A job

"Yeah, you'd do," a fat, greasy looking man says, taking in the sight of your goodies.

A blush spreads beneath your tan, and your mortification at being caught nearly fingering yourself allows him to stride forward surprisingly quickly, taking your hands and pulling you forward.

"Wait... interested in what?"

"The job," he says shortly, motioning sideways.

"Job?" you repeat, somewhat interested given your pathetic financial situation. You try to follow his motion, but between the opening door and your forward momentum all you see is the bottom of a sign.

'...wanted. Apply within'

Within proves to be so dark that your eyes can't adjust, and you stumble after the man, praying there won't be any stairs. Tinny music plays through hidden speakers, but otherwise the place sounds silent.

"Where are we?" you ask , squirming in the sweaty but firm grasp of his meaty hand.

"Inside," he says, barely more than a grunt. "You experienced?"

"Ex...." you sputter. What an incredibly personal question! "Yes, but..."

"Good. Through here," he opens another door, pushing you into an area with more lighting.

Your eyes go round as you spy what's in the room.

"Well you can't wear that," he mutters, and taking advantage of your momentary shock easily tugs the hoody from your top and the shorts to your feet, ignoring your startled squeak.

"Yeah, I can work with that," he says, ogling your now naked body.