I’m fond of coming up with new entrepreneurial strategies. Most of my businesses involve me sitting pretty in a nineteen fifties style, film noir-esque office while I kick my feet up on the desk and smoke cigars all day. So, I’ve decided to chronicle them at random intervals. Meaning, of course, when I feel like it.
Like all normal people who have jobs they aren’t entirely satisfied with I like to examine my options. So, the vices generally immediately spring to mind. Now, I’m not your typical stripper. Me in a g-string would not be a pretty sight. So unless I’m looking to attract some sort of fringe crowd, which I can’t imagine would pay all that well and thus negate the whole point, then I don’t have much of a chance of becoming a successful stripper. The same goes for prostitution. I suppose I could be the unglamorous kind of hooker you see in movies that stand on the side of the road handing out five dollar hand jobs in alley ways and the back of Chevy DeVilles. Her name would be Pelvic Joanne and she’d have a limp and cigarette stains between her fingers and teeth. I don’t think I’m quite there yet. If I was going to be a prostitute I’d want to be high class. Charge a couple hundred at least and meet in fancy hotels or my lush shack pad. Sort of like Secret Diary of a Call Girl, except I don’t look like Billie Piper. So… that’s a problem.
Clearly my only choice here is that I become a Madame. I figure that it’s probably difficult to do so without first being a prostitute, but we’ll just let that slide. I figure I can rustle up some contacts somewhere. I’ll give all my girls a very fair deal, they are doing the majority of the work, after all. But they’ll operate out of my brothel, which will be called The Boom Boom Room (I am aware, strictly speaking, that I didn’t make up this name. Instances keep arising. Like Family Matters, apparently, and last week’s Gossip Girl. But, when I thought of it I wasn’t thinking of it from anywhere, I think that counts.) which will provide security and some sort of screening process so we know the Johns pay in full, have no diseases, and aren’t crazy murderers. So I figure between finding the clients and ensuring the safety of my girls I’m earning my keep. They’ll be called Hell’s Belles, which makes far more sense when you know my last name is Heller.
So there we have it, my brand new business; Hell’s Belles in The Boom Boom Room. Where I’ll have a nineteen fifties style office, that looks like a film noir’s PI’s, where I’ll kick up my feet and smoke cigars.