THE FULL EMPLOYMENT ACT 

                            by 

                         Joe Doe




THIS STORY WAS INSPIRED BY AN ITEM THAT WAS POSTED TO THE OLD GROUP 
ABOUT AN UNEMPLOYED GERMAN PROFESSIONAL WOMAN FORCED TO INTERVIEW 
AS A PHONE SEX OPERATOR IN ORDER TO KEEP HER UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS. 
COULD IT HAPPEN HERE?  

WELL, IF "HERE" IS THIS FORUM, THE ANSWER IS, DEFINITELY, YES! 



Part 1

"And so you see, Miss Abbot, this has all been a horrible mistake.  
I'm a computer programmer, not a prostitute.  I was laid off three 
weeks ago.  And yesterday I received a letter from the government 
telling me that, if I didn't accept one of the three job offers I'd 
received, my unemployment benefits would be suspended, and my former 
company would terminate my insurance.  Then my bank called this 
morning to tell me that the government had frozen all my accounts."

"Oh, dear!" Jill Abbot said, "You do seem to be in a bit of a 
pickle.  Let me check the records and see what I can learn."

Cameron fidgeted in her chair as Jill retrieved and leisurely 
reviewed the records on her laptop.  "Let's see: Cameron Bay, 
age 28, Senior Systems Analyst.  My, such an important sounding 
title for such a cute little thing.  Ah...bachelor's in computer 
science from M.I.T. -- magna cum, too."  (Heh, heh..."cum.")  
"I bet you were in a sorority, weren't you, dear?"

"Yes, president, in fact," Cameron replied.  "But I don't see what 
that has to do with...."

"I see what's happened now," Jill said.  "I pulled your picture up 
out of the government job bank.  Oh, dear.  I guess I should have 
checked your background more closely.  But you were so hot-looking 
I immediately sent in requests for you to work at three of our 
locations, so the government's new "three strike" rule kicked in."

"Well, we need to get this corrected.  I am most definitely not a 
prostitute.  Take my name off your applicant list," Cameron said. 

"It's not that simple.  If you don't interview, you'll lose your 
benefits.  And, if I don't send the government the proper interview 
forms after you show up, they'll boot me out of the program."

"I don't understand," Cameron said.  "What interview forms?"

"I have to register you as an applicant and take you through the 
interview process.  That's the only way to get your name off the 
suspension list."

"I have to fill out an application?" 

"No, silly, I've already entered your information electronically.  
This is more like...an audition."

"Audition!" Cameron snapped.  "I'm not going to audition to be 
a prostitute.  There is no way I'm coming to work for you.  My 
old friend, Ashley Johnson, is a lawyer, and...."

"Suit yourself, dear," Jill shrugged.  "But I should warn you that 
the system has already filed the foreclosure forms with the bank."

"Foreclosure?" Cameron squeaked.

"On your house and car," Jill said casually.  "You have financing 
for both, and, when you ignored my first three interview requests, 
the government issued a repayment demand."  

Cameron gasped.  A few years ago, like many yuppies, she had 
mortgaged herself to the hilt to buy a huge, luxurious home.  
At the time, home prices were rising and interest rates low, 
so why not live like a millionaire?  But....

"I can't pay for all that!  I don't have a job now."

"But you'll have to pay off the balance immediately, dear, or 
your house and car will be sold at auction.  On the brighter 
side, although YOU can't access any of your accounts, I can draw 
out money to compensate me for every month you refuse to work."

"I'll be ruined!" Cameron wailed.  "You can't do this to me!  I'm a 
respected citizen!  A college graduate!  A...a registered Democrat! 
I voted for Hope and Change!"

"Excellent.  That also describes a lot of my applicants, dear.  
Many of you people tend to live way beyond your means.  Besides, 
no need to be so dramatic.  Clearly you don't belong here, but 
we have to adhere to the terms of the "Full Employment Act" that 
was passed by the lame duck Congress last fall.  There is, 
however, a difference between being interviewed and being hired, 
you know.  I don't want to lose my access to the job program, and 
you don't want to lose everything you own.  If you agree to an 
audition, we'll both get what we want."

"Wh-what would I have to do?"

