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Episode 1

'The financial markets are full of hard luck stories these days, so I thought it only right to share my experiences.

I joined Lehman Brothers straight out of college in 2004. Although I didn't really know what I was getting into, a friend of mine worked for the firm, and there was a vacancy in fixed income support, so I tried out for it and lucked out. When it came down to it, however, the job was really nothing more than a glorified PA, as I ran around photocopying things, and undertaking menial tasks like going out to get lunch for busy traders.

After a while, however, I started to get into what I was doing, and learning the lingo. Gradually, I learned what terms like 'ABS', 'MBS' and 'CDO' stood for (although I never really got what they actually were). In time (after 18 months or so), I even found myself on the telephone speaking to clients, who were eager to buy 'top-rated commercial paper' from the firm. Although nervous at first, I soon discovered that as long as the clients thought they were getting investments which would yield good returns, they didn't mind speaking to a young buck, and my confidence quickly grew. Very soon I had my own small portfolio of clients (mostly smaller clients who no-one else had the time to cover). Anyway, although I was never the best salesperson on the block, I closed several deals and walked off with a decent bonus in 2006 (not huge by any means, but substantially more than I ever expected to earn in any one year).

We hit the ground running in 2007, and, in the first-half of the year, our numbers were strong. Then the fixed income markets began to show signs of stress, and concerns started to grow about a sustained downturn in the US housing market. Investors soon became spooked about the true nature of their promised returns, and the safety of their 'risk-free' investments. The likes of Citi and Merrill Lynch started to post losses on huge asset right-downs, and soon the CEOs of both firms had fallen on their swords. We struggled through into 2008, and there were persistent rumours that Lehman (and other firms) had liquidity problems. In March, Bear Stearns fell into the arms of JPMorgan Chase. And, in September, well, you know what happened to Lehman.

In truth, I didn't even make it through until the September. The appetite for asset-backed securities had already dried up, and I was laid-off a couple of months before. At first, I wasn't that bothered - I fell into the markets by accident, so it wasn't as if my dreams had been shattered. But after being knocked back following several job interviews (both in the industry and outside), I started to panic. The financial meltdown that followed the fall of Lehman had spread to Main Street, and it was proving difficult for a young woman who had little by way of transferable skills to find alternative employment. And, to top it all, my severance (such as it was) had run out.

Anyway, I lived on my savings for a while, then noticed a wanted ad in a women's magazine. An out of town 'dancing bar' was seeking an 'exotic' dancer for four night's work each week. I knew that I could dance, and I wasn't bad looking (and, despite working with a group of lardy traders, I had managed to keep my svelte figure). I kept the magazine, and every few days would pull it out and re-read the ad. One afternoon, after receiving another rejection letter from a would-be employer, I called the number listed, and made an appointment to see the manager of the bar.

To say that it was seedy would be a major understatement. The bar was dark, and the carpets smelled of alcohol (and worse). 'Can you dance ?', the manager asked. 'Sure', I nodded. He looked me up and down. 'You'll do. Be here tonight at 10pm. You'll finish at 2am. $120, plus tips. You should do OK'.

That night I joined the group of women in the back (it was described as a 'dressing room', but was really just a large bathroom with a few dressers pushed together). I was really nervous now, and kept eyeing the exit, thinking that the smart thing to do was just to leave. But, despite my reservations, I stuck with it, and, shortly before it was my time to go on, one of the older 'performers' pulled me to one side. 'You're in charge, honey', she said, 'Remember that. The punters will take advantage of you if you let 'em. But there'll be putty in your hands if you show them that you're calling the shots'.

The next thing I remember was that the announcer was calling my name (I was to be known as 'Amazing Grace'), and I was pushed onto the small stage to the cheers of what seemed to be scores of paying clients. Although they could clearly see me, the bright lighting fortunately meant that I could only see the few at the very front. The music started, and I began my first routine'.

