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named Anne who told me to wait a few minutes and then eventually let me in to Miss Irma’s office. She was sitting behind a desk, and, again, I couldn’t help a weird shiver of recognition because the layout of the room and the desk and everything were so much like my dad’s office at the hospital.
    Miss Irma was friendly and smiled a lot, but the whole thing felt much more formal and professional than I was expecting. She was wearing a well-tailored gray tweed suit and a fussy perfume that filled the whole room with notes of lotus and plum. The only hint that she wasn’t an ordinary businesswoman or bureaucrat was a pair of pearl-gray stilettos so high they made my feet ache just to look at them.
    She asked me a bunch of questions about myself and my family (but nothing too personal), and she asked me how I learned about her operation. I was careful not to say anything about Damon. I just said that Ada was my friend, and I learned about it from her. Miss Irma seemed to accept this, and she told Anne via her intercom to add my name to her appointment book.
    Then she asked me what were the best times for me, and I sort of slipped and said, “I can’t do nights anymore.” I was thinking about my night with Damon, but obviously I can’t tell my parents I have an overnight study session every time. I knewI’d messed up the minute it came out of my mouth, but I was hoping Irma wouldn’t notice. But she’s sharp. She picked up on it right away.
    â€œAnymore?”
    â€œI can’t do nights,” I repeated, trying to sound confident. “My parents would cause problems. It’s easier to get away from school.”
    Miss Irma nodded and I breathed an internal sigh of relief.
    â€œAnd your name?”
    I repeated my name, even though I’d already introduced myself, and she gave me a sharp look over her reading glasses. “Not your real name. Never give a client your real name. You need a working name.”
    She tried to get me to come up with one on the spot, but I blanked completely, and after about half a minute, Miss Irma just sighed and said, “Sleep on it. You can let us know later.” She made a few more notes in a big book on her desk, then looked up again. She told me I’d get a text in a few days, most likely, setting up my first appointment. Then she went over some ground rules:
    1) Never accept money from the clients directly. Never discuss money with the client. All payment goes through Miss Irma.
    2) Never discuss money with the other girls. Money talk is bad for morale, and Miss Irma doesn’t like settling fights.
    3) Never discuss clients with anyone. Spilling secrets is the fastest way to lose not just one client but all of them.
    4) Never do anything you don’t want to do. If a client asks for something that makes you uncomfortable, tell Miss Irma. Someone else will do it.
    5) Safety first. If you feel unsafe, leave. Tell Miss Irma what happened as soon as possible.
    6) If you are unhappy working for Miss Irma, you are free to quit at any time.
    She asked me then if I understood everything. I said yes, and that was basically it! It was kind of anticlimactic, actually. I’m not sure what I was expecting, to be honest. Someplace with red shades on the lamps and mostly naked girls draped all over the furniture?
    Toward the end she asked me if I had any questions, and for a moment I completely blanked and was about to shake my head no. But then I realized that actually yes, I had a ton of questions. The most obvious one being, what do we get paid?
    Miss Irma smiled politely at this.
    â€œAda did not explain? It depends on the situation. Depends on the client, time of day, and nature of request. You leave that kind of thing to me.”
    â€œOh,” I said, feeling a little confused.
    â€œDon’t worry,” she said, still smiling. “Everyone is paid fairly.”
    I was annoyed not to be able to get a more concrete