"For starters, you can sign this form; it's standard."  Befuddled, 
Cameron complied, and Jill slipped the paper into her lap drawer, 
thinking, "NOW I have you."
  
"Okay, stand up," she said with a tight smile.  "I'll be giving you 
orders, but don't worry -- I know what I'm doing.  If you'll just 
be properly obedient, we'll sort everything out.  Now, first of 
all, remember that you're in here asking for a job, eager for an 
audition....  And I didn't give you permission to sit down."

Cameron could feel her heart beating as she stood up before the 
woman who was bidding to become her employer.  Her potential boss 
looked to be in her late thirties, overweight and homely.  Not 
ugly, exactly, but very plain and rather...well, dumpy.

When they had first met, Cameron had felt every bit Jill's 
superior.  After all, she was a computer whiz, and there had 
clearly been some sort of computer glitch.  The lowly sex 
industry worker looked to be little more than a clerk -– a 
bureaucratic zombie -- and Cameron had treated her as such.

Now, as she stood in front of the woman's desk, she was 
anything but superior.  Her heart raced, her face felt 
flushed, and a trickle of sweat ran down her back.

She had originally thought to dress casually, but, in the end, had 
opted for a smart suit.  The more sophisticated her attire, she 
reasoned, the more obviously absurd her predicament would be.  
So she was wearing an expensive charcoal suit with a white silk 
blouse.  She looked sophisticated, professional, and well-educated.

Although she didn't know it, Cameron looked like everything Jill 
despised.

"Turn around," Jill said.

Cameron awkwardly turned in a circle.  

"No, not like that," Jill said crisply.  "Slowly...so I can see 
you.  "Imagine you're in the lineup, and the customers are looking 
you over.  The men need to see the merchandise."

Cameron clenched her teeth at the word, "merchandise," but she was 
in no position to argue. 

She turned slowly...slowly...slowly in a circle as Jill's bovine 
eyes appraised her figure.

Jill picked up a cardboard box of garbage bags and held it across 
the desk.  "Go ahead and take one."

A puzzled Cameron pulled a bag out of the box.  

"Open it," Jill sighed.

Cameron shook the bag open and looked inside.  "I don't get it.  
What's supposed to be inside?"

"In about two minutes, your purse and all your clothes," Jill said 
dryly.

"What?" Cameron said.

"Strip.  Totally.  Everything in the bag."  

"No!  I can't...."

"You can, and you will," Jill said.  "You aren't auditioning for 
Mensa.  If the government auditors see I rejected you, I need to 
prove due diligence."

"You expect me to take off my clothes?  In front of YOU?"

"Think you're too good to strip for me?" Jill spat back.  "I saw it 
on your face the moment you walked in here.  Just another little 
Prom Queen who thinks she can wipe her ass on my desk and dance 
away.  Well, Princess, you're not a systems analyst any longer, 
and I'm the boss now.  Strip!  Strip or you'll lose your house."

Cameron bit her lip and glared at Jill with undisguised hatred as 
she took off her stylish jacket.

"That's a good girl," Jill said, in a patronizing voice.  "You do 
exactly what Miss Jill tells you, and we'll get along just fine."

Cameron took off her shoes next and dumped them, along with her 
purse, into the bag.

"Gently, dear," Jill chided.  "Expensive clothing is worthy of 
respect."

Cameron clenched her teeth as she slowly unbuttoned her white silk 
blouse.  

Jill smiled.  Slow and shy made it sweeter for her.

Cameron carefully folded her blouse and dropped it into the bag.  
She paused briefly and then unzipped her skirt.  A moment later, 
she stood in front of Jill in her slip.  

Jill smiled.  "Don't stop now, dear.  I have to see you...ALL of 
you.  Every inch."  She barely suppressed a chuckle.

Cameron pulled her slip over her head.  

"Oh, I see you're wearing pantyhose.  That will never do.  Our 
gentlemen prefer garter belts and stockings.  You're going to 
have to start dressing for our customers, dear."