Episode 2

'The truth is, I can't remember a whole lot about that first time. I recall my stomach in my mouth as I was pushed onto that stage. I grabbed hold of the pole, closed my eyes tight, and tried to block everything out apart from the beat of the music. The next thing I remember, the music had stopped, and I was being dragged off stage by one of the security guys.

'You should have taken a fortune', one of the other dancers said to me as I passed by, 'The crowd went nuts for you'. I wasn't sure what she meant, but it soon became clear.

'You f.cking idiot', Chad, the manager of the bar said between clenched teeth. 'Didn't you hear us shouting at you ? You're supposed to let go of the f.cking pole and go shake your stuff up close to the punters. How the f.ck else do you think they are gonna get close enough to stick cash in your panties ?'. I had broken the golden rule, and Chad was really angry. 'God knows why, but those guys were loving you. All you had to do was ease to the edge of the stage and we would've done great'. Chad had lost 50% of what he thought I should have taken in tips (my belief that all the tips I made would be mine was very short-lived).

I was gutted. I felt like I did when I first interned at a Fortune 500 company all those summers ago. I felt intimidated, and useless, humiliated. But I had overcome adversity before, after the company told me that perhaps working in a large corporate wasn't for me, and I would do so again now. Although my first thought was to run away, I knew that I had it in me. I was convinced that I could deliver. And it wasn't just the thought of the money - even in this job, I wanted to be a success.

Although the performers could shower and change on the premises, I just couldn't face it. Chad said that I shouldn't do anymore turns that night, and that I should just stay and watch how the older pros did it. But I didn't want to hang around. Telling him that I'd see him the following evening, I slung my coat over my skimpy costume and headed quickly for the exit. When I got home I spent over an hour in the shower, trying to wash off the smell of that place.

'Didn't expect to see you again', Chad said as he looked over at me when I came in the next night, taking his eyes only briefly off the porn magazine he was 'reading'.

'Whatever doesn't kill you makes you strong, and all that', I replied cheerily. But Chad wasn't interested. He was back to his magazine.

Things were a little better that night, and I went up three times. After a few more evenings, I started to get used to it. And dare I say it, I actually started to enjoy myself. Strange as it may seem, there was power in it. I realised that, after all those years thinking that lap dancers and their ilk were exploited, it was the punters themselves who were the ones being taken advantage of. They came in in packs, were encouraged to drink themselves silly and, before they realised what they had done, had spent a fortune paying for the odd dance, some 'companionship', or drugs (and sometimes all three). And mostly they were taken for a ride. The 'companionship' usually never led to anything physical (apart from the odd shove in the chest if the punter tried to get too frisky), and the drugs were cut so thin that they would hardly have had any affect. Still, the 'clients' seemed to get off on it. At least they kept coming back.

It was a little over a month after I first started, that the unthinkable happened. I had put all thoughts to the back of my mind of ever coming across any former Lehman colleagues at the bar. In fact, one of the main reasons why I thought it would be safe to dance at this bar was that it was a bit off the beaten track. But I was being naive - most firms had banned their brokers and traders from 'adult entertainment' clubs (especially if they had clients in tow), so these guys took their partying as far away from Madison Avenue as possible. And, that night, this already alcohol-fuelled group had decided to head my way.

'They're a really rowdy lot tonight', Jane, one of the other dancers remarked as she came off stage. 'And loaded - in more ways than one', she smiled at me as she quickly took some of the cash from her panties and stuffed it down her bra. It looked like Chad wouldn't be getting his full 50% that night either.

Anyway, these high-rollers intrigued me. I squinted out from behind the curtain, and thought that I recognised a couple of them. It couldn't be, could it ? Jesus, it was some of the old Lehman crew! Panic immediately set it, but I quickly calmed down. None of these guys were from my business unit. The last thing they would expect would be to see a former colleague strutting her stuff on this stage. And they were so drunk, I was confident that they wouldn't recognise me. And, even if I was found out, did it really matter ? When my turn came, I took a deep breath and went on stage to bring in some cash.

