Page 11 of That One Night in Vegas: A Lesbian Romance
was fortunate. This was a high-end escort agency where she
wouldn’t be required to do anything sleazy. At least, that’s
what she was promised by Stu, the balding, six-foot-five, burly
guy who managed the place.
After being in Vegas for three months, it felt inevitable that
Cassia should end up there, taking this job when she couldn’t
get any other. She’d tried. God, she’d tried. She lived in a
shitty apartment, ate hardly anything at all, and still her money
was running low. Her father had kept her so protected and
sheltered that her resume was pitifully thin. She had no
experience to fall back on and it showed. She’d tried
waitressing, retail, and even working at a gas station, but she’d
been let go from every job after just a few days. Honestly, she
wouldn’t have given herself a chance if she was someone else.
She had one thing to fall back on: her beauty. But it being
Vegas, there wasn’t a shortage of agencies and places willing
to sell beauty. She wasn’t going to fool herself that she could
ever be a model. She needed cash and she needed it quickly.
She’d actually considered applying to one of the many strip
clubs, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. It was more
than just her pride. She was afraid that if her father was
looking for her, or if he ever did, he’d have contacts that
stretched into every city, even if he himself didn’t personally
do business there. He would know someone who knew
someone who knew someone who knew she was working
there.
Cassia had always judged those jobs and places harshly. She
felt bad now about looking down on people from her point of
privilege. God, she’d been so privileged. So, so spoiled. So
innocent and naïve.
