Author's Notes:

Hello new readers, or old viewers! Well if you saw that added thing to the title, you'll see that yes, I tweaked the chapter. I still kept a bulk of the original text and dialogue, I just added a bit of exposition, fixed any mistakes I could find (probably missed a few), shortened the paragraphs, removed some text I didn't like,and shortened (well tried to) those run-on sentences. You know, like that one. See I like, yet hate this chapter, like because, "Hell yeah, first chap ever!", and I think it set the mood for the story decently enough. Hate because, no lie, I rushed to put this out a bit (excitement and all), and I feel I missed the chance to really fine-comb this, and it gave my story a bad first impression (unless people just didn't like it, in which case that's fine, not everyone's going to like everything after all), and I've wanted to do this for a while anyway. So without further rambling, here is my (hopefully at least slightly better) tweaked version of Chapter 1: "Have a Cigar!". If you noticed a goof I missed, don't hesitate to let me know.

...or a cigarette, maybe beer, or some liquor whatever you want really, we (almost) *wink* have it all!

Whatcha think? Nice greeting isn't it? I always said it helps make the customers feel at home, when you make it feel like a home. Sorry dude, where are my manners? Name's Gilda Hof, I'm the owner, proprietor, and occasional customer (gratis of course), of Griffon's Cathouse.

I run a modest brothel, with enough part-time girls to keep regulars, plus the here-and-there types happy, with decent rooms, and adequate party provisions. Got a bar stocked full of all kinds of beer, alcohols, liquors, if your a partyer, juices and sodas, if you wanna keep it clean. I even got water and milk, if your a total wimp.

My main attraction though, (I also got a sick hot tub in the back) are my five permanent girls. They live in the rooms that they conduct their "business" in. I charge extra, obviously, for them, so it works out for everybody. They have a home they can always come too, or just a home in general, and yours truly doesn't have to pay extra money for a cleaner, after shop closes, they can just Febreeze, Oxy, wipe, repeat. It works out especially good for me when it comes to that hyperactive one, she really knows how to make a mess... gross. Kind of hot, and at times extremely profitable... but gross all the same.

Hm? Oh, I get it, your wondering how I got the place are ya? Well, have a seat, and I'll tell you the tale, be warned, it's quite extensive. Ready?

Ahem...

I built it.

Not good enough? Fine, I'll go into the 'oh-so-crucial' details then, but only because we ain't got a Wikipedia page yet. Where should I start?... well, I got some time to kill before we open today, so why not? I'll give you the documentary version. In the beginning, back in high-school... what, you don't want my whole life story do you? We only have like half an hour here. What I was getting to was that I was a gifted little bitch whenever it came to sports , Basketball, Softball, shit, I could could've kicked a few of the players on the Football teams assess if I wanted too, I was what you would call a "prodigy". Have no idea what that means, but I think it means I kicked a lot of ass.

Anyway, given my build, what with being slightly above average height for a girl, my short hair, B-cup, and muscles, I appealed to a certain... demographic among boys, well in this case men. My basketball coach, Cranky... I hope to God that isn't his real name and just a cruel joke by the students that stuck with him, doesn't help that his last name is legally, "Doodle". The guy was an old family friend, used to watch me when I was a kid when my parents would go out, overall was a decent guy.

Looking back I can't think of any really noticeable signs that would suggest that he... nevermind, I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was a Tuesday when it first happened, I was just leaving the locker room, practice started after school at three, and ended at six thirty, so I was practically sprinting out the door for some chow. He stopped me outside the door, wanting to talk. Anything cliche he could have said, he said. He started reminiscing, talking about how I "sprouted" (can't believe he said that), into a lovely young lady... yeah me a "lady".

Now, any other girl at this point would have called him a pervert than ran, slapped him then ran, kicked him in the balls than ran, or all of the above... and ran. My thought was "Eh... it's just sex", and at this point in my life, I was by no means an expert on sex, but experienced enough to know three things. 1. I liked it, 2. I knew how I liked it, and 3. men are suckers for the 'innocence' act.

You know the one, it goes like "are you sure?", with a bat of the eyes. "I don't know"; breaking of eye contact, or my personal favorite: where the girl bites her finger and asks in a flabbergasted, but excited tone, "are you nuts?" and finishes off with "Ok, let's do it!". Trust me I know my shit.