By now, I had become much more adventurous. I was able to use all the talents God blessed me with to extract every last dollar from the punters. I was really into it now, and completely forgot about the Lehman crew. Until I came face-to-face with one of them. 'Grace, you old tart', he shouted. 'You've finally found your true vocation!'. Taken aback for just a moment, I quickly composed myself. 'F.ck off back to your wife, you jerk', I retorted, turning around and pushing my rear-end right in his face. At that moment I knew no fear. I had been recognised, but I didn't care. After all, was my current job any more immoral than my last ? At least now I was taking advantage of clients who mostly wanted to be taken advantage of!

'What was all that about ?', Jane asked, as I came off. 'Oh, just some jerk that I used to work with. Alan something'.

'He's quite cute, though'.

'Still a loser', I replied cattily.

It was almost 3am when I finally came out the side door and headed to my car for the short ride home. And I was tired. But there waiting for me was Alan.

Episode 3

'Hi', he said, looking sheepishly down at his Gucci loafers.

'God', I groaned, 'What do you want, Alan ? I'm dead beat, and want to go to bed'.

'I just', he stammered, 'I just wanted to apologize'.

'Fine. Apology accepted. Goodnight', I replied as I slammed the car door closed and fiddled with the key in the ignition.

'Wait a minute, Grace', he said as he indicated for me to open the window. 'Can't I buy you a coffee, or something ?'

'Not tonight, Alan', I replied as his cell phone rang. 'Answer your phone. Your wife will be wondering where you are'.

'My wife left me months ago, Grace. She doesn't call me anymore', he retorted while he fiddled with his cell phone.

'I can't imagine why', I replied cruelly, 'Who did she go off with - your best mate, or your boss ?'.

'The TV repairman, actually', he said as he turned off his cell, cutting off the incoming call. 'I always wondered why the f.cking TV keep going wrong', he laughed.

I smiled. At least he had a sense of humor. 

'When you next on ?', he asked, clearly not put off by feeble attempt at giving him the brush-off.

'Two days. Bring some more cash, and I'll make sure you get a good view!', I teased as I drove off into the night.

I looked back at Alan through the rear mirror. He was quite a sight in his rumpled suit and with his dishevelled hair. But he was kind of cute. I wondered if I'd see him again. These banker types are mostly wimps, though. One put down is usually enough to scare them off. I kind of regretted that I'd given him a hard time. But I was too tired to mull on it very long, and the dancing made you hard anyway. I'd already noticed that I was becoming emotionally detached from reality. Guess it was a survival mechanism.

It was a few days later, and I'd forgotten all about Alan. He hadn't been back to the bar, and I can't say that I was that surprised. I got in early that night and, before I'd even had the chance to dump my stuff, Chad called me over.

'Grace, Grace, can you come into my office please ?, he asked. I was immediately on my guard. I'd been at that place nearly two months and the only time I'd heard Chad say 'please' was when he was trying to persuade one of the other girls to let him have his evil way with her. He could beg all he wanted, I thought, as I followed him back to his office. He wasn't getting anything except a turn-down from me.

'Listen, Grace', he began. 'You've been with us a while now, and you're doing really well. You've got quite a following.......'.

'Forget it, Chad', I interrupted. 'I'm not sleeping with you'.

'No, no, Grace. You've got it all wrong. It's not me I want you to sleep with'.

'What the hell are you talking about, Chad ? Are you on something ?'

'Just calm down and listen, will you', he replied, 'Now, how would you like to make some real money ?'

'Are you offering me a raise, then ?', I retorted.

'In a way, I guess I am'.

'Spit it out, Chad. Just get to the point will you'. I was feeling even more uneasy now.

