by Moore, Lila
I tried to tell myself that this was all Ivy’s fault. She’d forced me into this position, but I couldn’t avoid the fact that I’d made the choice to go along with her. Maybe it was best to just come clean with Alex?
I knew Alex well enough to know he’d rather ruin his life than let the bad guy win. Did taking his money make me a bad guy?
“Does that feel better?” he asked.
“What?”
My mind had wandered away from the injuries to my back. He placed the last of the gauze onto the back of my thighs.
“That feels nice,” I said.
“Listen, Olivia, there’s a lot we need to talk about. I never expected this to happen between us, but now that it has we need to talk about how we’re going to go forward. After that first night together, I thought I’d made a horrible mistake. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I kept running through the night over and over-the way your lower back curves, how soft your skin is…”
It never occurred to me until now that Alex thought about our time together. Apparently, he thought about it a lot. I held my breath as I listened to him speak.
“When I was inside you for the first time-”
The door handle started to shake as if someone was trying to open the door.
“This room is taken,” Alex shouted.
The door opened. I silently cursed the intruder. Alex was so close to revealing how he felt and this person had to ruin it. He jumped up and moved to confront the intruder.
“I said, this room is-”
A tall, skinny older man with long hair and a drawn face entered. He wore an ill-fitting suit and a somber expression. Alex took a step back.
“Sir, I didn’t know…” Alex said.
Sir? I’d never seen Alex look intimidated before, but this slight man had him stammering.
The man closed the door behind him.
“A serious matter has been brought to my attention,” he said flatly.
“What can I do?” Alex replied.
“I’ve come to learn that you are the target of a blackmail plot.”
I pulled the daybed’s blanket around me and sat up. What did this man know?
“No one has tried to extort money out of me,” Alex replied.
“No?”
The man’s chilly gaze fell on me. I pulled the blanket around me tight. Alex looked at me then back to the man.
“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” he said.
The man considered Alex out of the corner of his eye. His silence spoke louder than any word could.
“She hasn’t!” Alex protested. “If you have some proof, then present it. Until you do, I have no reason not to trust her.”
“Young lady?” the man said to me.
A slight accent gave his words a razor sharp edge. Alex’s eyes were on me defiantly. The moment we made eye contact I knew I lost him. The truth was written all over my face. I couldn’t lie anymore.
“It’s true,” I admitted.
“What?”
“I didn’t want to-she made me. I was trying to protect you. She said she would destroy your business unless I-I-”
I was starting to ramble. I knew nothing I was saying made sense to Alex, but I couldn’t stop. Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt. She wants money and I know how you are. You would never willingly-”
“Wait-slow down. Who is ‘she?’ And what could she possibly know that would destroy my life?”
“Ivy. She knows that I’m a-”
I glanced at the man. He was watching our conversation very closely. If he knew there was blackmail scheme in play, then he probably knew my real identity too.
“She knows that I’m a journalist,” I said. “And she knows your real name and that you’re my stepbrother. She said she’d expose you to the public unless I convinced you to pay me one hundred thousand dollars a month.”
I hung my head shamefully. Betraying Alex felt like a crime, but it was a small relief to get it off my chest.
“And what were you going to do with the money?” he asked.
His voice was icy. I could see the level of control it took for him not to shout.
“Hand it over to her.”
Did he think I was going to keep a cut of it?
“I wasn’t going to get a penny,” I said defensively. “She didn’t want me to tell you because she knew you wouldn’t go alone with it.”
“She was right about that.”
I’d really screwed up. Now Alex was mad at me. He’d never trust me again.
“And everything you said about your medical bills and debt? Was that all a lie?” he asked.
“No! That was true. I just thought it would be easier to get the money if…”
“If I felt sorry for you? Unbelievable. All your lecturing about our family’s ‘ill-gotten’ wealth and you behave like this?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I said lamely. “I was scared she would destroy your life.”
“May I interject?” the man asked.
I’d forgotten he was in the room. Neither of us responded.
“It’s my job to protect the interests of my clients. You have been a loyal member of our club for years and as such, I will deal with this problem with Miss Ivy.”
What club was Alex a member of? Wealthy men seemed to gravitate to this place. Maybe the mansion was more of a business venture than a home. The place was crawling with sex workers and wealthy men looking to buy their services.
The journalist in me was thinking a million miles an hour. What if the house was a front? What kind of business dealings went on behind closed doors? Were girls promised in exchange for business favors? It was too much to take in and completely irrelevant anyway. I would not be allowed to report on this. Or would I? If Ivy was out of the picture…
I looked at the thin man. He was more on top of things than Ivy. If I exposed the mansion’s secret, I’d be in bigger trouble than when I’d started. The man’s withering gaze forced me to look away.
“We have much to discuss,” the man said to Alex. “I’d suggest you leave the premises immediately, young lady.”
