“Of course. I’ll make sure he’s happy. We both know I’m your best saleswoman,” I say with a smirk, picking up a light peach colored lipstick I apply it while Miss. Bianchi makes her way over to the doorway.
She stops once she places her hand on the knob, “The men have already started to arrive. Please make sure you make your entrance known,”
“Belle of the Ball, I’ve got it.” Every now and again I do like to be a bit funny, but she enjoys my crude humor. Finishing my lipstick, I put on my eyelash extensions and stand, going to the dress she laid out on my bed and change into it.
Exiting my room I go to the right and tap my knuckles on Raquel’s door. She’s one of the women I’m closer with, a 22-year-old French woman. She has this beautiful silver hair with a blue hue and hazel eyes. A lot of the men here adore her because she has a bit of an alternative look. Though, if you ask me, she looks like someone who would be the other woman.
She’s wearing a tight black bodycon dress. It has a bit of a shine so it looks like glitter, but it’s not so glitzy. “You ready for tonight?” She asks in a thick accent.
“Of course, we’re professionals. Plus, they’ll be just like they are other times.” I state, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s hope they aren’t old and disgusting like last week. That one Bulgarian man should’ve paid me double to do the things he wanted.” Raquel says in a state of disgust.
I laugh out of habit, but also because I understand what Raquel means. Most of the people who come here are of a higher class . . . although, there are a few who slip through the cracks because they know someone powerful and Miss. Bianchi would rather have a connection. Like our Bulgarian friend.
Glancing down the hallway I hear the laughter and jovial voices of multiple men. Of course Miss. Bianchi’s voice is mixed in it as well. “Well, shall we venture onward?”
“Of course. No lie, I’m a bit horny today. Hopefully one of these boys can help satisfy me for a change.” Raquel whispers slowly with a giggle.
The two of us walk further down the corridor and descend down the grand staircase. I spot a couple of our girls in the foyer, chatting with two men in suits. Raquel and I hit the bottom step at the same time, interlink our hands, and enter the parlor side by side. The two of us do this often, although we’re good friends so the idea of being asked to do a threesome together is preferred. It’s not that I’m not fond of the others, but Raquel and I have certain things in common that others don’t.
Raquel releases my hand and walks off toward the corner where a Spaniard man smirks, leaning against the wall. His smile indicates he’s trouble, and if I was a woman placing bets I’d say Raquel will most likely get what she wants tonight.
I on the other hand scan through the area. The parlor is filled with a few of our girls who are here. A couple just came back from their longer jobs and have already had their few days off. The mixture of men here is interesting. I hear a few Spanish accents, English and a Brazilian. However, I’ve yet to hear any Americans.
I stroll around the room in a circular motion, slowly scanning my eyes over everyone. Almost every man is dressed in head to toe Tom Ford or Armani. I don’t know what it is these days, but they seem to forget about designers like Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, and even Brioni. It never hurts to step out of your element and try something new.
“Holy fuck, look at that piece of ass.” An American accent pops out from nowhere. There’s no mistaking it. This must be the infamous Jasper. Turning toward the voice I spot him behind the couch, nursing what I bet is a Manhattan. Oh, how typical of New York men. They’re all the same, especially if they come from the investment banking industry.
Although, I must say he has impressed me a tad by his choice of suit. So many are afraid of patterns, even if it is something like stripes. He’s in a dark gray suit, with white stripes that go downward. His tie is a deep purple, while he wears a silver watch on his right wrist. I’m betting it’s a Rolex, or possibly Invicta.
I stride towards him, ensuring to pop my hip out a little more than usual. American men love to see sass on a woman, so sass he shall get. Fluttering my eyes, I smirk. “If I’m not mistaken you saw something you liked.”
He nods, licking his bottom lip. “Oh yes I did. What isn’t there to like with a gem like you?” He smiles, taking my hand in his own.
