Pandora's Box

by Allison Hobbs

  “How can I give out your cards when I don’t even have much contact with the customers? And you know Gabrielle is bound to find out.”

  “That’s your problem, so stop sniveling. Pandora’s Box makes tons of money and you’re going to have to figure out how to direct some of it my way.”

  Rover nodded grimly.

  “Do you want to know what Gabrielle will find out if I don’t start getting my share of her clientele?”

  Listening in rapt attention, Rover sat up straight. He looked into eyes that were dark and unblinking and waited for the next horror to unfold.

  “Lauren’s going to be pretty damn upset when I tell her that I witnessed her getting skewered on tape. She’s going to run screaming to Gabrielle.”

  “But I didn’t…”

  “Shut up, Rover!” Arianna snapped. Resting the heavy satchel atop the desk, she leaned in close. “I overheard that poor fool bragging to Pleasure. The girl would not shut up about the fantastic time she had hobnobbing with Gabrielle’s rich friends.” Arianna paused. “Curiously, she made no mention of her film debut. I wonder why?”

  Her voice was thick with sarcasm. “Could it be that she allowed herself to be taped because she thought the video was a naughty little secret between her and her so-called friend, Gabrielle? How do you think Lauren will feel when she finds out that Gabrielle passed the tape on to you—for your freakish pleasures? To keep you occupied during your long, boring day.”

  Rover flinched. Arianna picked up her business cards and began straightening them into an orderly pile.

  “I bet there’s even more to the story,” she continued, wearing a satisfied smile.

  She paused again, eyes gleaming as if she were savoring every torturous moment. Rover could hear his heart pounding and found the sound of it most unsettling. He never went around looking for trouble. That wasn’t his make-up. He hadn’t bothered a soul, so why oh why, he wondered, was this evil bitch trying to ruin his life?

  “I think…” Arianna whispered slyly, “that Gabrielle used Lauren to make a dirty movie for her Mafia boyfriend. I bet that tape’s been copied and distributed all over the East Coast.”

  Rover felt his face flush; he dropped his head in defeat.

  “I hate to disappoint you. I know you assumed that Gabrielle made the tape just for you… A gift! A little something to jerk off to.” Arianna shook her head in mock sympathy. “You really are a pathetic man.” Arianna hurled the words like rocks. “You’re not even a suitable slave because your mistress Gabrielle won’t even take the time to properly train you. What does she do? Instruct you via videotape?” She threw her head back and laughed cruelly.

  It was sadly true. Rover could have easily cried. Gabrielle’s mistreatment of him was shameful. He worked ridiculously long hours for so little pay. He did whatever she asked him to and more, anticipating her every need. But she was never satisfied. He was chastised daily over the phone. There was no appreciation. And worst of all, Rover hardly ever saw her. Using the back entrance, Gabrielle popped in once or twice during the week to collect money, always irritable, always in a rush. When she did stay to go over the books, Rover was banished to the basement or sent out to run an errand. But she had arrived earlier that day, wearing a smile and patted Rover on the head. “I have something for you, sweetie,” she said and handed him the tape. “Be very, very discreet. Don’t let any of the girls see this.” Rover had considered the gesture to be a turning point. No longer would they be merely employer and employee. They’d become fast friends again. He’d be her confidante—and over time she’d come to realize that love as loyal and as deep as his was more valuable than anything money could buy.

  Arianna, hateful bitch that she was, threatened to permanently damage his relationship with Gabrielle. Well, he wouldn’t let her. He’d have to come up with a plan, a way to keep Arianna quiet.

  CHAPTER 21

  Heads turned as Arianna rushed past the lounge. Victoria, still seething, didn’t give her a glance.

  With a self-important air, Arianna punched numbers on her cell phone as she headed toward the heavy glass door that opened into the lobby. Before opening the door, she paused, pulled an earring from her left lobe and covered it with the phone. “Bethany, it’s me,” she whispered into the phone. “I think I may have some work for you tonight, so stay near the phone. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Are you leaving, Arianna?” Kelly asked. The only response was the sound of the banging door.

