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Emilie Hearton, a young woman of only twenty-two years of age, is tired of feeling lonely and ignored most of the time, so she decides to join a most coveted job, at a place known as simply 'Lust Haus'. Lust Haus is well-known all over the world, yet it couldn't be a more secretive place. It is a place where wealthy men, and women, go to for a little 'fun'. Emilie wishes for nothing more than to be loved, cherished and welcomed. Lust Haus is the perfect place for all those three things, bonuses included. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Jun 16, 2014    Reads: 454    Comments: 3    Likes: 4   

*tick, tock, tick, tock* Emilie watched the clock on the wall. She waited impatiently for her Astronomy class to end. She was a college sophomore, having started late due to taking two years off after graduating high school to accompany her rich father on a business trip to Malta. Emilie was from an affluent family in Toronto, but never saw herself as superior or arrogant, quite the contrary actually. She was shy, and barely ever made conversation with others, which led to her being labeled as 'stuck-up' or 'arrogant'. It was these labels that left her friendless for pretty much her entire life, and the people that called themselves her friends were only sticking up to her because of her wealth. Emilie sighed, gripping her ballpoint pen tightly. The professor kept rambling on and on, but in truth, she knew most of this stuff already. She wasn't trying to be conceited, at all. Emilie just happened to be a very studious person. Having turned twenty-two in April, she refused to have a birthday party. The last time she had one was when she turned sixteen, six years ago. It was a huge feast, that she remembered. Her gown was especially designed for her by Vera Wang, seeing as her parents were willing to spoil her to the gut, something she hated, and still does, which is why she was in university now, and working a part-time job at the school's bookstore. The class finally ended, as Emilie picked up her books and her bag and left rather quickly.

No more classes for today. She thought with relief. She wasn't working today either, seeing as she didn't work the days she had classes. As much as she loved Toronto, she wanted to experience life in other places. She had been to Valletta, in Malta, to Vienna, Milan, Paris and Los Angeles, but she still had many cities that she wanted to visit in mind. Lost in thought, she walked the paths around campus, looking for the way to her dorm building. The weather seemed to mirror her mood lately. It had been cloudy and rainy all week, and that's exactly how she felt; lonely, depressed and frustrated. Folks here were kind to her, but didn't really bother with her much. At the sight of her dorm building, she fast-paced there, panting upon entering the building. Since she was rich, she had a room all to herself. Emilie wasn't the type of person to share rooms, as she liked her privacy.

Her room always smelled like freshly washed cotton, since she was a neat freak. The walls were a lavender color, a bouquet of white roses by the window, inside a clear, glass vase. The books made a 'thump' noise as she dropped them on her desk, right beside her MacBook Air laptop. Emilie thought it would be best to leave everything behind at home, and start fresh. She toned down her style, dressing in more modest clothes, as to not give off the vibe of 'I'm rich, and you're not, therefore you shall bow to my every command.' Footsteps neared her door, as two girls walked by, but stopped right outside near her door, whispering excitedly. Curious, Emilie leaned over on her side of the wall, pressing her ear to hear their conversation.

"I want to get a job there so badly, but my parents would kill me if I did. Not to mention my reputation would be totally ruined." One whispered.

"I know, but think about it. We can both go to London, and apply for a job at Lust Haus. I checked their website, and it looks like they keep their anonimity in place. Names of employees and clients are never revealed, and neither are their faces." The other one gushed.

Lust Haus? Emilie raised her eyebrow, but intrigued nonetheless.

"I don't know, but I'll see. Keep me in touch if you find anything else. It would be great if you also applied for a job there with me." The first girl said.

"I will. See you later." The other girl walked away, her ballerina shoes stomping against the marble floor. Emilie closed the door to her room, locking it. She sat down at her desk, turning on the laptop. Lust Haus, eh? The name kept ringing in her head. Like Alice, she liked to explore the curiouser and curiouser.

When the laptop finally loaded, she went on Google, and typed 'Lust Haus', on the search bar. The name Lust Haus came up at the very top, so she clicked the link. It led her to a website with a dark red background, a picture of pink, glossy lips at the right, top corner. The font was all cursive, white in color. Emilie clicked on 'About Us'. Another page loaded, this time a picture of a woman with blonde hair seductively biting a strawberry lying on bed appeared, a white blanket covering her butt. Emilie read the information, her eyes widening more and more as she kept on reading.

