It wasn't a public storefront, more like a small-business office. The sign on the door said "P&C management". A twenty-something woman was typing on a computer at a typical receptionist desk when Jenny walked in. Next to her desk was another door leading farther in. The rest of the room had the typical chairs and end tables of a medical office waiting room.
"May I help you?" the receptionist asked.
She was afraid Daddy might have dropped her off at the wrong place, so she started getting nervous. "Um. My name is Jenny Moore. I'm supposed to work here."
The woman looked her up and down, then nodded. "Not bad. Take a seat and I'll let the boss know you're here."
Not bad? she wondered. What was that supposed to mean?
She had to sit there, leafing through an issue of GQ for twenty minutes before the door opened and another woman, an slender Asian a few years older than the receptionist, stuck her head out. She beckoned to her. "Jenny? Come on back, hon."
When she went through the door, the woman stuck her hand out and said, "I'm Trish."
She shook her hand, then followed her down the hallway to a room with photography equipment. After Trish closed the door behind them, she said, "Take your clothes off, hon."
"Huh?"
"You understand what we do here, right? I need some pictures of you for the clients."
Jenny hesitated, then admitted, "I know that it could involve sex, but I don't actually know what it is exactly."
"Well if you know that much, why are you worrying about naked pictures?"
With a slight laugh, Jenny nodded and started unbuttoning her blouse.
"Well," Trish said, "You probably should know, it's not that it could involve sex. Our business always involves sex. We're all whores here, child, even if we call ourselves hostesses. We just do a lot more than simply turn tricks."
She kept herself from looking shocked, but she boggled inside. Daddy wanted her to become a prostitute? A real, actual prostitute?
Once she processed that idea, she admitted to herself that it sounded like fun, so she wasn’t upset. She just didn't know what to think about her own father actually wanting her to become one.
"So sex is the main product, but what's the 'a lot more' part?"
Trish smiled. "Can't tell you until I'm certain you're going to work here."
"It's definite," Jenny answered with resolve. "I promised Daddy I would do whatever he wanted me to do, no matter what. He told me to work here, so I guess that means I'm a whore now."
Her new boss grinned and stuck out her hand. "Then welcome aboard, whore. As for what we do..."
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