For a good time call...

She knew her age but she was tired of living her life under the tyranny of parents that weren't even her own. There were many times that she asked just who in Stan's Hell had her parents and who was that poor bastard that was supposed to have a pair like she did. There were thousands of questions she could ask but not even the internet really knew. Yet this was her one chance for escape. Yet such immoral means of that escape was unthinkable by most. Yet what could you do when you were just "that girl." Money was tight and there was so many empty things that she needed to survive and maybe make something of herself in a world that treats you like a rag doll until you're broken and old. It was truly depressing to a young girl just recently going into high school. Yet no one was going to baby her, pay her bills, and make sure she had the best day of her life so it was about time to step up.

She had just gotten off the bus by Demetri's with the money that she stole from the jar in her Mother's room. There were so many pennies that it was help to sort through. If it wasn't for her parents saving for the next hot thing to hit the market maybe she would have been there an hour sooner. Yet maybe being early wasn't really her goal. She constantly chanted her course of action in her head. "I'll just go in, ask for a job, fill out any paperwork, then leave to be home before they even have time to do laundry." It was a bit far fetched but it made sense to her. This was really the answer to all her problems. It was the only way that she could really enjoy life. She didn't really care for the profession but if you're good at something why not make money for it? She had walked half a mile almost when she arrived. She could say that she was ready but she knew that would be a lie. The idea of being an object scared her even if that was the majority of her life experience was as an object that consumed any and all revenue from her guardians. All her parents referred to her as was a liability and an "It." Yet why let that bother you?

She opened the door to the club with the thought of some dump that served diseased women to horny patrons that payed there way into the hearts and body's of the recently deflowered. Yet that's what you see on TV when you can watch the damned thing. A few steps would be taken into the establishment as she looked about seeing only one thing that matched the fantasy of American television. She'd make a face at the men watching girls spin about in lacy string. That was the only thing that she despised about her plan. Yet maybe everything would be ok. As long as it was all worth the uncomfortable humiliation of finally admitting that all she was was a living, breathing object. All she needed to do was talk to the owner and seal her fate.

~Demetri's wasn't the typical sleazy spot you'd picture. the owner made damned sure of that, the big man could intimidate the pants off anyone who walked through the door if he wanted to. it stayed clean, there was fresh paint that was renewed every year and all of the furniture was clean or replaced. He sat at the bar watching the men, the ladies and the security cameras from behind the altar of alcoholic worship. He was a large man with black hair and sharp eyes. Not the kind of guy you'd want to meet alone in a dark alley...and he loved it that way.~

She spent little time mentally bitching about how bad it could be. She was on a time limit and there was no option of failing. With a few more steps she reached the so called "alter" and cleared her throat. "My name is Nicci Addams and I'd like a job please." She was polite only because it had been forced into her with the leather of a crisp new belt and that was truly the only time her parents cared. If you're going to have an "it" you better have a polite one.