You get a call

Sliding down a bunch of help wanted offers, nothing really catches your eye. A few of the offers are not even serious. One guy, probably in his late seventieth, looks for a helping hand in his home who is >a good-looking woman not older than 25 with athletic body willing to wear job uniform provided by employer<. It is not that hard to get what the true intention of this man is. And you are not **** enough to whore yourself out. Especially not for 20 Dollars per day. You could earn twice that much collecting bottles.

Sadly, most other job offers are similar worse. Either somebody looks for a 18 till 25 years old barbie like looking slut willing to whore herself out at work for pennies, or somebody looks for a 20-year-old guy or girl with high qualifications and minimal 25 years of working experience. Even simple shop clerks are only wanted with finished education and work experience. But why should somebody with such qualifications look for a badly paid part time job at the local general store.

At the end of the website, you sigh and roll your eyes. This was nothing but a waste of time. Maybe you should ask some friends for help. You best friend Nicole has a job. Maybe her boss looks for somebody like you. Suddenly you feel a slight buzzing in your trouser pocket. You get a phone call. It’s Amber, a very close friend from middle school who is currently studying at the same university.

“Hi love,” Ambers unnecessary joyfully voice greets you as soon as you have the phone on your ear, “how is job hunting. Found anything good paid?”

“Sure, tomorrow I start as Elon Musk’s private fashion consultor,” you mumble sarcastic, “I hate the job marked. Everything is either terribly paid, only fulltime or fucking humiliating.”

“Well, maybe I could help you out,” Amber says cheering “my boss is actually looking for some new girls. Woman only, good paid and you decide your work time by yourself.”

“Aren’t you some kind of erotic dancer?” you asks sceptic, “that’s not the kind of job I want to write in my curriculum vitae.”

“First, I was an exotic dancer, there is a difference,” Amber says sharp, “neither did anyone of my visitors saw me naked, nor was he allowed to touch me. And the bouncers watched over us with Argus eyes. Second, I quit this job weeks ago. I met a woman who was interested in my special talents and free spirit. Her name is Elenore. And I put in a good word for you. She would like to meet you and with a little good will and smiling, we could soon be colleagues.”

“Amber, this sounds either like a whorehouse or a sect that does human sacrifices,” you reply, “what kind of job is this anyway? What does your boss lady want from her … girls?”

“Come on, Alex, do it for me,” Amber begs, “I wouldn’t ask you this if I wouldn’t believe in you. I can’t tell you that much, the boss is better in explaining and convincing. But I assure you, you are not **** to anything. And sex with the customers is not exactly welcome. You need no kind of special education, and like I said, you decide your working time on your own. Come on, Alex. Don’t let me beg.”