What I'm getting to is that we, as he called it, "made love", I called it "fucking", turns out there is a world of difference, and these little rendezvous of ours went on for the better part of my senior year. I'd be lying if I said he wasn't that bad, for being in his fifties, he put in a surprisingly decent performance. One time he said I was better than his wife... ok real quick, if your that age, and have a wife that's probably about the same age, and you tell a seventeen year old that little bit of info during the act of sex... it's not exactly the biggest esteem booster in the world.

We had fun times together though. No joke, like, I actually had fun. We went to nice dinners, he gave me the occasional gift, and he was real sweet on me, in private mind you. Hell I was even nice to him too, gave him some compliments here and there, brought him some lunch a few times, even gossiped a bit. I don't care how 'girly' that sounds, know people's skeletons is an awesome feeling.

Trust me.

He confided the secret or two in me as well, told some pretty cool stories even! On how he was in the marines when he was younger, as a battle-medic. He got all choked up one time in particular, remembering how he lost some of his friends right before his eyes, some in his arms. Being able to do very little for their bullet wounds, or fresh amputation. He said the hardest thing he ever had to do was tell all those Janes, that their Johns were dead. I've only felt sorry a few times in my life, but that was honestly one of them.

I uh... I remember one time we were at this Olive Garden, I think, he got himself some wine, I had a Sierra Mist, it was just the two of us; naturally, and we had a booth in the back. At some point he gently laid his hand over mine. Being basically foreign to touches of intimacy, I was shocked at first.

He just looked me in the eyes... a small smile on his stubby mug, and just said in an almost whimsical kind of tone, "If only I was younger..."

I was... touched. Usually the boys and I just had our fun, then that was the end of it. But he... didn't just want a little fling. I think I know what he wanted. I think. I'm not sure though... on what I wanted either. I looked at this... older, kind... yet also sick man. Right in his tired brown eyes... probably could've retired by now. This man, my lover... my... my friend. I turned my hand over, locked our fingers, and just whispered back, "I know... me too". I think I meant it. I kind of want to say I did.

Things were... different after that. Whenever we met, it wasn't just for sex, it was to actually just talk, learn about each other. Kind of like we were, well, in a relationship. He and I used to... well the point is that, this moved way beyond just a sexual student-teacher relationship, things were getting... deep. I remember liking the idea too.

I fucked all that up though, thanks to a relatively ordinary lesson in class, on a more or less ordinary day of school. A selfish idea started to form in my head, and because of it I sacrificed my deep friendship with this older man for my selfish gain.

And I don't regret it one bit...

It was a Thursday the idea first started to come to me. I was in my Criminal Justice class, because honestly who doesn't want to be those dudes on Forensic Files? We were learning about this murder one case at the time, this guys sperm was linked to the crime scene of a lady's house, the man at the time was accused of... you guess it? No- no go ahead take your time, think about it.

Figure out where I'm going with this? Yep.

Cannibalism.

Nah, I'm yanking ya, it was infidelity.

So for the next few days I studied the case, these kind of cases were my favorite, right up there with the one where the killer needs to take meds, so he doesn't eat squirrels or something. Anyway, what caught me was that the wife was getting a small settlement, turns out she was divorcing the man anyway, claiming 'irreconcilable differences'... that's always why with people isn't it? Think that's why Dash's folk split too.

I thought to myself that night, "Gilda you muscular, younger reincarnation of Chyna, could you some how use this old man to your advantage?. I formed an almost seamless plan, it wasn't until a few Saturday's later until I would execute it.

... Actually nevermind it was a Sunday. After church, I normally have the day to whatever with it, I would normally hang with my best bud Dash, or stay inside and kick some ass on Counterstrike. Today though, I would set everything into motion, I figured out the best way to get the most amount of money out of this as possible, first step: go to the police. An investigation would go under way, I would fake some tears, plus I already had... copious amounts of his DNA. Then misses... "Doodle", would be the last to find out, that way my suit would go through first, and I would have a better chance of getting upfront money, not in payments or some shit.