Alex turned to leave with the man.
“Alex, wait!”
He half turned to face me. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
It sounded pathetic, but what else was there to say?
“This way,” the man said, escorting Alex out.
3
I called Alex a hundred times. I left so many voice messages that on my final call an automated voice informed me that his inbox was full.
I spent the next hour in a cold sweat pacing around my childhood bedroom in my parent’s home. I’d left so many rambling messages begging him to call me that I’d started to panic. What had I said? Had I made the situation worse? Who was I kidding? It couldn’t get any worse.
My cellphone rang. Without looking at the caller ID I answered it.
“Alex?”
“Christ! Where are you? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. It was my editor.
“I’m working on the piece, but it’s a bust. I didn’t see a single powerful, important public figure,” I lied. “There’s no story.”
“What do you mean there’s no story? There’s always a story. Tell me what happened.”
“There were a lot of guys and they bought drinks for the girls…”
“Christ, you make it sound like some formal dance or something. I’m not interested in this. Were the girls from the club there?”
“Yes.”
I felt like I was being grilled by a lawyer in a courtroom.
“And was money exchanged for sex?”
Talking about sex with my editor made my skin crawl. It was like discussing sex with my father.
“Yes.”
“Then you have a story. Prostitution, BDSM, dirty sex, there’s your story.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess? You were begging me for a chance to write this story. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Did someone threaten you?”
“No. Nothing happened. It’s fine. Look, I really want to get started on my piece. I think you’re going to love it. I’ll talk to you when I have a first draft complete. Bye.”
I hung up before he could ask me anymore questions. I checked the clock. It was after eight. I hadn’t heard from Ivy since the party. Had the strange man in the mansion dealt with her? What did ‘dealing’ with her mean?
I sat down on my bed; my lower back cramped. I straightened and tried to massage out the soreness.
My laptop sat on my desk. The letter of resignation I’d started to type stared at me on the screen.
‘It is with great regret that I…’
I couldn’t finish the sentence. Journalism was my dream profession and I was being forced to throw it all away. I looked at my cell phone. Alex wasn’t going to call. I’d probably lost him for good. If that was the case, then I had nothing left to lose. There was nothing stopping me from writing the story I wanted. The thin man in the mansion popped into my mind. He would not be pleased with an expose on his business. And what of Ivy? What if she hadn’t been silenced? There was only one way to find out. I picked up my coat and headed out the door.
4
I walked straight to the front of the line at The Red Room. I expected resistance from the bodyguard, but he simply nodded to me as I walked past him into the club.
It was the weekend and the place was packed. I squeezed between couples and passed beneath the sign that warned: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
I scanned the room; Ivy was nowhere in sight. She was known to change her style, switching between different wigs and makeup, but her corset and leather pants were a constant.
I made my way through the crowd, garnering strange looks from the clubgoers. I wasn’t dressed for the club. I was wearing jeans and a trench coat. In this crowd full of latex, leather, and half-naked girls, I stood out like a sore thumb. I made my way to the bar.
“Shirley Temple?” the bartender asked.
“Martini.”
“Coming up.”
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The man I’d encountered in the mansion with the Shakespearean voice walked out onto the stage. Ivy followed behind him at a distance. She did not look happy.
Her wig was gone. She wore her hair natural. It hung limply at her shoulders, a mousy brown. Her makeup was mute; her attire cheap. Her signature corset and leather pants were replaced by a latex bra with spikes and hot shorts.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was looking at a new girl.
The man spoke with a loud theatrical voice. Ivy looked like she wanted to kill him. A second girl walked out on stage. She stuck out her tongue to the audience. Men whistled and catcalled. She glowed at the attention. She pranced along the edge of the stage and twisted her pink pigtails around her fingers.
Ivy watched her with contempt.
“Let the show begin!” the man declared.
He jumped off the stage into the crowd. The stage lights turned a hazy shade of red. Ivy walked up to the girl and grabbed her by the pigtails, yanking her backwards. The girl yelped in surprise.
Everyone laughed.
Ivy led her by her pink hair to the middle of the stage. She forced the girl to her knees then whipped her twice with a riding crop.
“Down,” she ordered.
The girl dropped onto all-fours. She looked up with big, round blue eyes and pouted like a little girl. Ivy whipped her again. The girl flinched and bit her lip as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.
“Looks like I underestimated you,” a voice to my right said.
I turned to find the girl from the mansion who’d help me dress before the stage show. She was sipping on a drink; a small smirk twisted her face as if she tasted something sour.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The audience oohed and awed. I turned my attention back to the stage. Ivy had attached nipple clamps to the girl. They were connected to a metal chain wrapped around Ivy’s fist. She pulled hard, stretching the girl’s nipples.
“Scream for me,” Ivy ordered.
