Madam

Gorgeous busty babes beyond one’s greatest desires. Round asses – heart shaped booties. Thin waists. Ornate jewels around their necks and flimsy silk scarfs cast around their curves, covering their sex. The smell of the brothel was charged with pheromones. Sultry musk and luxury perfume. Downstairs was business. Upstairs was the playground.

Francesca entered. She wore white blouse – plaited at the shoulder sleeves. A golden V-neck embroidered into the silk. A black skirt and stockings. Sharp crocodile leather shoes. She was real rich, not this fake minxy illusion.

The girls in the corners bowed as she entered. As they should. All except one. A woman with long thick dark blue hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were golden.

“You must be the madam,” Francesca said.

“No… You are mistaken…” she smiled, “Madam Rona died last week… You have come to replace her my lady…”

“What?! I’m no street whore!” Francesca said.

“Your dear father did mention that you would not be able to return without success…” she said.

Francesca stepped forward and slapped the prostitute. The sound echoing.

“Do not speak to me about my father…” Francesca hissed. Though she knew she was right.

This needed to be a success.