Crash Course

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Apparently Alastor's "effeminate fellow for the job" was none other than the porn star, Angel Dust. I stared between the radio demon and the pink spider, trying to process everything that was happening. 

"So.... why do I need a porn star?" I asked, looking to Jordan for help. He was useless, just shrugging in reply. 

"If you're going to pass as a call girl," Angel Dust grinned in a very predatory manner, "Then you need to be able to act the part."

For the next two hours, Angel locked me in my room, lecturing me on the ins and outs of call girl behavior while he turned me into a less classy version of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. By the time he was done, I had my brain crammed full of a crash course on how to be a convincing hooker while my body was crammed into a dress that would have had my grandmother rolling in her grave (pictured below).

 By the time he was done, I had my brain crammed full of a crash course on how to be a convincing hooker while my body was crammed into a dress that would have had my grandmother rolling in her grave (pictured below)

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"Um, I'm having second thoughts," I muttered, afraid that if I breathed too deeply, my boobs would pop out.

Angel pushed me out the door where Jordan and Alastor were waiting in the living room, "Oh no you don't. I spent too long on your makeup for you to chicken out now."

I looked at everyone in the room, a slight queezy feeling in my gut. I was trying to figure out how the hell I was going to do this. So when Alastor stood up and said it was time to go, I stared at him in complete disbelief. 

"Um, what?"

"You didn't think I would let you go into this alone, did you?" Alastor grinned as he led me to the door, "Where would the fun be in that?"

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