The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amy, a Lawyer

Amy closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead trying to clear the headache. She didn’t regret her decision to take the job in the Public Defenders’ Office, but she hadn’t really been prepared for the workload. Looking around her small office, choked with legal texts and case files, she smiled ruefully to herself. She let her eyes rest on her legal degrees, hanging framed on the only free space she had been able to find on the wall. Amy didn’t expect something paid for by the government to compete with the large, plush, offices of private law firms. But it would have been nice to have a little more space. She sometimes half-imagined the bookshelves would all topple over on to her someday. Even though she had made maintenance fix them firmly to the walls.

Amy’s office was just one of many. A large number of people worked here, lawyers, clerks, receptionists, and Amy felt like she didn’t really know anyone of them. It was six months since she’d started, but her co-workers were still a mystery to her. And so, she supposed, she was to them. Oh they were nice enough, but they were all so rushed with the torrent of work that there really wasn’t much time for office socialising. They tried to have a drink every couple of weeks, but even then not everyone could make it. Last Friday Tony had begged off to prepare for an urgent bail hearing and Sonya had stayed at the office as she had too many files to read for her first case on Monday. And the talk was always mostly work anyway. Not that she was any better, Amy admitted ruefully to herself. She still enjoyed being a lawyer too much to want to talk about anything else. But she was sure she must have dealt with a hundred cases since she began here.

“Stop daydreaming” she told herself, concentrating again on the witness statements in front of her. Bag snatching. The witness’ accounts didn’t add up to much, typically their descriptions hardly matched.

“If you held them upside and read them backwards maybe they fit Ben”, Amy mused.

Ben Atwold, 14 years and from the estates, was the accused. But conflicting witness statements wouldn’t help here. Ben had been caught with the bag. And he had form. The best Amy could hope for was to get him in to a reform program rather than Juvenile Dentation. Or Juvenile Crime Academy as they called it around the office.

Putting the statements aside Amy started to look up the phone numbers for the prevention programs, to see if she could start arranging a spot for Ben before the next hearing. Judges were always more inclined to see it her way if the place was guaranteed.

Just as she found the number she wanted the phone rang. The number on the display showed it was Natalie, the younger of the two office administrators. Amy liked Natalie. If she knew anyone here it was Natalie. But even then their relationship was pretty much co-workers and nothing more. It’s not like she even knew what Natalie liked to do outside the office. What books she liked or movies or anything. It was hard to consider her a friend when Amy didn’t know whether they had anything in common or not.

“Amy?” sure enough, Amy recognised Natalie’s voice.

“Yes” Uh oh, thought Amy, I bet this isn’t asking if I’m short of stationery.

“We need someone down at one of the nicks” said Natalie.

“Oh come on Natalie” Amy tried to sound put upon but not too begging. “I’m up to my ears here.”

“And everyone else is over their’s. A couple of your cases finished this week, so you’re next off the block” said Natalie firmly.

“What about Simon? He had more finish up than me” Amy parried back.

“And I’ve already loaded him up again this morning”. Natalie sighed, letting go her formal manner for a moment “Look, I know it’s an extra load, but I think this one will be pretty straightforward.”

“OK”, Amy surrendered. She trusted Natalie, and if she said that Amy had to take the next case, then that was that, no matter how much else she had on. “What is it and which station?”

“Soliciting, come out here and I’ve got all the details. Caught in the act, so just get her bail and you should be right back here”.

Yeah right, thought Amy, looking at the clock. 4pm already. By the time I’m finished at the police station there’ll be no point coming back here. And tomorrow was Saturday. Better take some files to read over the weekend.

The arresting office, Constable Daniel McPherson, was every bit as confident as Natalie had said.

“Yes Miss Jennings”, Amy noticed the hesitation at Miss, as if PC McPherson was wondering if he should have used Ms. Amy didn’t care either way so made no sign. “My colleague, WPC Manning”, He indicated the WPC sitting next to him ”and I saw the suspect just before 3pm this afternoon in the High Street talking to a man in a car that had just pulled in the side of the road. It was pretty clear what was going on.”

“Well, I’m sure it will all be in your statements” Amy said. It all sounded more than a little circumstantial to her. The High Street wasn’t exactly a known venue for prostitution and if the police hadn’t actually heard the conversation or seen money changing hands then the public prosecutor could find it difficult to prove the accusation. McPherson had monopolised the conversation. While his colleague had confirmed the basics of his account Amy could tell WPC Manning wasn’t as convinced.

Now that she looked at McPherson again Amy could tell he wasn’t that old. Probably as fresh on the beat as I am at the bar, she thought. Amy was willing to wager that the young PC was trying to impress his superiors by enforcing the latest clean-up drive. Manning looked only a couple of years older, but had that edge about her that said she knew more about what was and wasn’t possible.

“But if I could see my client now I would appreciate it” Amy said firmly.

The constables were happy to provide Amy with an interview room in which she could talk to her client. But her client, Sophie Griffiths, wasn’t exactly what Amy expected. She wasn’t as nervous as most of the people Amy talked to in police stations. Her clients tended to be afraid, or in denial, or eager to cut some sort of deal. Some of them were even angry. Sure, Sophie looked angry. But the sort of angry clients that needed public defenders tended to be open about it. Shouts, threats to the police. Amy had even dealt with clients who directed their anger at her. But Sophie’s anger seemed more a slow burn.

Amy stopped for a moment in the doorway, trying to see Sophie as the police had. She was certainly attractive, even features accentuated by striking cheekbones and dark-brown hair that was almost black cut short and curling forward under the ears. Sophie looked about Amy’s age, 26. But she wasn’t exactly dressed for streetside soliciting, in what looked like comfortable jeans, worn joggers and a somewhat beaten up looking jacket. She looked more like Amy and her friends when they were in university than the source of society’s moral corruption.

“Who are you?” Sophie’s question broke Amy out of her consideration.

“Amy Jennings. I’m the lawyer assigned to your case” Amy said levelly as she took a seat opposite Sophie.

The brunette’s anger seemed to drift away like smoke as she gave Amy a look up and down. “I thought I’d need a barrister and a solicitor, which are you?” Sophie asked. She sounds like she knows something about legal proceedings, thought Amy, I wonder if she’s been through this before.

“In a lot of lower court matters these days, no”, answered Amy, starting to wonder who was questioning who, “It saves a lot of time if you only have to deal with one lawyer.”

“And money” added Sophie pointedly. Amy looked up from the papers she was getting out. She thought she might have just caught a half smile on Sophie’s face, but she wasn’t sure.

“Um yes.” Amy decided she needed to get this conversation back under her control.

“Now Miss Griffiths”, Amy began.

“Please, call me Sophie” her client interrupted. The brunette’s voice was playful now, the change making Amy feel more off balance.

