A/N: I want to thank everyone who is reading this story, especially all the people taking the time to drop a review. I'm glad that so many of you enjoyed the very first chapter.

As per usual, a big thank you to Howaboutno for listening to my rants and an even bigger one to Theveiledfairy, who worked her butt off to make this chapter sound a thousand times better. Without those two, this story wouldn't be half as good as it is now.

If Santana Lopez had only one word to describe herself, it would be prostitute.

Probably not the most endearing description, but it was the truth and she wasn't one for beating around the bush. Granted, Santana was more of a high-class escort than some streetwalker, but other than the fact that she was getting three thousand bucks per client, she didn't really differ from them; she was still selling her body for money.

Of course, this hadn't been Santana's first career choice in life. Actually, if someone had asked her four years ago, being a prostitute would've probably ended up on the very bottom of her list of things she wanted to become after graduation.

Her first choice had always been to be a surgeon; to follow in her father's footsteps. She had been the pride of the Lopez family after all. A's on almost every test, cheerleading captaincy since the beginning of her junior year, no unplanned pregnancies; she was basically a dream come true for her parents. When she'd then gotten accepted into NYMC, it'd marked the icing of the cake that seemed to be Santana Lopez's life.

But these were the things that she'd allowed her parents to see; the things that she'd done for them to make them proud. For her, the time she'd spent in school was nowhere near as idyllic as she'd made it appear.

Santana had been the resident tormentor at her high school, terrorizing everyone she'd deemed as unworthy of her time. She'd had no real friends, went through boys like others went through candy, and been known only as the school's head bitch.

There were various reasons why she did it, but only one was really important. The truth was, Santana Lopez had been a closeted lesbian. The realization had dawned on her during her freshman year when she realized that she'd rather check out the other cheerleaders on her squad than so as much look in the direction of any of the boys trying (and failing) to keep her attention. It was, of course, no excuse for her ruthless behavior, but she didn't care. As long as she could flee her own problems, if only for those few hours a week where she was the queen bee, she was content.

Although, she'd eventually stopped counting the kids that had gotten slushied or thrown into dumpsters on her orders. It'd kind of lost its appeal once she'd hit upper double digits.

However, seeing that subtlety had never been a Lopez strong suit, she'd gotten called out on her careless leering by one of the girls. In a panic, she'd turned to the first boy who would have her, all in fear of what would happen if the truth got out.

She'd hated labels and the thing about them was that, in high school, once they'd been stuck to you ripping them off did nothing; people were always be able to see that they'd been there.

In the time following that confrontation, Santana had earned herself the title of "school's biggest slut." It'd been a small price to pay if she could stop rumors about her sexuality from circulating and potentially damaging her whole life. Back then, she had been sure her parents would've abandoned her if they had ever found out, not to mention her grandma, who would've definitely disowned her straightaway.

While living a lie hadn't sounded much better than coming out, it'd been far easier than Santana would've imagined it to be. She hadn't hated herself for sleeping with boys or anything like that (she understood her reasons and accepted them) and it actually hadn't been completely terrible.

When she'd graduated high school and went on to medical school, she had begun to think maybe that things would work out the way she'd planned.

It'd been three years and Santana still remembered the day she'd told her parents that she was dropping out of med school because she couldn't deal with the increasing pressure. As a result, her clearly disappointed parents had immediately stopped supporting her. They were ambitious people and didn't understand her motivation, but Santana had learned that although being a surgeon was a respectable job, it just wasn't the right one for her.

Without any plans for the future and no more money from her parents, she'd barely gotten by. The job she scored at some run-down diner only allowed her to pay the rent for her apartment. She was too proud to beg her parents for money so instead she kept looking for a better place to work, hoping that something would come along and help her out of her rut.

She didn't believe in fate, but meeting Rachel Berry had been one of the best things that'd ever happened to her.

It was thanks to her and the fact she'd run into her (literally) on her way to Tanaka's diner that she was now working as an escort. A coffee stain Santana had caused on Rachel's favorite coat led to her paying for the dry cleaning bill and thus guaranteeing that she would be seeing Rachel again.

When she'd then brought the coat to the reception desk of the building Rachel had given her the address of, she'd met William Schuester.