“Oh, you’re so sweet. What’s your name? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, I’m Belladonna.” I feign, knowing how to say just the right thing to get these men’s egos to skyrocket even further.
“Jasper. Mmm, I know we’re supposed to be sticking out here for an hour to meet all the women your Madame has to offer. But, I’ll be real with you. I know what I like when I see it, so sashay your ass in front of me and take me up to your room.” Jasper orders, and I know I’ve caught the man on the hook.
I do as he tells me, walking in front of him and make direct eye contact with Miss. Bianchi, who smiles as she sips on her red wine. She knows I’m about to secure a client which means money for the both of us. Once we get up there I’ll just have to see how much money I can squeeze out of him.
Chapter 2
Blanka/Belladonna
I roll over wrapped in my dark gray satin sheets and stare out the window. The sun reflects off the waters of Venice and I smile, happy to see such another beautiful day. The birds chirp and tourists fill the streets below even though it’s a bit early.
I hear a yawn from behind me and know it’s my bed partner, Jasper, who had quite a bit of fun last night. We came into my bedroom and I gave him a blowjob, then he fucked me over my bathroom sink so he could stare at my reflection in the mirror. He took my ass later that night, and then a few hours later took me again. It’s obvious the man is sex crazed. I don’t know if he isn’t getting anything at home or what. Most of the men come here to live out their fantasies. They want the wife, the picket fence and the dog. We’re the sluts they can do anything to, and anything without fear of being judged. If they were to ask their wives some of the things they ask us . . . they might not be married anymore.
Turning my head to the left I glance back at him from the corner of my eye. “You slept well, I take it?”
He chuckles lowly, “I barely slept at all and you damn well know it. It’s safe to say I’ll be back again and requesting you personally.”
I press my lips together in a duck like way and roll toward him, smirking. He brings his hand to caress my face and I suck his thumb between my lips, rolling my tongue around it. “Oh, you dirty girl.”
I giggle in the fakest way I can. It’s something I’ve mastered over the years. “Have you given any thought to the . . . other things I spoke about.” I look away from him in a shy manner, hoping it works like it does on almost every other man.
He brushes his hand over his mouth and nods. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Next time I think we’ll be having a bit of a party. I might wanna see multiple cocks fucking you like the whore you are. Or maybe it’ll be a group of women being sensual. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I’ll be sure to let Miss. Bianchi know when the time is right.”
I don’t hold back my smirk and the moment I hear him chuckle I know he’s already eager for that day. For him it’s a mere sexual release, but for me, it’s one of the bigger paydays I get. The more the merrier. It only means more cash coming my way. Every day that passes means I’m closer to my goal. Though, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready for that day right now. The one thing I want more than being out of this business, is a small little condo of my own, with normal friends in a town . . . it’s so simple. Most would laugh at me for my dream, but I crave a relationship that’s authentic more than anything.
I just want to have sex and have it mean something.
Jasper gets out of my bed and grabs his clothes from the floor, quickly changing back into them. “I’m sorry to cut this short my sweet, but I have to get going. Work doesn’t stop I’m afraid.”
I lay on the bed, keeping up m
y façade. “Understandable. I’ll just wait until our next meeting,” Jasper smiles as he buttons up his dress shirt, puts on his tie and buckles his pants. Within a couple minutes his shoes are on and he’s exiting the room.
I get out of bed and head into my bathroom, turn the hot water on and wait about ten minutes for the water to get nice and toasty. I’m a bit particular with my showers. I want it so hot the mirror fogs up.
Once the ten minutes is up I open the glass door and walk under the blazing hot droplets. I prefer my water this hot because I think it burns away every inch they’ve touched. It takes away the filth I sometimes feel after doing this.
Placing my hands on the wall, I allow my head to hang, my hair soaked with water on both sides of my face. Ever since I was young, this is all I’ve known. To sell my body, to use the one thing I can control in this world to provide for myself. I wasn’t lucky like the other girls. I didn’t go to college. I didn’t even graduate secondary school. We were so poor, I had no choice but to work. Well, my sister and I. It was the only way we could provide for ourselves. The only way food would stay in our mouths. Our mom worked three jobs just to cover the rent and utilities.