Lust Haus, located in London, England, was formerly a school for young women to prepare them for marriage, but soon evolved into offering other services then just marriage. Founded in 1739, Lady Elizabeth Howell School for Girls was built especially to train brides-to-be, and young girls between the ages of ten and fifteen to behave like ladies, please their husbands, and get noticed. The school trained the brides-to-be on how to be good, responsible and caring wives, and of course, to please and intrigue their soon-to-be husbands. Meanwhile, girls that were not yet to be married, simply trained on how to get noticed more, have the perfect manners and charm those around them with their talents. It wasn't until 1760, that Elizabeth Howell's daughter, Katrina, decided to offer services to lusting men through the school, by training eager girls into becoming what we know as 'trophy wives'. Since then, the school quickly turned from an institution to teach girls and young women on how to fit in with society and find husbands, to a fine brothel, designed to teach girls and women ages eighteen and up to please lustful, wealthy men. Today, Lust Haus stands proudly in the city of London, near the Tower Bridge, on its very original spot. Our services were given kindly for free to invading and home armies from every war fought, to every single soldier that longed for good company. Lust Haus serves those who wish to feel on top of the world, even if it's just for a day. If you wish to visit our place, or reserve a meeting, please visit our 'Contact Us' page. If you are looking to join our crew, simply visit the 'Apply for a Job' page.

Emilie's eyes were as wide as an owl's upon finishing reading. So, basically Lust Haus was a fine brothel, where its employees served to please lusting, rich men. Emilie bit her lip, unsure of what to do next. She felt disgusted at the fact that she was actually considering this for a job, but then again, her heart told her something else. She felt the need and longing to be accepted somewhere, without being judged, but most importantly, she wanted nothing more but to feel loved and wanted. The image of handsome men lusting after her in need appeared in her mind, making her smile. She clicked on 'Apply for a Job', and came across yet another paragraph to read.

Thank you for considering Lust Haus a place where your dream job may lie. You may apply online, or print a PDF version of our application and send it to us by mail or fax.

Emilie clicked on the link 'Apply Online.' A form appeared, asking for all of her information. Emilie thought for a moment, uncertain, but then her fingers started typing away her information, as if desperate. If those two girls who were talking about this right outside her room applied, then she could do this too. Then she would at least know two familiar faces, assuming all three of them got the job.

Emilie submitted her application, her cheeks blushing, a grin playing at the corner of her lips. Now, all she had to do was wait.


The following morning, sunlight burst through Emilie's window, as she woke up, yawning and stretching. She jumped out of bed once she remembered, turning on the laptop, sitting down. Her nails tapped against the wooden desk in impatience, until it loaded. She quickly went onto her Hotmail account, clicking on her inbox, her hands shaking, and her heart racing. Her heart pounded even more, when she saw that she had an e-mail, from Lust Haus. She anxiously clicked it, reading the content.

Ms. Hearton, thank you for your interest in joining us. I am happy to inform you that you have been taken into consideration for a job, but first, you must reply to this by sending us a picture of yourself, and giving us your current address so that one of our staff members can come visit you.


Scarlett Sexton, owner

Emilie let out a squeal, grinning from ear to ear. She closed the computer, charging it. She proceeded with taking a shower, then dressing herself up in a most fashionable outfit. Her feet slid into a pair of sand brown Tory Burch ballerina shoes, sterling silver Tiffany & Co. earrings dangling from her earlobes. A white, Vera Wang pencil dress outlined the curves of her thin frame, a gold, Coach purse in her hand. Emilie studied herself in the mirror, smiling in satisfaction. Her makeup was perfect, cheeks blushed in pink, bringing out the few freckles that dotted her nose, her rosy pink lips covered in a shimmery gloss, the coal black mascara bringing out her round, big hazel eyes. Her hair fell behind her back in loose, cinnamon brown curls. Now she really looked like a rich chick, but she didn't care. Her obvious good mood was noticed by her peers, for they finally bothered to converse with her. Guys smiled at her, girls complimented her outfit or her nails. Emilie was constantly smiling and talking in a rather cheery tone, something she never did. The old Emilie would soon vanish into the chasm, while the new Emilie would emerge.


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