Cameron awkwardly removed her pantyhose as Jill mocked her.  "You 
are quite the honey, aren't you?  I bet the boys just fell all 
over themselves running after you.  But you were also a little 
ice princess, too, weren't you?  Did you make fun of the fat girls 
in school, Cameron?  Did you call them 'heifers' or 'porkers'?  
Did humiliating others make you feel smarter...or sexier?  Was it 
good for you?  Because this is certainly good for me."

Cameron shivered as she stood before Jill dressed in nothing but 
her silky blue bra and panties.  

"Baby blue is definitely your color," Jill sneered.  "I think I'll 
dress you just like that for the 'pussy parade.'  Do you know what 
that is, Cameron?  That's what I call the lineup I was telling you 
about, where the customers come in, and all the girls parade around 
in their scanties and flirt and primp and beg to be fucked."  

"Why are you doing this to me?"    

"Because I can," Jill replied coldly.  "There are thousands of 
girls like you -– snooty little bitches who need to be taught a 
good lesson.  You just happened to fall between the cracks, and 
now it's going to cost you.  How do you like your government's 
new social safety net, Cameron?  Won't it be great when you get 
turned out in the streets to earn your living?"

"But I'm entitled...."

"You're a bum, not a taxpayer," Jill shot back.  "That means 
you're entitled to suck dick and swallow every drop.  Times 
have changed, dear.  We can't have lazy little bimbos like you 
sponging off property owners like me -- unless, of course, you 
are an illegal alien, and even that's changing.  Now instead of 
sucking up the taxpayer's money, you'll be sucking the taxpayers 
off.

"But don't think you have to worry your pretty little head about 
the big picture," Jill said.  "You have customers to serve, and I 
have a business to run, and neither of us makes money by jawboning. 
So get on with it."

"Get on with what?" 

"The bag isn't full yet, Cameron.  Your baby blue frillies are 
cute, but I have to see your titties and that hot little nook 
between your legs."

Cameron turned her back before unsnapping her bra.  

"Oooh, a shy one," Jill taunted.  "You're pretty when you blush.  
Maybe I'll send you over to the Naked Nooky strip club and let 
you peel down in front of a couple of hundred guys.  They love 
the blushers.  And it's good advertising for me, since the MC 
always tells the guys they can come here to fuck you."

Cameron felt a ripple of fear wash over her as she stood, her arms 
crossed over her bare chest and her back turned.  This building was 
only a few blocks from where she worked.  She didn't know whether 
any of her former co-workers frequented it, but she knew some of 
the low-life grunts went to the nearby strip club.

She felt queasy as she imagined herself up on stage, prancing 
and grinding before the grinning louts who had once been her 
subordinates.

At work, Cameron had been aloof, sophisticated, and sarcastic.  
She had flirted with her superiors, sneered at her peers, and 
ignored the rest.  

There was a long line of men who would love to fuck her.

She needed to make sure no one from her old life ever found out 
about this.  If she did have to take this terrible job for a few 
days, she would request a location far, far away from her old 
employer.

Jill's shrill voice shocked her back to reality.

"Those are very nice panties for a systems analyst.  All soft, 
and smooth, and silky.  Of course, you're not a systems analyst 
anymore, are you?  And that means you're going to have to put 
your panties in the bag."

Blushing even redder, Cameron bit her lip as she pulled down her 
panties and tossed them into the bag.

"You have a cute little butt," Jill teased.  "It says on your form 
that you graduated from Lincoln High School.  Do you know a Mr. 
Chambers?"

"He used to be my principal," Cameron mumbled.

"Well, he's one of my best customers," Jill said enthusiastically.  
"He likes to have the girls dress in school uniforms and then smack 
their bare fannies.  Do you think he remembers you?"

"Yes.  I was the school valedictorian and head cheerleader."

"Terrific," Jill said with a laugh.  "We have a cheerleading 
uniform.  Now one more question, Cameron, and answer me true. 
We're you a naughty girl in school?"

"No," Cameron said.  "I was a good girl.  I never did anything 
wrong."

"Sometimes it's the good girls who need to have their fannies 
tanned the most.  We have a whole principal's office set up 
here.  I can see you now, shuffling and stammering as you stand 
in front of his desk.  I'm sure it will be quite a thrill for 
him, seeing as how you used to be one of his students.  I bet 
you're just the kind of girl he used to dream of spanking, but 
couldn't.

