Chapter 4: First day

Two days later, I was discharged from the clinic, a private clinic, very exclusive, very expensive. As a private patient, I received the bill upon discharge, along with a small box of painkillers, which were of course expensive. The company picked me up. In my mind, I now referred to them only as “the company.” Was there also a basement studio on Grand Cayman? Or was that just where they stored the explosive, secret files?

At reception, I handed the bill to Rebecca, who had said that the company would take care of it. In return, I was given a key card. My apartment was number 417.

I entered the elevator barefoot, holding my shoes in my hand. The heel of one of my Manolo knockoffs had broken off. Damn Chinese goods. That explained my accident and Rebecca’s hesitation at the word “mishap.”

The apartment faced west, which suited me fine, as I hated the morning sun. Surprisingly, my clothes were all there, neatly cleaned and ironed, hanging in the closet. My toys were neatly stowed in the drawers, just like my underwear. I had no doubt that I would be billed meticulously for everything. I urgently needed to bring in some money again. I turned on my laptop and checked my account balance. Damn. Broke was putting it mildly. Poker dogs and Kevin. Asshole, asshole, asshole ... I noticed tears running down my face. That asshole now has a hole ... I started laughing hysterically, then cried again.

No, I don’t have a drug problem, but right now I wish I did. It took me longer than usual to get ready. Jenny Pain was going to put on her show again, the toys were ready, tonight it would hurt, more than usual, but that was only too welcome. I wanted the pain. Not out of pleasure, not today.

Just as I started the cam, there was a knock at the door. Rebecca was standing there. Her Manolos were real, and the click of her heels sounded dominant on the parquet floor of my apartment as she strutted in without a word. She glanced at my toys, knowing, assessing, then at me, examining, scrutinizing, judging. She nodded with satisfaction. “You’re ready to work, that’s good. Here’s your written contract,” a stack of papers held together by an extra-large metal clip.

“What is this, a loose collection of pages from ‘War and Peace’?”

She gave me a dark look. “Just sign it. It’s better for you!”

I fished the contract off the table and sat down, cross-legged, in the middle of my toys on my bed. Then I started reading. Deep in thought, I scratched the back of my left hand. A mosquito must have bitten me in the hospital.

“Contract between Rheingau Real Estate and Johanna Blauert regarding the use of apartment 417 ... Service, utilities, rental period, notice periods, defaults, blah, blah, blah.” “This isn’t an employment contract,” I exclaimed.

“I didn’t claim it was.”

“And as a simple cam girl, I can’t afford the apartment at all.”

“Difficult, but not impossible,” Rebecca agreed.

“And what about being a company employee, as a star?”

Rebecca began to laugh heartily. “Are you seriously expecting a written contract about the ‘basement’?”

I could actually hear the quotation marks in the way Rebecca pronounced ‘basement’.

“You sign the lease now, backdated to the day of your accident, then you pack your toys in a bag, throw on a bathrobe, and report to Studio 11. Your employment contract is in the back of your left hand. At the hospital, we gave you the house chip that you can use to open doors here. The initial commission is five percent, as is customary for models. You can go over the script again with the producer in the studio. Nothing wild: a few whips, clamps, bondage. You can make suggestions and requests for improvement on site. Limit Rules, which means that customers are allowed to intervene to a limited extent and purchase torture. So there’s room for improvisation. No VIP customers are expected, but put on a good show anyway and you’ll get a trailer. If it goes well, you’ll get six percent next time. For your own show, you start with ten percent. Medical care is free, as is restorative cosmetic surgery if necessary due to the work. Tax-free, cash in hand. You now have a performer contract with No-LIMIT Rooms Germany. And you’re even starting as a model. Congratulations!”