The Sign-Up Her hands dwindled against the door handle. Shaking her hair further down her back, and adjusting the lace trim on her dress, she walked through the door. On the bed, surrounded by her female accompaniment was Mr. Laundel. A well known man of London, with a heavy pocket too. She took her voluptuous hips across to him and lead her finger to his lips with a soft smile. He was hers in moments. Work wasn't a struggle for her, nor did she dislike it. However, she wouldn't pass up the opportunity if it came to get out of here. Tatiana didn't want to always work in the night-house. It wasn't exactly her chosen destiny, but it couldn't be helped. She was thrown in here at the age of 8, not for sexual purposes. Just scrubbing floors and other meaningless tasks that a child awaiting fourteen could do. Nevertheless, when she reached fourteen, there was no hesitation throwing her in the deep end. It was sickening what men wanted to do, and would do to her. They were disgusting beings. Her mother and father passed her up for a pretty shilling when she was just a newborn. She was sold to a miller, who raised her with a heavy hand and crop. From the age of three she was helping around the house. Until he realised a toddler would not suffice in what he required. Thus she was passed onto the orphanage, more than likely recieving another penny under the table for giving up such a pretty child. More harsh events occured here, until she began her work at the night-house. "Mr. Laundel... It's a pleasure to see you again."