The girl let out a moan of pleasure. Ivy ran her hands through the girl’s pink hair.
“You’re a good pet,” she told her before forcing her onto her back.
She walked around the pink haired girl like a shark circling wounded prey. She raised her foot into the air. Ivy wore a pair of shiny, leather stiletto boots with a lethal looking six inch spiked heel.
She dropped her foot onto the girl’s chest. The stiletto went straight into her nipple. The crowd squirmed and murmured. They loved every second.
“Ivy got demoted. She lost the club, thanks to your boyfriend.”
The thin man at the mansion had acted quickly. I can’t say I was displeased. Ivy had threatened to destroy Alex’s life.
“Well, she looks like she’s right at home,” I said, motioning to the stage.
Ivy was securing chains to her Sub’s ankles. The restraints were attached to a hook on the ceiling. When Ivy pulled a rope, her Sub’s legs lifted into the air and spread wide.
The girl was panting and breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell quickly. A flash of jealousy washed over me.
“And where is your boyfriend?” the girl beside me asked. “He hasn’t moved on, has he?”
She spoke as if she knew something I didn’t, but I could tell she was faking. She had no more knowledge of what Alex was going through than I did.
I watched for a few minutes longer as Ivy pulled out a huge purple vibrator. She rubbed it against her Sub’s pussy and pulled on her nipple clamps. The girl screamed with delight.
A hint of a smile spread across Ivy’s face. She didn’t want to show it, but she was enjoying herself. I could have stayed longer, but I had what I wanted: Ivy was officially out at the club. I was free to write a story without fear of reprisal from her, but what about the thin man?
5
I sat in front of my computer staring at the blinking cursor. I couldn’t decide how to approach the story. Should I play it safe and just cover the prostitution angle, omitting the rich, well-connected men I’d seen? Or, should I be brave and give the full story?
Ultimately, I ended up writing three accounts of my experience. One was heavily sanitized and left out any mention of the politicians I’d seen. The second exposed everything. The third was somewhere in between.
Now I had to decide which story to submit to my editor. I threw myself down on my bed. Where was Alex? I looked at my cell phone. No new calls.
I picked up the phone to call him again, then remembered his voicemail was full. I ran my fingertips over my bare skin. Red marks and fading bruises covered my thighs and back.
He wants you to chase him.
The memory came back to me in a rush. After the stage show at the mansion, Alex disappeared. The Dom at the show insisted that it was a cat and mouse game. Was Alex playing with me now?
I jumped out of bed. If that’s how he wanted it, fine. I would come to him.
6
I stood on the street looking up at Alex’s condo. The doorman was eyeing me suspiciously. It was three o’clock in the morning. I was uninvited and probably unwelcome. I walked up to the doorman with a bright smile on my face. I hoped he would simply open the door and let me in.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m here to see Alex.”
“And is he expecting you?”
“Well, no, but it’s an emergency-a family emergency. I’m his stepsister.”
I pulled out my driver’s license and showed it to him, though I don’t know what it was supposed to prove since Alex and I have different last names. T
he doorman examined it closely. He looked up at me and handed it back.
“Could you call him?” I asked. “I’m sure he’ll confirm what I’m saying.”
“Why don’t you call him? You’re family. I’m sure you have his number.”
“My battery is dead,” I lied.
“Look, sweetheart, you’re the not the first girl who’s come around here in the middle of the night. Just forget about him and move on.”
I raised an eyebrow. I’d never thought of Alex as a lady’s man. Shows how much I know.
“That’s not what this is,” I said, though a part of me wondered if it was. “He really is my stepbrother. It’s important that I talk to him immediately.”
The doorman frowned and turned away. He walked inside the building, closing the door behind him. It was harder to get into Alex’s building than The Red Room. I shook my head and looked around impatiently. Drunken couples walked up and down the sidewalk; a car horn honked in the distance. It was the weekend and downtown was busy despite the hour.
The doorman approached with a sour look on his face. I braced myself for bad news.
“He says you can go up.”
“Really?”
The doorman opened the door for me. “Have a nice evening.”
I walked through the huge lobby to the elevators and rode up to the top floor. The doors opened on a huge penthouse apartment. This was the first time I’d ever been to Alex’s place. The size of it was shocking. Floor to ceiling windows gave panoramic views of the city. The apartment was decorated in a modern style. Everything looked expensive and sleek. I didn’t want to touch anything for fear of breaking it.
Alex was nowhere in sight. I walked to the window and looked up at the sky. The stars weren’t visible due to the light pollution.
I turned around. A staircase led up to a second floor loft. Alex stood at the foot of the stairs leaning up against the railing. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of silk boxers. His arms were crossed in front of his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge.
For a second, I forgot that he hated me. Then I saw his face. His eyes were intense; his jaw set as if it was made of stone.