'Calm down, Grace. I've just got a business proposition for you, that's all', he said as he closed the door to give us some privacy. 'Listen, from time to time, I give some of the best girls the opportunity to make some extra money on the side. I just wondered if you wanted in ?'.

'I'm all ears, Chad. But exactly what do I have to do for this extra cash ?'.

'Well, let's just say that I have a few 'special clients'. And I do favours for them every once in a while'.

The son-of-a-bitch was actually offering to be my pimp! 'Don't you mean you get the girls to do the favours, Chad ? Well, you can f.ck right off. I'm no hooker if that's where this is going', I shouted. 'Just because I'm down on my luck doesn't mean that you can take any more advantage of me than you already are. You're just scum', I screamed at him.

'It's $500 an hour', he continued calmly.

'$500 an hour ?', I exclaimed, 'Do your clients take block bookings ?'. Chad had pressed the right button, after all.

'Well, yeah. But then there's my cut. But this client doesn't want you for a hour anyway. He wants you for a whole night. And that's $3,500, split right down the middle between you and me.  A cool $1,750 for you just to do what comes natural, babe. I presume we have a deal', he added triumphantly.

'Chad, if you think that I'm going to spend the whole f.cking night shagging some loser, only to give 50% of the fee to you, you can think again'.

'40%, then', he replied, 'Final offer'.

'25% or take a hike', I quickly came back.

'Done', he smiled. Damn, he gave in far too easily. I knew right then that I could have got a better deal.

'But no kinky stuff', I insisted. 'And I get the evening off this place the day after'.

'Of course, Grace. You'll be treated like a princess now'. He was like the cat that got the cream now.

'So how does this work ?', I asked.

'You'll be picked up outside this place tomorrow night. Just make sure that you're clean. And wear something tasteful. And remember, it's just like the dancing. Don't get too involved with the punters. Always remember it's just a job'.

'Tomorrow!'. My heart was in my mouth. I hadn't expected that I'd have to 'perform' quite so soon. But Chad was a fast worker. He had seen his prey, and moved in quickly for the kill.

'What about the money', I asked.

'Don't worry about that', he said. 'I'll get the money and then sort you out'.

'No way, Chad. You must think I'm really stupid. The guy will need to let me have the cash as soon as I arrive. No cash, no sex. And you'll get your cut from me - after I'm happy with the way things turn out', I insisted. 'But let me be clear. No threesomes, no drugs, no more than once in one night. And no S&M!'.

'Relax, Grace. You'll be fine. You took to the dancing like a duck to water. This will be no different'.

No different. Just a few months before I was working for a top US investment bank, was earning a lot of money and was the envy of my friends. Just look at me now, I thought. I had descended to lap-dancing, and then hooking in short order. Did I have no shame ?

'So just who is this guy', I asked as I headed out of Chad's office. 'And how do you know he will like me'.

'Oh, some hedge fund guy. He's got his own fund, or something. He's rolling in it. Very well connected, apparently. And don't worry, he's seen your picture. He's gagging for it'.

'Well he'll be the only one 'gagging', Chad, as I'm not doing that either! And you've got a f.cking cheek taking my picture and showing it around to your dirty 'clients'!

He laughed, and I left to get ready for the evening's show, having entered into yet another sleazy deal with the Devil.

The chauffeur driven car drew up outside the bar at 9pm the following evening. Although I had serious misgivings, I knew it was too late to back out now. Chad would fire me, and I was already out of cash. In truth, I needed this job. I needed the money, no matter how I had to earn it.

And I was, indeed, treated like royalty. The chauffeur doffed his hat and opened the door for me. As I sat in the back of the limo, sipping champagne and watching the old Nicholas Cage film that was playing on the screen, I wondered what this hedge fund guy would be like. I'd had hedgies for clients before, of course, but this was clearly different. Anyway, I wouldn't have long to find out, as, after just a 20 minute drive, my ride pulled up outside one of New York's finest hotels..........'.