“Umm, if you like” Amy replied, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Again she tried to take charge.

“The police allege that just before 3pm this afternoon you were soliciting in the High Street.” Deliberately Amy didn’t use her client’s name. I have to keep this formal, she thought. “I have to ask, are you intending to contest the charge?”

Sophie smothered a laugh, “Of course I didn’t do it, why would I do that?”

“Well, they claim they saw you talking to a man in a car, is that true?” Amy continued.

“Yes. Poor old dear was lost,” Sophie shook her head. ”He pulled over to ask directions.”

Sounds reasonable, thought Amy, so why did the police think you were soliciting?

“And you still haven’t called me Sophie” Again her client’s directness cut through Amy’s thoughts.

“What?” Amy found herself looking into Sophie’s eyes and for a moment a feeling of dizziness assaulted her.

“C’mon, call me Sophie” the brunette’s voice was teasing, playful.

“Oh, ok, Sophie” Amy thought she may as well let Sophie have her way. Then maybe she would let Amy do what she needed to do.

“Good” Sophie smiled, “And you’re Amy, right?”

“Uh, yes” Amy barely registered that Sophie hadn’t asked whether she could call her by her first name.

“OK, Amy, so what do you need to know?” Sophie asked, evenly. Good, thought Amy, now we can get to it.

“Well, do you have any idea why the police thought you were soliciting?”

“Oh that’s easy” said Sophie “I’m a prostitute”.

“What?” Amy had to struggle to keep from shouting. She’d been convinced that this was a case of an innocent girl and an over-eager constable.

“Oh yes Amy” continued Sophie, smiling, not waiting to see if the young lawyer had anything to add “They know I’m a prostitute. But that’s what’s so stupid about it.”

“Err” her head spinning at the contradictions in Sophie’s statement, Amy could again feel her control of the conversation receding. If she had ever had any, that is.

“I work in the brothel over on Castle Street, Stacey’s” Sophie continued, ignoring Amy’s protestations. “My shift was supposed to start at 3pm and I was running late. So, one, why would I take a job and make myself even later? And two, I’m no streetwalker – that’s loser territory. Our brothel is legal. Why would I take the risks of some psycho picking me up? Not to mention I’d be breaking the law.”

Amy could feel her eyes widening as Sophie spoke. “But.”

“Oh I get it Amy”, said Sophie confidently, cutting her lawyer off, ”You don’t think I look like I’m on the game, right? Well, I’m not going to parade around in my work clothes. A bit too cold, if you get what I mean.”

“I suppose” Amy replied, weakly.

“I mean”, continued Sophie, ”you can’t just tell by looking at someone whether they’re a whore, right?” Amy found herself nodding in response. “Look at you, you’re prettier than I am.” Again Amy found herself agreeing. She kept herself in shape and her good looks and long blonde hair had attracted more than her fair share of male attention. She’d never call herself beautiful, but plenty of others had.

“Doesn’t mean you’re on the game does it?” the brunette’s tone again pierced her thoughts, demanding agreement. Amy found her head nodding again. No, of course it doesn’t mean that, I’m not a prostitute, she thought. “You could be though you know, Amy, I’m sure you’d be good at anything you tried”.

“What? No, no” Amy shook her head, again thrown off-balance by her client.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to offend” Amy felt Sophie’s hand stroking down her arm, the feeling lingering long after the touch had finished. She looked up to see Sophie leaning across the table towards her.

“Well, just to help you Amy” What?, thought Amy, I’m supposed to be helping you. “Here’s the number plate of the car of that old dear I was talking to. I’m sure he’ll confirm what happened. And here’s the direct number to Stacey’s. They’ll have my shift times. You don’t need anything else do you?”

Amy was sure she should have been asking Sophie some more questions. But right now the only thing she wanted to do was get out of that room.

It didn’t take much arguing to get bail for Sophie. Amy wasn’t sure whether the custody sergeant thought the case against her client would stand up or not. He kept his face professionally neutral. But it was clear he wanted his part in it over as quickly as possible.

“Nice” said Sophie, once they were out on the street. “That was quick. Look, I’ve got to get going, still have to do the rest of my shift.”

“Oh, ok” said Amy, still unsure why she was letting this woman dominate their conversations.

“If you need anything more from me, you let me know.” Sophie instructed. Hang on, thought Amy, shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?

“Let’s exchange numbers” Sophie suggested. And once they had the pretty brunette disappeared into the evening crowd.

Later that night Amy couldn’t get what Sophie had said out of her head. She’d tried reading through the case files she’d brought home. She’d got herself dinner. Even done some cleaning that was usually left for the weekend. “A prostitute?” she asked out loud. Absurd, she said to herself, what a joke. “I’ve got a career, why would I want to do that?”

“But then I suppose I’m pretty enough” she added, looking in a mirror, one hand running through her hair. A little voice inside her head said, you know men like you, and there’s always men willing to pay for sex. Doesn’t mean I’d take the money the larger part answered back. And I don’t even know what it would be like to be a prostitute. But you could always find out the little voice said.

Amy shook her head, cross with this silly internal conversation. She turned on the DVD player and put in one of her favourite films. With that she pushed Sophie out of head for the weekend.

Come Monday morning Amy had decided that the way Sophie had controlled the conversation between them was due to Friday afternoon exhaustion. She wouldn’t be letting that happen again. Amy didn’t like things getting the better of her. Her way was always to take control and get on with it. She decided that the best thing to do was to get this case out of the way. And that meant checking the two leads that backed up Sophie’s story, the man she had talked to and that she was late for … work. Amy’s mind shied away from calling it a brothel. She gave Natalie the registration number of the car and asked her to follow it up through their police channels. That left the … brothel. This time Amy made herself think the word. That’s the accurate word, she thought to herself, no reason to be scared of it.

Amy retrieved the card Sophie had given her with the number. “That’s if there’s anyone there at this time of the morning” she mused as she punched the keys on her phone.

“Hello, this is Stacey’s, how can we help you”. Wow, thought Amy, where do you get voice that drips sex like that?

“Uh, hi, my name’s Amy Jennings, I’m the lawyer for Sophie Griffiths.” Amy spoke fast, wanting to make it clear as possible she wasn’t a potential client. Or anything else.

“Oh yes” it was the same voice, but friendlier, less sensual, as if the speaker had dropped her earlier tone as easily as an actress could change a costume. “Sophie said you’d be calling.”

“Great” said Amy, “I just need to confirm that she was scheduled to start work at 3pm last Friday afternoon.”

“Oh, gee, I’m sorry” the speaker sounded genuinely unhappy, but Amy remembered how quickly she’d changed tone earlier in the conversation “but I’m not allowed to give out that sort of stuff over the phone.”

“Look” said Amy, allowing a hint of irritation into her voice “I’m only trying to help Sophie here.”

