Ruben gave a curt nod, finalized the security integration, and walked out of the building. The immediate crisis was over. I had saved the operation and solidified my new status as a "Tier 1 Asset." The successful security inspection cleared the way for me to proceed with talent recruitment and filming.

​I immediately called Two-bit to coordinate the talent drop-off. My company wasn't fully registered yet, but that wouldn't stop me from recruiting girls and a camera crew. Later on, I would have to hire dedicated directors, script writers, and male talent.

Right now, I was everything: CEO, Director, and lead Male Talent.

​The rest of the morning was spent turning the old press building into a functional production house. The main hall remained a large, echoing mess, but I focused on creating two distinct zones. Two-bit helped me set up a tiny temporary administrative office in a small, cleaner room: just a basic desk, a chair, and a worn couch on the opposite side for guests.

​The office space was raw: bare concrete, exposed pipes, and thick electrical conduits running along the ceiling, giving it a raw, industrial feel. This look would have to work for now. The only other prepared area was a single large room where I had placed a basic, high-quality bed, ready for immediate filming.

My recruitment interviews with the girls Sasha had found were scheduled for 9:15 AM. I was excited about this step; these women were more than just people to film. They were future revenue streams.

​My initial success with paying subscribers had stalled. I had only added twenty more subscribers to the initial 1,400, leaving me stuck at just over fifty thousand dollars. This was nowhere near the quarter-million I owed Big Mom. I realized that after factoring in rent, talent payments, the camera crew, and the legal fees, I hadn't made much real profit yet.

​I looked at my watch. It was now 8:45 AM. The interview was scheduled for 9:15 AM.

​I waited. Fifteen minutes to go, and no one had shown up. In a normal company, people would be lining up for a job interview.

​I wanted to call Sasha to ask if her recruits were actually coming, but I decided against it. People lined up for established companies with reputation and success.

​Mine was a sex company. It wasn't successful yet; it was just opening. The echo in the empty building, the bare concrete, and the fact that I was completely alone reminded me that I was still a nobody. My company was still a child learning to crawl.

​I was still running the numbers in my head when I heard a loud female voice echo down the concrete corridor.

​"Hello!" the voice called out, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings. "Mr. Hart, are you there!"

​I jumped from my seat and quickly opened the door to the corridor.

​"Anyone home!" the girl called again, clearly treating the empty building like a deserted movie set.

​"Stop that, ma'am. This isn't a horror film set!" I called back.

​She spun around toward me and smiled, a flash of high-wattage confidence. "It looks like the perfect human trafficking headquarters to me."

​I couldn't blame her; the place still looked suspicious with its empty space and raw, industrial look.

​But what was far more interesting was the sexy woman standing in front of me. She was the first sign that Sasha's recruitment efforts were working.

​I couldn't help but stare. The first recruit was exactly the level of professional talent I needed.

​She was undeniably beautiful: dark, rich skin, high cheekbones, and eyes that held a sharp, challenging intelligence. She radiated the kind of confidence that came from knowing her own value. She was tall and slender, and while her figure was not characterized by exaggerated curves, it was perfectly toned. She possessed smaller, firm breasts that were highlighted perfectly by her attire.

​She was dressed less like she was seeking employment and more like she was auditioning for a high-fashion music video. She wore a tight, high-waisted black leather skirt that ended well above the knee, paired with a sheer, form-fitting mesh top that revealed a delicate black lace bra underneath.

She finished the look with dangerously high stilettos, making her walk across the concrete floor sound like a rhythmic warning. The overall effect was deliberately provocative, commanding attention while signaling high professionalism.

​"looks like human trafficking headquarters to me," she repeated, her voice husky and amused, a smile playing on her lips.

​This woman was aggressive, confident, and clearly expensive. She was the face of the revenue stream I needed.

"Sorry, we are still setting up the place. In a few months, it will be looking like Brazzers' headquarters," I said, flashing her a confident smile.

​"I certainly hope so," she replied, her tone indicating she needed proof, not promises.

​I glanced at my watch. It was 8:51 AM.

This woman was definitely a punctual whore. I found myself wondering if she applied the same discipline to all her business dealings.

​"You are early," I noted.

​"I don't like keeping people waiting, especially when there's serious money involved. Sasha guaranteed me there's stability and high income to be made here," she said, her eyes fixed on mine.

​"Yeah, there's serious money to be made, baby," I confirmed, matching her confidence.

​"So why are we still wasting time out here? Aren't we supposed to be starting the interview or sex rehearsals?" she challenged.

​I stepped aside and held the door open for her. As she walked into the small, bare office, my professional focus momentarily dissolved into pure aesthetic appraisal.

​Her walk was a masterclass in controlled movement. Her high heels forced her hips to swing with a deliberate, smooth rhythm, maximizing the subtle sway of her slender frame. The black leather skirt barely moved, but the sheer fabric of her top rippled slightly, drawing attention to the tight definition of her shoulders and the small, high placement of her breasts.

Every step was calculated, transforming the industrial space into her personal runway. She moved like someone who knew that every part of her body was a high-value asset, commanding full attention.

​I closed the door behind us.

​The situation demanded immediate authority. Her challenge about "wasting time" meant she was serious about work, but she needed to see that I was serious about running a legitimate operation.

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