Sometimes, when she was feeling too roughed up for another damned round, Fanny womanned the door. The vast majority of takers responded to her picture, carefully posed on a bed to try and subtract some of her natural height. She had one of her light blouses on, rolled up to the sleeve above thick forearms. The corset made her waist as tight as any, but it just seemed to draw the attention to muscular, uncovered shoulders.

She was slouching against the counter when he entered. Languidly, she curled upward and upward to her full height like a boa constrictor uncoiling itself.

“May I help you, sir?”

Her voice sounded far too tiny for the body it inhabited.