Brooklyn sighed as she found herself, as always, lingering on the threshold of the gym. She wanted to work out. She really did. She'd made it all the way inside, and managed to change into her workout clothes. She was so close.
And yet she was just so damn tired.
Filled with some kind of masochistic impulse, she'd forced herself out of bed at seven in the morning - on a Saturday, no less - to go to the gym. When she'd set the alarm the night before, Brooklyn had told herself it would feel good. She'd be filled with the satisfaction of having worked out, and her day would have only just begun. That had been the theory, anyway. In practice, she was just standing there, procrastinating and wishing she'd stayed in bed. As if her shitty office job as an under-paid assistant didn't already tire her out enough.
Why was she doing this to herself? Was this really the best use of her precious weekends? Brooklyn had probably asked herself those questions a hundred times already - whenever she stopped or started her inconsistent workout regimen, in fact. At moments like these, it seemed so easy to give in. But she knew she'd always end up dragging herself back, telling herself that she just needed to shed a few more pounds of her plentiful puppy fat before she could fit into that dress she'd always wanted, and look like the kind of radiant femme goddess she'd always yearned to be.
It would all be worth it in the end, if she ever pushed herself hard enough. Brooklyn had to believe that.
"You!"
Brooklyn practically jumped out of her skin at the sudden, sharp voice, directed straight at her. For a moment, she just glanced around blearily, feeling confused and oddly guilty. Why would someone be talking to her? Had they noticed the awkward way she was lingering? Maybe she was just hearing things. Maybe she needed to go and grab her morning coffee. But after rubbing the sleep from her eyes for a few moments, she was able to discern the silhouette of a tall, sharply dressed woman marching towards her from across the gym.
"M-me?" Brooklyn asked uncertainly.
"That's right," the woman said, once she reached Brooklyn's side. Unlike Brooklyn, she seemed to have no trouble making herself heard over the sound of the gym's music. "You. You're exactly what I'm looking for."
That remark didn't help Brooklyn feel any less confused. She couldn't imagine why a woman like this would have any business talking to someone like her, especially at the gym, of all places. The strange woman looked undeniably professional, in her perfectly-fitting black suit jacket and sleek pencil skirt. In fact, once Brooklyn had a chance to get a better look, she realized just how expensive her clothes were. Her white blouse alone looked like it would cost more than one of Brooklyn's entire paychecks. In fact, with her black hair tied back in a severe bun the way it was, she looked exactly like one of those senior managers that always seemed to end up making Brooklyn's life hell. But what made it all so much worse was the crisp, cold smirk carved into the woman's face. Brooklyn couldn't decide if it made her look more like a shark chasing down a shoal of fish, or a cat with a tiny mouse trapped under its paws.
"Allow me to explain," the woman said smoothly, before Brooklyn had the chance to do anything else. "I am Zora Carmine. Here, my business card."
Zora Carmine reached into one of the pockets in her blazer and retrieved a stack of business cards, offering one to Brooklyn, who took it dumbly. 'ZORA CARMINE,' it said, in printed block capitals, 'CEO. AMAZONESS SPORTS AND CLOTHING.' Brooklyn immediately felt even more like a deer in headlights. A CEO? That was even further above her pay grade. With no pockets in her workout clothes, Brooklyn was left holding Zora's card awkwardly.
"As you can see, I operate and represent a company that designs, produces and markets sports clothing, equipment and miscellanea." Zora delivered her pitch like she'd rehearsed it a hundred times. Brooklyn couldn't help but find that level of ice-cold professionalism disturbing, but even beyond that, there was something uniquely unsettling about this woman. Was it her eyes? Her smile? "Among other things, we trade in sports models, and as CEO, one of my many responsibilities is to oversee the recruitment of new such talent. I'm here in that capacity, and I think you would make a wonderful model for us."
"You... what?" Brooklyn definitely needed her morning coffee. There was no way she was actually hearing this. "Me? Ms. Carmine, you sure you don't mean, uh, one of the other women here?"
She gestured around the room. There were half a dozen or so other women, all of them busy working out and all of them clearly in much, much better shape than Brooklyn was.
"I'm not looking for them," Zora said, without ever taking her eyes away from Brooklyn. Brooklyn noticed her jaw twitching slightly, with impatience. "I'm looking for something special. And please, you can simply call me Zora."
Brooklyn did a double-take. She couldn't believe what she was wearing. Being a model was a fantasy, but she knew she didn't have the confidence for it. And besides, some things were too good to be true. "But I'm not-"
Her words died in her throat when Zora reached out and grabbed Brooklyn firmly by her chin. Somehow, that single, strong touch completely short-circuited Brooklyn's brain, and she was left staring dumbstruck and helpless at the forceful CEO, even letting Zora manipulate her like a doll, turning her head this way and that to carefully inspect her face from all angles.
"Yes... good..." Zora murmured, entirely to herself. "Good bone structure. Pretty lips. Promising hair. No use right now, of course. But abundant with potential."
The way she looked at Brooklyn, sizing her up like a piece of meat, made the helpless girl's blood run cold. But still, she didn't resist, and she barely breathed until Zora released her grip.
"W... what the hell was..." Brooklyn had no idea what to say, and Zora was still standing uncomfortably close to her, leaving her with no space at all to think or catch her breath.
Zora sighed, and spoke slowly, as if she was dealing with a small child. "I am offering you an opportunity to be my model. Are you going to take it?"
Part of Brooklyn wanted to say 'yes' very badly, but another part of her couldn't bear another moment in the presence of this terrifying woman. Conflicted, she was left stammering stupidly. "I just... I simply... I mean... I d-don't understand, what do you actually-"
"Be quiet," Zora snapped, cutting her off once again. Brooklyn's mouth closed. Zora started tapping her foot, the clack of her high heel loud on the gym's hard floor. "I suppose it's fortunate I don't require your intellect for you to be an important asset for my company."
Her tone was withering enough to make Brooklyn shrink. She couldn't help it. She wanted to fight back, to walk off or make some kind of equally rude comment in return, but she simply couldn't. Zora was a picture of confidence and authority. She spoke like she'd never once in her life been disobeyed, and every single fold in her unbelievably expensive-looking suit was ironed, tailored and styled to perfect. She was exactly the kind of woman Brooklyn was awful at standing up to.
"Allow me to make everything much simpler for you." Zora put her hand up to Brooklyn's face again, ignoring the way the intimidated girl flinched. But instead of grabbing her firmly by the chin, she instead simply touched her fingertips to the side of Brooklyn's face, slowly and languidly drawing the tips of her manicured nails across Brooklyn's skin as she stroked her cheek. "Just listen to me. Listen very closely. Even you can do that much, can't you?"
"W-what... what are you doing?" Brooklyn managed to force out. She felt unbelievably weak, and all she could think about was the way all the hairs on her skin were standing on end. Why was a single touch ruining her this much?