  The tension lifted. There was renewed hope; perhaps there was money to be made after all. Miracles were known to happen. During the waning minutes of a shift, there was sometimes a sudden, inexplicable rush of customers.

  “Who has a dollar? It’s time to get some customers in here!” Sydney exclaimed.

  Kelly pulled out her money, but had only two fives.

  Lauren quickly produced a crinkled one-dollar bill. “Get outta here.” Sydney said, turning up her nose. “You know it only works if it’s a new dollar bill.”

  “How would you know, Sydney? You never saw Bethany do the dollar trick.”

  “Well, I heard about it.”

  Victoria looked at the three women like they were from Mars.

  “Whenever it was slow,” Kelly explained. “Bethany usta take a dollar and write all our names on it, then she’d burn the dollar in an ashtray. Immediately, like magic, a trick would ring the bell.”

  “That’s not how she did it,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “She only did it that way if we only had a dollar between us. Usually, we’d each put in a dollar and write our own name on it. Bethany would chant some shit she learned at that occult shop on South Street, and then she’d burn all our money together. And believe me, that little spell really worked. We’d all get sessions!”

  “Didn’t she burn a green money candle, too?” Kelly asked.

  “Sometimes. She’d light the candle, mumble something, and let the candle burn a while—and bam! The tricks would come out like crazy! It’d be standing room only in the lobby!”

  Victoria quickly pulled out a crisp one-dollar bill and handed it to Lauren, who seemed to have taken over the activity from Sydney. It sounded crazy, but it was worth a try. Since no one else had a dollar, Lauren wrote each woman’s name on Victoria’s bill. Victoria hoped that providing the money gave her an edge over the others for the next session.

  Fifteen minutes later, the bell sounded. A potential customer, a scowling, beady-eyed man, looked the girls over one by one. Unimpressed, he sighed and shook his head. “Any big girls working tonight?”

  “What is this, pervert night?” Sydney hissed before retreating to the lounge. Victoria threw up her hands in exasperation, and began to follow Sydney back to the lounge. Kelly and Lauren remained standing. Suddenly curious as to which woman the customer would perceive as a big girl, Victoria stood in the doorway to observe the interactions.

  Showing signs that she needed a fix, Kelly fidgeted and impatiently shifted from foot-to-foot. She sidled up to the man. Towering over him, she stuck her tattooed bosom directly in his face. “Come on, baby, don’t you wanna play?” The man responded with a thin smile. Undaunted, Kelly revealed a pink nipple. She licked her fingertip and rubbed the exposed flesh. Looking a bit more interested, the customer stroked his chin.

  Competing with a strung-out Kelly was not easy, but Lauren seemed determined to at least try. Admittedly, Lauren could stand to lose a few pounds. At work she wore outfits that accentuated her good points and hid the areas that needed work, but it was surprising that her ego allowed her to compete as a big girl. Victoria had to admit that under such desperate circumstances, she too would have flaunted extra poundage—if she had any.

  Lauren loosened the sash around her black satin robe, allowing the man to see her bodily flaws (flabby thighs and a fat tummy) in a two-piece bra and G-string.

  “I was looking for…you know—someone really big,” he explained, stretching out his arms. The man shi
fted his body to turn and leave, but before the turn was complete, he was suddenly held in the grip of Kelly’s determined green eyes. When she cast her gaze downward, his eyes followed, resting on her hand, which pulled back flimsy material, and completely uncovered the furry mound of her pubis.

  “Okay, I’ll take you.” He pointed to Kelly, and then followed her to the first room.

  A few minutes later Victoria got lucky. The cloud around her had finally lifted. Maybe there was something to that dollar trick after all! Her customer was a slight man with bushy brows, a beard, and thick mustache. His abundant facial hair seemed ill-suited to his narrow face.

  “How are you feeling tonight?” Victoria asked cheerfully as she led him inside the first room.

  He groped around in his pant pocket and pulled out two hundred-dollar bills. “I usually see Zoe during the day and I give her this,” he held up the money, “and when she’s really nice, she gets fifty dollars more.” The sight of the money excited Victoria. “I guess she doesn’t work here anymore,” the man said sorrowfully. “You see, we had an arrangement and….”

