Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series)

by Steph Sweeney

  "I drugged you," she whispered. "Whatever happens, it'll make things easier." She kissed me on the forehead and, starting to cry, said, "I'm really sorry, Melissa, but you're gonna have to make them want to keep you alive. All five of them."

  All five of them. The way she said it. Hesitant, drawn-out, as if considering them one by one as she spoke.

  "Who are they?"

  "The owners, our masters. The five brothers who own this company. Well, four of them own it. Clifton is . . . well, he's their sack of shit half-brother." She shot her head at the door and jumped away from the table, startling me. "He's coming."

  I never heard any footsteps. The door just opened, the hinges so well oiled all you could hear was the waft of air, and in stepped a tall, fat, hairy man dressed like he just came from an auto garage, with odd stains on his oversized t-shirt and a shine about his skin that guaranteed rank body odor. He was so large he waddled, batting his arms out behind him as though chest-deep in water.

  "Kate, now goddamn it," he bellowed with a deep, throaty, coal-miner's voice. "You know you ain't supposed to be in here. Come here."

  Clifton rushed Kate, who backed up into the corner, pointing a finger and gritting her teeth, saying, "Don't you dare touch me, Clifton. Clifton! You almost killed me last time!"

  With my neck arched and my head tilted back as far as it would go, I could barely see what was happening. I saw Clifton grabbing Kate around the waist and using his free hand to pull down his sweatpants, exposing his big pale hairy ass.

  Then they both dropped below the table and all I could see was Clifton's head. To my horror, he turned to me just as Kate's muffled screams began. He was grinning and shaking.

  He's masturbating.

  "What are you doing to her?" I asked as calmly as I could.

  "Sittin' on her face," he replied, snorting like a pig. "She screams and it vibrates on my balls." He grunted harshly. "And then she always starts bitin' me! Damn it, Kate, come here!"

  I heard Kate gasp for air and then cry out.

  "Open your mouth, honey," he said, the increasing pace of his masturbation evident in the vibration in his voice, adding futility, aggression. "You better open up, Kate, goddamn it. I'll come tickle you every night. You know I will."

  "Leave her alone," I murmured.

  "Too late," he groaned, and then he exhaled, wheezing open-mouthed as he ejaculated on Kate's face.

  His laughter sent a chill up my naked body.

  "I told you," he said. "Every night now."

  I could see him standing and as he turned to me I saw he still had his dick in is hand. He moved around behind my head, where I had to arch my back to see him towering over me like a skyscraper, his image darkened by the bright light behind him.

  Suddenly I felt something warm and slimy slide across my forehead, and I heard Clifton's phlegm-clotted laughter.

  This was the grossest moment of my life. The stench of his crotch like rotten vegetables, amplified by his heat.

  Kate lay on the floor crying furiously.

  "Clifton, put your dick away and get Kate the hell out of here!"

  It was the voice of a young man, one who asserted authority but might not really possess any. At least Clifton moved away from me. I dared take a deep breath and the pleasure of it reminded me that I was drugged. I became acutely aware of the wetness forming between my legs, the aching sensation. I felt disgusting.

  The young man who had spoken approached the table. He wore a white lab coat and thin-framed glasses. He was pale, clean shaven.

  Clifton lumbered past, dragging Kate as she kicked and tried to jerk free. She was sobbing, and that made me angry, which the young man must have noticed because he turned to Clifton and said, "Take Kate to a shower and then leave her alone for the rest of the day."

  "She wasn't supposed to be in here, Brian. Oscar told me hisself. You'n ask him when he gets here."

  Brian walked away and returned with a plastic box containing alcohol-soaked napkins. The sensation was cold and tingly on my forehead. The first relief I'd felt since waking up in this room, Brian wiping away Clifton's come mark.

  When the door closed and the room fell silent, I felt more relief. Kate's absence worried me, but I trusted that Clifton would obey Brian's orders, as he seemed to be doing so far.

