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Asian teen works at a club full of older, aggressive men.

Talbotzn know you're ready." She left, went into another room, and returned in a minute.

"OK, Mr. Talbotzn will see you now."

Jennifer took a deep breath to compose herself. She didn't know how or why she had been shown such a movie, but there had to be some rational explanation, and meanwhile she still needed a job. She determined in her mind to put the movie behind her and focus on her interview.

She walked into the spacious corner office. A tall, thick man about 40 years old sat at a desk. There was a chair in front of the desk, and a couch to the side. He had dark hair and nicely chiseled features. After all she had been through, she was relieved to see that he wore a nice suit and looked respectable.

"Hello, my name is Jennifer Smyth and I'm here about the sales job," she said.

He came out from behind the desk and shook her hand. "Glad to meet you Jennifer. My name's James. Please have a seat. I've been looking over your resume."

Jennifer sat down as he paged through the resume she had faxed over yesterday.

James glanced up from the resume with a penetrating glance and looked over Jennifer carefully, from her long legs to her large breasts, and finally to her face.

"I can see you take good care of your body, Jennifer. Do you work out?"

Jennifer wasn't sure what this had to do with sales, and she didn't really like the way he was leering at her, but she said, "yes, sir. I work out almost everyday to stay in shape."

"Here, let me help you with your jacket. It's warm in here," the man said.

And before Jennifer could react, the man had reached around behind her to slip her jacket off her shoulders. As he was doing so, he managed to brush his hand against her firm large bosom. He stood frankly admiring her proud breasts and long legs.

"You have a very nice body, Jennifer. A pleasing appearance is very important for selling jewelry."

Talbotzn sat down behind his desk, glanced down at her resume and frowned briefly.

"I don't see any sales experience in your resume Jennifer. What makes you think you're qualified to sell jewelry?"

Jennifer was prepared for this question, and she went into an explanation of her knowledge of jewelry and her willingness to work hard.

James cut her off with a wave, and said, "Well, your experience doesn't really matter, as much as your attitude and commitment. We can train you in our sales techniques." He took out a square box from his desk, wide and shallow, and opened it to reveal a collection of jewelry including diamond rings, earrings, ruby pendants, emerald bracelets, and many others.

"Look these over, and tell me what you think of our jewelry line," he said.

Jennifer picked up one piece after another, examining each one carefully. She had been around fine jewelry all her life. She came from a rich family, her mother had an extensive collection, and her husband had bought her many fine pieces. In fact, she was wearing a 3-carat diamond wedding ring at that moment and some tasteful pearl earrings. As she looked over the jewels, she wasn't sure how to react.

"Well, sir, I'm not a jeweler, but I'm not sure these are real diamonds," she said doubtfully.

"That's right," he said. "These are all simulated gemstones, the best that can be made with modern technology. This is what we sell."

"I don't understand, Mr. Talbotzn. Where is your store?"

"We don't have a regular retail store. We make appointments with our clients and serve them in their homes, offices, or at a hotel room if they are from out-of-town."

Jennifer was stunned. She had expected to be working in a fine jewelry shop like Tiffanies, not going to someone's hotel room to sell fake diamonds! But she was too intimidated to say anything. Maybe it could be a nice job, she thought, but she was a bit worried now.

"I can see, Jennifer, that you're skeptical about these simulated gems, but you probably don't understand our business model yet. Did my secretary show you the video?"

She nodded yes. "That's what I don't understand . . ."

Talbotzn interrupted her.

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