  “An arrangement?” Victoria said nervously, sensing that the money he held would never cross her palm.

  “We had a good relationship. She trusted me, and I felt the same…and, uh, she didn’t make me wear, uh, anything. I just can’t feel anything…”

  “You’ll have to wear a condom with me!” She felt like throwing a hizzy fit, but managed to maintain her cool. “I can send someone else in if you’d like. Who would you like to see?”

  “The thin girl,” he stammered. “Light brown hair.”

  “Sydney?”

  “I guess. But, before you send her in, would you please find out if she’s an agreeable girl.”

  Enough was enough. Victoria could feel herself about to commit an assault on the stupid man. “You must be nuts,” she exploded. “I’m not asking anybody anything. It’s bad enough you came in here waving money in my face, knowing you were going to ask me to put my life at risk?”

  Raising an unruly brow, he asked. “Do you think I have AIDS or something? I’m clean. I don’t have any diseases. I’m a married man, and if I’m willing to trust you…”

  Victoria shook her head, astounded that a married man, probably with kids, would walk into a brothel and argue about using protection. “I’ll ask the manager to get Sydney or one of the other girls,” she mumbled.

  Victoria poked her head in the office. Rover was sitting at the desk counting money. “Rover, the guy in the first room wants to see you.”

  “Is there a problem, Pleasure? Did he give you a hard time?” There was concern on Rover’s face.

  Victoria smiled wearily. “No, not really. He’s wants something that I’m not willing to do. Not only that, he wants to involve me in finding an agreeable girl,” Victoria mimicked the customer.

  “Okay, I’ll go see what he wants.” Rover pushed back his chair and stood up. He grabbed two of Arianna’s cards and slipped them into his shirt pocket.

  After conferring with Rover, the customer left a few minutes later, whistling merrily as he went out the door.

  As the women who were scheduled to work the midnight shift began trickling in, the room became crowded with activity and the atmosphere changed from tranquil to tumultuous.

  “Hey, Pleasure. Are you gonna stay for the next shift?” Lauren inquired.

  Victoria shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m getting tired—and disgusted. I should just give up, go home and come back tomorrow.”

  “If you’re gonna stay you better hurry up and let Rover know before the schedule is full. I overheard Rover on the phone with Miquon about an hour ago.”

  “Oh no. Is she coming in?”

  “I don’t know. He told her he’d call her back to let her know if she could work tonight.”

  Victoria was not left to wonder long. A few minutes later Miquon pushed through the door, holding a grease-stained paper bag in one hand and her large cloth work bag in the other. Her dark hair was shiny from the gel that covered and hardened little curls.

  Miquon unzipped her tight jeans. Everyone in the room looked the other way as she pulled, tugged, and wriggled out of them. Wearing only a sweatshirt and baggy, unattractive cotton panties, she plopped down into the empty chair that Lauren had occupied. Miquon was not concerned that Lauren’s sweater was draped across the chair, a clear indication that Lauren would be returning to the seat.

  Miquon began unpacking the canvas bag, and pulled out a variety of personal items that included queen-sized lingerie, a large jar of petroleum jelly, a CD player, headphones, a thin comb with a long dagger-like handle, a bandana, and a pair of boots. Various items of clothing were piled on top of another chair while her remaining belongings were spread out on the floor.

  She tied the bandana loosely around her head and completed the look by sticking the pointed end of the comb beneath the curls on the top of her head. The comb protruded like a macabre feather worn on the head of an angry Indian squaw.

  “Why are you wearing a scarf, Miquon? Are you planning on going somewhere?” Sydney’s tone was thick with sarcasm.

  “Why don’t you mind your fuckin’ bizness; don’t be worrying about what’s on my head! ’Cause I ain’t even tryin’ to mess up my hair, pullin’ clothes over my head.” Miquon snatched the comb from her hair, and used the narrow end to angrily dig into her itching scalp. She brushed away the dried particles of hair gel that fell to her shoulders. With each scratch she grimaced and groaned; it was hard to tell whether she was in ecstasy or pain.