I had everything in my corner man! I was still seventeen, I feigned some sadness, and he was caught red handed cheating on his wife. Fuckin' score right!? Not to mention... well... he IS a man, the infidelity alone would be enough to damn him in a juries eyes. I had answers for everything, but I made sure not to be too suspicious, for instance: Why did you go along with this?, He was an old friend of Mom and Dad's... *sniff* I thought I could trust him.

Why didn't you tell an authority figure, or your parents?, I-I thought h-he would hurt me if I said something.

Did you in any way attempt to flirt, or seduce this man, prior to your first sexual encounter?, NO! I-I mean *ahem* no sir.

So on and so forth.

One thing I made sure to do was avoid eye contact the entire time with Cranky, I could't risking looking at him and... regret what I was going through with. I shouldn't have felt bad anyway, he was a pedophile! It should all have been a traumatizing experience for me... but... it was the furthest thing.

After a while, Cranky just gave up, barely spoke and excepted the fate I sealed him in for. Poor bastard had practically no defense, because the bottom line was, he did, make the first move, he did try to seduce me, and I was under-aged. I just under exaggerated my willingness and involvement, and over exaggerated his. Even if he could somehow down play his involvement, or even be up for pardon, he's be at the age where he'd be to old to do anymore real living anyway.

Wow, that thought even gave me an icy feeling in my gut.

I was over the moon when I won that case, the amount of money I received from my "traumatic experience"; while it seems small now, back then I thought it was astro-fucking-nomical, was about six hundred thousand dollars. The best part? My parents (bless you Momma and Daddy Hof), let me have access to the money when I turned eighteen, to better further my future. I thought you had to be twenty-one for that kind of shit!

Well time passes, as it must, and age nineteen rolled around I was bored out of my damn mind, and had only spent a little over one hundred thousand. The occasional tech upgrade, parties, and (unbeknownst to Mom and Dad), reef usage were nice and all but, I couldn't think of a damn thing to do with my life, Mom and Dad were cool enough to let me take my time, but I was getting restless. I remember sitting there, just kind of empty. Not sad, but not at peace either. Than I saw it. The movie channel, HBO, had a rerun of this old mini-series-documentary... thingy, on an old Cathouse that existed in Nevada, not far from where the Griffon would eventually stand.

I was instantly, I mean fucking instantly inspired man! I know it's a weird thing for a nineteen year old to lose their shit over, but think about it (cause I did!), what woman have you heard of that has owned or ran a place like this before!? I could make a cubic-buttload of cash, and make history! Problem was, I lived in Pennsylvania, that's a lot of travel expenses, but I had just under five-hundred thousand left, all I needed to do was lie to Momma and Daddy. I came up with some lame, half-assed excuse about there being "career opportunities" over there for me.

Pfft. What opportunities, it's fucking Nevada!

After a truly agonizing nine hour flight, I had arrived. I had looked up the directions to the place the night prior on my phone, had my laptop "Big Blue" with me, and my cash on hand. With my brass-knuckle-switchblade combo, named "Ol' Bobby". So I -no bullshit dude, they make these!- after several hours of lines and buses, and more waiting on some kind of vehicle, I found the place.

It's closed now, but they had it tricked out like some kind of monument or something. Guess this state needs something to call their own. A thought occurred to me: "Shit... I can't just build off this like I intended to... how could I had thought that it'd be that easy, why the fuck did I think that would work in the first place, or any of this?..."

It was then I realized how almost impossible this would be. Forget worrying about baller decorations, kinky toys, or even smoking' honeys, I needed somewhere to build, shit, not even that alone, just somewhere to call home now! What was I gonna do!?... I knew though. I knew what I was not gonna do.

I was NOT going back to that boring little neighborhood, not going back to my parents defeated, not going back to Dash a failure... a LAME failure. I was GOING to make this happened, it wasn't just ambition at this point, it was a fucking quest. All for a brothel. Heh. How pathetic it all sounded right there at that point.