"Maybe I'll suggest that he bring in your old school records, so 
that you can try to answer for every sick day, and every class 
you didn't get an 'A' in.  You'll try to worm your way out of it, 
but I expect before long one of your answers will land you over 
his knee, with your tiny skirt flipped up and your cute little 
underpants down around your knees.  And maybe he'll just 
confiscate those panties...permanently."

"You can't turn me over to that...that...pervert," Cameron gasped.

"We don't have perverts here, Cameron," Jill corrected.  "We have 
customers -- customers you will please.  Mr. Chambers is going to 
have a fun time brightening your cute little buns."

Jill smiled as she watched Cameron's luscious bottom cheeks spasm 
and clench at the thought of her old principal's discipline.

"Now turn around, dear.  I have to see the rest of you."

Cameron slowly turned around.

"Hands on top of your head, honey.  Show me the goods."

Cameron blanched at the commercial term, "goods."  Had she really 
come to this?

Jill let out an appreciative whistle as she inspected Cameron's 
naked form.

"Very nice, Princess.  I bet you that guys would have run in front 
of a train chasing after you.  Of course, now you'll be a lot 
easier to catch, once I put a bar code on your pussy."

Cameron squirmed in helpless humiliation as Jill cackled at her own 
wit.  "Speaking of which, those pubes have to go.  Dying your hair 
blonde is fine, but you don't want the customers to know you're not 
natural.  And, since we'll have the cheerleader's outfit, it's 
probably better if we do the schoolgirl thing -- put your hair in 
pigtails and give you a lollipop."

"That's disgusting." 

"You need to work on your self-image, dear," Jill chided.  She 
pressed a button on her phone, and, a few seconds later, there 
entered a seedy-looking woman in a wrinkled scarlet dress, a 
cigarette dangling from her mouth.  Cameron's hands flew back 
into the "coverage position," but the jaded hooker paid her no 
mind.

"This is Cameron," Jill explained.  "She needs to be registered as 
a sex worker.  And shave that hairy little twat of hers, too.  She 
needs to be in Room C by 11AM.  But be gentle with her, Leena.  Our 
little princess has a college degree.  And I'm sure these sordid 
surroundings are quite a shock to her delicate system."

The two women laughed as the prostitute opened the door and made 
an exaggerated, "this-way-Madam" gesture to usher Cameron out. 

Cameron blushed beet red as the women's laughter burned in her 
ears.  "I can't go outside," she protested.  "I'm naked!"

"I'm sure none of the customers'll mind," Leena said.  "Now get 
moving, honey buns!" she barked, punctuating her command with a 
sharp slap on Cameron's bare bottom.

Cameron obediently (if reluctantly) headed toward the door, but, 
at the last minute, Jill called out to her, and Cameron turned.

"Wait," Jill said.  "I almost forgot.  Come here."

Cameron walked back and stood in front of Jill's desk.

"You neglected to tie off your bag."

Cameron reached down and pulled the yellow plastic ties to seal 
the garbage bag holding her ID, her clothes, and her old life.

"Be sure to tie it off tight, Princess.  We don't want to lose any 
of your precious stuff."

Cameron finished tying the bag and dropped it on the floor.  Jill 
watched with amusement as Leena grabbed the newcomer by her ear 
and led her out the door.

Unlike Cameron, the other prostitutes they encountered in the 
hallway were at least partially clothed.  Cameron's hopes that 
the others would be sympathetic were dashed as the "new fish" 
endured a hail of catcalls.

As she entered the front office, Cameron was stunned to see a bald, 
fat, middle-aged businessman in an ugly purple tie paying his bill 
at the reception desk.  Cameron blushed and squirmed as he ran his 
eyes over her naked body.

"How much for her?" he asked.

"She's new.  Come back tomorrow, and you can have her any way you 
want her, for standard rates," the desk clerk replied casually.

Cameron watched in helpless horror as he made an appointment for 
2PM the following day. 

She stood naked in the hallway for almost twenty minutes as Leena 
gathered up and filled out the endless stream of government forms 
necessary to register her as a sex worker.