“I know, but how do I know you’re really who you say you are?” the speaker asked “We have to protect the girls, so we don’t give out the start and finish times over the phone.”

“I need this to help Sophie.” Said Amy firmly.

“Oh, I know, but it’s only over the phone I can’t do it. If you come in I can get you signatures and stuff. Wouldn’t that be better in court?” the girl, and Amy could only think of her as that, asked.

Amy wanted to say no, but she knew that the girl was right. She would need signed statements to really convince the court. Maybe even be ready to call someone from the brothel as a witness. Amy wasn’t looking forward to trying to convince a Magistrate that a receptionist at a brothel, or maybe even whoever ran the place, should be believed over what time one of the pr … workers was due to start and how punctual she was. But she did know that the more documentation she could dump on the public prosecutor the more chance they might decide it was too hard trying to prove the police constable’s suspicions were correct. God knows the prosecutors had an enormous load too, so making a case go away quickly could be just as appealing to them, when the other choice was a drawn out case the defence was prepared to fight. A signed statement was what she needed. And if that mean going to Stacey’s, well, that’s what a good lawyer would do.

“Got to go out, won’t be long” Amy said over her shoulder to Natalie as she left the office.

Amy was in a taxi, half way to Stacey’s, when she started to wonder whether going in the front door was a good idea. Yes she had a valid reason, but she didn’t really want to have to explain it. She could just imagine the jokes around the office if any of them found out she had been seen going into a brothel. A quick call back to the number Sophie had given her, and the girl, whose name apparently was Lucy, let her know about the back way in. “It’s the one all the girls use” Lucy had said. Amy pushed down the thought that she was going to be entering a brothel the way the prostitutes did.

There wasn’t much on the street to show that it was a brothel. It was a large building, but nothing about it made it stand out amongst the other buildings, full of slightly second-rate offices, that surrounded it. Like its fellows it was only five stories and not that wide. It looked like it had been built forty or fifty years ago, but reasonably well maintained. It lacked the signs of the other buildings, announcing their occupants. Its most distinguishing feature was its windows, all blanked out in white as far as Amy could see.

Around the back it was even less obvious and Amy wasn’t at all sure she had the right door. She chose one, tried it, and found it unlocked. Beyond she entered into an unlit hall. Even in the darkness she could tell there was thick carpet under her shoes.

“Hello?” Amy called out tentatively “Anyone there?”

“Hello?” came a reply “who’s that?”

Amy relaxed, recognising the voice as Lucy’s. “It’s Amy Jennings, Sophie’s lawyer.”

“Oh sorry, should have had the lights on for you.” The lights flickered on, revealing velvet clad walls and the plush carpet Amy had suspected. What a cliché, she thought. She could see a door open, further up on the left hand side. “Come on in.”

In contrast to the hallway, Lucy’s room looked like it had come from office furnishing central. Neutral coloured walls, filing cabinets, a desk with a computer and a sophisticated looking office phone. Behind the desk sat the girl who Amy assumed was Lucy, fairly plain looking in jeans and tee-shirt but with a big smile.

“Bet I’m not what you expected, huh?” Lucy said cheerfully.

“Sorry?” replied Amy

“Didn’t you think I’d look like some porn star sitting here in some fancy lingerie or something?” Lucy asked. “Hello”, she continued, dropping into the sensual voice she had used when she first answered Amy’s call. “This is Stacey’s, let us make your deepest fantasy come true.” Then she laughed.

“See I can do the voice, but all I have to do is answer the phones and fix up the schedules. So I don’t have to dress up for the customers. Never see them. I don’t quite have the looks for it anyway.” Amy thought there should be hint of jealousy or resentment in that, but she couldn’t find any.

“Not like some” Lucy added, looking straight at Amy.

She thinks I could work here, thought Amy. Be a pros… Amy pushed the thought away.

“Look, if I could just get that statement about Sophie’s schedule” said Amy, trying not to sound harsh.

“Yep, Miss Stacey said to send you right up as soon as you got here” said Lucy. Perky, thought Amy, who’d have thought a brothel’s receptionist would be perky?

“Uh, what, sorry, can’t you?” Amy struggled to get back to what she came here for.

“Sorry, no can do. The boss says she should do it, carry more weight, etc., etc. So just take the lift up to the top floor. Back out in the corridor, front of the building.” Lucy’s words felt like hands on Amy, gently but forcefully guiding her along. The lift was like the corridor, all soft light and plush fittings. As the doors opened at the top Amy could only see one open door, with light spilling out.

If Lucy’s office was cookie-cutter receptionist, this one was definitely executive grade. The floor was polished wood, unlike the carpet in the rest of the building. Light streamed in through a window. I must have missed that one when I was looking outside, thought Amy. There were elegant bookshelves, dark wood inset with lighter panelling, the shelves tastefully filled by old leather bound volumes and expensive looking decorations. The impressive desk, near the far wall, matched the bookshelves, solid dark wood with lighter panels. There was a computer on the desk and an antique-looking lamp beside it. A fax machine lay discreetly on one of the shelves of the bookcases behind the desk. The woman seated behind the desk matched the surrounds, restrained and confident. She looked about fifty. Amy could see she was wearing a light coloured blouse, buttoned well up and what looked like the coat of a business suit. Whether it was a pants suit or skirt Amy couldn’t tell, the panels of the desk went to the floor on the front and both sides of the desk, so she could only see the woman’s upper half.

“Please take a seat Miss Jennings”, the woman indicated one of the chairs in front of the desk with an elegantly manicured hand.

“Thank you, Miss, uh Stacey?” Amy wasn’t sure whether she wanted to call the woman that but she had no idea what else to call her, so decided that was as good as anything as she sat down.

“Yes, that’s fine, you can call me Stacey. But I suppose I’d better call you Amy then hadn’t I?” the older woman said.

“Uh, I suppose” Amy wanted to think of a reason to object but as she had already used the other’s woman’s name she couldn’t think of a good reason to argue. Well, she supposed it was the other woman’s name.

“Now, Amy” began Stacey, not giving Amy any chance to interject “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing the documents I think you’ll need to help Sophie”. She indicated a folder on her desk with a memo on top. “If you could just have a look and see if that’s everything.”

Amy took the memo. If the contents of the folder matched the memo Stacey had been thorough. It listed Sophie’s hours, how long she had worked here and a statement from Stacey about Sophie’s punctuality. It even claimed to have details of Sophie’s earnings.

“That last” said Stacey, seeming to know where Amy was up to in reading the memo, “should help show that Sophie wouldn’t take passing traffic. What she earns here is rather above the going rate for that sort of thing.”

“That’s great” said Amy, eager to be gone, “with this I won’t have to take up any more of your time”. She reached for the folder.