He'd looked her up and down, asked her how old she was, and then, out of nowhere, offered her a job. Santana had wanted some time to think about his odd offer before she agreed, but the moment he'd mentioned her salary per night, she'd accepted and shaken on it.

Being a high-class hooker wasn't really much different from what she'd been doing in high school. She didn't have to do anything too extreme or too kinky, which she was grateful for. The only real difference was that in this job, her bitchiness didn't get her very far. Her very first clients had all complained about her lack of compassion and her intolerable attitude.

Will had almost kicked her out because of it, but Santana had sworn to him that she would clean up her act. And that she did. With every passing day, she'd improved in human relations. Her words had quickly lost their viciousness and she'd begun to put up a good show for her rich suitors until, eventually, all complaints had died away.

Now, two and a half years later, she had become one of William's best workers.

She finally had enough money to move into a bigger apartment and her lifestyle changed dramatically. She could buy expensive clothes and furniture and the ten to fifteen nights a month she had to work gave her enough free time to really enjoy her life. She even found herself an unexpected hobby in the form of kick-boxing. Not only did it keep her fit, but it also did wonders for her anger management. For example, sometimes, when a client would get a little too rough with her, she would vent on a punchbag the next day.

In general, her clientele wasn't so bad, selfish and only interested in their own pleasure, but no worse than the boys she'd dealt with in high school. Will did a good job in selecting them and if one stepped out of line, he immediately annulled the contract. While nothing serious had ever happened to Santana, some clients really did like to be rough during the sex. She usually took it like a champ and brushed it off because this was her job. Her clients didn't care about her and it was something she had gotten used to pretty quickly.

Sex was sex to her. No more, no less. She approached it like the business transaction that it was: pleasure for popularity. It had worked for her back in high school and it was working for her now, only difference being that her reward was money rather than acclaim.

She'd say she was still pretty popular though, given her client list, but that's not the point.

There had never been any feelings involved with her work because she'd never once fallen in love with one of her many admirers, and she aimed to keep it that way.

Although, Santana had to admit that from time to time, she did get a little pleasure herself from her job. Every seventh client or so was a woman and therefore either a closeted bisexual or lesbian. If there was one thing Santana had realized over the course of the years, it was that women tended to want to return the favor. She so didn't argue. It was her job to make them happy after all.

Which was why she'd gotten a tiny bit excited when Will had called her into his office and told her about a possible new female client.

"She's in her early twenties, tall, blond, and could maybe become a permanent client," he told her, but Santana noticed that he looked slightly nervous. A moment later, she learned why. "Her test results are fine and from what I heard, she is a really sweet person, but..." Will sighed, "I'm afraid there is a problem."

Santana gave him a confused look. "What problem?"

"Well, technically, she is a woman and identifies herself as one," he began, deciding to just come out and say it, "but she was born with male instead of female genitalia."

Frowning, Santana tilted her head to one side. "Oh-kay..." Not knowing what to say, she settled for, "I guess that does qualify as a problem."

He gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I know what you're thinking, namely that this sounds crazy. But I am not kidding. This is the truth." When she wouldn't respond, Will continued, "Look, I know this is new and different, but the things her manager told me..." he trailed off, shrugging as a soft expression graced his features.

"She sounds like an amazing person. I'm not asking you to immediately agree to this, all I want is for you to give it some thought before you decline this proposal."

Santana was taken aback. This was not something she had expected when she'd entered Will's office. A woman with a penis; that sounded...well, weird. Like some kind of sick joke. She instantly felt bad for thinking that, but she just couldn't help herself.

Then again, who was she to judge? After all, Santana was fighting for acceptance in a world that struggled to understand her sexual orientation. So why should she deny someone else the same acceptance she was so desperately longing for?

Will mistook Santana's ongoing silence for rejection and sighed, "Okay, I will turn her down then. Thank you for taking the time to come here on your day off."

"Wait!" The words left her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. "I'll do it." Now, Will was the one taken aback.

"Are you really sure? I don't expect you to agree to this just because I asked you."

"No, it's okay." Santana shook her head, smiling a little.

"I'm not saying this is definite, but I'm willing to meet her and get to know her. If it doesn't work out for me, I will make use of the declination clause in my contract."

"This is amazing," Will beamed, sorting through his documents until he found the contract Brittany's manager, Quinn Fabray, had sent him.