I ruined an old mans life, left my parents, my best friend, my fucking future career I could of had in sports... just so I could own a sex house. That old dream I had, died that moment, there'd be no easy road to fortune for me. At this point I said to myself: Fuck the parties I was gonna have, that's out the window. Fuck the booze I could have had, luxuries I could've lounged on, somehow I need to just survive out here. Know what? Fuck the easy road anyway! I'll build this Goddamn thing myself! This is my future now. I took a good look at the land around me, and I decided, This is home. Destiny... and home.

With a rekindled fire in my heart, I pressed on like fucking Spartan.

I toughed it out, I was patient. I wouldn't just need money and girls, I needed help. Friends, labor, cheap or otherwise, I hopped all across Carson City and back, I went from hotel to hotel, had several jobs at once; waitress, janitor, you name it. The most beneficial one by far was the one at the DJ Scratches bar near the park, I was always trying to make a good impression on whoever I met, after all, you never know who someone is.

I carried on like this for two years. Two years. No home, or apartment. No lucky breaks, no car, not even a damn bike. I never slept at the same hotel for longer than a few days, and after I left I wouldn't go back for several months. For two years. It was tough. Whenever I couldn't shower, I just put on some cheap-ass perfume, finger combed my hair, and hoped for the best.

It was a Monday when I scouted the area out. 'Bout a week after my birthday too, after two years of hoofin' it tough, I was going back to that patch of land and decide where I was going to make earth. I waited in the lines, got on the necessary buses, (had to do this shit anyway, cause of the damn hotels), and went to the remnants of my inspiration, that I had first seen two years ago... felt like a Goddamned eternity ago...

I went north, down the road from the old place; I think it was Bunny City or something, looking for the perfect spot. I had whatever clothes were wearable, what ever water I could carry, and whatever edibles I could put in in any kind of holder, or pocket, and trucked on.

I walked nine miles that day. The fuck was I thinking?

Thankfully all the work I constantly did kept me in pretty good shape, better than when I finished school honestly. Did you know through sheer force of will alone you in fact can walk nine miles in one day, without collapsing? I sure as hell didn't! Then... oh my sweet Lord I found it. I never thought I would see a thing, or a person or an... anything, that I could even consider to be beautiful... but that patch of land man...

It was perfect, there stood an abandoned farm, a small house, with a giant barn, probably was red at some point. It even came with a fence around what surely was the grazing areas, but that's just it! There was green, life! I hopped the gate to get a closer look at my discovery. I noticed there was a dead tractor, still some of natures bounty lingering on the near by, what I thought to be, apple trees. This place was old, used and forgotten... it was perfect.

I looked around wherever I could, no one seemed to still be here, (I gave myself a duh at that analogy) I noticed a well, that meant there was plumbing... that meant there was a water source nearby, that meant this place got, like, 30% more awesome! My hunch was right, there was indeed pipes running underground, I decided against following it, I had done enough walking today. I border-line limped over to the well, it was one of those archaic kind where you had to press on that lever, or churn whatever the hell it's called. Still worked. Water tasted fresh. That possibly meant it was river, and not some sewer, or plant, I don't fuckin' know how all that works. I had found it... my new home.

I spent the night there. Best sleep I had in a while, and thank God I was off tomorrow.

The next day, I was able to hitch a ride back into town, by the way, don't ever hitchhike, like EVER. Sketchy as fuck. I still had the rest of the day, so at every place I worked except the bar, I gave my two week notice. ALL OF THAT I just told you... was just faze one. I now needed to accomplish faze two. Build the Goddamn place. This turned out to be surprisingly easier than I thought it would have been! Remember how I said I was trying to make friends in this town? Well then you should have been paying attention smart-ass.

I made a friend who I still hang with every now and again, her name is Spitfire... Spitfire, who the fuck named her, Keith Moon? Uh, like I was saying, she owned a private contracting... thingy, she named "The Wonder-Bolts", which she co-runs with her husband Soarin.

They're nice people overall, she mostly takes care of the business end of things, and if I'm honest where's the pants. Soarin though I have to say, is one of the hardest workers I've ever seen, and doesn't talk a lot, but when he does it's normally very helpful, even insightful at times. Doesn't know a lot, but what he knows, he knows. Despite a small argument here and there, a given really, considering they're like, ten years older than me, and have been married for seven, behind it all, you can really feel the love from them, and see qualities that just make their marriage shine.

Good for them and all, but it's still annoying to look at.