Emotion floods over my body like the water cascading down my skin. I take my right arm and rub my neck trying to soothe myself so I’m not tempted to let tears flow. Gently, I remind myself this will one day end. I won’t have to do this forever, and while I may appear like the flirtatious woman they want, and the woman with one of the toughest exteriors. The truth is I’m not. I’m only an actress, trapped in this exhausting role for only a couple more years.
Almost like I’m on autopilot the next thing I know I’m in a robe with a towel, drying my hair. A knock causes me to jolt and I walk to the door, opening it. Raquel is on the other side.
Furrowing my brows, I know something’s up. “It’s not like you to come this early.” Typically, Raquel and I will go out for a drink on Sunday afternoons, but it’s only about one.
“I wish I was coming here to drag us both out. Afraid not though. She wants to see you in her office.” Raquel frowns.
“Ah, alright. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll catch up with you later.” I tell her. Raquel darts off and heads toward her room. I on the other hand wrap my hair up on top of my head. I slide my feet into my slippers and head down the stairwell, going straight into Cecilia’s office. Shutting the door behind me, I take a seat. She isn’t one to like having other ears eavesdropping on her conversations.
“Raquel said you wanted to see me,”
Miss. Bianchi gives me a curt nod, “Yes. I have a job I’d prefer you go on opposed to the other girls. Belladonna, you know I have quite a bit more trust in you, given how long you’ve worked for me. You’re my best girl. You don’t talk back. You simply do your job, and you do it well according to your johns. I don’t even have to go into how I don’t trust the others to do this,” I already know she wants me to go on a job. This guy must be important if she’s asking me to go.
“You’ll be away with this client for almost four weeks a month. Your week off will be cut short, but you’ll be paid handsomely for it. Before you leave and after you come back you’ll be seeing clients here as well.”
“I assumed as much. Can’t have me falling in love with this fellow.” I jokingly say, but she doesn’t find it funny.
“He’s paying a higher premium to have you for a longer amount of time. Therefore your percentage is going up a tad as well. I figured you wouldn’t mind the increase in pay.”
“No, I don’t mind in the least bit.” I confirm, not minding the thought of my pocket growing a tad heavier.
“That being said, he’s paying a higher amount because he’ll ask things of you others might not. This man is very . . . peculiar. Tread lightly with this one, Belladonna. You may joke about falling in love with a client. Every girl does until she’s the one falling head over heels. I feel as if his unique charms will be intriguing to you.”
I’ve never rolled my eyes in front of her, though this day is a bit different. “I won’t fall in love with a man who feels the need to pay for sex.”
Miss. Bianchi blinks a couple times at me, “This man with his looks alone could cause your dead heart to come to life once again my dear. Do me a favor and don’t challenge him. He’s the type to play the game dirty.”
“Noted. When will he be arriving?”
“Tonight, so prepare yourself. You should start packing as well.”
“I’ll get right to it.” It’s highly unusual someone comes here on a Sunday night. They’re our slowest nights. It’s even more of a confirmation this isn’t going to be the typical type of client we deal with. Miss. Bianchi might’ve been warning me already, but I will keep my guard up around this one. Something in my bones tells me I don’t have a choice.
Chapter 3
Blanka/Belladonna
My suitcase is packed, filled with my makeup bag, beauty tools and includes a vast array of wardrobe choices. I’ll be prepared for whatever we may do, whether it’s laying on the beaches of Mexico or skiing in Vail.
I’ve been downstairs for a bit, wearing a simple spaghetti strap silk dress. It stops a few inches above my knee, with a high slit to the hip on my left. The same side also has an oversized silk bow with ribbons falling until my mid-thigh. It somewhat offers some coverage, though let’s be honest. I’m supposed to look like a present.
