CHAPTER 1
Jane stared at the rays of light shining through her bedroom curtain, as if in a trance, watching the patterns change as her curtains shifted around from the breeze of her ceiling fan. Suddenly, she caught herself and snapped out of her daydream. This was nothing more than escapism; she really should be trying desperately to make herself get out of bed.
Depression hung over her like a thick blanket, smothering what little hope she might have left.
Here she was, 32 years old, with no job, no money, no family, and her boyfriend Hank in jail. How could she have been so stupid to not realize he was selling dope? And to school kids, no less! She had even opened up a joint bank account with him, never imagining the DEA would confiscate every penny she had when he got caught.
Everything was gone. Everything. The Feds even took her car.
Come on, Girl! You've got to find a job before the landlord kicks you out on the street.
She reluctantly climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Seeing herself in the mirror brought mixed emotions.
"Shit, I'm rapidly approaching middle age..., but at least I still look half decent. I'm not as thin as I used to be, but I've got some nice curves. Maybe I can wait tables at one of those 'breastaurants' like Hooters or Twin Peaks. Yeah, right... they'd probably say I was too fucking old."
Jane had always been proud of her breasts. They were still firm and round, just big enough to show plenty of cleavage in a tank top or halter, but not so big that they looked fake. Guys were always sneaking glimpses of her boobs, and, while she pretended not to notice, she secretly loved it.
She sometimes couldn't tell if her girlfriends were jealous of her tits or disgusted by how she showed them off. Probably a little of both.
Of course, that was when she still had girlfriends—all of whom had abandoned her once her boyfriend was arrested. Nobody believed she didn't know how he made his money.
Jane started looking for jobs on her laptop, beginning with the usual websites everyone uses. Her problem was that she had no idea what she wanted to be. She had always managed to have fairly well-off boyfriends, so she had never needed a real job. Oh, she had worked part-time at a few offices for something to do, but a job like that was never going to pay her bills. She had no schooling or training in anything that was going to pay more than minimum wage.
Then a flashing advertisement on one of the sites got her attention. "Broke? Desperate? Alone? We might have the perfect job for you!"
"Broke, desperate, alone. Well, that certainly describes me to a T," she murmured under her breath while she clicked on the ad.
The link took her to a formal-looking website that asked her to fill out an online questionnaire to see if she might qualify for the position, which sounded pretty lucrative. The website promised whoever got the job would work for a few years and end up "debt free with money in the bank."
She went through the usual registration process (username, password, email address, etc.) and then started answering questions. At first the questions were pretty generic; name address, phone number, education level, etc. Then they became a little more personal, far more personal than a normal job application.
Height? Weight? Why the hell do they need that? Birth date? Isn't that illegal?
Still, she finished filling out the application out of pure curiosity. "Debt free with money in the bank" sounded pretty darn good compared to her present situation.
She submitted the application and waited for the response that was promised within 30 minutes. An email from someone identifying himself as "an attorney representing a very special client" emailed her a little more than 20 minutes later, saying that she appeared to be a potential prospect and asking her to move on to the next step in the process, a secondary application. Again, the employer (whoever that might be) promised that the right applicant would have a life virtually care-free for a few years and then find themselves set up for a new life with a substantial bank account after the employment period was over.
Jane filled out the second application, even though she was surprised to find that it was even more personal than the first one. It asked her a lot about her financial status, such as how much money she owed (a lot), what was her income (nothing) and bank balance (again, nothing), etc. It even asked how many close relatives she remained in contact with (none, she was an only child and both of her parents had passed away).
She submitted the 2nd application and shortly after received a request to complete a 3rd application. This last set of questions went much deeper, asking her some very intimate details about her sex life. The most shocking questions were about her fertility status (she'd had a hysterectomy due to endometriosis five years before) and whether or not she had ever consented to a fairly comprehensive list of sexual practices.
Intrigued by this mysterious job (and excited, in a scary sort of way), Jane swallowed her pride and, after a deep breath, answered all of the sexual questions.
"Yes," she performed fellatio. "Yes," the males sometimes came in her mouth. "No," she did not swallow (yuck!). "8", she responded when asked to rate her fellatio skills on a scale of 1 to 10 (the guys always seemed to have enjoyed themselves). "Yes," she had tried anal sex once but it turned out badly and she no longer engaged in it. "No," she had never had a lesbian encounter. And on and on..."
The last thing it asked for was a facial photograph. Jane took a quick selfie with her laptop's webcam, edited it a bit to highlight her "good features," clicked the SUBMIT button with a sigh of relief and went back to bed.
Within half an hour she heard an email notification go off on her phone.
It was the attorney again, who identified himself as a Mr. Carhill, requesting her to come for an interview at his office the next afternoon.
"Hmmm, there's still no company name listed, but I suppose that's due to the attorney's privilege of confidentiality or something like that."
She wondered about all of the sexual questions. It was obvious that the job had something to do about sex, but why would an attorney be involved if they were just looking for a hooker?
"I'm no whore, but that can't be what they're looking for...right??? Hookers don't fill out job applications. Maybe it's something to do with medical research. Yeah, that's probably it."
Jane clicked "ACCEPT" and decided to spend what little money she had left on a new dress in the morning.
CHAPTER 2
Fortunately, Mr. Carhill's office was located downtown so she could take a bus that dropped her off just a block away from it. She was impressed and a little intimidated by the building—it was an older stone structure, surrounded by skyscrapers, with two marble lions guarding the entrance. The attorney's office seemed to take up the entire building.
She was even more intimidated when she stepped inside. The floors were the same marble from which the lions were made, and expensive-looking artwork was displayed on every wall. At the end of the first hallway was a life-size portrait of a stern, white-haired gentleman.
