“Here’s an extra twenty dollars, honey. Make sure you get something to eat while you’re in the city. Don’t let them know you need the job because they can smell desperation,” Nana says when I head out the door.
Her intuition has always led her straight to the truth, and now is no exception. My grandma’s advice is spot-on, and looking down at her wrinkled hands, I clasp the twenty-dollar bill in my fist, needing the extra money to get home without jumping the turnstile as I’d planned.
“I know you’re doing your best, Trina.” Nana looks into my eyes and I feel as if she’s seeing through me. She knows! She knows that I’m headed off to the city in response to a sketchy ad on the Internet. And even if she doesn’t know, my guilt is close to bubbling over anyways, so I scramble to end the conversation, gripping her shoulders awkwardly before bursting out of the doors and down the dirty elevator.
The train is crowded with people rushing to work, but luckily, I can take my time. It wouldn’t have made sense for me to go to an internship fair midday, so I’ve left in the morning to look as professional and believable as possible.
Bouncing between a kid’s stroller and an overweight man in torn jeans, I grit my teeth and glance up at the map again as I silently count the stops until I get off. I am definitely looking forward to a little personal space and a lot of fresh air once this ride is done. And when the doors to the subway car finally open at my destination, I rush out, hurrying up the station stairs to the outside before taking a deep breath.
It’s a bright and sunny morning in New York City, and everyone is shuffling around me as yellow taxicabs flash by on the streets. Rarely do I get to venture around the city since we live so far up in the Bronx, but I’m excited to pretend to belong in the best city in the world.
Deep down, I think everyone dreams of living in Manhattan, looking down on the busy streets from a penthouse apartment as the city races beneath you. What could be better, after all? It’s the culmination of my dreams, and somewhere in the depths of my heart, I vow that one day, I’ll be that girl. Of course how I’m going to get there is still up in the air, but I’m determined to make it happen somehow.
A sign on a narrow side street barely wider than an alley advertises a special for coffee and a donut for two dollars. Knowing I’ll find no better, or cheaper, way to spend my time, I tuck into the small café, glancing around the dimly lit room. There are only four other people in here, but it’s all the small café looks to be able to comfortably manage.
“Is there any way I can get a blueberry muffin instead of a donut?” I ask the older man behind the cashier. His apron is messy, probably from baking all morning.
“Usually we won’t allow it but Martin, what do you think?” he calls past me, and I look over my shoulder to see a frail African-American man nodding with an innocent smirk. He is at least seventy years old, but in that moment, he looks to be no more than an adolescent.
“Martin says yeah.” The cashier shrugs, reaching to retrieve the muffin before picking up a mug.
“And what about hot chocolate instead of coffee?” I ask, trying my luck once more.
“That pretty face isn’t going to bankrupt me,” he says with a frown before pouring the steaming coffee into my mug.
I can’t help but laugh. You’ve gotta love New Yorkers and their fierce attitudes. I smile as I hand him two dollars before heading to the only available seat in the café, cramped against the window, which works perfectly for me. People watching is just what I need to clear my mind.
A woman walks past as soon as I settle into the seat. She glances around the space, and I watch as her nose turns up almost imperceptibly. I’m sure I’m the only person that noticed it, but she’s definitely turned off by this café. The look in her eyes said this place was beneath her, and looking around, I can see why.
The floors and glass window are filthy, and I begin to wonder to myself if these types of establishments are all I’ll ever experience in my life. This is my comfort zone—cheap and low rent. But in comparison to the woman, when I saw it, my eyes lit up with eagerness while that gorgeous woman was disgusted.
But the thing is, I’ve never known better than this. This is just life for me. Maybe when my parents send for me and Mickey in a fancy limo, we’ll finally get a taste of what it is to live the high life.
I actually laugh aloud at that thought, knowing how ridiculous it is to believe that my parents are so much as thinking of me. Embarrassed by my outburst, I nervously look from one side to the other, but no one seems to notice.
A couple captures my attention next—both blonde with white smiles that make them fitting for a billboard. They look so happy smiling at each other, and I wonder to myself what they could be saying to each other that could be so hilarious.