I made sure to accessorize with gold instead of my usual silver. Something feels elitist about the man I’m going to meet tonight. My shoes are a pointed-toe in the same gold as my necklace and earrings, they wrap up to my mid-leg and tie together in the same bow like shake in the back. Meanwhile, my necklace is quite simple. It’s a gold-plated Gucci, with the double G’s. My earrings are just as simple. They’re gold wrap, cascading down an inch or so from my earlobes.
Whenever meeting someone for the first time I like to make a good impression, and thus it’s why I went a bit overboard on my hair. It’s long and thick, so I made a chunky braid from both sides of my head until they met in the middle along my back, past my shoulder blades. It resembles a crown braid somewhat, but not entirely. One thing I find much pleasure in is the ability to style myself to whatever I’m doing for the day. Then again, it’s one of the only things I actually have control over.
In every sense I’m prepared to leave with this new client tonight, though, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous. I can’t put my finger on it quite yet, but my stomach turns over and over until I make it a point to walk to the bar in the parlor and have the bartender, Andrea, pour me a heavy glass of Pinot Grigio. The glass is bigger than my hand, filled almost to the rim. I lift it to my lips and guzzle a third of it down, knowing the wine will settle my anxiety and fears.
Exiting the parlor, I head down the corridor until I’m walking through the French doors that lead out onto one of the many patios we have here. I stroll over to the edge of the patio, leaning my elbows on the stonework and look over the water. Across the way is another massive building, and off to the left is one of the many covered bridges here in Venice.
A gondola goes under the bridge with a pair of obvious tourists. The man holds the other man beside him and they look adoringly up at the city. Our city is filled with tourists constantly, but they do love a sunset boat ride. It’s one of the most beautiful times to go if you ask me.
The sun starts to set even further, causing the top of the horizon to turn a navy type of blue. The further down my eyes drift I see it turns to purple, and then shifts to the orange haze until my eyes land on the setting sun.
Inhaling sharply, I close my eyes and take this moment to mentally prepare myself for this new task. Every assignment is yet another adventure. Another way to experience life, to travel across the world and meet new people. This is simply part of the pep talk I constantly tell myself whenever I have to leave again. One thing that constantly aggravates me is how there’s a common misconception that women like me, in the
sex trade, enjoy this. How we crave the fact we rent out our bodies to men and women who can afford to pay.
Let me make one thing clear. Not one of us like the idea of what we do, we simply do it because we have to. Because the world is fucked up. Raquel often makes jokes about getting laid for her own satisfaction, though I’m sure as she’s telling me she’s trying convince herself what she’s saying is true.
A clicking sound indicates I’m no longer on the patio alone. It was the locking mechanism on the door, and I have no doubt about it. Still, I don’t feel the need to speak out just yet. I bring the glass of wine to my lips and take another sip. Flavors of white nectarine, apple and honeysuckle flood over my taste buds.
Minutes upon minutes slowly pass by. With each one I can hear my heart beating in my chest louder and louder. Ultimately, I turn around and face whomever is stalking me as if I’m their prey. “Do you really feel the need to stand amongst the shadows and watch me like a predator?” I bark just as my eyes focus in on the man who’s here with me.
The man who must be my client.
I can make out his figure. Although, he’s sitting directly under where the patio is from the floor above us. Therefore, it’s quite dark, especially since the sun has gone down even further. Slowly, he comes out from the shadows. His dark smile is the first thing I notice, other than his thick brown beard.
His cheekbones are high, with a defined nose and perfectly sculpted thick eyebrows. This man is . . . exactly as he appears— all man. He comes into the light from the candles around the patio and I’m shocked at what I see. He’s not just in any designer suit. No, he’s in a Kiton K-50. Each one of these retail at over sixty-thousand dollars. Although, why would I assume this man would wear something the rest do? No, he’s already made it evident he’s much different.
Venomous (The Clans Book 11) Page 2