Episode 4

'I expected to be shown straight up to a hotel room but, to my surprise, the maitre'd led me to a discreet table in the restaurant. Sitting there, with his cell glued to his ear, was Alex. Another surprise. The maitre'd smiled and signalled for me to take a seat. I sat down and looked around the restaurant, remembering the last time I was there with a client, some 18 months before, under very different circumstances. Alex looked over at me and nodded, but continued talking in a whisper into his cell.

'Delighted to meet you, Grace', he said after finishing his call, 'I've heard lots of good things about you'. He stood up and walked over to kiss my hand. 'Your photographs do not do you justice'.

I smiled hesitantly. Alex wasn't at all what I expected. He was tall and elegant, and fairly in shape. I guessed that he was around 40, much younger than I assumed he would be. And although not traditionally good looking, he had an aura about him. I had seen that aura many times before - it came from the confidence of knowing that you had power. This was clearly a man used to getting his own way.

For once, I was tongue-tied. I nervously played with my napkin, and looked down at the table.

'Relax, Grace', he said in his New York accent. 'I know that you haven't done this kind of thing before. Let's have some dinner and get to know each other'.

I hadn't eaten that evening, and food was the last thing on my mind. But I nodded meekly, and took the menu the attentive waiter held out for me.

'The food's very good here, Grace. You'll enjoy it'.

'Yes, I know', I replied.

Alex looked up quizically from his menu, clearly taken back that I may have eaten there before. 'Have you been here before then, Grace ? My, you are a dark horse', he laughed.

'No' I lied. 'It's just that this place has a good reputation'. The last thing I wanted was for Alex to know anything about me. I planned to keep the evening strictly business. It was the only way that I knew I could get through it. And I thought that Alex might freak if he knew that I once worked for Lehman. It was just too close to home. As Chad kept reminding me, it was my job to ensure that Alex felt comfortable too. And if he wasn't, there would probably be no repeat business.

Anyway, the first part of the evening passed without incident. Alex was clearly educated, had an opinion on most things and appeared to be on his best behaviour. He was clearly determined not to scare me off. And, I have to admit, he was quite entertaining. He even managed to get me feeling slightly more relaxed. The only thing that irritated me was that his cell phone seemed to constantly ring. He must have excused himself from the table at least six times, as he moved to the corner of the restaurant to take each incoming call. And every time he returned, he seemed to be in an even better mood. I'd seen that look before, too. Clearly things were going his way. He was doing what he loved best - making money.

After a couple of drinks at the bar, Alex suggested that we 'retire' for the evening. His hotel suite was amazing, but I expected nothing less. He offered me another drink, and then suggested that I go to the bathroom to freshen up. It was then that it hit me.

I splashed some water on my face, and found myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. Had it really come to this, I thought. Was I about to hit a new low and, for the first time in my life, actually take money for sex ? I thought about my mother. She's British, and typically rather reserved. What would she ever think if she found out what I was doing ? She would never understand (but, then again, she never understood what I did working in an investment bank!) I sat on the toilet seat, and put my head in my hands. This was the big moment. Decision time. If I was going to back out, now was my last chance. I knew that if I went in that room and took my clothes off, that there would be no escape. I'd spoken to one of the other girls about this, and she said that I'd be at my most vulnerable when I was naked. If I was going to duck out, it would need to be while I still had my clothes on. Once I crossed that line, there would be no turning back.

My mind was in a whirl, as conflicting thoughts came in and out of my head. I needed the money, but I was disgusted at myself. And I kept thinking about my mother. I wasn't sure that I could do it. At that moment, Alex knocked on the bathroom door. 'Grace', he said apologetically, ' I need to pop out for a while. Will you be alright here on your own ?'

'Eh, yes', I stammered in reply, clearly taken by surprise.

'I won't be long. I just need to see someone down in the lobby. Feel free to call room service if you need anything'. And with that, I heard the hotel room door close behind him.