And, of course, she had to stand in helpless humiliation as a 
steady parade of customers ogled her.  She was horrified by 
the casual way the clerk counted the cash and rang up the 
credit cards.  

Don't ask for whom the bell tolls....

For Cameron these exchanges were exquisitely humiliating.  But the 
jaded clerk acted as if she were working in, say, a dentist's 
office.  Cameron stood naked and ashamed as the clerk casually 
made new appointments, greeted "customers," recorded payments, 
and accepted deliveries.

Cameron wished the floor would open up and swallow her when the UPS 
man came in.  She prayed he wouldn't notice her, but what chance 
was there that a 23-year-old, muscular delivery man wouldn't notice 
the hot naked blonde standing a few feet away from him?

She stared at her bare feet as the delivery gofer looked her up and 
down.

"Don't I know you?" the puzzled delivery boy said.  "Name starts 
with a 'B,' maybe."  

"Bay," she said.  "Cameron Bay.  You used to pick up my parcels 
when I worked in the Lakewood Building."

"Yeah, I remember you," the UPS man said.  "You were the one who 
always sent those overnight packages to Asia."

"I was in charge of outsourcing," Cameron said ruefully.  "But then 
they outsourced ME."

"So you working here now?" he asked.

"Temporarily.  Just for a couple of days."

He looked at her thoughtfully.  Cameron squirmed as his eyes slowly 
traveled up and down her bare legs and attempted to x-ray through 
her modestly placed hands.

After what seemed to her to be a painfully long appraisal, he 
turned to the clerk.

"Do you accept new customers?" he asked.  

"Yup.  We even have a coupon...half off your first visit."

Cameron stood by helplessly as the clerk casually handed the 
grinning UPS man the coupon that marked her down 50%.

		******************************

Part 2

The clerk scheduled the UPS man for noon, so that he could fuck 
Cameron on his lunch hour.  

He asked that Cameron be dressed in business clothes.  He had a 
particular scenario he wished to play out: Cameron would be a 
cash-strapped entrepreneur who desperately needed an UPS package 
containing a big check from a customer to save her business.  
Since she didn't have the money to pay for the delivery, she 
would beg the UPS man to "allow" her to pay another way.  

Cameron shivered.  That disgusting fantasy was all too close to the 
situation she was in now.

Leena finished the registration forms and led her into what looked 
like an examination room.   Cameron grimaced when she saw that the 
exam table stirrups were already in place.

"Meg, getcher skinny butt in here," Leena yelled down the hall.  
"I gotta give a new girl a run-through."

A few seconds later, a young, pretty redhead with adorable freckles 
ran into the room.  She looked to be about Cameron's age.  She was 
wearing a white lab coat, but, inexplicably, she had a harem 
dancer's costume on underneath.

The readhead began questioning Cameron as she washed her hands.  
"I'm sorry we have to hurry, but I have a customer waiting.  My 
name is Meg."

"I'm Cameron." 

"Do you have or have you ever had herpes, syphilis, gonorreah, 
lice, HIV, or any other form of STD?"

"No," Cameron said.  "Of course not."

"Okay, then, this should be easy.  Hop up on the table and put your 
feet into the stirrups."

"But...." 

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to checked every week," Meg explained.  
"Government rules."  She took Cameron's temperature and BP.

"Yeah," Leena said wistfully.  "Ever since they legalized whoring, 
the gov'ment regulates us closer'n airline passengers.  The old 
days were a lot more fun, if you ask me."

She smiled maliciously as the humiliated systems analyst put her 
feet reluctantly into the stirrups.  "That sure is Grade A cunt," 
she commented.

The examination was quick and professional.  Cameron turned her 
face to the wall as Meg's gloved hand briskly proceeded through 
its humiliating probing.

"HEY!" Leena called out.  "If you want to fuck her, sign up at the 
front desk.  This ain't a peepshow."  

Cameron looked up to see two college boys standing in the doorway 
gaping at her fully exposed pussy.  The boys laughed at her before 
turning and casually wandering down the hall.

