Chapter One.

"Clair, you're up this one has asked for a red-head, medium height and build."

The woman with red hair appeared not to have heard the stout man as she had her eyes trained upon the elevator carefully. She was then nudged sharply in the side by the woman seated next to her, a friend apparently.

"Clarice! You're up girl!" Ardelia hissed into her ear, pushing her forth.

Clarice looked up in panic; they were undercover as 'Escorts' for wealthy men, waiting in a hotel lobby for the signal. They had been assured that they wouldn't have to get involved unless the men they were looking for asked for an escort; so far they hadn't and now their 'pimp' was walking towards Clarice.

"Oi new girl, I've called you twice, don't ignore me bitch! It's your turn to earn me some money now go!" The large greasy man's face reddened as he leered at her.

Clarice looked pleadingly at Delia who gave her a sympathetic look and turned said the guy standing over them.

"Hey, look it's her first night, she's nervous why not send Amelia?"

The pimp looked outraged as he clenched his fists.

"Because she's ginger not red and she's too short now this guy is rich, he'll pay good money so get your curvy ass upstairs or you're out!"

Clarice scowled at the man, her skin crawling as she felt his eyes all over her. 'Do you feel eyes moving over your body Clarice?.. I hardly see how you couldn't.' He was always with her, his voice an internal monologue; like some kind of twisted conscience.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the ridiculous dress she was wearing was close to riding up her thighs, and the heavy weight of her gun strapped there did not reassure her in her current situation.

She glanced over at Pearsall who was sat over the other side of the lobby; he only raised his eyebrows and nodded beckoning her to do as she was told.

She and Pearsall were no longer on friendly terms; she had half expected that the whole idea for the female agents to go undercover as prostitutes was his, just to get back at her.

Every male around was leering at her, she could feel the heat of their eyes upon her, it made her feel dirty. Even today the FBI was still extremely sexist and after a severe investigation by them as to Hannibal Lecter's escape and 'love notes' she had been doing nothing more than paper pushing.

The only reason she hadn't turned this down was because she was fed up with being in an office she wanted to get out and do something, even if that meant dressing like a whore.

Clarice stood and walked toward the elevator, the piece of paper the pimp had given her held the correct room number. On the surface she was the picture of calm, but inside her head she was using curses that would have shocked even Ardelia.

'Stupid waste of space, if he thinks I'm gonna fuck some conceited rich boy 'cause he told me to, then he needs some sense knocked into him and I'll gladly be the one to do it. The arrogant asshole, So much for "you'll be in no danger Clarice, all you have to do is sit and look pretty.''

As the lift opened she got out and made her way to room numbered 319, as the paper instructed. She had decided that she would just show the man her ID, explain the situation and make it clear she wasn't an escort but was in fact; an FBI agent undercover.

Clarice was now face to face with room number 319, she took a deep breath and knocked on the wood, a muffled enter coming from within.

'Oh god please don't let him be lying naked waiting for me, please have mercy.' Starling thought.

She opened the door and came face to face with… nothing. She then heard voices from the next room, two male voices. Clarice didn't dare proceed; she was now up against two men, what if they had some sick idea of a threesome in mind?

Clarice was just about to bolt from the room when 'sicko' No.1 came into view. He didn't appeal to the eyes, he was short, fat and bald, but he was wearing what looked like a very pricey suit, he was at least 70.

He saw her as he walked into the room and looked her over appreciatively.

"Martin, your entertainment for the evening has arrived." The man called as he walked past her, his hand brushing her backside deliberately... Clarice turned toward the male to give him a piece of her mind when a voice from behind her spoke.

"Thank you, good evening Edward."

Clarice froze, it felt like hundreds of emotions were coursing through her veins; fear, shock, excitement, exhilaration and terror. She barely noticed as 'Edward' walked out of the the suite; shutting the door softly behind him, it had been two years since she had heard that voice in person.

I decided to read over this and edit it… It most definitely needed it.

Regards,

Sll.