I work in accounting for a large national company. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I sit in a long row of cubicles, pecking away all day at my computer keyboard. My boss has a glassed-in office in the corner. She’s very prim and proper, always wearing dark-blue and black business suits, with her short hair expensively and tastefully styled. She’s always rushing off at 5:00. I figured she was probably moonlighting. Many of us need a second job in this economy. I didn’t know what she did, though. You can imagine how shocked I was when I went into her office one day to drop off my latest calculations, and I noticed a bright pink business card on the floor, which must have accidentally fallen out of her purse. I squinted and could make out the words “Glasgow escorts.” My boss was an escort! My face turned bright red.