Cameron's heart sank in despair.  They hadn't even closed the door. 
Why bother?  After all, the customers had a right to look, didn't 
they?  Anyone who had a few spare dollars could see everything she 
had.
  
Meg withdrew her fingers and quickly snapped off the gloves.  
"She's fine.  Excellent health."

"Hear that, Peaches?" Leena taunted.  "The good doctor says you're 
ready to work.  You're all mine now."

Meg gave Cameron a wistful look and a sad goodbye as she left the 
room.  For the first time that day Cameron felt a connection with 
another human being.

Cameron's moment of reflection didn't last long.  As she tried to 
take her left foot out of the stirrup Leena grabbed her ankle.

"Where do you think YOU'RE going, Princess?  We still have work to 
do.  We gotta get that sweet little cunt cleaned up and ready for 
business."

She clipped Cameron's pubic hair down to stubble, then put on 
rubber gloves and dipped up a gob of a thick green gel.

"I'm gonna rub this in real good, so the hair won't grow back so 
fast.  It itches and burns, but it's a lot faster'n shaving.  
You'll get this treatment a couple times a week.  After a month 
or so, the follicles'll be dead." 

She took far too long to massage the gel into Cameron's pussy, and 
it was obvious that she was enjoying it.  "Since your house'll be 
locked up, you're gonna be staying here.  And Jill said you could 
bunk with me.  I'm gonna get to know this little honey pot of yours 
real well."

For the rinse, she took Cameron down the hall to a small shower 
room.  She used one hand to hold the spray nozzle and the other 
to rub away the foamy suds.

To her dismay Cameron saw her beautiful pussy was now as clean 
as a baby's.

As Cameron dried herself, Leena disappeared.  She returned a few 
minutes later with a stout middle-aged man sporting a goatee and 
a pony-tail.  He was carrying a digital camera.  

"Picture time, Goldilocks.  A few for the government, a few for 
the files, and a few for advertising."

The government photos were straightforward.  Full length front, 
sides, and back -- as well as a mug shot with her new sex worker 
registration number. 

"When we call in they'll discontinue your social security number 
and give you one of these.  It's nine characters, like a social 
security number, but it's what they call a...'alphanumeric.'  It 
begins with an "X," so every one knows you're a sex worker.  Your 
old records will need to be reclassified under your new number."

"But anyone I give that number to will know that I'm...."

"A whore?" Leena cackled.  "Yeah, well, that's the price you pay 
for the glamorous life-style.  Some of the girls are pretty pissed, 
'cause, even when they leave the business, they have to keep the 
number.  And they're pretty embarrassed to go to the doctor or the 
bank or a college with that big X in front."  She chuckled.

The "file" photos were quite a bit more explicit.  Cameron on her 
back with her legs spread wide.  Cameron on all fours, legs spead, 
looking over her shoulder.  Cameron doing squats.

The "advertising" photos were more demure -– naked, nothing 
showing, big smile.  But, despite the PG13 nature of the 
photos, the term "advertising" made Cameron shudder.

When the photo shoot was finished, Leena led her to a room with a 
"C" on the door.  "Have fun," she said as she ushered her into the 
room.

Cameron was barely in the room when a large hand closed the door 
behind her.  She was stunned to see the that surrounding her were 
seven Mexicans -- of various shapes and sizes.

And the biggest one was blocking the door.

"Ah, Señorita Bay has decided to make a visit to the other side 
of the tracks," one of the young Mexicans said.  "Let's show her 
what it means to be a puta."

It took Cameron several seconds to focus and realize who the men 
were.

They were the janitorial staff of the company she used to work for.

She had often complained about their sloppy vacuuming, their 
leering manner, and the slipshod way they scrubbed out the 
toilets.  

They hadn't been fired.  But, when the last round of reductions 
came, Cameron's complaints had made them choice targets for a 
pay cut.

Two of the Mexicans grabbed Cameron by the arms and led her to the 
bed.  For a moment she resisted, but then thought better of it.

There were seven of them, this was a whorehouse, and she was a 
whore.  They were going to have her whether she liked it or not.

She had always hated the advice, "Just relax and enjoy it."  She 
had actually slapped a man once for saying it.

But, as she climbed up onto the bed that was now her new workplace, 
that was precisely what she had to do.