  "Don't be ashamed to cry," Brian said. I looked at him but he was focused on cleaning my forehead. "I understand your frustration. If it were up to me, I'd have killed Clifton a long time ago. He causes nothing but trouble."

  Brian tossed the soiled napkins at a waste basket and I heard a set of keys rattling, then a clicking sound.

  My left ankle was free.

  A few seconds later, my right ankle.

  I drew my legs up so that my heels touched my butt cheeks. It felt wonderful to be able to move. A lump even formed in my throat. Maybe Kate had overestimated how angry they would be. Maybe they would let me go home.

  Brian was at my side again, and I felt the sleeve of his lab coat touching my forearm as he unlocked the strap on my wrist.

  With only one wrist to go, I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest. Somehow I felt colder now, and yet the drug had me aroused, a most uncomfortable combination. I wanted clothes.

  Brian stopped at the final corner of the table and looked me in the eyes for the first time. His irises were unmatched splashes of color, like galaxies encircling the black holes of his pupils. I was mesmerized by them. At the same time, though, I couldn't get over how young he looked. Twenty at the most. He had a cowlick in his light brown hair, and his eyes wandered down my body uncontrollably. His sexual experience might well be limited to his own hand. And yet he was a co-owner in a company this sophisticated? It didn't make sense.

  Brian wrapped his hand softly around my wrist and touched the key to the lock.

  "You know how to behave, don't you?"

  I nodded, then winced. He was squeezing.

  "Are you a monkey?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "Don't nod at me unless you want a fucking banana. Answer my question."

  "Y-yes," I said quickly.

  "Yes what?"

  "I know how to behave."

  "Perfect," he said, unlocking my final restraint. "I see you actually pay attention. You're adaptable. That's not common in young women. And there you go, you're free."

  My hand was free. I was loose.

  Without thinking, I slid off the side of the table opposite Brian, who started laughing before my feet touched the icy tile floor.

  "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

  I covered my breasts and turned around. Brian had his hands on the table. I couldn't tell if he was amused or enraged. "I was just getting down," I said.

  "Did I say you could do that?"

  "No."

  "Well."

  "Well . . . what?"

  "Get the fuck back up there."

  "Why?"

  "Because I--what's your name?"

  "Melissa."

  He stood up straight and slipped his coat off. Underneath it he wore slacks with a blue shirt and tie. "Melissa," he said, "I'll slit you wide open if you don't do what I tell you." He paused to hang his coat on a rack, then turned to face me. "You know, I can stand here and tell you I know methods of torture no military force in history has dreamed or developed, but you won't believe me." He paused again, both in speech and in movement, like a skip in a music track.

  "I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I was only asking if there was a specific reason I needed to be on the table. I promise I'm not going to run or do anything. I'll cooperate."

  "If you were cooperating you'd be scooting your little ass across this table."

  Whatever attractiveness I'd attributed to this kid was merely a mirage formed in the waves of Clifton's stench. I saw that even through the buzz of the Libido Drug. The look on his face made me feel like a little girl alone at night, her eyes adjusting to the dark and too afraid to look directly at the figure taking shape in the corner.

 
; He did have a grace about him, though, like the edge of a razor. Despite my disgust, I felt drawn to him. It's hard to describe the feeling. I kind of wanted to bite him, like a little girl on a playground. Bite him really hard and then run.

  What made it worse was that he never stopped moving, aside from that one dramatic and deliberate hitch. He looked like a man braced for attack from any angle. A ninja in plain clothing--well, scientist's clothing.

  "Lie down, please," he said.

  Now would be the time to run, but I couldn't do it. Kate's voice kept reverberating: There's no way out. Make them want to keep you alive.

  I obeyed, returning to my original position, only I put my arms at my sides, praying he wouldn't tie me up again.

  "Spread your legs, please."

  He came around the foot of the table to the counter. My heart began to race as his hand glided over the surgical instruments to open a drawer next to the small cart. He pulled out a box of surgical gloves.

  "Are you going to hurt me?" I asked.

  "Not if you behave," he replied without turning.

