Carl does not think that she is any different from any other woman that has ever hit hard times and needed a job for one reason or other. She looks desperate, needing this job but trying not to seem like she needs it. They always say they don't like being treated like this but Carl knows better.
Carl knows that this is exactly how women are most comfortable being treated. They can say no as much as they would like, but he knows the truth. There's always that deeper look of want in their eyes even when they are slapping someone for coming on too strong. These girls aren't the kind to get to slapping obviously, but they're all the same. They all want to be sought after, bought after by men.
The attention makes them pleased little kittens. Carl likes nothing more than having a bundle of pleased little kittens working for him, purring when he comes around and letting them pet them up and down as much as he would like. And he likes petting plenty. One of the girls start thinking she deserves better or more, it's no trouble of his to throw her out on the street. Put that kitten down if necessary in a sack in the river.
Ain't no skin off his back. It's a good gig. It's a good life. He ain't complaining.
The smile is one that he is used to seeing, and he thinks nothing of it, nothing more of her than one would think about a slab of meat. Nineteen seems to please him. "It's a good age," he says, reaching for her wrist to pull her in close, on his lap to be precise. His hand angles under her chin, turning her head from side to side as if examining. "How many men have you been with?"
Lucky meanwhile has to try to not crush the shot glass in his hand, not that he's that strong. It feels like it is on the verge of breaking, and he is almost positive that if Sonny had any idea how far this would go, he would never agree to it for anyone.
Relax Maurice says, and Lucky shoots him a look.
"...what kinds of things?"
He asks the question between his teeth as he glares at Maurice in a threatening way that implies that he would be more than happy to go back to Gates and give him a not so good report about the man. It's way early to throw in the white flag, but he is starting to see that they have no idea what they got into here and that they should get out again as soon as they possibly can.
Lucky is five seconds away from putting up the abort signal already. This is getting too hands on. It's important. It's important yes, because of all the women that work for Carl, that have been put through this treatment and shipped off to other countries as sex slaves, given false promises and drugged until they cannot see the light of day.
But he doesn't want her to go through it too, not even the 'testing' out part, and the use of that word makes him feel sick, makes him shudder, and he downs the drink. It's a bad idea, but he doesn't know how he can remain sitting without some help here.
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Carl knows that this is exactly how women are most comfortable being treated. They can say no as much as they would like, but he knows the truth. There's always that deeper look of want in their eyes even when they are slapping someone for coming on too strong. These girls aren't the kind to get to slapping obviously, but they're all the same. They all want to be sought after, bought after by men.
The attention makes them pleased little kittens. Carl likes nothing more than having a bundle of pleased little kittens working for him, purring when he comes around and letting them pet them up and down as much as he would like. And he likes petting plenty. One of the girls start thinking she deserves better or more, it's no trouble of his to throw her out on the street. Put that kitten down if necessary in a sack in the river.
Ain't no skin off his back. It's a good gig. It's a good life. He ain't complaining.
The smile is one that he is used to seeing, and he thinks nothing of it, nothing more of her than one would think about a slab of meat. Nineteen seems to please him. "It's a good age," he says, reaching for her wrist to pull her in close, on his lap to be precise. His hand angles under her chin, turning her head from side to side as if examining. "How many men have you been with?"
Lucky meanwhile has to try to not crush the shot glass in his hand, not that he's that strong. It feels like it is on the verge of breaking, and he is almost positive that if Sonny had any idea how far this would go, he would never agree to it for anyone.
Relax Maurice says, and Lucky shoots him a look.
"...what kinds of things?"
He asks the question between his teeth as he glares at Maurice in a threatening way that implies that he would be more than happy to go back to Gates and give him a not so good report about the man. It's way early to throw in the white flag, but he is starting to see that they have no idea what they got into here and that they should get out again as soon as they possibly can.
Lucky is five seconds away from putting up the abort signal already. This is getting too hands on. It's important. It's important yes, because of all the women that work for Carl, that have been put through this treatment and shipped off to other countries as sex slaves, given false promises and drugged until they cannot see the light of day.
But he doesn't want her to go through it too, not even the 'testing' out part, and the use of that word makes him feel sick, makes him shudder, and he downs the drink. It's a bad idea, but he doesn't know how he can remain sitting without some help here.