We met almost everyday for half a year, the first day, when I told them I was turning that old barn area into a brothel, they looked at me like I grew a beak and a pair of wings. They didn't not build it, or want to help me out any less, but it took me a while to convince them, that this was/is still a good idea worth even working on. I told them exactly what I wanted, and they with my help/input, and whenever they needed to call on "fellow Wonder-Bolts" for help, they followed it to a 'T', I couldn't have been more proud.

It took a total of two months just to finish cleaning, refurbishing, and just making it look presentable, and another four months, until it was good enough to open. To this day, every few months I invite them down here for inspections, and repairs, ain't letting this place go to waste dammit!

Next came the last, and final crucial step. Get the girls. I'm not bullshitting when I say this, but dude. Fucking Craigslist... use it! It's a Goddamn lifesaver, and problem solver! I'm not kidding, I literally put "Woman Brothel Owner Looking For Girls", all the description said was, "exactly how it reads, it could be a great way for use to make some cash. email me if interested". I thought I should have gone into more detail, or that I'd have to revise it, but nope that day alone I got four emails.

Shit, some of the girls that came in the following days were girls I knew or worked with! Some worked in the flower shop, some worked bars, frequented bars, some were looking into this for the potential fun, money, their own personal curiosity, this one chick with blue and white hair wanted to do it because, in her words, "What better job for a nymphomaniac right?" God Bless Nevada!

That... was the first problem though... no matter what those "professionals" say in those interviews, someone can only give their body for so long, and make so much money, until they decide to call it quits. At our peak, I had about twenty-five to thirty girls. At our lowest, which was about a year and a half after we opened... I had ten. I was desperate! Part-time partiers were fine an all, but I needed commitment, girls that could be more permanent, or frequent at least, I did not come this far to lose my destiny now! That's when I met... them.

Flim and Flam. Friends in the loosest sense, a necessary asset in every. Oh, you'll love how we met. They tried to mug me. I had heard about them a while ago, a lot of people with their ear to the street, and head in the grapevine had. The Flim-Flam brothers were notorious. Not gangsters, but not really a mob family. It was strictly the two of them, and their grunts they just called "The Dogs". Someone go missing? Probably them. Drugs smuggled in undetected? Most likely them.

These two operated alone, no two clear motives in a row, tricky bastards them...

I can still remember them taunting me in the alley that night:

"What have we here, O brother of mine?"

"Another birdie who's feathers we can pluck dear brother, I think her blood will make a nice shine."

Weird assholes, talked almost in completely in limerick, or something like that, and dressed straight out of the forties... I fought them as well as I could, but there was two after all. Flam, I think, had me pinned to the wall, knife to my throat.

"Don't make a sound, you brute little thing."

"Or you'll lose your pretty tongue, little wing."

They were going to cut out my tongue!? I had to do something, anything, I couldn't die now! Not when I was finally living my destiny!

"Wait!" I've never begged in my adolescent, or adult life... but dammit, I didn't want to die then.

"Have you heard of Griffon's Cathouse?" I didn't want to let these pricks take one step into my home, but I had to think fast, and options were scarce at the moment. I think it was Flam who spoke first.

"The harem of ladies just outside of town... what are you offering birdie?" Then Flim piped in.

"Make your plea quick, your struggle has made our suits dirty." Oh, cry me a Goddamn river...

"I-I own it." The knife was pressed, with just ever so little pressure against my throat. "I'm serious! I-I really do o-own it... I don't have much cash on me, so I can't give you a-anything much of value... b-but I still have working girls on duty right now... can, c-can we work out a d-deal?" I was begging... I felt pathetic. I thought they'd just laugh it off, but no matter how weird, or psychotic the man. They are still a man after all. They have wants. Needs.

"Flim my brother, did you hear the same as me?"

"Why indeed Flam, I do believe I heard the offer of, 'sex for free'".

Flam removed the knife from my neck, but still pinned me to the wall with his arm, "We are interested in your proposal miss, give us directions, to your abode, and we will provide transportation."

Then it was Flim's turn, and I realized at this point that, one of them couldn't speak without the other piping in for some stupid reason... "Your words best be true little wing, or I promise you this, if you've lied now to Flim and Flam, the law may find you unrecognizable in the morrow near the bus station."

