Lindsey Chapter 2: The contract

Filed: Lindsey @ 10:25am on July 7, 2010 No comments yet! :(   Word Count: 1,695
This entry is part 2 of 11 in the series Lindsey

On that hot day in July when she received that round-trip airplane ticket to Germany, her life changed. The first half of the ticket was for use on the next Saturday, the return ticket was open-ended.

The introduction letter was simple. They were a well-respected international lawyer firm that was hired to negotiate her employment in a local German company.

Information about the firm was included, and even thought she was scared as hell, Michael convincer her that anything that could happen on that trip was better than killing herself or doing blow jobs in a dark alley for 5$.

At the Munich airport, the lawyer was waiting for her. She heard his name during the presentation, but somehow he seemed to lack so much personality that she simply thought of him as “The lawyer”.

He explained in his limo broad details that his clients had liked her work on the Internet and that they wished to employ her at full time.

When she asked more details, he replied that the clients wished to provide them themselves.

The two or three hour drive ride was particularly boring, having nothing to look at but his mindless stare since he never let her open the darkened windows. The first thing she saw since she entered the limo from the airport parking lot was the front of the Mansion, a four story building from the renaissance age, heavily modernized and renovated over the years.

From Lindsey point of view, it was hard to tell if the Mansion was in the middle of a town, or in the middle of nowhere. The park surrounding the main building must cover several acres of land surrounded by a high brick wall, which could barely be seen behind them.

The front porch was composed of perfect marble for both the bottom part of the walls and the floor. The upper part of the walls where filled with old paintings of young ladies in beautiful and sexy renaissance robes.

A valet silently ushered us inside, and we quickly arrived to a beautiful perfectly round room approximately 20 feet in diameter and richly decorated in light blue.

Not only were most of the wall in a pale (almost pastel) blue, but most of the paintings and vases in the little arches were almost in various tones of light blue.

Giant hand woven tapestries, also blue, hung on different sections of the room showing rich patterns, mostly of flowers and swords.

The only furniture in the room was a little round table, with blue ceramic tiles showing patterns of flowers and swords making the surface, surrounded by four chairs which reminded Lindsey of old Louie something style with rich details in the upholstery.

She was motioned by the valet to sit down, and the lawyer sat next to her. A few seconds later two man emerged from one of the tapestries obviously used to conceal a door.

Both wore relatively identical three-piece black suits, but that was almost the only point they had in common.

The taller guy had ebony black hair all licked from the front to the back. In his mid thirties, he displayed strong, rigid lines in his face line, yet, his dark brown eyes gave away that the man wasn’t as emotionless that the rest of his well controlled body language tried to show. His well-clipped nails, obviously made by a professional reinforced the impression that this man liked to be in charge, in control.

His comrade was rather different. Well into his fifties, he wore his salt and pepper hair in a loose ponytail. His wrinkles clearly showed how much he liked to smile and his whole demeanor seemed to yell how happy and fun he was, right from his irregular, almost nonchalant steps with both his hands in his pockets. A little dirt was hidden in the corner of some of his irregular nails. This was a man of work, of excitement. As he was still settling into his chair, his college opened the talk.

“We have followed your career closely; Miss Lindsey and we must say that we are impressed by your capacity of adaptation to the desires of your clients. We like that in a professional.”

Lindsey was far from convinced. It was more a sense of survival than a capacity for adaptation. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but thank him.

“We are a firm that sells a special product, quite similar to what you used to sell on your website. We sell fantasies, expensive ones. Man with power and money are often eccentric. Therefore, they have eccentric tastes. Tastes not unlike what some of your clients made you do in the end only, they don’t want to view them on their monitor: they want to live them.”

“So basically you hire prostitutes?”

“Not really. Yes, some of our employees have sex with our clients, but generally clients do not come to us to simply have sex. If they did, they could stay comfortably in their country and call an escort agency. We do not sell sex. We sell fantasy.”

