Diana Agafya

Clumsily, Diana unfolded the letter she had received, feeling far less pretty after her journey than the pictures she had submitted—especially while standing next to Seraphina. “I’m Diana Semyonova,” she said softly as she laid the letter on his desk. Mikail was usually a bit more courteous to the new girls that he was about to exploit, but given his current situation, he could not find a bit of sympathy in him. So he figured rather than draw it out, he would just get right to it. “Nikifor, Pyotr,” was all he had to say, and the men, including Ivan, left without a word. Ivan closed the door behind him. Diana felt as though she was the sheep that had just been invited to dinner by the wolves, and she was right. “As you may have started to realize, this is not a modeling agency, and I am not a modeling agent.” Mikail spoke without a shred of compassion, or a shred of any feeling for that matter. “You are in a nightclub called Eros, which you have just become part of.” Diana could feel tears starting to swell. Deep down, she started to realize the kind of evil that had just snatched her from her home and her family, but she refused to start sobbing until this devil revealed the fears that were beginning to creep into her mind. “You will work the floor at night, taking whatever man wants you into your bed—for a price of course,” he continued as if talking about the weather. “At the end of the night, you will present to me your earnings, of which you will get a cut. The more you earn, the faster you’ll be able to leave.” Suddenly, Mikail’s voice became very dark, as he leaned ominously towards Diana. “Do not try to run. I know this city very well, and unless you wish the Volga to be your watery tomb, I suggest you stay within these walls.”