“But that’s not everything, is it?” Stacey’s tone was mild, but Amy felt as if her hand had been slapped. She pulled it back hurriedly, feeling as if she was back in school and in the headmistress’ office for a reprimand.

“Umm, sorry?” asked Amy.

“I like to think I look after my girls” said Stacey, looking at Amy across steepled fingers, “so I want to know that you’ll give Sophie the best defence she can have. If they hadn’t appointed a public defender so quickly I’d have hired someone else.”

“I know my job,” replied Amy confidently, “I may not have been in it long, but I have a good success rate.” Amy was a good lawyer, she knew that.

“Ah but a good lawyer,” Stacey replied firmly as Amy felt a faint flutter of panic in her stomach, was the woman reading her mind? “needs to understand their client, don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, I” Amy struggled to reply.

“But do you understand Sophie?” Stacey cut Amy off. ”Do you understand why Sophie does what she does, selling her body to men she doesn’t know?”

Amy shook her head and looked down, not wanting Stacey to see how embarrassed she felt. Again she was reminded of that feeling of being in the headmistress’ office. Stacey was right, though Amy hated to admit it. If she didn’t understand Sophie how was she supposed to defend her properly? Amy wanted to protest. She knew her job. Amy felt her normal confidence ebb away, what was going on here?

“It’s not for every woman” Stacey sounded almost as if she was giving a lecture “being a sex-worker.” That’s the proper term, thought Amy, sex-worker. Not prostitute. Why wasn’t I using that before? Because prostitute is what Sophie called herself, answered the little voice in her head.

“I’m not talking about the drug-addled whores on the street” Stacey continued, a look of distaste on her face “I won’t touch that side of the business. The girls who work for me choose it. Oh sometimes, life doesn’t give them much of a choice, usually they need the money. But even then it’s up to them in the end and I’ll only take a girl who has the right attitude, who’s up to it.”

“Up to it?” echoed Amy, sounding dim even to her own ears.

“Yes” Stacey said, warming to her task “you have to understand it’s a service industry. You provide a service, you get paid. That’s how lawyers work, isn’t it dear?”

“Well, yes, but it’s not quite the same” replied Amy, not liking the parallel Stacey seemed to be trying to draw.

“Well, quite”, Stacey shot back, “but it’s the same basic arrangement. You have to be prepared to give that service. There’s nothing that says you have to like a client in any service industry is there?” Stacey only gave Amy time for a slight shake of the head. She had to admit she didn’t like many of her clients. “Some girls look on it as a simple transaction. Render the service, get paid. They’re all business. A few just like having lots of sex and getting paid for it. Most of them need the money, some just like having a bit extra. Some office girls, even a few professional women are quite happy to do a bit of moonlighting.” Stacey drew breath and Amy looked up, wondering if she was supposed to say something.

Before she had a chance Stacey asked “Now, do you have any idea where Sophie fits in that?”

Stacey was looking straight at her. Amy couldn’t look away. Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t lie. “No” was all she could say.

“Well then” smiled Stacey. Amy sagged with relief as she felt released from the older woman’s gaze. “Why don’t we ask her?”

“What?” Amy felt her voice rise, matching the panic that again threatened to take hold. Why was she so worried? Sophie was her client after all, seeing her shouldn’t be a problem. But Amy couldn’t shake a feeling of fear.

Stacey hit a switch on the phone on her desk “Come in please Sophie”.

The door seemed to open immediately. Had Sophie been just outside waiting for the call, wondered Amy. Turning around she was surprised to see a young woman in a business suit very similar to the one she herself was wearing. It took Amy a moment to realise that it was indeed Sophie.

“Oh don’t worry about how she’s dressed” said Stacey with a reassuring tone. “We like to deal in fantasies here and after seeing you the other day Sophie said she’d like to try out the professional look for clients who are into that sort of thing. Isn’t that right Sophie?”

“Yes Miss Stacey” replied Sophie, demurely. Amy thought she should object, that there was something wrong with how Sophie was blurring the lines between them, but somehow she couldn’t find the words.

“Now Sophie, Amy here is trying to understand you a bit better, to help with your defence.” Sophie turned to regard Amy as Stacey continued, “Could you tell her a bit about why you work here?”

“Well” Sophie began, not waiting for any confirmation from Amy “I need the money to fund my studies.”

“Studies?” Amy managed to squeeze out.

“Yes, I’m studying marketing at the local university. I left home early, my parents were” Amy could see the emotion in Sophie’s eyes, belying the cool exterior she presented “well, let’s say they didn’t help much. I left school early too, and without any skills worth mentioning it was shit job after shit job. I needed to study if I was going to make something of myself. And that needed money. And without any skills or qualifications this was my only choice.”

Amy was surprised at how calm Sophie was. “Aren’t you bitter or anything?” asked Amy. Amy could sympathise. While she hadn’t had to struggle to afford her studies she understood how expensive it could be. And being forced into a choice like this, well, it couldn’t have been easy for Sophie.

“No, what’s the point?” replied Sophie “I could rail against society. I’d much rather get on with it. To me it’s just a job, you do what the customer wants and you get paid. Yeah, I box it off and maybe I’ll need a therapist in twenty years. But by then I aim to be able to afford one. That’s another reason I wouldn’t have done it other day. I want a career some day and a conviction for soliciting isn’t exactly going to help.”

Amy could understand that. Stacey had been right. Understanding Sophie would help in her defence.

“Thank you for being so open” said Amy quietly.

“So” said Stacey “you understand a bit better now?” Amy nodded and Stacey continued “About the choices Sophie has made. It takes strength to be that honest, doesn’t it? To see what’s possible and admit what you can do. Sophie’s going to have a career someday, but it’s a fine line. Why don’t you two girls go and stand in front of the mirror for me?”

Amy looked around, confused. Mirror? Then she saw a large floor length mirror on one of the walls. She must have not noticed it when she came in. A little reluctantly she went and stood next to Sophie, both of them looking into the mirror.

“Now answer me honestly” admonished Stacey “if you were shown this picture and told one of these girls was a lawyer and one a sex-worker, which one would you think was which?” Amy wanted to rebel, to refuse to answer the question. It was silly, it was outrageous. Stacey had no right to ask such a thing. And anyway it was obvious, she was the lawyer, Sophie the prostitute. But then Amy looked in the mirror.

At first sight it was two women, looking like they were dressed for a day in the office. But the shoes of one had heels that were a little higher. The same woman wore a skirt that was a little shorter than the other’s. She looked prettier too. Oh her outfit was nothing that wouldn’t be acceptable in the most conservative of offices. But Stacey had said she had to choose. The woman in that outfit had long blonde hair, even if it was tied back. The other, slightly more conservative, was brunette, her hair short. And Amy knew that if anyone was forced to pick between the two they’d pick her, not Sophie, as the prostitute.