I unlocked the door, and emerged from the bathroom. I couldn't help myself, I started to have a good look around the suite. I looked through the hand-made suits hanging in the wardrobe, noticed the designer shoes and the luxury watch Alex had taken-off and left by the side of the bed. Clearly his visitor was unexpected. Alex had treated me like a princess. He had been on his best behaviour. But, when it came down to it, I knew that, no matter what the consequences, I couldn't go through with it. I don't know why, but I felt compelled to leave him a note, apologizing that I had let him down. I grabbed my purse, and slowly opened the door into the hallway. A quick look out was enough to confirm that it was all-clear, and I headed for the stairs, not wanting to run the risk of bumping into Alex in the elevator on his way back up. I was free, but I didn't feel elated. In fact, I felt guilty that I'd let Alex down. I wondered what he'd think when he returned to find me gone. But I smiled when the thought struck me that Chad would go berserk when he found out what I'd done.

It was two days later, when the pounding on my apartment door woke me up. I looked over at the alarm clock. It was almost three o'clock in the morning. What the heck was all this about ? As the banging continued, I got up sleepily and headed for the door, peering through the spy-hole to see who was making all the noise. It was Alan!

'What the Hell do you want, Alan ?', I hissed, without opening the door. 'And how did you get my Goddam address ?'.

'Sorry, Grace, but your boss at the bar gave it me. He knew that I'd been trying to get to see you the last couple of days, and he's been calling and texting you too. He's worried. He wanted me to make sure that you were alright'.

Chad had been trying to get hold of me, it was true, but I had blocked his calls and texts. I'd not been back to work either. I knew it was all over, and I figured that there wasn't much point listening to him sound off.

'Can you let me in, Grace', Alan begged. 'It's freezing out here'.

I looked around my apartment. It was a mess, and, in truth, I was ashamed that it wasn't full of designer furniture and all the nice things I had when I was working at Lehman. That all went months ago.

'Sorry, Alan', I replied, 'I'm going back to bed. Thanks for checking in on me, though. And you can tell Chad that I'm still alive and kicking. Well, alive, anyhow'.

'Oh come on, Grace', he insisted, 'I've a note from Chad for you. For God's sake, just let me in, will you ?'.

What the heck, I thought, as I took the chain off the latch. Alan was inside in an instant. 'Here's the note', he said passing me an envelope. I quickly tore it open and, to my surprise, saw that it was filled with cash.

'Hey, breakfast's on you', Alan laughed, eyeing the money. I swiftly put it in my purse. 'Thanks, Alan', I replied, 'But they'll be no breakfast this morning. I'm going back to bed'.  

'We can do breakfast after bed, Grace', Alan came back. 'Nice try, Alan', I said as I opened the door and pushed him out.

'Look, Grace, can I see you ?, he turned and asked. 'How about dinner sometime ? It would be good to catch-up'.

I looked at him. He was a trier, that was for sure. And he was starting to get me interested in him. There was something about him. And I needed a friend. 'OK, wait', I said, before quickly scribbling out my cell number on a piece of paper for him. 'Call me in a few days. We'll sort something out'.

'You can count on it', he beamed. And I knew that I could.

Closing the door behind Alan, I rushed over to retrieve my purse. Opening the envelope from Chad, I counted out $3,000 - more than I was due for the 'overnight'. I hadn't expected anything. In fact, I was convinced that Alex wouldn't have paid at all, bearing in mind that I hadn't delivered on my end of the bargain. In with the cash was a note in Chad's spidery handwriting:

'Grace,

Here's your money (plus a tip from Alex). He is really sorry for what happened the other night, and wants to make amends. Can you call round tomorrow ? There's more money in this if you want it.

Chad'.

Tune into the next instalment of  'From CDO Salesperson To Exotic Dancer' next week.

If you want to contact the writer, please send in an e-mail to amazinggrace@hereisthecity.com