The sparkle in their eyes is evident, and it’s clear that they’re deeply in love. My heart beats painfully for a moment. I want that. The longing I’ve been experiencing isn’t for a man’s touch alone, but rather the adoration and passion behind it as well. I want a guy to look at me the way that man is looking at his partner, with a worshipful, yet also masterful, gaze.
But I’m no thin blonde, and men don’t look at me with googly eyes. Besides, what I’m about to embark on isn’t about love. They’ll want me to go on dates, entertaining the poor schmucks the best I can. And my dates won’t care about me per se, the companionship service is probably just a way for them to occupy their time with no responsibilities after the date is over.
One after another, the citizens of the city rush past the window. Some walking, others almost running, all of them moving with purpose as they head in different directions. I find myself so lost in creating stories for their lives that the breakfast rush comes and goes before I note the passing time.
“Would you like anything else, Miss?” the baker asks, nodding his head. I jolt alive.
“What time is it?” I turn to him, confused. Surely, I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes.
“A quarter till noon.” The man nods up at the clock on the wall with raised eyebrows. “See?”
Oh no. Without a word, I grab my things and storm out of the door, a bell jingling as I shamelessly run down the street, most likely looking like a madwoman. How did I manage to make myself late after arriving with more than two hours to spare?
Maybe this is a sign that this is all a bad idea, one that I should abandon. The niggling feeling that I’m in over my head keeps resurfacing, and I fight to push it down once again as I manage to turn the corner through the thick crowd before spotting a shimmering skyscraper towering over its neighboring office buildings.
“This is it,” I whisper to myself before walking to the revolving glass door, pushing the handle excitedly as tingles race up my spine.
There are so many elements responsible for my rush of emotions. The possibility of being so close to a paycheck is enough to send me through the roof, and in a devilish way, the secrecy and mystery of everything only adds to the allure.
“Name and ID, please,” a short security guard asks without looking up. He’s checking boxes on a sheet of paper as I dig out my New York ID.
“Trina…” I fade away, unsure if I should tell him my last name. I don’t remember telling Karen my last name. The man looks up for the first time as he glances between me and my ID picture twice.
“Top floor,” the man instructs, handing me back my ID before refocusing on his checklist.
My thoughts begin to run wild in the elevator as the car ascends with a soft melody playing in the background. Everything seems very expensive and fancy, nicer than any office building I’ve ever been in for sure. The walls of the elevator are made completely of mirrors, and of course I can’t help but check myself out to make sure everything looks okay. Looking back at me is a clearly nervous but excited girl with bright eyes. I look down at my body and pull down my shirt a little to hide my wide hips, which ends up just showing my ample cleavage even more. It’s a futile tug of war. What if I’m not good enough? This is how they’re going to be judging me, isn’t it? I stare at everything that is wrong with me, feeling a little more anxious by the second.
“Welcome Trina,” a woman greets me before I realize the elevator doors have opened.
I whip my head around in surprise, and immediately, I recognize her voice. This is Karen, and she looks as coolly polished and professional as she sounds. Her dress catches my eye first, which is quite shocking considering how gorgeous she is because the black sheath is fabulous. You know how some items are discreet and subtle, yet still retain the sheen of wealth? Her dress screams money, making me feel frumpy and dowdy by comparison.
But Karen’s nice and smiles again.
“I’m Karen,” she introduces herself, extending her hand. “We spoke earlier. Welcome. Please follow me.”
Walking side by side, she leads me to an office. Although my interviewer is subtle, I notice her looking over at my curves as we walk, nodding her head in approval. Once we sit down, she takes out a cell phone.
“Give me just a sec,” ‘she apologizes, punching away at her phone. “Hello? Oh yes, she’s fine. Thank you.”
What? Is she talking about me? But then she ends the call, returning her attention towards me with a warm smile. “Trina, you’re perfect,” she declares.
“I’m perfect?” I ask stupidly. “Um …?”
But Karen merely nods.
“Yes, in fact we’re ready to go straight to the second portion of this interview. Follow me please.”
And we leave the conference room just as quickly as we entered. I trail her down the hall, totally perplexed. What just happened? Was the first part of my interview a looks test? It certainly seems like it. But then again, maybe they get a lot of women who look nothing like they describe on the phone? We walk down the narrow, sparsely decorated hallway as my stomach churns with anticipation.