“Me?” Amy whispered, nervously.

“What was that dear?” asked Stacey.

“I look like the prostitute” Amy said, looking at the floor, not realising that wasn’t exactly what Stacey had asked.

“You see dear” said Stacey “it’s a fine line. Some women never get near it. Others find it very easy to cross.”

“Well,” she continued, “I think we’re done here. You should be well prepared to defend Sophie now.”

Amy nodded, wordless, took the folder from Stacey’s desk and fled.

The rest of the day at the office was a total disaster. Amy couldn’t concentrate on her work. She kept replaying the events in Stacey’s office over and over again in her head. Her emotions hurtling between fear and anger.

“How dare she?” Amy muttered to herself. Why hadn’t she objected? Why had she let Stacey dominate her like that? Amy was no shy retiring type. You couldn’t be a successful lawyer in court if you were. Yet she’d let the older woman treat her like a naughty schoolgirl. Much as she tried to deny it beneath her anger Amy felt a creeping fear. Fear that people might look at her and not see a professional woman but instead a sex-worker acting out some stupid male fantasy. Angrily she tried to tug her skirt a bit lower.

Even good news from Natalie, who had located the driver of the car, couldn’t cheer her up. “Do you want to talk to him?” Natalie asked. Amy just waved her away and told her to do it. When Natalie returned a little later, Amy was deleting a half written summary on her computer. Rereading it she realised that the last two hour’s work had produced nothing but rubbish.

“Are you ok?” asked Natalie, obviously concerned.

“Yeah, I just feel a little off” replied Amy, trying to regather her composure

“Hmm” said Natalie “well, that bloke Sophie was talking to, Gary Reynolds, he’s happy to make a statement. She’s lucky. Most men would deny everything.”

Amy just nodded.

“You don’t look right.” Natalie looked at her seriously “you sure you’re not getting something?” When Amy didn’t reply Natalie continued. “Get out of here. It’s late enough.” Amy looked at the clock. Half past four. Where had the day gone? It was before lunch when she’d got back from Stacey’s.

That night Amy had trouble getting to sleep. As she tossed and turned she still couldn’t let go of the events of the morning. Stacey and Sophie seemed to have been determined to convince her that she could, could, sell herself. Amy wouldn’t use the ‘p’ word. Even Lucy, the receptionist at the brothel, with her comment about Amy’s looks, had been trying the same thing. I mean, Amy thought to herself, as if.

As if she could have sex with a man she didn’t know. Take her clothes off for him. Lie back for him and let him do whatever he wanted to her. Then take his money. Unbidden, the images started playing over and over in her head. Meeting a man, faceless, anonymous. Agreeing to go somewhere with him. Taking off her dress, her bra. Slipping down her panties. Feeling his hands running over her body, her breasts, feeling his cock forcing its way into her pussy. Feeling her arousal grow.

“Oh my god” yelled Amy. She was feeling aroused. She really was. Those images were turning her on. “Shit no”. It’s just a fantasy she tried to tell herself. Lots of people have fantasies. And how long was it since she had got laid, anyway? Hell, it must be two years now. Finalising her qualifications and settling into her job had destroyed any chance of a relationship. So it was no surprise, really. Pent-up sexual frustration combined with the suggestiveness of being in a brothel? That would get to anyone, Amy reassured herself. And what’s the harm in a little fantasy anyway? People have fantasies about lots things, silly things. Doesn’t mean they’re actually going to do them. They may even play them out with their partner. Amy remembered one of her friends at university, Mary, whispering to her about a game Mary and her boyfriend Neil had played. Mary acting the hooker and Neil picking her up. All safe at home. Just a bit of fun.

Amy decided that she needed some release. “Too much pent up anxiety” she said to herself. Reaching down, touching her pussy, she was amazed at how wet she was. “Wow I need this”. She began gently rubbing at herself, a finger, then two, slipping inside her needy hole. The images in her head were of men, faceless, taking her, one after another. Very soon she orgasmed and drifted contentedly off to sleep.

The next few days at the office were much better. Amy felt like she was back to her old determined self. Better even. The work seemed to come so easily. Case files made sense. Witnesses co-operated. Even the opposing lawyers didn’t seem to be able to match her court-room performance.

“Woah” Natalie said at the end of the week. “I should tell more people to take an early afternoon.”

“Hmm?” asked Amy.

“Well, the way you’ve been since Monday.” Natalie said, obviously wondering “It’s like you’ve got a whole new lease. What’s the secret?”

“Oh nothing” said Amy, smiling, “I just feel a little more balanced.”

What Amy didn’t tell Natalie was that her nights before sleep had become almost a ritual of self-pleasure. She’d be wet even before she got into bed, images of men taking her flowing through her mind. Even when she tried she couldn’t recall any of the details of what those fantasy men looked like. All she remembered was the wonderful feeling of imagining them inside her. She’d bring herself off once, sometimes twice a night. In the end jamming her fingers deep into her sodden pussy, her back arching. “I need to get laid” she’d said to herself in the mirror as she’d prepared for work Friday morning. Nightly masturbation wasn’t normal for her, she admitted, and honestly it wasn’t as satisfying as the real thing.

She’d twirled before the mirror that morning, admiring the image of herself in the fancy lingerie she’d taken to wearing in place of her usual conservative underwear. She still didn’t like the idea that Sophie and Stacey might have trying to make her think about prostitution, but now she was prepared to write it off as her overactive imagination. She’d obviously been depriving herself sexually. Her sexual frustration had made her read way too much into what they’d said. What she needed to do was work it off.

Looking at herself, in the high cut frilly panties and matching lacy bra, Amy thought most men would like what she could see. Maybe she should go out on the weekend. Try for a one-nighter. She’d never done it before, sex for her had only been within a relationship. But now it seemed like the sensible choice. If that’s what it took to burn off the last of this sexual frustration, well, why not? Thousands of people did it every weekend, why not her? She spent a few minutes running her hands over her body, enjoying the feeling. Then she put on her work clothes, smiling at the little wickedness of what she was wearing underneath.

Saturday night found Amy amongst the bars and pickup joints on the high street. At first she’d held back, flitting from place to place. Never having tried to hook up in places like these she wasn’t sure what to do. So she’d found some out of the way places in the bars and just watched. Amy was amazed at the way people moved through the press of humanity. Yes, she’d been in bars before, but she’d never taken the time to just watch. Men and women, singly and in groups. She could see them laughing and talking. After a little while she could start identifying the ones who were looking for more. Amy wasn’t sure which ones wanted something quick, like her, and which ones wanted something serious. But she could tell the ones on the pull. For the women it seemed easy enough. Hang around at the bar, sip a drink and men would come along soon enough. Especially if the woman was by herself. To Amy it was almost as if they were putting themselves on display.