  While applying petroleum jelly to give some shine to her legs, Miquon stopped mid-stroke and reached for the greasy brown bag. She tore open the paper that covered a tuna hoagie; the strong smell of onions, peppers, and tuna lit up the room. Oblivious to the odor, Miquon munched noisily.

  Unable to stand another second of Miquon’s obnoxious behavior, Victoria bolted from the lounge. In the restroom she quickly changed into her street clothes. She mouthed the words good luck to Lauren on her way out the door.

  The chilly night air felt more like winter than spring. Victoria breathed in deeply, hoping the cool air would help dissipate the sense of disillusionment gnawing at her. It was unfathomable to have been confined inside Pandora’s, an insulated world of perversity, for so many hours and have nothing to show for it.

  She buttoned her jacket, prepared to brave the two-block walk to the lot where her car was parked. There was not a sound or sign of life on the empty street. She gazed warily over her shoulder. Up ahead, a row of cars was parked along the street. From her vantage point, the cars appeared empty; the owners were probably masturbating inside the adult theater.

  The dim streetlights barely illuminated the street. Victoria groped inside her pocket, until she felt the smooth, cool security of a small container of mace. With shoulders hunched, she walked quickly down the street. Then, startled by a horn honk, she stopped suddenly and reached for the mace container. Concealed behind tinted glass, the driver of a dark blue jeep lowered the window. “Whassup, Pleasure?”

  Fear shook her insides. With a hand pressed against her chest, she looked up and discovered that the voice belonged to a very handsome, familiar face. “Kareem! You scared me half to death.” Her tone admonished him, but her eyes were smiling.

  “Sorry ’bout that. I was gonna come in there to see you.” He nodded in the direction of Pandora’s Box. “But then I remembered you got off at midnight…so I just chilled out here.” Kareem looked even more adorable than she remembered. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she bit the inside of her bottom lip, controlling the urge to smile.

  “Well, I’m just amazed at your ability to remember my schedule after—let’s see now—how many months ago? One…two…three?” She teased, counting on her fingers. After the horrendous night she’d just endured, she was surprised that she was even capable of being playful. It felt good. Real good.

  “Yeah, I was tryin’ to get back with you, but so
mething came up. I had to go out of town.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, laughing. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Kareem, but I told you…I don’t see customers outside of work.” Kareem flinched at the word, customer.

  “I’m not trying to see you like that,” he said, his dark eyes offended. Then, recovering quickly, he smiled. “I thought you might be hungry or something. Maybe we could stop and get something to eat. That’s all. Nothing else.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then assumed a sassy stance with her hand on her hip. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then how about a drink?”

  “Now that’s tempting. Hmmm. I don’t know…” A burst of cold air chilled her; she pulled up her collar around her ears.

  “Why don’t you think about it inside? It’s nice and warm in here.” Kareem patted the passenger seat. She drew in her breath, and reminded herself not to be charmed. Vivid memories of their night of passion reminded Victoria of how Kareem had ignited feelings that ran deep inside her, and then disappeared. She had to keep things in perspective and be very careful with him.

  Victoria climbed inside the roomy Lincoln Navigator, and wondered how Kareem could afford such an expensive vehicle. The leather interior, and the state-of-the-art dashboard that lit up like a spacecraft impressed her. The huge luxury vehicle made her compact car seem like a toy, like one of the Hot Wheels Jordan pushed around. She drew back her hand when she touched the seat. “The seat is hot!” she exclaimed.

  “Is it too warm? You can turn it off if you want.”

  “No, no. It feels good. Mmm. Very nice, Kareem.”

  Kareem quickly looked away, and started flipping through a stack of CDs, but Victoria had already caught an expression of boyish pride that told her he appreciated the compliment. He pushed a button that changed a rap CD to a slow tune by Maxwell. Persuaded by Maxwell’s sultry falsetto, Victoria allowed her shoulders to relax, and got comfortable in her seat.