“Here you are,” Karen announces when we reach an atrium-like room, surrounded by a garden just beyond the glass windows. I gasp. The greenery is absolutely beautiful, and my eyes skim over vibrantly colored flowers and lush green fronds. But there’s no time to appreciate the garden because another blonde appears, this one younger than Karen and wearing white scrubs like she works at a spa. “Hi Trina, I’m Jane.”
“Oh, are you the second interview?” I ask, dubiously shaking her hand.
“Kind of.” She smiles. “Come with me please.”
Leaving the garden room, we walk along another set of hallways until I fear I may be in a maze. Looking around, I try to make note of room numbers in case I’ll need to make an escape later. Kind of like Theseus on the Labyrinth before he fights the Minotaur. But this is no Greek myth. I’m in a corporate office building in the middle of Manhattan, and I need to keep my wits about me. This is a job interview for a position that I desperately need.
“Here we are,” Jane says, smiling brightly when we arrive at a big white door.
She’s testing me, standing back as she waits for me to open the door myself. Is this a part of the interview? Maybe she’s testing my commitment to the company? With that in mind, I open the door with trembling fingers, stopping as soon as my eyes comprehend what’s going on.
Because this is a full-service spa with soothing music and the unmistakable fragrance of lavender wafting through the air. Relief fills my veins. This isn’t a dungeon, nor the Labyrinth I’d been anticipating. The spa has gleaming white walls and orchids perched on the reception desk.
“Um, am I interviewing for a spa position?” I say hesitantly. “I thought I was here to interview as a companion? I’m sorry?” What have I gotten myself into?
Jane gives me a knowing smile. I’m not the first girl in my position to be a bit stunned by this interview process. Reasonably so.
“All the girls have to go through this before meeting Mr. Knight. Try not to be too nervous,” she assures me.
Mr. Knight? What’s going on? Who is Mr. Knight? This is getting crazier by the minute, but just like Karen, Jane continues to move about as if this is all perfectly normal.
She shows me to a private room, and inside the lights are lowered with a green tint. A small speaker in the corner plays a calming sound that reminds me of the ocean breaking against the beach.
“I’ll take your clothes. Just leave them on the chair, dress in the gown, and sit on the massage bed please.”
Slowly, I walk over to the table, hearing the door close behind me. Turning, I see Jane has left me alone and I take a deep breath, realizing this means I need to be naked. Is this some type of setup? Maybe once I’m naked the door will fly open and a man will rush in to swoop me away? This is absurd for a job interview, but I continue to remind myself that this is all for a good cause. I need to make money to provide for my brother and Nana.
Quickly, I undress with trembling fingers. And before I know it, I’m stripped naked, throwing the thin nightgown on before sitting on the table and crossing my legs before uncrossing them and then choosing to cross them again.
I’m nervous. It’s obvious.
Forcing myself to calm down, I press my palms into my thighs, attempting to ease my shaky fingers. As if she can sense my apprehensions, Jane re-enters the room, this time pushing a cart on wheels and parking it beside my bed before placing her hand on my shoulder and gently pressing until my back rests against the hard massage table.
“We’re just going to take this beautiful frame you have and polish it up,” she says lightly with a kind smile.
“Oh, okay,” I manage, my heart racing as I lay down.
“We’re going to do waxing first,” she murmurs. “Have you ever done that before?” Jane asks, undoing my gown to look down at my private parts. “Maybe not, hmmm?”
My cheeks grow red and I manage some incoherent answer.
“Just lay back and relax,” she soothes. “This’ll be over in a jiff.”
I’ve never had my body waxed before, so when the warm liquid touches my body, it’s stimulating until she places a thin white strip of paper down and rips the hair from my skin before I can prepare myself for it. Holy shit! I’ve never felt pain like that in my life. Jane soothes me as she moves on to the next patch. There are tears in my eyes, it’s so painful. But by the time she reaches between my legs, I’ve grown a bit accustomed to what’s happening. Nonetheless, nothing could’ve prepared me for the blinding pain I feel when she yanks the short hairs from my puffy lips.