That was some Black Dahlia type shit... "I-I promise, I'm not lying... the Flim-Flam brothers are threatening to kill me... w-why would I even think about lying to you? About something like this nonetheless??" Some seconds later, I was released from the wall.

"Flim, to the car, I will keep watch over... with is your name madam?"

Madam? Try to kill me, and after I offer you free sex, you treat me like a damn belle? Douchebag... "It's Gilda." I answered through gritted teeth.

"Gilda will be under my eyes then, hurry along brother."

"Right away Flam." What no rhyming?

After an incredibly awkward drive in their Camero, yeah check this shit out, two psycho's who dress like parlor men, drive an '74 Camero... seems legit. Cool car though. All they played in their car was old Blues stuff, like New Orleans to Brooklyn, feel-the-pain type blues. Seemed fitting really honestly.

We arrived at the Griffon after the longest thirty minutes of my life, and I lead them in. I called out the girls, poor things, once they found out who they were, they were plain terrified. Those two assholes loved it too. Because it was free, out of my ten girls, each got two. As I was waiting for the two to finish up... I had a thought... a risky thought. Incredibly risky; like, I could fucking die risky... but maybe... just maybe, these brothers could be of use to me.

Just possibly there might just be a way we could all help each other out, and no one has to die, preferably me. So as they were in the middle of their activities in their respective rooms, I snapped some pictures real quiet like on my phone. Not that impressive, the two of them to be honest... After I took what I figured was more than enough photos, I paid a little visit outside to their little wagon. I figured, as a little extra insurance, in case everything does go to hell, they'll have a hell of a time to get away. I go down they (hopefully) go down.

They finally came out after a fucking hour, and, surprisingly enough, they thanked me.

"Miss Gilda! You run a fine establishment here, would you not agree Flim?"

"Oh, I concur most sincerly Flam, our sincerest apologies, for earlier."

Our sincerest!-... stay calm, "Yeah, I'm uh- glad you, enjoyed yourselves... so... I have a proposition for you." I figured why beat around the bush? I'll be right out with it.

"Proposition? Miss our business is concluded, it's time we made our leave."

"Well you see, about that Flim-"

"Flam."

"Whatever. My few years of living here, has netted me a few friends, such as, oh I don't know..." At this point I took out the phone, and was preparing the pictures. "Commissioner Armor?" That shut them up good, now I just had to deliver the final blow. "And I think he would find it quite interesting to see these." Turning my Atrix around, I showed them the damming photos.

I'd tell you what they were doing specifically, but, well... ever seen Body of Evidence?... Weird shit like that. Their pale little faces, got even whiter, luckily I was behind the bar, so I had a better chance of escape if they tried anything.

"Little birdie... what do those pictures hope to do? They'll be of no use, if we kill you." He threatened, metaphorical daggers shooting at me through his eyes.

"Ah, but that's just it Flam-"

"Flim." With a roll of his eyes.

"I don't fucking care! My point is, is that unless you give me a good reason to not, send these straight to the chief of police, you'll have a problem. Your guys' DNA is all over those rooms, the girls had more than a good look at you, and to top it off, while you were busy-" I revealed from my jacket pocket, some mechanical... thingy's I don't know, I was never good with cars. Point is I sabotaged their asses.

"I helped your car out there lose a few pounds, so even if you killed me and my girls, by the time your done, the law will be hot on your heels." To be honest, I didn't actually know Commissioner Armor, I did however know his wife. She came into Scratches bar a few times, while her hubby was on a case and couldn't make it home. I'm surprised she remained faithful, drunken atmosphere, and I didn't once see her spare anyone a flirty glance. Goody-two-shoes.

We became decent enough friends to exchange numbers, the message I had prepared had the address of The Griffon, the text read: "Cadence! Those killers Armor's been looking for; Flim and Flam r at my brothel -BTW I own a brothel-" I never did tell her did I? "get your husband to this address ASAP B4 they kill me!" . So needless to say, if I hit send, Flim and Flam's asses would be grass. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

"You must be bluffing, you wouldn't dare. Your life is utter forfeit if you send him those!"