  I closed my eyes, drew my legs up, and spread them. A moment later I felt his forearm press against my thighs, gripping one with his latex-wrapped hand.

  He inspected me. Why, I didn't know. Maybe he planned to have sex with me and wanted to make sure I didn't have any diseases. Or a basic cavity search. Either way, my arousal intensified and I began to breathe deeply.

  Brian giggled. "You're drugged, aren't you? Kate thinks she's so crafty."

  He put pressure on my clit, rubbing slowly, and I felt the birth and rapid growth of an orgasm. I slipped my hand between my legs and pressed my palm on the two fingers he was using to massage me.

  Before I climaxed, he jerked his hand away and said, "You're quite the marvel, Melissa. A natural beauty. I think I love everything about you."

  Suddenly he was next to me, the bulge in his pants a foot from my face.

  "Take it out," I breathed, slipping two fingers inside myself and reaching down with my other hand.

  Another giggle. Brian crouched down so that we were face to face. He was smiling, and I got lost in those strange, cosmic eyes. "I bet you like to be on top," he said, and after a thought, "but only for so long. Yes, at some point you want to be slung down on the bed and drilled. Taken over. Rendered into a flower, producing nectar for a bee."

  I watched his mouth moving, barely comprehending his words, but when I rolled over to kiss him he grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head down. "If only you were a virgin," he said.

  I felt pleasure instead of pain, and I screamed, drowning out Brian's childlike laughter.

  Then everything changed The tingling sensation in my scalp turned to red-hot pain, the realization dawned on me that Kate's plan to make me desirable had failed, and Brian's disappointment in the state of my hymen--the reason for the inspection, I assumed--left me with a much smaller chance of survival.

  Brian was still laughing, only it sounded maniacal to me now.

  I sat up, hugging my legs.

  "What happens now?" I asked.

  He tore off his gloves and tossed them in the trash.

  "I don't know what Shriver has in store for you," he said, heading for the door, "but whatever it is, Sean will be the one to do it."

  "Sean? Wait!"

  He opened the door and stopped.

  "Head of security and employee manager. Hot tempered. If I were you, I'd keep my mouth shut. Sean has killed more women than you've probably ever met." He stepped out into the hall. "He'll be with you shortly so sit tight. Good luck."

  Then he closed the door.

  ─One Hour─

  I INSTANTLY recognized Sean as the security guard in the lobby I'd caught staring at Kate's ass, the man who'd suddenly appeared in the hotel room. A pale, bald head and solid black sunglasses made him look alien in disguise.

  I froze. This man had killed two police officers while leaning against a doorframe. Kate was right. They were killers.

  This is it.

  But it wasn't.

  Sean scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder so fast and effortlessly that the swiftness of it left me with a headache. As he carried me out into a dim, windowless hallway, his shoulder dug into my stomach, sending sharp streaks of pain through my abdomen. Now I was battling nausea, and when I tried to reposition myself on his shoulder, he pinched my inner thigh and said, "Be still, cunt."

  Exhaustion finally overtook me. I closed my eyes and waited for the puke to come. At least it would go all down the back of this asshole's suit.

  Where is he taking me?

  I wanted to ask, but Brian had advised me not to speak. Then again, what if he was taking me to some torture chamber? What if saying something was my only chance?

  He stopped.

  I strained to lift my head high enough to see out, but I was facing a wall. Then I heard the chime of an elevator. We were moving again, and before he turned to press a button, I caught a glimpse of the panel. This was the third floor.

  When the door closed, I felt the elevator going up. It beeped once and then stopped. We'd only gone one floor.

  He carried me into a lobby with a cobblestone floor and a ceiling two stories high. I could hear a large fountain, but when we passed by the source of the rushing water, I saw that it was actually a large Jacuzzi designed to look like a natural creek pool, and several people lounged either in it or upon a smooth rock jutting out of the water. Some of them were naked, others in bikinis and Speedos. Through the haze of the steam, they watched me.