"Here you go. This is the non-disclosure agreement you have to sign. I'll give you a few minutes to read it through, but there is nothing fishy in it as far as I can tell."

Santana skimmed over the contract, not really reading it. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking about her new client. A woman with a penis. That still sounded somewhat surreal to her. Not that she wasn't a bit curious, though. She had to see this for herself. Maybe it wasn't even as weird as she thought it would be and she wouldn't end up declining after the first meeting. A client was still a client, so as long as she was getting her money, it didn't matter who they were. She would definitely give this woman a chance.

After signing the contract and informing Will that a certain Shane Tinsley, successful linebacker for the New York Jets, had expressed his desire for something Santana didn't want to perform, she left his office again with the promise that Will would refer her client to someone else. Each man and woman working for him had their own rules for the things they would do and the things they wouldn't and a lot of clients were chosen because they fit the various criteria. Every now and then though, some clients were switched when their wishes evolved beyond things that their current escorts would fulfill.

Will Schuester was a pretty good boss when it came to making sure his workers were content, Santana had to admit. He might need a lot of help with the paperwork, but that was why Rachel had been hired in the first place. And she, too, did an amazing job.

As Santana exited the elevator on the first floor, she made a detour to the reception desk to get her schedule for the next week. She was on her period and since one of her rules was no sex during shark week, she had the days off. It was no big deal, really. Rachel simply appointed the dates so that once a month, Santana was free of work for one week.

"Hey, Rachel," Santana said, tapping her fingernails against the counter when she reached it.

Rachel looked up from her computer and smiled. "Hello Santana. I'm surprised at how long you stayed in Mr. Schuester's office."

"Well," she shrugged, "there was a lot of stuff to talk about."

"Yes, I already heard. A women with..." Rachel trailed off, deciding not to finish the sentence. "It's an extremely rare condition. I must say, I was surprised Mr. Schuester didn't reject her right away but he probably will, now that you turned her down."

So maybe Rachel wasn't the most accepting person, which was saying a lot since she had two gay dads, but Santana knew that it was mostly just a front. After all, the business they were working in was not the place for uptight people.

"Actually, I said yes." When Rachel's eyes went wide, she added, "And by the way, could you please stop saying Mr. Schuester. I know you two are getting it on, so calling him Will seems a little more appropriate, don't you think?"

"I'll have you know that Willand I are in love. It's not just some cheap affair," Rachel replied, clearly offended by Santana's words. "And he is going to leave his wife soon to make an honorable woman out of me."

"Oh really?" Santana smirked, the need to get back at Rachel becoming too tempting to contain. "And exactly how long has he been telling you this?"

Shoulders slumping ever so slightly, Rachel begrudgingly admitted, "Three months."

Santana's triumphant smirk slowly turned into a sympathetic smile. "You deserve better than this, Rachel."

"I know," Rachel sighed, a tinge of sadness audible in her voice. "But I care too much about him to let him go."

Her inherent bitchy side wanted to say, "Gross," because although Will was nice and all, he was still Will, but what came out of her mouth instead was, "You should take an evening to yourself to sort out your feelings. I say dump his sorry ass, but this is obviously not about me." Which, for the record, she was thankful for.

"But you should definitely take some time to reflect on the situation." Rachel nodded and gave her a small smile and attempted to change the subject.

"Anyway, how can I help you?"

"Oh right," Santana tapped her palm against the side of her forehead, "I wanted to have my new schedule."

"Of course, I'll print it right away."

"Wait!" Santana suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Will. "Could you take Shane Tinsley out of my clientele list first? Someone else will attend to his interestsfrom now on."

"Oh, what did he want that made you pass him on?" Rachel queried, not able to hide her curiosity.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to tell you. Just take him off my list."

Huffing, Rachel began to type away on her keyboard. "Will is going to tell me everything, anyways," she mumbled, indignant.

With a snort, Santana rummaged in her purse in search of her nail file. "For a boss who preaches discretion, he tells you an awful lot of confidential information." When she found it, she put her elbows on the counter and started to file her nails.

"I am a very trust-worthy person, Santana," Rachel replied as she double clicked her cordless mouse. A second later, the printer sprang to life, beeping as it printed out Santana's working schedule.