"You willing to take that chance, Flim?" I teased.

"Damn you woman, I'm not Fl-" I interrupted him be feigning the pressing of the button. The two jumped as I did, Flam tried to reach over and swipe it. Having anticipated as such, I brought my arm back and raised it, a smirk on my face. I had them by the balls now.

"Willing to hear out my offer then boys?" They didn't like it, but they weren't getting away now, heh heh. "I worked hard to get this place you know." Yeah, I was gonna monologue. I had the attention of two notorious outlaws, I figured I might as well milk it. "For two years, even though I had more then sufficient funds to live comfortably for a while, I lived like a drifter. All for this." I swung my arms around for emphasis.

"I will do anything I possibly can to keep this place alive, as long as it is structurally sound, and I am alive. Understand me?" They did, I could see that much. I could also tell that they were getting impatient. Flim voiced his disconcern first.

"Very inspiring story miss, one for readers digest, truly. But if you would be so kind as to hurry this along."

Hmph. "Notice something about this place when you came in? Something lacking? The girls. I only have ten girls. I built this place to hold a minimum of twenty. I'm not asking for money, I'll earn that in time. I'm asking you... to help me get workers for my cathouse." There it was, my offer was on the table, all I needed was for these devils to sign the dotted line.

"You... want Flam and myself... to be scouts for you whorehouse?" I snapped from that comment.

"This is not some stupid little 'whorehouse' this is my home! I don't expect either of you to understand how I feel about this place, or what I went through to get it. All I'm asking, is that you help me keep this place alive, and prospering, like no other brothel before!" I revealed a little more about myself than I intended, but I guess it worked, I could see they were considering the idea.

"... And what pray tell, little birdie, in this... arrangement benefits us?"

"Flim raises a wise point. How do you intend to earn, let alone keep our trust?"

Well they were -albeit weakly- rhyming again... I guess that's a good sign?... "I own a brothel numb-nuts, you'll have access to any girls that work for me, any booze I own; with set limits and supervision by me, all for free. Imagine tonight, but more, and for the foreseeable future. In return, I won't point the cops your way."

They whispered amongst themselves for several minutes, I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but I gave them their privacy. First sign of trust right? They looked me in the eye, Flam (I guess he's a kind of leader of the two) spoke, in business type talk. No rhyme.

"Miss Gilda. You are commendable I must say, not everyone can out wit the Flim-Flam brothers. Luring us here, the pictures, sabotaging our vehicle, hell, you even have a contingency plan if things didn't turn out well for you." Well shit, he gave me a little more credit than I actually deserved, but I wasn't gonna tell him otherwise.

"We do not care about you, your businesses, and we especially do not like you. But damn it all, we respect you. Your promise of pleasures is great, only a foolish man would turn a valuable deal like this down. We will accept your terms." Holy shit! I beat the legendary Flim-Flam Bro-

"BUT. Be forewarned. You have no way of trusting us, as we you. Believe me, however, when I say that when my brother and I make a commitment. It's for life. We have never betrayed one of our own, if we left, or they did, we reached an understanding without bloodshed. Tis the gentelman's way. Very rarely, did things turn out ...unpleasant, we will not betray you. As you better not betray us."

Oh. Fuck.

Couldn't let them see my nervousness though, so I shrugged it off. "Tch, of course not. I don't exactly believe you, but to prove my commitment." I selected the respective pictures, and -which looking back could have been the death of me- I deleted them. "There. All gone."

It was Flim's turn now.

"Hm. You think that means anything? It it obvious we will be frequenting this abode quite often, at any point if you wanted, you could sell us out." Perceptive bastard... "I'll say this once and only once little birdie. Do NOT fuck us."

There was something so... chilling about those words. They held a deadly promise, one I couldn't dare to break. I was in it for the long haul now. For better or worse, I pretty much just signed my life away.

And I didn't regret it one bit.

"Wouldn't dream of it... partners."

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And that's the story of how I came to own my lovely little slice of heaven. But I can see, your still curious ain't ya? It's about how I acquired me girls isn't it? Specifically, those five. Well we open in a few, and I have to make a call to some friends of mine, so you'll have to come back later.

You can see yourself out.