The night was getting on by the time Amy summoned up the courage to take a place at the bar herself. She chose a seat at one end, well away from the area the bar staff used to serve people who just wanted a drink and to head off elsewhere into the building. Maybe she had chosen somewhere a little too out of the way, because Amy was on her second drink before anyone tried to talk to her.

“Hi” a male voice said.

Amy looked him over. Mid-twenties, dark hair. Nothing special to look at, but not too bad either.

“Hi” Amy said.

“So” he said “you new in town?”

“No, I’ve been here six months” Amy replied.

“Oh” the man said, a little crestfallen “you just seemed to be by yourself.”

“I am” Amy said and the man brightened “What’s your name?”, she added.

“Craig” he replied, “what’s yours?”

“Sophie” said Amy, almost without thinking. Sophie? She screamed at herself internally. I mean, ok, I can see why I didn’t tell him my real name. If I just want a one-nighter let’s keep it anonymous, but why that name? Oh shit, too late now.

“That’s nice” said Craig, “what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer, what about you?” Amy asked.

Craig seemed like a nice enough bloke. He worked in one of the banks. They talked for a while about their university experiences and the long hours they had to work now they had jobs. Amy tried to work the conversation in the direction she wanted, but Craig seemed almost as out of his depth as she was. In the end she took the plunge and started running her hand up and down the outside of his leg. Obviously encouraged, Craig’s hands started to explore her body and he leant nearer her head.

“So” he asked “you want to go someplace with just the two of us?”

“Yeah”, she said “your place near here?”

“Close enough” Craig replied.

Outside the bar they found a cab in surprisingly short time. Inside the cab Amy found Craig’s hands all over her. She didn’t mind. Finally she thought, finally I’ll work this off.

Craig’s apartment, after he had dragged his hands off her and fiddled with the key to let them in, was marginally more tidy than most bachelor pads Amy had seen. She didn’t really care and soon their clothes had added to the mess. Craig nuzzled her breasts, her nipples rising to hard points. He seemed to have some idea of foreplay, but Amy didn’t want to wait. She gently rubbed his cock, making sure it was good and hard, slipping on the protection he at least had had the forethought to provide. When she thought he was ready Amy thrust herself underneath him. As his cock plunged into her eager pussy Amy thought “I don’t know his last name. Hell I don’t even know if Craig is his real name. And fuck it, I don’t care” and with that she surrendered herself to the raw feelings coursing through her body.

In the morning Amy awoke before Craig did. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d come the night before. She’d lost count after about seven, she thought. In the end she’d let Craig slip into an exhausted sleep, even though she was up for more. Quietly she gathered her clothes, dressed and left after planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

There, Amy thought in the cab on the way home, ignoring the leering looks from the driver, that should do it. And if I need to do it again in a little while to stop myself getting carried away, who cares? Depriving yourself is just silly.

For the next few days her needs did seem to have subsided. She could get to sleep at night without the need for a couple of orgasms. She wasn’t plagued by enticing thoughts of unknown men fucking her silly. But it was like there was an itch she couldn’t, or hadn’t, scratched. Something, ticking away at the back of her mind. Still, Amy found that her level of energy at work remained. As did her habit of wearing fancy lingerie under her office attire. She’d even added teddies to her mix.

By Wednesday night, though, the images had returned in force. By the time she could get to sleep Amy had spent at least half an hour plunging three fingers in and out of herself to thought of being fucked by one man after another. Ah well, she consoled herself Friday morning, after another, even longer, frigging session on Thursday night, it’s almost the weekend. Then I can go out and find another bloke like Craig. But even through that thought there was another feeling, that she wanted something more than Craig had given her.

The day seemed to fly by and it was almost four thirty when the phone on Amy’s desk rang, the display showing it was Natalie. Damn, thought Amy, I’ve almost got this done.

Reluctantly she picked up the phone “Hi Natalie, what is it?” Amy asked. One hand was still typing away on the court filing she wanted to finish.

“Uh, hi Amy”, said Natalie. That’s weird, thought Amy, she sounds a bit out of it. “I’ve got someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?” asked Amy “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Umm she says she’s one of your clients, Sophie Griffiths, the soliciting charge? Should I send her in?” asked Natalie, uncertainly.

“Oh, err” Amy stammered. Sophie? What was Sophie doing here? Suddenly all Amy’s assurance seemed to vanish.

“Amy?” Natalie queried, unsure.

“Oh, all right, send her in” Amy was sure that leaving Sophie out there was the worst thing she could do.

Moments later Sophie opened the door and Amy could see that she was back in the jeans and coat she was wearing when Amy first met her.

“Umm, Sophie, come in, have a seat” Amy said, still wondering why Sophie was here.

“Thanks” said Sophie, as she sat on the government-issue office chairs that were all Amy had to offer.

“What can I do for you?” Amy asked, hoping she could get Sophie away quickly.

“Oh I just thought there might be something you needed me to sign or something” Sophie said “I mean, you got a signed statement from Stacey but not from me. And I hadn’t heard from you in what, a week and a half? I want to know how my case is going.”

“Oh no” Amy said, relaxing. It seemed like she would be able to get this interview over with soon. “You’re the accused so it’s different. You give your version to the court through me and then in the witness box if we have to. So no, nothing to sign. Not yet, anyway. And last time I talked to the prosecutor it looked like they were dropping your case. That stuff from Stacey really helped. So if that’s it I won’t keep you.” Amy indicated the door.

“That’s ok” said Sophie, relaxing into the chair and spinning it slowly back and forth, her legs tucked off to one side “I don’t have anywhere else to be. If there’s nothing I can do, there’s something you can do for me.”

“What?” asked Amy confused. Hopefully Sophie hadn’t got into more trouble.

“Well” said Sophie conspiratorially “I told you a bit about me the other day. Why don’t you return the favour? It will help me trust you. As my lawyer, you know.”

“What?” said Amy sharply “I couldn’t possibly. We need to keep a professional relationship.” Desperately she was thinking about how she could get Sophie out of her room, afraid now of where this conversation might go. She didn’t want to call the building security, but she would if it was her last resort.

“Oh come on” said Sophie, her tone persuasive, “you can trust me. What about we start with something easy? Where’d you go to university?” Amy told her, hesitantly.

“That’s good” coached Sophie, “Now let’s try something else. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No” said Amy shaking her head.

“No boyfriend, nothing more serious?” Amy could see Sophie looking at her left hand. Amy just shook her head.

“Oh, poor Amy” Sophie consoled her “So when’s the last time you got laid?”

“What?” asked Amy, looking up and straight into Sophie’s eyes “how dare .. I’m not going …” Something in the other girl’s eyes calmed Amy, took away her momentary resistance. “Last weekend” she said weakly.

