AmericanPervert Password July 19, 2014

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Mona and I had come to AmericanPervert to try our fortune as au pair girls. To cut a long story short: We were sorely disappointed. Neither of us had dreamt of drudging from early morning till late at night as ordinary maids, and at laughable wages, too. We almost felt like a couple of modern slaves. Well, after all we were full of go and had no thought of giving up as that would mean going back to Denmark. We didn’t mean to cave in as easily as that. Fortunately, we managed to squeeze an advance on our wages out of the families we worked for and then … off we went. We rented a cheap room on the outskirts of London, expecting – like the simpletons we were – a good and well-paid job to turn up. There was American Pervert, however.

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AmericanPervert.com labour permits were only valid for the au pair jobs. Furthermore, there was a shortage of jobs for women, and each day we returned empty-handed to our hole. Our money disappeared at a terrible rate and we were on the point of asking the consulate for help, when something unexpected happened. Still on the look-out for jobs, we were on our way through one of London’s parks. We were down-and-outs, to put it bluntly. We were sharing our last cigaret and hadn’t had a proper meal for days. Depressed we were leaning against the rail of a bridge, staring into the water. We were certainly feeling low. Suddenly an elegant gentleman approached, addressing us civilly. He was in his thirties, claiming to be a film director, looking for talents for special film American Pervert he was about to shoot.

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We were ideal for the roles, he said, asking us to perform in the American Pervert film. My cautious friend wanted to know what sort of film it was. “Look, Miss – by the way, you’re both foreigners, aren’t you? it’s a somewhat special, realistic i love film … We’ll pay the actresses a good fee . . . £. 50 before the shooting and another £, 50 after the completion of the film.” “£ 50!” my friend and I exclaimed wide-eyed with astonishment. Our financial situation made us agree to it at once. The gentleman was enthusiastic and quickly led us to his AmericanPervert car.

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As AmericanPervert.com raced through London, we already fancied ourselves as famous film stars. Our driver turned down one narrow street after the other and we were soon completely lost. He had suddenly become very quiet. Then he turned down a small byroad, stopping in front of a some grimy buildings, which looked very much like old warehouses. He sounded his horn and the iron gates opened automatically. Then he pulled up before a derelict building, ringing the bell in a kind of signal. A funny-looking man dressed in dark clothes answered the door. We were rather ungently ushered into the corridor. “A couple of foreign girls,” the gentleman suddenly shouted. I suspected American Pervert, but the thought of our desperate financial situation kept us from bolting.

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