		******************************

Jill put down the phone.  It had taken her only a few minutes to 
arrange for the auction of Cameron's home and possessions.  After 
paying her debts, the remainder would be held "in trust" by Jill, 
until Cameron completed her two year service contract.  

Of course, if Cameron's performance was found to be unsatisfactory, 
her term of service would be extended.  To three years.  Or four.  
Or six.  Or....

And, meanwhile, Jill would collect a fee as "trustee."

She casually paged through the government job bank photos on her 
laptop.  So many layoffs.  So many professional women, left to 
the mercy of any employer who cared to exploit them.  How dreadful.

Dr. Meg had been among Jill's first.  She had been an OBGYN until 
the cost of malpractice insurance forced her to retire.  The little 
airhead was Harvard-educated, but she had been stupid enough to 
apply for unemployment benefits.  

Now she belonged to Jill.  It saved quite a bit of money to have a 
licensed doctor on staff.  No more paying big bucks for the weekly 
pussy certifications.

Recently Jill had recruited "talent" from the layoffs in the area 
surrounding her various brothels.  Many professional men didn't 
want to fuck a real whore.

But they ALL wanted to fuck the woman in the corner office.

Jill smiled as she noted the UPS man in the appointment book.  Like 
the Mexicans, he was a brand new customer.  No doubt about it, 
Cameron would draw them like flies.

And now that Jill had Cameron's PDA and appointment book, she would 
know just whom to call.

She looked at the flyer on her desk.  It contained two pictures of 
Cameron.  The first was a shot of her in a navy blue business suit, 
looking every inch the professional.  The second, taken that very 
day, showed a smiling Cameron demurely sitting on the floor with 
her knees drawn up to her chin to shield her nudity.

The headline of the advertisement read, "REMEMBER ME?"

	My name is Cameron Bay, and I was a systems analyst in 
	the Lakewood Building.  You may have worked with me, or 
	passed me in the elevator, or seen me having lunch at 
        one of the local eateries.

	Did you ever wonder what it might be like if I were 
	your girl?  Sure you did!  Well, due to the recent 
	downturn in high tech, I'm now available to pleasure 
	you in ways that you could barely even imagine before.

	Call me at the number below and set up an appointment.  
	FANTASY SCENARIOS WELCOME!

                            555-3883

Jill smiled as she reviewed the ad.  Dr. Miranda Gray deserved a 
"treat" for her input.  She had been a psychiatrist at a hospital 
for the criminally insane before cutbacks in the state's budget 
landed her on Jill's doorstep.  

Jill enjoyed having a clinical psychiatrist under her thumb.  
Miranda had specialized in the treatment of sex offenders, 
and she could anticipate a customer's every need and ensure 
that the right girl would suggest the right fantasy.  As a 
bonus, Miranda was always ready with antidepressants when the 
new girls began to sink into despair.

It was Miranda who had suggested that they set up the various 
themed "playrooms" -– doctor's office, prison cell, medieval 
dungeon, classroom, business office.  The fantasy rooms had 
elevated Jill's business to an entirely new level.  

Jill chuckled.  Many of Miranda's most loyal customers were her 
former patients.  Only now, instead of attempting to "cure" their 
perverted fantasies, Miranda pandered to them.

Jill toyed with the leaflets featuring Cameron's pictures.  No 
doubt the security guards, waiters, and office boys who used to 
cater to Miss Smarty-Pants would jump at the chance to fuck her.  
Not the mention the feckless little nerds who had once reported 
to her.

It would be nice to have a computer programmer at her beck and 
call.  She used the computer government job database extensively, 
but much of her business still relied on manual paperwork.  There 
would be no limit on how many little bimbos she could enslave, once 
Cameron's computer skills allowed her to spread her operations to 
other cities.

She smiled as she casually paged through this week's layoffs.  So 
many little chickens, so little time.

"Ah yes, here's an interesting one.  Ashley Marsh, Attorney at Law. 
Terminated last week by her law firm."  

Jill smiled as she double-clicked on Ashley's smiling picture.  
"It might be handy to have a lawyer on staff...." 



Edited by C. Lakewood