“Oh, a one-nighter” said Sophie brightly. “Tell me all about it”.

And Amy did. She couldn’t work out why she was telling Sophie. This girl she hardly knew. But she told her everything. About how she watched, trying to work out how to get picked up. About Craig, and everything they’d done. Amy gave Sophie more detail than she’d ever given anyone about her relationships, even her best friends.

“Wow,” said Sophie when Amy was finished, “do you do that sort of thing often?”

“No,” answered Amy, “that was my first one-nighter.”

“Well” said Sophie. “You certainly started with a bang. No pun intended.” she half-sniggered. “What made you do that if you’d never done it before?”

Amy remembered the nights she’d spent frigging herself. And the lurid images that accompanied her sessions. She didn’t want to tell Sophie about that. She knew how it would sound. How images of man after man pounding away at her, none of whom she could put a face to, would seem too much like what a, a, she wouldn’t even think the “p” word, what a sex-worker would do.

But Sophie’s gaze held her. Held her like a lawyer might hold a witness. Leading her testimony where she wanted it to go. Slowly building her case. Amy felt her resolve wilting under the look Sophie was giving her. She couldn’t hold it in any more. She heard herself describing her masturbation sessions to Sophie, what she did to herself, what was thinking as she did it. It felt like a release, like a confession. When she was finished Amy felt a tightness she hadn’t even known was there let go from her chest.

“Wow,” said Sophie softly, “that’s some imagination you’ve got there, girl. So did that night with, what was his name, Craig? Did it give you everything you want?”

Amy wanted to say yes. She was willing herself to say yes. But she knew it was a lie. She felt like she was in the witness box testifying against herself and she knew you shouldn’t lie in the witness box. Still she couldn’t say it. She hung her head, shaking it in the negative, and gently started to cry.

“Shhh” Sophie whispered in Amy’s ear. Amy wondered how Sophie had got behind her. She hadn’t seen or heard her get up from her chair. “It’s okay. You can trust me.” Sophie gently ran her hands up and down Amy’s upper arms, consoling the seated woman.

“It was good though, wasn’t it?” her voice was so soft Amy was sure Sophie’s mouth must be right by Amy’s ear. She could feel Sophie’s breath on her neck. Amy nodded in response to the question. “Getting fucked by a man you didn’t know. Admit it, it was good, wasn’t it?” Amy nodded again. “Getting fucked by a man you’d never see again.” Amy nodded, she knew that’s what Sophie wanted. “Getting fucked by a man you didn’t feel anything for.” Amy felt like she was one of those dolls, whose head you just set going and they would keep on nodding and nodding. “But there was still something more you wanted wasn’t there? You wanted to know whether he really wanted to fuck you, or whether any woman would have done. But how could he have done that, Amy, how could he show he appreciated you when there was nothing between the two of you, no emotions, what could he do? Hmm?”

Amy knew the answer Sophie wanted. She could taste it on her tongue. But she didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit what it would mean.

“Come on Amy”, urged Sophie, “you’re almost there. Tell me what that bloke could have done to show how much he valued the service you gave him.”

“He, he could” Amy stumbled “have. He could have.” Amy felt like a wall was breaking. “He could have paid me” she gasped. Amy grasped tightly onto one of Sophie’s arms, her tears soaking into Sophie’s jacket.

Sophie gently removed Amy’s hands and slowly swung the blonde’s chair around so they were facing each other. She hugged the seated girl.

“That’s right, he could have paid you. You’d know then how much he valued what you did for him” Sophie said gently.

“But, but” Amy protested weakly “I don’t want that. I don’t want to be a, be a.” She looked away. She couldn’t finish the sentence, but felt ashamed to say she couldn’t be what Sophie was.

“Amy, look at me” Sophie’s voice was still gentle, but commanding now. When Amy was again looking at her Sophie continued “a prostitute, is that what you were going to say, you don’t want to be a prostitute?”

Amy simply nodded.

“You sure?” asked Sophie “let’s see. You fucked a man you didn’t know, will probably never see again. That’s what I do. You may as well get paid for doing it.”

“But”, Amy feebly protested, “it wasn’t the same.”

“Wasn’t it?” asked Sophie, shaking her head in mock incredulity. “How come?”

“Well, you don’t get to say no” Amy said, almost apologetically.

“Yep, that’s true” agreed Sophie. “A man turns up and I fuck him. I don’t get to say no. But didn’t you say that Craig bloke was the first to come on to you? You didn’t say no. Would you have said no to any man?”

Was that true? Amy questioned herself desperately. Would I have said yes to the first man that came up to me? What was she? What was happening to her?

“Sounds to me” said Sophie “that you had a worse deal than me. I mean, I get paid and I’m not taking my chances with random strangers I meet in a bar. Who knows what psychos you could run across?”

Amy felt like she was on the edge of a dark chasm, her feet already slipping.

“I don’t, I don’t want to be, to do what you do” Amy said, gripping the other woman tightly, her head pushing in to Sophie’s chest. Amy wasn’t even sure anymore that she was telling the truth, but she knew her next statement was true, “I want to be a lawyer.”

Sophie pulled back and with one hand gently lifted up Amy’s chin so they were looking at each other again “Hey, who said you couldn’t be a lawyer? Remember what Miss Stacey said about professional women moonlighting? Nothing stopping you giving that a try.”

“But, I couldn’t”, protested Amy, “what if I got caught? I’d get disbarred.”

“Good point”, said Sophie. Amy felt relief flood through her. Maybe she’d get through this. All right, maybe a little bit of her was tempted. But people were tempted all the time. Didn’t mean you had to give in.

“But I think”, Sophie continued, “that you need to be honest with yourself. If being caught wasn’t a problem, would you like to give it a go?”

Amy could feel herself relaxing. Now it was like a hypothetical. She could deal with that. Lawyers dealt in hypothetical situations all the time. Would she, if she didn’t think she’d get caught, do what Sophie did? Or at least give it a try? Honestly? Getting paid for a commitment-free fuck? Yes, yes she would. She’d at least try it. Hypothetically, anyway.

“Yes” Amy said softly.

“Well,” said Sophie. “I think we can help you.”

“What?” Amy tensed in her chair as her fears came flooding back. What had she just agreed to? What was Sophie going to do to her? Had she just thrown away her career?

“The place where I work is no good to you. It’s ok for me, I need a regular income. But that’s not the only business Miss Stacey owns. She also has this escort agency. Really high class. Professional women. Men pay good money for that. They want someone who can hold a conversation over dinner before a good fuck afterwards. They wouldn’t want it coming out any more than you would. It’d be safe. It’d be just like a date. Dinner, then sex afterwards. Come on, how many dates like that have you been on? Even better, you get paid.”

