When the elevator stopped on the twenty-sixth floor, I wondered who the hell was going somewhere at six-thirty in the morning. The doors opened and a curvy white woman stepped into the elevator. Her hair looked a little rustled and her makeup was smeared a bit, but she still looked classy.

“How are you?” she asked, like she was simply being polite and didn’t really care that it was two minutes before dawn.

“Oh, I’m good”-I yawned-“and you?”

“You sound a bit tired like me,” she flashed a fabulous smile and yawned herself. “Those are very contagious, you know,” she yawned again. “My name is Sasha,” she extended her hand. “Sasha Deverox.”

I shook her hand. “Jada West.”

She tossed me a knowing look then snickered. “Are you here doin’ what I think you’re doing?”

“It depends,” I said, really curious about what she meant.

She looked around as if we weren’t alone on the elevator. Then she leaned in toward me. “I mean who do you work for? Which service?” Sasha wanted to know.

I was really confused, but I needed to know just what Sasha was talking about. She was iced from her ears to her chest and her fingers. I noticed a thick diamond tennis bracelet dangling from her arm when we shook hands.

“Why? Do I look like someone you know?” I asked stalling, hoping for more information.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, you do. But I know she got out of the business a while back. That’s a shame too, ’cause she used to make serious money. She’s the one who encouraged me to go out on my own,” Sasha confirmed.

My interest was very piqued at this point. She didn’t look like a dancer; she had this air of elegance about her that told me she was clocking some serious dough, and if she was shaking her ass to earn it, she was doing some type of private shit.

“Well, how’s it been on your own?” I asked, still fishing.

“It was rough at first, but once I built up my clientele, it’s been paradise ever since.” She smiled again.