She looks for a job in a brothel

Cathy had always valued her independence above all but the prospect of whoring as a free agent in the Kettle was not a tempting idea, at least not for now. She needed contacts, a place to stay and some protection, and right now she had none of that. She decided it was more convenient to swallow her pride and let a someone else take care the formalities for now.

And she had a good hunch on where to go. She turned left onto a crossing street and walked a few blocks until she reached a beautiful old townhouse with a welcoming sign that read 'the Kneeling Nymph'.

If memory served Cathy right The Nymph was run by a man called Fat Osso. A self-indulgent pervert, like all pimps, but he was relatively fair and treated his girls like free women and not his personal slaves.

Cathy entered the building and found herself in a saloon where beautiful women of all shapes and colours were courting a few guests on plush chairs and sofas. Distant laughs and moans could be heard from the floors above and there was a bar and a small stage adorned with two scantily clad dancers. The place was a little run-down and the decor was dated, but Cathy found it both charming and cosy.

A beefy man who Cathy assumed was a bouncer approached. He had huge swelling muscles and the neck of a bullock and Cathy would have found him rather handsome if it hadn't been for his cavemanlike face and close set eyes.

"Can I help you, girl?" he grunted and gave her a distrustful look, not sure whether to glance at her sword or her breasts.

"Well hello there, handsome," Cathy smiled. "Could you be so kind to take me to your boss?"

"Nope. Go away, Mr Osso is busy," the bouncer told her flatly.

"But it's terribly important that I see him. And I assure you that Mr Osso won't have any reason to regret my presence. On the contrary, I think he will be most pleased."

She leaned in closer, giving him a good view of her spectacular cleavage and purred with her most alluring voice, "... and so will you."

The bouncer gave her a crude smile and grunted, "Suppose I grant you this terribly important favour, whore. What will you do for me?"

"In all justice you can't really call me a whore," Cathy said with a pout.

"Yet," she added slyly.

"But I'll tell you what..."