  On the left was a doorway leading to a cafeteria. Sean went on to the back of the lobby and up a few steps into a hallway that came to a T. He went to his right and then through a door on the left.

  I saw sheepskin carpet, just like in the Showcase Hall.

  Then Sean flung me off his shoulder and I braced myself for impact. To my relief, I landed on what had to be the softest bed ever designed. I sank so deep for a moment that I could swear it was swallowing me up, encasing me like a cocoon.

  I thought Ted's bed was top-of-the-line. This, though, felt like lying on a cloud, so comfortable I actually felt safe for a moment, until I felt movement on the bed and the panic washed over me again.

  He was going to fuck me before he killed me.

  At least I would die in comfort. Hell, I might even fall asleep for one divine moment. I couldn't even keep my eyes open to witness my own imminent death.

  Slowly, a body lowered on top of me. I felt a soft thigh, a small hand, a knee, then a kiss on the cheek. I opened my eyes to find Kate snuggling against me, smiling, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  "Shower and get dressed," Sean said with a baritone voice. "You have one hour."

  The door clicked shut and Kate threw her arm around me, squeezing hard.

  He was gone, and I was still alive.

  "Does this mean . . . ?" I asked, my voice trailing off.

  Kate nodded and wiped one of her wet cheeks. "I think so. I don't think they would have brought you to me. I talked to Patton. Did they hurt you?"

  "No, not really."

  "Sean didn't do anything?"

  "He just carried me here."

  "Thank God," she said, hugging me again. "Did Brian act weird?"

  I laughed nervously and sat up. "A little," I said, immediately stunned by the size and luxury of the room. It had everything. A full bar, a kitchen, a hot tub on a raised platform, two rows of theater seats facing a giant white screen, a small glass-front room with gym equipment, a big make-up area that looked like a Hollywood green room, and an open doorway leading to what I assumed was the bathroom.

  "This is where I live," Kate said.

  "It's amazing." The more I studied the room, the more wonderful things I discovered, including two ten-foot marijuana plants in large ceramic pots near the bar, basking in the golden glow of an overhead light system.

  "I call it the most luxurious prison cell in the world," Kate said.
r />   "No kidding," I said, not fully comprehending what she'd said. Then it hit me. "Wait, you're not locked in, are you?"

  "Seven at night till seven in the morning," she said, sighing. "Unless I'm called to a meeting or for an evening appointment with a client."

  "Kate."

  She turned to me, and for the first time I saw the trouble in her eyes.

  "You're a prisoner here," I said, meaning for it to sound like a question.

  Kate raised her arms and let them flop down to the bed. "I really can't complain. I can have whatever I want."

  "Except freedom, Kate. I thought this was your job."

  "It is my job."

  "It's not a job if you can't leave. This is slavery!"

  "No, it's okay, really." She scooted a little closer. "I signed up for it. I knew the whole deal."

  "They explained it to you?"

  "In detail," Kate said. "About my living situation, anyway. I didn't know about the girls, any of that stuff, until I signed the papers."

  "Did they drug you before or after you signed?"

  Kate waved her hand outward. "Oh, waaay before," laughing as if it meant nothing. "Patton drugged me in the jewelry store."

  "Who is Patton?"

  "He's the doctor. And the principal."

  "Huh?"

  "For the girls."

  "What do you mean the principal?"

  "Of the school," Kate said. "For the girls. The Favorite Girls. Patton is the one who raises them, keeps them healthy, and gives them a good education. He's a really great person. You'll see what I mean."

  "But I thought you said they were killers," I whispered.

  Kate shook her head. "I didn't have time to get into specifics. Patton isn't like his brothers. He has to play the role sometimes, but he makes sure those girls have a great childhood. They're seriously the happiest kids I've ever met."

  Everything she was saying made me sick to my stomach. I hadn't really thought about where the Favorite Girls came from, that behind the drugs and brainwashing they actually had personalities, skills, knowledge. Feelings.

  "Where's Flora?"

  "I don't know."

  A quick response. She was lying.