He gets started with the remaining two

The hypnotist turned to Anahita first. She stood there asleep on her feet, head bowed, breathing slow. He stepped close, placed both gloved hands over her eyes again even though she was already under, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Low murmurs, Chuck couldn’t catch a word, just saw Anahita’s head give tiny nods, then bigger ones, like she was signing off on every suggestion.

After a few seconds the hypnotist pulled back, satisfied. He nodded toward the back of the stage.

Em was already there, waiting. She reached up, grabbed a thick lever mounted on the wall, and yanked it down hard.

The same black cylindrical curtain dropped from the ceiling, fast, heavy velvet, falling around Anahita in one smooth motion and swallowing her completely. The audience went quiet for a beat, then started clapping in anticipation.

The hypnotist spread his arms wide, milking the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen… meet Annie, the cheap American whore!”

A flash of white light burst from inside the curtain. Smoke machines hissed somewhere offstage. Then the curtain whisked back up into the rafters.

Chuck’s mouth dropped open.

The meek-looking Indian woman was barely recognizable. Her lush black wavy hair was now a cheap, brassy blonde, a bad dye job, roots still dark and obvious, ends fried and uneven like she’d done it herself in a motel sink. Her modest blouse and skirt were gone. In their place: a shiny silver tube top stretched tight over her tits, barely covering her nipples; matching silver thong riding high on her hips; big silver hoop earrings swinging with every move; and a black choker tight around her neck with a small metallic American flag pendant dead center. Her makeup was heavy, bright red lips, thick black eyeliner, fake lashes. She looked like a caricature of every bad porn stereotype rolled into one.

Annie giggled, high-pitched, bubbly and waved at the audience. “Hiii everyone!”

The hypnotist stepped up beside her, mic in hand.

“So, Annie,” he said, “what do you think of your job as a whore?”

Annie bounced on her toes once, tits jiggling under the tube top. When she spoke her voice had shifted, full valley-girl accent, nasal and bright.

“Oh my gawd, I looove it! Like, fucking for money is the best! Guys just pay me to spread my legs or suck them off or whatever, and I get cash? It’s, like, literally perfect. I’m so good at it too.”

The crowd laughed, some clapping.

The hypnotist tilted his head, tone mocking. “Ever thought about going to therapy to work on those sex addiction issues, Annie?”

Annie rolled her eyes hard, waved him off like he was being ridiculous.

“Therapy? Ew, that’s for losers.” She turned to the audience, hands on her hips. “Hey, anyone wanna fuck my sweet ass for a dollar?”

She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her thong, yanked it up hard, giving herself a deep wedgie that made the fabric disappear between her cheeks. She wiggled her ass at the crowd for emphasis.

The room hollered, whistles, shouts, guys banging on tables.

A man near the front stood up fast. “I got ten if you come here and fuck me right now!”

He didn’t wait for permission from the hypnotist or anyone else. Just started walking toward the aisle.

Annie squealed in delight. “Ten dollars? Deal!”

She hopped off the stage without a second thought, ass bouncing, giggling the whole way as she headed straight for the guy. The crowd parted for her, some reaching out to slap her ass or grope her tits as she passed. She didn’t mind. Just kept waving and blowing kisses like it was all part of the fun.

The hypnotist watched her go, then turned back to the stage with a shrug.

“Well,” he said into the mic, “looks like Annie’s already found her first customer.”

Laughter rippled through the room again.

Only Delilah was left now, still asleep, standing alone under the lights, red mark still visible on her cheek from the slap.

The hypnotist dusted his hands and stepped toward her.