Serena sat on the edge of her expansive and expensive bed, looking at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. From the outside she looked fine, her uniform neat, her hair tidy. For now at least. Later it was highly likely she’d get into trouble and be mauled by some grubby guy. It happened on most shifts and she couldn’t see why today would be any different after the shit she’d already taken.
She sighed heavily. It wasn’t the external appearance that bothered her, it was the inside that did, the stuff she couldn’t see, her husband James couldn’t see, that no one could see. Except Finch. He’d looked straight into her and spotted exactly who she was.
The thought of Finch made her shake her head. How close she’d come to being in one of his films. Thanks to the Internet she was certain that eventually someone she’d known would have seen it and then everything she had around her would have been gone — house, car, husband, friends, life. Everything. Well, not quite everything. The job didn’t really matter and her self-respect had evaporated long ago. The money was an irrelevance too. She couldn’t spend everything James earned. To be accurate, James didn’t earn his wages, no one that got paid well over seven figures a year could possibly deserve that amount of cash.
She decided she’d call Finch tomorrow and refuse to work for him. It’s not like they had a contract or anything; Finch was just going to pay a fee every time she got on her knees. The rates would vary, of course, depending upon what she was supposed to do with her body (or more accurately certain parts of it) and with whom.
Enough, she thought. That can wait for tomorrow. Tonight she had to go to work.