Hello, Lovlies! I have missed you all terribly.

I'm thinking about writing another story. I've had two or three plot bunnies flying around my head but this just sort of wouldn't leave me alone. I think we could have a lot of fun with it. Let me know what you think.

If you don't already, please follow me on Twitter for updates and fun chats: lailabentz

As usual, I do not own anything.

~Bella~

I take one final look at myself in the gilded mirror above the sink in the lavish bathroom on the seventh floor. Playboy headquarters is nothing and everything that I thought it would be, from the sleek leather seating in the waiting area to the gussied up administrative assistant manning the reception desk. I make a mental note to thank Angela for talking me out of the simple black pantsuit I had planned to wear, and into her fitted black pencil skirt and silk wrap top. While I don't have Angela's height, I do have natural curves that are nicely accentuated by the outfit. Paired with my favorite black heels and a touch more makeup than I usually wear, I almost look like I could belong here.

Almost.

I take a deep breath and muster up all the courage I can manage and make my way over to the receptionist.

"Hello, I'm Isabella Swan. I have an appointment with Susan Andezola at eleven?"

"Isabella, please have a seat. Ms. Andezola will be with you in a moment. Would you like a bottled water while you wait?" The receptionist is welcoming and kind, immediately putting my frazzled nerves at ease.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." I smile in thanks and then make my way over to the black leather chairs in the seating area. I manage to play a round of scrabble on my phone by the time Ms. Andezola's door opens and I'm momentarily distracted by the beautiful, statuesque blonde that leaves her office. Unfortunately, my confidence goes from minimal to nonexistent by the time she calls me into her office.

Ms. Andezola's office isn't large, but it's tastefully decorated in warm neutral colors. She's direct but easygoing and before I know it forty-five minutes have passed. By the end of the interview not only do I want the job, but I also find that I think I might actually enjoy it.

Needless to say, I'm ecstatic when three days later I receive a phone call and a job offer as a "Bunny" at the very exclusive and very secretive Playboy Club here in Chicago. I'll be working Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights along with two rotating Sundays per month in the attached Playboy Sports Bar. That is, of course, if I can make it through "Bunny Boot Camp" which is an intense eight week training program that ranges from physical fitness training, nutrition and lessons in style and makeup to etiquette training, conversational skills and general knowledge of current events. This, however, is all secondary to the daily courses of how to wait tables "The Bunny Way", which includes how to lean over to set drinks down, how exactly to stand when taking an order and memorization of the script, because God forbid we simply ask what one would like to drink. As ridiculous and demeaning as this whole situation seems, I simply cannot pass up the opportunity to earn four thousand dollars per month, not including tips, which is where the real money lies. God bless my parent's souls and may they forever rest in peace, but curse the bad investments and overwhelming debt they left behind. If I can just make it through camp, I figure I can get these debt collectors off my back, permanently, within the next few years. Who knows, I might even have a little fun.

My father, Charles, was a corporate lawyer and my mother, Renee, was a socialite. I had a pretty good relationship with them and I can't complain one bit about my childhood but I would honestly give every pony and princess party back if I could exchange it for all of this debt. It's just too much pressure for a twenty-one year old. I can barely keep myself fed between all of the payment arrangements I have. But this is my life now and I have no choice but to accept it. Long gone is the fully staffed mansion and luxury cars and designer labels. I'm lucky to be able to afford my monthly bus pass these days.

Thankfully, car service is one of the perks of working in the Playboy Club, and I stare completely in awe at the grandeur of the sprawling three-story red brick building, known as The Bunny Ranch, as the driver pulls past the wrought iron gate, down the long, tree-lined driveway and around the circular carport to let me off at the front entrance.

Grabbing my old gym bag and coat, I make my way inside praying that the yoga pants and fitted hoodie I'm wearing today are acceptable. I was told to wear comfortable athletic wear since we will be spending most of the morning being measured for our Bunny wardrobe and then we will be moving on to the required paperwork before finally finishing out the say with baseline fitness tests in order to put together an individualized fitness programs for each of us new girls.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I get inside the lobby and notice that the other girls are dressed similar to me and am put even more at ease when we meet Irina, our Bunny Mistress. She will guide us through our training and virtually be with us every step of the way throughout our careers as Bunnies. Irina is an older woman with a severe platinum blond bob, ice blue eyes and a wicked sense of humor. Her beautifully tailored black suit and pearls reek of class. Of course, I'd expect nothing less.

