Clients pay up front, they get their cut at the end of the night." The 'gypsy' spoke softly, quietly, a little cagily.

"What's my end?" Lois asked.

"Sixty percent. The rest goes to overhead, security, laundry." The 'gypsy' replied.

Lois wasn't sure if that was a good cut or not, and her hesitation must have shown.

"Non-negotiable. Unless you get a specialty act."

The reporter raised an eyebrow, and the blonde took a deep breath, apparently debating how far to trust her.

Lois leaned across the counter, letting the blonde get a look at her cleavage. "Kink?" Lois proffered. "Rough stuff? Group jobs?"

The gypsy nodded.

"Margot" smiled. Her heart was pounding faster for some reason, and she swore she could feel a dribble of something leak down her left thigh. "I can handle that. When do I start?"