The “Modeling Studio” and a Case of Mistaken Identity

Presentation3“How y’all doing?”

The two of us wore wool coats. The woman who greeted us when we came into the “modeling studio” and her coworker wore denim short-shorts and work shirts tied above the waist.

Ellen and I in our coats, our bags stuffed with pamphlets and condoms and lubricant samples—and information on the clinic where we both worked. Before we got a chance to chat with the two women a man in his late 50s, bald, wearing jeans, a belly overhang, and a jeans jacket came through the door. “What do y’all do?”

One of the women working there pointed to a sign on the wall, much like what you’d see in a burger or taco joint. “Here’s the price list. That includes me or her,” pointing to her colleague. “But not her,” pointing to Ellen, “or her,” pointing to me.

The man scratched his head. “If I bring in some clients, can you take care of them?”

“Sure,” one of the two women answered him.

“Okay. Can you give me a receipt?”

I did my best not to roll my eyes at the man. He planned to bring in some of his customers to partake of some nude “modeling” and he was concerned about taking it off of his income tax.

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