“Ow!” I scream. “Ow ow ow!”
“It’s okay,” Jane soothes, pressing a cotton swab soaked in aloe on my private parts. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
Tears smart in my eyes but after Jane leaves to let me recover, I touch myself hesitantly. I’m a bit taken aback by how smooth I am down there. My fingers slide through my soft slit, the skin tender and aroused. I can feel the swelling in my clit, overly sensitive without its normal protective layer.
But the blonde isn’t done yet. She bustles back in, all business.
“Next, we’re going into hair and makeup, but don’t worry, this is your last step.”
My face must reveal my confusion, but there’s no time to ask questions because the woman has already left the room. With hesitant steps I follow, going down the hall to a full-scale salon. I wonder how many different businesses they own. Is this a modeling agency of some sorts?
But thankfully, the pampering eases my nerves. Settling into the white leather chair, it takes the staff another hour to wash and style my hair before powdering my face and adding mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner to decorate my ordinary brown eyes.
Jane beams at me. “Yep, I think she’s ready,” she declares, smiling proudly like a mother hen.
“Good luck!” The hair stylist looks over her shoulder while packing up her tools.
“Now, you can just slip this on and meet me out front.” Jane hands me a hanger with a gold handkerchief on it.
“Um, excuse me?” I venture. “I need a dress? Or something? A robe? This is just a pocket square.”
But Jane just shrugs her shoulders.
“No honey, it’s a dress. Put it on, you’ll see,” she says meaningfully. “And put those on too, please,” she points at a pair of stilettos I hadn’t even noticed standing in the corner which heels must be at least four inches.
What in the world is going on? I can’t possibly wear the scrap of nothing dangling from my hands. And heels, much less skyscraper heels? I’m more of a jeans and sneakers type of girl, so this is all foreign.
But the voice in my head speaks then. Just do it, it urges. Do it for Mickey and Nana. So with trembling fingers, I pull the golden dress over my head with little effort, the fabric easily stretching and melting into my skin. With three faulty steps, I make my way to the full-length mirror, so shocked by my reflection that I do a double take.
Wow. That’s me?
For the first time, I see what men like about my breasts. They’re full and tantalizing the way they’re poking out of the barely-there cups of the dress. My waist has always been pretty small, leading to my full hips and generous, round ass, which is barely covered by the gold fabric.
My brown curls have been cut into soft layers and coaxed into waves that cascade down my back, resting at the curve in my back. As I step forward, I feel my sex clench so deliciously that I reach for the wall to steady myself. Something just sparked within me, but I can’t focus on that right now.
The pampering and this sexy dress might be stimulating, but this is a job interview and it’s important that I remember and stay focused. Like Nana said, they can sense desperation, although at this point, I’m not even sure who they is.
With my shoulders back and my head held high, I walk into the waiting room where Jane waits. From the look on her face, she likes my appearance as much as I do.
“This is perfect! You look amazing, Trina,” she says before turning towards another door.
“B-but …” I stammer. It’s too late. Jane’s already moving on. Together, we walk through another maze again, turning left before then taking a right, over and over until I’m hopelessly confused. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to find my way back outside—I’m resigned to possibly being kidnapped and nobody ever finding my body.
My heartbeat races as time slows when Jane turns towards me, and I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m here, about to meet whoever it is on the other side.
But questions whirl in my mind. Is this still an interview process or will I be a companion to the person behind this door? Who is this mysterious person anyways? Is it a he or a she? Someone old or young? My mind is filled with so many confusing thoughts, and I know Jane doesn’t plan to answer any given her vague replies so far.
Stepping aside, the blonde indicates a massive door before with a golden handle. Is this the dungeon?
“Just relax and be yourself,” she whispers encouragingly. “You’re going to be fine!”
The fact that she’s egging me on like I should be worried makes me even more worried. Again, I feel the inclination to run—as far and fast as my legs will take me. I should get away and never look back because this situation was never supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be wearing a tiny slip of a glittery gold dress, my assets barely covered while going on an interview. I’m supposed to go to college and attend parties while trying to fill my head with books and learning. And yet, this is my fate … and I step forwards, shaking yet excited.