Harry put up the grim statistics on the screen in front of the room packed with union officials from all of the major unions across the great land from sea to shining sea. Most of them were old white males with pot bellies and hidden cigars inside their suit jackets. One look at the charts and graphs and even the slowest thinkers of the conference attendees could understand the future was bleak indeed.

His personal and ever charming assistant Denise was wearing the pleated plaid skirt that came so tight across her ass that it looked like her cheeks were being served as gourmet dessert. He was pleased that she was in attendance because he needed some sure-fire distractions to take the jaded city bosses away from the nasty and unwelcome details in front of them.

Trying his best not to appear nervous, he explained away some of the more spectacular downward trends and attempted to lay the bulk of the blame on the vicissitudes of a changing society and a pervasive overall economic malaise that had settled in after the change in administration. But he knew the pattern was already in motion before the progressive agenda ever came into full blossom and there was no way to change it, at least not in his lifetime.

Fortunately, he had a few ideas to mollify the labor bosses and he introduced them with careful nuances in order not to be thought so much in support so as to be blamed if it was a loser in their capricious perceptions.

The first idea was to make all workers dues-paying members even if they only worked a few hours each week. That way, the coffers would flourish and they wouldn't lose any cash outflow since the whole healthcare thing was slated to be government controlled. That seemed to be received with open arms so he endorsed it fully and moved on to the more controversial concept.

"I call this the "Sex Workers Bill of Rights".

Harry paused dramatically letting his words sink in to the booze-soaked brains of the almost all male audience. Denise flitted across the small stage like a ballerina in heat and bent over to pour coffee for the black Detroit boss with the gold teeth that shined like beacons of bright yellow sitting on top of a shimmering hill of tattooed black skin. His name was "Batman". He didn't get that name for his similarity to the masked crusader but because he wielded a baseball bat with wicked skill to squish anti-labor goons hired by management to bring negotiations to a quick conclusion in their favor. Denise's impressive backside was just the right punctuation for his title project and brought the plight of sex workers to the front of each man's mind including the jowl jawed "Batman".

"We are losing 40,000 government union members each and every quarter and it is coming at a time when our receipts are dropping all across the country. At this rate, we will be in the red before the year is out."

He could hear the men grumbling and the anger was threatening to become a tidal wave of rebellion unless he came to the point quickly. Still his words cut through their usual disinterest and they all seemed in mind to take some sort of action.

"Brothers, the sex industry in this great country of ours is totally unorganized and we can add as many as 40,000 dues-paying members every month for at least the next two years. That will put us over the hump of declining membership and allow us to continue to be a force for progress in this pivotal decade."

He could hear them arguing and raising questions about the merit of the idea and the dirty jokes got a little raunchy in the back of the room. Poor Denise was getting her ass pinched everywhere she turned as the horny men focused on the thought of down-trodden sex workers.

"In Las Vegas alone, we should clear twenty million a quarter to fund our west coast political support program and it is a perfect fit for our union outreach efforts. We can bring a redistribution of ready cash to law enforcement on the street and reduce the need for wasting taxpayer dollars to prosecute individuals merely providing a service that is in demand all over the country."

Harry could see they were getting the idea now and it looked like a win-win situation. The only real losers in the plan might be the low-level pimps who would be almost useless and unnecessary for the distribution of sex to the needy masses. The unions with their governmental and law enforcement connections would provide a safety net for the workers and the income derived would be visible for the assignment of subsidies for other benefits sometimes overlooked by the rank and file.

The Chicago boss who had gotten his start with the takeover of the Ladies Garment Workers Union stood up and added,

"We might be able to expand that to include the in-house Chicago Banking department that will be happy to open accounts and furnish credit cards for the sex workers to use for expenses and for accepting payments right on their mobile phones."

Harry realized that the idea was being accepted as if it were already a done deal and he decided to adjourn for a long break for lunch and give the bosses an opportunity to meet some of the sex workers he had recruited to distribute perks to all the attendees. In his head, he was trying to multiply two million new members by $300 each and every quarter and he was certain the result started with a "B" and not an "M".

Denise walked ahead of him to the penthouse suite supposedly so she could "tinkle" in the gold inlayed lavatory and look at her sexy image in the mother-of-pearl full wall mirror that reflected her seductive glory. Harry didn't wait and just went in right after she finished her business and told her,

"Bend over the sink, darling, I want to squeeze something inside that lovely and tempting tight tunnel of love."

The highly-paid model giggled and pulled up her dress to give him a clear shot at her thong covered backside. The edges of her brown-eye and her sweetly scented slit peeked out at him like targets of opportunity for his over-heated cock.