"Enjoy your last day of looking homeless, ladies, because from here on out, you belong to Playboy. You will sleep, eat and breathe Playboy. You will represent Playboy in every thought and every action. It's rigid and it's hard, but it's worth it. You are the lucky few. You are the chosen. You are the Bunnies! Everyone thinks the rich powerful men who patronize our club are the ones who hold all the power. Well, they're wrong. It's us. It's you. Now grab your things and let's get acquainted with your new surroundings, shall we? " I can't help but get excited at the gleam in her eye, and hurry to catch up with the rest of the girls.

After check-in, where we receive a name tag (to be worn at all times) and our Bunny Bible, the first stop of the morning is the Bunny Beauty Room.

We are led down a long corridor with double doors at the end. Irina enters a code before pushing through the double doors and we are led into a small open lobby area that has a stairwell, a glass door with a keypad that leads to another set of heavy wooden doors that appear to lead outside and on the opposite wall, a beautiful, intricately carved wooden door with a complicated keypad and a gold knob. I notice that Irina not only uses a fingerprint, but also a code to gain entrance.

She points toward the doors that I assume lead outside, "That is the Bunny entrance. Dimitri is stationed there Thursday through Saturday from two o'clock in the afternoon until the last Bunny leaves at night and on Sundays from eight in the morning, again until the last Bunny leaves. Alec covers Monday through Wednesday. We take the safety and well-being of our Bunnies very seriously here at The Bunny Ranch."

She steps into the room with her back against the door and with a bright knowing smile, she fans her arm out with a flourish, "Welcome, to The Bunny Beauty Room, ladies, your own personal heaven."

Tentatively, we all file through the door and try to, but fail miserably, to hold in the gasps of excitement at the splendor in front of us.

The Beauty Room is separated into four areas: The bathroom/shower area, the vanity area, the spa and the lounge.

"This is the lounge area and the attached kitchenette", she says as she leads us through a gorgeous sitting room. There is plush cream carpet with beautiful white and cream damask wallpaper, gold and white couches and chairs artfully arranged throughout the space. There's a breathtaking crystal chandelier hanging over the main seating area and lamps strategically placed throughout the space give it a soft, beautiful glow. On the walls, encased in ornate golden frames are black and white photographs of past and present centerfolds along with crystal vases filled with white roses. It's simply breathtaking.

Next she leads us through a white paneled door into the bathroom area. It has ten separate shower stalls with glass doors, ten separate, completely closed off toilet rooms and a row of twelve sinks with beautiful gold framed mirrors hanging above each one and crystal sconces hanging between. The bathroom is primarily soft creams and whites with heated marble floors and gold accents. There's crystal vases with bright pink flowers scattered throughout the room and soft music playing through the overhead speakers.

From the bathroom, you can either head left into the vanity room or right into the small spa area. Irina takes us quickly through the spa area which is decorated exactly like the bathroom pointing out the three salon chairs, the small waxing room and a manicure/pedicure station. She mentions that all appointments are made through her and then whisks us off through a marble archway into the vanity area.

If I thought the lounge area was gorgeous, it has nothing on the vanity area. Old Hollywood glamour is all that comes to mind as I take in the largest of the rooms. The same plush cream carpet, wallpaper and beautiful black and white centerfold pictures from the lounge are mimicked in this room. Just like in the lounge there is a huge crystal chandelier with two long white tufted leather benches running through the center of the room.

The overwhelming part, however, is the thirty separate dressing areas lining the four walls with a full length gold framed mirror in between each set of five dressing areas, complete with antique gold vanities with lighted mirrors and armoires. What brings tears to my eyes are the crystal vases filled with deep red roses along with beautiful gold and rhinestone name plates above each of the twelve empty stations.

Bunny Isabella.

I find my dressing area quickly and sit down in the plush, tufted, white leather chair, when Irina directs us to get acquainted with our area.

"Mistress Irina, were we supposed to bring makeup? It wasn't on my list…" The beautiful redhead called Maggie asks as she looks around her station worriedly.

"Of course not, Maggie. Everything you'll use, from shampoo to perfume, will be provided. Monsieur Jacob and his very capable team of stylists will meet up with us shortly, but first, we need to have each of you set your lock codes. We'll start with your vanity areas and then move to the access and entry doors. From there, we will head up to the seamstress and supply room. How does that sound?"