"I would never spill any juicy details about someone's personal life to the press. If I did, Brittany Susan Pierce would be on every cover of every single gossip paper out there by now."

"Brittany Pierce?" Santana momentarily looked away from her hands. "Why-"

She stopped abruptly, her jaw dropping. Surely, her new client was not Brittany Pierce, one of the most successful and promising new artists in the world right now. She had seen dance videos of her. Hell, Santana had even bought some of her songs.

This was impossible.

How could someone so famous hide such a secret from the media? How could a woman so feminine and adorable (Santana might have seen some interviews, so what?) have a freaking penis? And how could Will not tell her that she was about to meet Brittany Pierce as her potentially new client?

For some reason, this was beyond her. Brittany must be having one hell of a personal shopper working for her. Santana would've never guessed there was something wrong with her body from all the pictures and videos she had seen, yet apparently, she was packing a dick. If Santana hadn't already been curious before, she certainly would've been now.

"I take it Will didn't tell you who your new client was?" Rachel smiled, shaking her head.

"No." Santana watched as Rachel stood up from her office chair to get the paper with her timetable on it from the printer's output tray. "No, he didn't."

"He likes to do that," Rachel chuckled, handing her the paper before plopping back down on her chair. "I will see you in three days then, when you have your next client. Your work apartment will be all set until then."

"Thank you," Santana responded absent-mindedly. She looked at her schedule, then back at Rachel with unfocused eyes.

"Goodbye, I guess." Turning around, she left the building, ignoring Mike, the bellboy, as he bid her farewell.

Santana decided to walk the four blocks to her apartment instead of taking a cab. It was surprisingly warm and sunny outside and she could really use some air. After all, she had just been told she was going to meet Brittany Pierce, theBrittany Pierce. It's not that she was a fan or anything, it was just that everyone and their mother seemed to love and adore this woman.

That evening, Santana bought herself a bottle of expensive red wine, ran a bath for herself, and ordered some take out from her favorite Chinese restaurant. After today's events, she had earned herself some serious "me" time which she used to relax and regain her strength.

Finally, everything she had learned today seemed to fully sink in. In a few weeks time, she would meet up with Brittany and get to know her. Whether she would eventually turn her down or not, Santana really wasn't sure. Now that she knew who her new client was, it all came down to how freaked out she would be after seeing Brittany naked for the first time.

In the days that followed, Santana fell back into her routine. She arrived at work an hour before her clients had their appointment, greeting and making some light conversation with Rachel first, then heading to her work apartment. It had a kitchen, a living room and of course a large bedroom with an adjoining bath. The standard furnishings consisted of mostly white designer furniture with some black accents thrown in here and there. The closet in the bedroom held about thirty different undergarments, ranging from normal lace underwear to elaborate corsages with matching stockings, camisoles, negligees and basques. After each client, the used clothing would be sent to a dry cleaner and a charwoman would practically polish the whole apartment for the next night.

Nothing particularly special occurred during her first week back. Santana pursued her job as an escort, pleasing her clients with trained expertise. It was only on the last day, when she stopped by to get her new timetable, that Santana faltered a little. There, on the paper, printed in black ink, stood the name of Brittany S. Pierce.

Friday next week, at six pm sharp, they would have their first meeting, and Santana would be lying if she said she wasn't a tiny bit excited for this.

The days practically flew by for her and before she knew it, it was friday. Throughout the week, she'd worried over which kind of outfit she should wear. Out of all the things to worry about, she'd probably chosen the most bizarre one. It didn't matter whether she decided to keep Brittany as a client or not, she still had to make a good first impression. It was vital in a profession like hers.

In the end, she'd settled for a simple red lace bra and matching lace panties. Topping off the whole look was a red see through bathrobe that left little to the imagination. She changed into her outfit and neatly folded her regular clothes before stowing them away in the closet. She made her way into the living room, a glance at the clock hanging from one of the white walls telling her that it was 5:58 pm.

Naturally, the moment she sat down on the couch, someone knocked on the door.

Her heartbeat picked up, drumming in her ears. She'd attended to a lot of famous people before, but no one was as well-known (and special) as Brittany Pierce. Slowly, she approached the door, trying to keep her breathing under control.

Gripping the handle firmly, Santana took one final moment to collect herself and after a second knock sounded, she opened the front door.

Showtime.