Amy’s head was spinning. A moment ago she thought she was safe. Now the pit was back. Just like a date? Well, it could be, she supposed. Certainly she’d been on dates like that, dinner then sex. OK, it had been with her boyfriend, but even though part of her didn’t want to she could imagine doing it with a man she didn’t know. A man who was paying her for sex. And hadn’t she just said she would, if she thought she was safe? But she couldn’t, could she? She looked at Sophie, pleadingly.

“Be honest with yourself” said Sophie “you know you want to try it. And you know you won’t stop thinking about it until you do.”

Amy slumped, defeated. She knew Sophie was right. All those images. The missing part of what had happened with Craig. She had to know what it was like. She had to try being paid for sex. To know if that was what was missing from her fantasies. Amy knew the thought of it would never let her go until she tried it for real.

“Now admit it” commanded Sophie “is that what you want, honestly?”

Amy knew she had no defence left. Once again, she nodded.

“Like Miss Stacey said”, Sophie continued, as she helped Amy out of her chair, “Some girls just do it for the money, but others do it for fun. There’s less of them, but I think you might be one.”

Amy didn’t resist as Sophie helped her on with her coat, led her unresisting out towards Natalie’s desk.

“Amy?” Natalie asked, uncertain.

“It’s ok”, Amy heard herself saying, “I just need to fix something up with Sophie, see you Monday”.

Outside Amy looked around, not really understanding how they had got there “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Where do you think?’ Sophie asked in reply “there’s no time like the present.”

“But, no, I can’t” Amy protested weakly.

“I thought we just agreed you could and you will” Sophie admonished.

Amy gave up her struggles and let Sophie lead her on.

A couple of hours later Amy was sitting in front of the mirror in her apartment. Sophie had taken her to get her hair and nails done. Amy felt like she had drifted through the whole thing. She was wearing one of her LBD’s now. Sophie had chosen it. She still had on her expensive lingerie. Sophie had approved. Although she had made Amy add stockings and a matching suspender belt. She’d chosen Amy’s shoes as well. A pair with three inch heels, closed-toes. Almost the highest heels Amy had. But hell, she’d seen girls wearing higher at her graduation.

Amy watched as Sophie applied the last of her makeup. She had to admit she looked good. Not slutty at all. Her hair looked great, the sort of thing you might wear to a formal work dinner or the like. Her nails were immaculate, painted in a subdued colour. Her makeup was excellent, Sophie was a real artist. Amy thought she looked just like what she was, a professional woman ready for an important social event. Sophie had picked out the best of Amy’s jewellery, a pair of delicate sapphire earrings and a matching necklace.

“Now then” Sophie said fussing over a last little piece of makeup that Amy couldn’t even see. “Let’s make sure we’ve got this straight, the cab’ll be here soon.” Amy nodded.

“It’ll take you to his hotel, where he’ll meet you in the lobby. Don’t worry, he’ll recognise you. After that it’s up to him. Dinner at some expensive restaurant, a nice bit of conversation, then back to his room I guess. And what happens then Amy?” Sophie sounded like a school teacher.

“We make love?” Amy said, almost pleading, still looking at her own image.

“Nuh uh, girl, try again” Sophie admonished. Amy could see Sophie’s face in the mirror, see her wagging her finger.

“We have sex?” Amy tried.

“Better” said Sophie “or…?”

“We fuck. He fucks me.” Amy said.

“Good” Sophie smiled and prompted “And then?”

“He pays” said Amy.

“Well” said Sophie “actually he’s already paid. Stacey likes to check credit cards beforehand. But good enough. So what will you be doing tonight?”

“I’ll be getting fucked” said Amy. She couldn’t take her eyes off her image in the mirror. A proper professional woman looked back. No one looking at her would think she was a sex worker. A sex worker on her way to getting fucked.

“For?” prompted Sophie.

“For money” replied Amy.

“So, put it all together” said Sophie.

“I’ll be getting fucked for” Amy stumbled over the words “for money. I’ll be getting fucked for money.” She looked at the woman in the mirror. Is that right, she asked? Is that what you’ll be doing? A voice in her head, once tiny, answered, yes, yes that’s what I’ll be doing.

“And what do we a call a girl who gets fucked for money?” asked Sophie.

“A, a sex-worker?” Amy replied, hopefully.

“Or?” Sophie demanded.

“A, a” Amy swallowed “a prostitute?”

“That’s right” Amy could see Sophie’s image in the mirror nodding. “So what are you Amy?”

“A prostitute” Amy said, softly.

“Say ‘I’m a prostitute’” Sophie commanded.

“I’m a prostitute” Amy echoed.

“Say ‘I get fucked for money’” another command from Sophie.

“I get fucked for money” Amy felt the truth of the words seeping into her. Or was it seeping out, from somewhere it’d always been hidden? Amy couldn’t tell.

“One last time” Sophie said “I’m a prostitute, I get fucked for money and I love it.”

Amy was eager now. “I’m a prostitute, I get fucked for money and I love it.” She knew that what she was saying was the truth. She’d found that missing part of her fantasies.

Sophie’s image smiled “That’s my girl. Now, because this is your first time, I’m going to be waiting here until you get back tomorrow morning. We want to make sure you’re ok, right?”

Wow, thought Amy, that’s nice of her.

“And I’ll have your money for you” Sophie looked away, out the window, as if she had heard something.

“OK, the cab’s here, you got your coat, your purse, condoms in it?” Sophie asked. Amy nodded.

“Great. But before you go” Sophie continued “one last thing. Sorry, but I told you one little fib.”

“What?” asked Amy. She was sure it wasn’t anything much. She knew she could trust Sophie.

“Do you remember” Sophie asked “back in the police station when we first met I said ‘you can’t just tell by looking at someone whether they’re a whore’?”

“Umm, I think so” said Amy.

“Well” said Sophie “that may be true, but I can tell by looking at a girl whether she wants to be a whore. Even if she doesn’t know it herself. And as soon as I saw you I knew that you wanted it.”

“Wow” said Amy “you knew me better than I knew myself.” Amy was amazed. If only she’d known herself as well for who knows how long as Sophie had in a few minutes she could have saved herself a lot of frustration. She couldn’t believe how far she’d come in just two weeks.

“And that’s not all” said Sophie.

“It isn’t?” asked Amy.

“You know that cute little receptionist at your office? What was her name, Natalie?”

“What about her?” asked Amy.

“She wants to be prostitute too. We’ll have to help her, won’t we?”

Amy was surprised, she’d never have thought that about Natalie. But then, before the last couple of weeks she’d never have thought it about herself either. Sophie had been right about her, thought Amy, so she must be right about Natalie as well.

“Yes, we will” Amy said.

Wow Amy thought as the cab took her away. It’d be great if Natalie was a prostitute too. Then they’d have so much in common. She’d finally feel like she actually knew someone at work.