The next hour is spent programming codes and fingerprints into every point of access that we have clearance for and then we head up to the third floor for wardrobe and supplies. If I thought that the Beauty Room tour was overwhelming, it has nothing on the third floor.

The third floor is a large open space that has three temporary stations set up. There's an area with three chairs set up for what looks like hair styling, an area with three chairs for makeup consultations, an area with several racks of clothes for wardrobe fittings and then an area separated by a curtain for our costume fitting.

"Isabella, Maggie, Alice; you'll start at hair. Rosalie, Tanya, Jessica; you'll start at makeup. Lauren, Charlotte, Maria; you'll start in wardrobe. Leah and Emily; you'll head right through that door for waxing. And Claire, you'll come with me to see our seamstress, Mrs. Cope."

There's a moment where we all scramble to find our groups before we happily head off to our assigned stations. I'm pleasantly surprised by how sweet all of the girls are. I was expecting some cattiness but haven't seen anything of the sort thus far.

I'm paired with Enrique for my hair overhaul, which turns out to not be much of an overhaul at all. He's convinced that my waist length hair is extensions and then gives a dramatic "Girl, you have a stylist's wet dream on your head, honey." when he realizes that my hair is real. He doesn't change much, just trims the ends, adds some long layers and adds some deep, dark lowlights to my chocolate brown hair which adds some much needed depth and richness. He then gives me a blowout, resulting in some nice loose, glossy curls. He notes all of the products he uses on both my chart and in his book, making sure I know how to use all of the products to achieve the same look on my own and then sends me on my way with a high five and a shimmy. I feel much more confident when he lets me know that he is now my assigned hairstylist and that he will be down in the Bunny Room for the next eight weeks helping us where we need it until we get the hang of recreating our looks.

My next stop is makeup and here I'm paired with Diane. She's probably in her late thirties and has a casual easy demeanor.

"Isabella, your eyes are to die for. Very Mila Kunis, only much darker. Sexy. Exotic. Let's work with that shall we?" I can only nod at the compliment. I mean, I know I'm no hag, but to be called sexy and exotic by one of Playboy's very own makeup artists?

Wow.

"Sure. Whatever you think. I trust you." With a wink she goes into business mode asking me about my skin type and skin care routine any problems I have and what kind of makeup I'm currently using.

"You're killing me Isabella." Is all she says when I tell her that my current skincare routine consists of Dove soap and whatever lotion is on sale. I blush hotly at her comment and her eyes soften when she adds with a wink, "We'll get you taken care of, sweetie. You'll get two sets of everything. One for home and one for here. We've gotta keep that skin and hair in tip top shape, you know."

I give my full attention as she goes over a daytime and nighttime skin care regimen as well as a once a week exfoliation and mask. I never knew that one person could put so many things on their face and then I'm reminded of how many jars used to sit on the counter in my mother's bathroom. To keep me young and beautiful she'd said when I'd asked her what they were for as a child. She'd merely laughed when I asked when I would get my own magic beauty jars. Well, now I have my very own set and I find it oddly satisfying. Next we go through foundation matching. Diane chooses Diorskin Airflash because she says that I don't need much coverage, just a little evening out. I'm not entirely convinced considering that it comes in a spray can but she shows me how to spray it onto a brush and I have to admit that the result is soft and natural.

I furiously take notes in my Bunny Bible as she goes through the whole makeup ordeal; Contour, blush, concealer, highlight, eyeshadows, eyebrows, mascara and falsies, lipsticks, lipgloss and last but not least setting spray. There are so many brushes and products that I start to panic. "Hush little one. There are diagrams in your book and I'll be there everyday until you're comfortable. You did a fantastic job today. Remember, when in doubt," I chime in with a smile, "Blend it out!"

"Yes! My sweet Isabella is a genius." We both laugh and I have to admit that the girl looking back at me in the mirror is stunning. Maybe even sexy and exotic. With a knowing smile she shoos me off to wardrobe.

My spirits are lifted even higher when I receive compliments on my hair and makeup from several of the other girls.

"I'll never understand how they can make this much makeup look natural", Jessica says while examining her makeup in the mirror. "I only hope I can eventually come close to replicating it."

"You and me both, Jessica. " My reply is meant to encourage but it's intention is lost completely when we both fall into a fit of giggles.