For the first time, the older man spoke.

“We sell high price fantasies. For example, we have a rich Arab man who comes to us a few times per year to live in his idea of paradise: an old style harem from the Ottoman Empire. Our employees all dress up in the traditional uniform, and he picks three of them after spending a few hours talking with all of our girls. One of the three will act the part of the first concubine, and the remaining two will act as maids to help prepare the couple according to what he thinks to be ancient rites. The concubine has sex with him, and the next day he returns home after gloating to the rest of the girls during a communal breakfast. All the girls receive an interesting sum of money, but only one of them actually has sex with the man.”

The younger one resumed, visibly annoyed at the level of detail.

“The most common fantasy however, involved slavery and mind control. This whole establishment sells to clients the idea that each and everyone of our employees were abducted and brain washed into soulless slaves resigned to do almost anything negotiated in advance with us.”

“What are you talking about? So that is what you want? Brainwash me into turning to a sex slave?”

This time, the older man answered.

“Actually no, not at all. If you ever read mind control stories on the Internet, you will notice that, if you remove the badly written ones and the well written but unrealistic, a perfect mind control is impossible and most of the time will not result in an obedient slave but rather in either a mindless puppet devoid of any interest or captive always scheming to escape.

We do not want either solution. Instead, we employ our “slaves” voluntarily which we call sensual technicians, and let them control their life. That way, instead of scheming to escape, they scheme make more money by pleasing the customer. We train them in a multitude of skills, including those to help them make a conventional living once they leave us, and make sure they are happy doing their work.”

“I don’t understand. You want me to pretend to be a mind controlled slave, yet, you want me to be free?”

“Yes. That is exactly the point. And we want to pay you a lot for it. You will never have to do something you do not like, and you can leave anytime you want. You will receive a percentage of every action you perform, and you keep all the money you make for yourself. No taxes, no rent.”

The younger man interrupted him.

“You simply need to provide certain gross revenues, and you can stay as long as you want. If even after all your efforts you cannot keep that level, you will be provided a generous severance pay and relocated elsewhere with a simple but lucrative job out of the erotic market.”

The older man retook the stand.

“But don’t worry about that. We always do everything we can to keep our employees productive and happy. For now, we would mostly want you to visit us for a few weeks. See how we work, what we do, how you might fit in. You don’t have to accept anything initially. When you define what you want, if you bring in enough revenues, you can stay as long as you want. Otherwise, we give you a check, a plane ticket anywhere you want in the world, a new job and stay friends. No pressure, no hidden clauses other than a full complete permanent non-disclosure agreement and the fact that you cannot leave the premise without our approval until your retirement. To top it off, we don’t want an answer right now. Julie, who will be your personal assistant during your initial training, will begin with a tour and anytime you want, you can ask to leave. In fact, even if you do accept to stay with us, you can still leave anytime you want”

The younger man called Julie by her name, and a woman in the mid thirties emerged from behind one of the curtains.

The tall brunette was wearing what could be considered the female equivalent of the two men: A black business suit, obviously very expensive, that showed her beautiful legs draped in a black silk stocking. She demonstrated style and refinement in both a sexy and business manner.

Lindsay was still pretty much shaken by the events. They were asking her to live in a beautiful Mansion as a high price prostitute pretending to be a slave, yet fully in control of her life.

She was intrigued by the proposition yet, she was afraid that such a beautiful premise might turn into a real prison, golden or not.

What if she became addicted to this life? What if she couldn’t make enough money to justify her stay? What if they were lying and she would find herself unable to leave after a few days, or even hours?

Yet, she couldn’t see how she could do better. She knew the porn industry didn’t treat its stars very well, and being a prostitute wasn’t really a safe job.

During her inner thoughts, the two men had excused themselves, and she found herself alone with Julie.

Series Navigation«Lindsey Chapter 1: MiseryLindsey Chapter 3: Initiation»

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