Now he was recruiting again. That was great because he went first class all the way. He had a company car, a convertible Porsche Boxter, bright red, of course. The hotel rooms were four-star and, of course, meals at the best restaurants. He had taken his prospects to major sporting events, hot vacation spots, wherever he could achieve the desired results by dazzling them. And many, if not most, he dazzled right into bed. And some, of course, he had to sleep with whether he particularly wanted to or not, but, he figured, you get used to it. Yes, the job was great. His results were outstanding, too. He had risen rapidly and his success rate was the best.

When he was home, it wasn't so bad, and, thanks to his rising status, it was getting better. His quarters were among the best available. The temperature didn't bother him at all; he had hated cold weather ever since he was a boy, freezing in the shacks they called home. He basked in the heat.

And, of course, there were multitudes of the famous and beautiful people there. It was even better than Los Angeles. Every day he'd see someone knew whom he had only read about. And they looked up to him! Amazing.

There was just one little thing, one pain in the butt so to speak. It wasn't the horns; he had quickly learned how to style his hair around them. In fact, they even added to his rakish attractiveness.

No, it was that pesky tail. If he tucked it in, it ruined the line of his pants. He still couldn't control it completely. And, of course, it was impossible to sit comfortably with it. Well, if there weren't a little suffering, it wouldn't be Hell, now, would it?