Wardrobe with Jacob is entertaining to say the least. I honestly don't think that I've ever met a more flamboyantly gay man in my entire life. We chat about life and love or our lack thereof while he sizes me for five sets of logo activewear (Jacket, legging, shorts, sports bra) since we are required by our contract to workout in the facility provided on the second floor five days a week, a bikini, three dresses in three different styles, a coat, a pair of Nike trainers for workouts, a pair of black and a pair of nude designer heels, My Sunday uniform which consists of a pair of white Nike trainers, the smallest pair of white cheeky shorts I've ever seen, a cropped jersey and knee high socks, and my essentials which consist of ten seamless nude thong style panties and three extreme push up bras and twenty pair of sheer, black silk pantyhose. It's kind of weird trying on sample sizes of everything but Jacob assures me that everything is custom made and our activewear and bikinis would be made in our Bunny color, which, of course, we won't know until Mrs. Cope and Irina decide.

Once I'm finished in wardrobe I take a seat in one of the many chairs that are strewn about the large room and wait until it's my turn in costume fittings. I get the opportunity to get to know some of the other girls and find that I have a particularly strong connection with Alice, a sweet southern girl from Mississippi and Rosalie a blond bombshell from Rochester, New York.

"Isabella, we're ready for you." Irina pokes her head out from behind the curtain and butterflies seem to take flight in my stomach as I make my way over to the curtained off area.

"Okay, honey, strip." I'm taken aback by Mrs. Cope's direct demeanor at first but looking down into her warm brown eyes I'm immediately put back at ease. I quickly disrobe leaving myself just in the seamless thong and strapless push up bra that was requested. Mrs. Cope lets out a long whistle, "Well look at the figure on you!" Her comment causes me to blush furiously and Mistress Irina to chuckle before gently admonishing her, "Don't embarrass the girl, Shelly." Mrs. Cope merely rolls her eyes and replies, "She's got tits, ass and possibly the tiniest waist we've ever seen come through here. Not to mention she's got legs and a beautiful face to go along with it. What on earth would she have to be embarrassed about?"

Irina just winks at me before focusing on the three shades of blue satin that Mrs. Cope has pulled off the garment rack and placed up against my face. She quickly discards the lightest one with a sour face, then drapes the other two across each shoulder and turning me to face the full length mirror while both women step behind me.

"That is too close to Annabell's color", Irina says discarding the royal blue color, "But this one, wow, this is stunning against her peaches and cream complexion."

"Oh, yes. This is the one." Mrs. Cope agrees with a wide smile and a knowing look in the mirror to Irina. I have to admit that the color is gorgeous. It's deep and rich. A true midnight blue. It's perfect.

A breathless "Wow." is really all I can manage.

"Wow, indeed", Mrs. Cope agrees.

For the next half hour I'm tucked and pinned into a sample working pattern made of white stretch satin. The bust line is discussed and adjusted and the height of the leg openings are adjusted as well. I'm thankful to have long limbs despite my short stature, so the front of the classic bunny costume looks amazing, but when we get to the back of the costume, it turns into a debate about how much cheek they should attempt to cover. In the end they decide to expand the butt by a quarter inch on each side giving me an extra half inch of coverage to accommodate my much larger than average derriere. It doesn't seem like nearly enough coverage but I don't complain because I'll take what I can get. A half inch is better than nothing. A set of white satin bunny ears, the standard rosette name tag pinned to my right hip and a pair of white satin classic Christian Louboutin heels complete the costume. I'm assured that the ears, name tag and shoes will be dyed to match my costume when I look at the white shoes with disdain and I immediately feel bad. Irina is quick to assure me that all the girls have the same reaction then she asks how I feel in the bodice.

"I can't breathe."

"Oh don't be a baby", Mrs. Cope chides with a chuckle and a dismissive wave of her hand, "We didn't have stretch in our satin back in my day. You girls have it easy! Now turn around."

"What I wouldn't give to have your body. Damn, not a lick of cellulite on that booty." The old lady gives my butt a healthy smack then orders me to get dressed and head to waxing.

By the end of the first day I'm so overwhelmed in the best possible way that I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

For a job that I was so reluctant to take, I can't wait to be back tomorrow. Maybe this is exactly the fresh start that I deserve.

What do y'all think? Should I keep going? Should I post pics and visuals? Let me know. I value your thoughts.

Smooches, Laila