Serving Him

by Cassandra Dee

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said slowly. “But I’m happy to pay it back, you don’t have to give me a gift. I’m a hard worker, I can earn my keep.”

  And Maria cut me off with a look of kindness that almost made me cry.

  “No Becky, it’s okay,” she said gently. “The Club helps all its girls, and you’re one of girls now. So take it and buy what you need, it’s not a big deal, the members can afford it. Now go home and get some rest, your flight leaves early tomorrow morning.”

  And gulping heavily, I’d nodded, eyes stinging with tears. For someone who hasn’t had a lot of breaks in life, this was the first time I felt that someone cared about me, even if it was a group of men thousands of miles away who didn’t know I even existed yet. The money was a generous gesture, like manna falling from the sky, literally food for desperate people.

  “Thank you,” I nodded, putting the envelope in my purse with trembling fingers. “Thank you Maria, please tell the Club members I appreciate it.”

  And with that, the older woman escorted me to the door.

  “Now no more tears, okay?” she said with a comforting pat on the back as the elevator dinged open.

  I sniffled wryly. Although I wasn’t crying per se, I have the kind of face that gives away my emotions, I’m an open book all the time, for anyone to see.

  “Thanks Maria,” I said softly, ducking my head. “I appreciate it.”

  And with that, I was whisked back to the first floor and into the sunny lobby, busy-looking professionals buzzing by on all sides. But for once, I was on my own little island. People strode past, so close they almost knocked me over, and I didn’t notice, just standing there, absorbing everything for a moment.

  Because it had really happened. I’d signed up to be an escort, I was going to sell myself, sell my body to a man for an ungodly amount of money. I had no idea who he was, the billionaire could be young, old, fat, thin, cruel, kind or any combination of factors. The only thing for sure was that he was wealthy as sin, and that was no comfort. Oh god, oh god, what had I gotten myself into?

  But there was no going back. In fact, I didn’t want to go back. My actions were buying time for my loved ones, Mattie and Nana would be okay for a long while with the money I made. Even though I was nothing more than a teen girl, I was putting food on the table, providing for my loved ones, and I was proud of that, determined to do my best. So with a sense of resolve, my shoulders straightened and I took a deep breath. You can do it Becky, the voice in my head went. You’re a fighter, you can make this work. But the truth was that I had to make it work ... because the Club was my only option.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Becky

  Nobody had told me that I’d be flying private to Las Vegas. After taking the bus to the airport, I’d rolled my wheelie up to the information desk at the sidewalk.

  “I’m sorry,” I shook my head, confused. “Where’s Carrier Air?”

  The woman squinted at my tickets, clearly annoyed at the interruption. I could see that she’d been playing Candy Crush on her phone, and I’d probably prevented her from advancing to the next level.

  “Girl, you’re not even in the right terminal,” she guffawed. “Carrier Air is Terminal Three. Take a cab and tell the driver to follow the signs.”

  I paused, dismayed.

  “A cab?” I said weakly. I couldn’t afford a cab, I’d taken a combination of buses to the airport, and that was already straining my meager budget.

  “A cab,” confirmed the woman, already engrossed in her game once more. “No other way.”

  And opening my wallet, I looked at the sad sight within. A measly five dollars. It was supposed to be for a small breakfast, but what the hell, this wasn’t going to be the first breakfast I’d ever missed. So with a wave of dread, I hailed the first yellow cab outside and heaved my stuff in the backseat with a command of “Terminal Three, please.”

  The driver looked at me skeptically.

  “Really?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I admit, I was a little wet and messy, I’d had to take three buses and stand outside in the rain during the transfers, but still, that was no reason to think I couldn’t afford the ride. It was just a trip around the airport! So I fixed him with my best glare.

  “Really,” I said firmly, trying to come off like an adult.

  And with a shrug from the driver, we were off. But the ride wasn’t what I expected. Instead of bumping along with the other cars, narrowly avoiding accidents, the cabbie pulled the car onto a narrow road that ran alongside the airport with no other vehicles in sight. I sat up, alarmed. Holy shit, was I being kidnapped? What was going on? Mustering my courage, I blurted in a loud voice, one hand on the door handle, ready to throw myself out of the speeding car if need be.

  “I’m sorry, Terminal Three,” I stated as loudly as possible. “I’m here to catch a flight, where are we?”

  The cabbie looked over his shoulder at me, annoyed.

  “You said Terminal Three,” the grizzled guy grunted through a huge wad of gum. “That’s where I’m takin’ ya.”

  And within seconds, the yellow cab pulled up to a plane. Astonished, I couldn’t help but stare. We hadn’t pulled up to a terminal, we hadn’t pulled up to a building or any type of airplane hangar. We’d pulled up to an aircraft that looked ready to fly, the door on the side open, a metal staircase pulled up, ready for passengers. And even now, an older man scurried towards the car, one hand reaching for the door handle.

  “Miss Rebecca?” he asked, huffing and puffing, almost bowing at the waist.

  Slowly, I got out.

  “Yes, I’m Rebecca Wright,” I said confused. “I’m here for a flight to Vegas?”

  “Yes, yes,” said the older man. “I’m sorry, there was a mix-up. A car was supposed to pick you up from your apartment but I see that didn’t happen. Here sir, take this,” the man said, handing the cabbie a crisp one hundred bill. “Thank you for your service.”

  And I guffawed as the taxi took off, wheels squealing.

  “I’m sorry, I think there’s been a mix-up,” I began.

  “There has, there has,” said the older man apologetically. “Again, you were supposed to be picked up at your apartment, and that clearly didn’t happen.”

  I stood there, astonished.

  “No, not that,” I tried again. “What I mean is, I’m here for a flight to Vegas. Where are the other passengers? What’s going on?”

  And a light of realization lit within the man’s gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” he said formally, truly bowing this time. “Let me start again. I’m Gilbert, I work for the Club, and it is my job to make sure that you get to Club premises safe and sound. I work as a transporter of sorts, like a concierge.”

  “I see,” I nodded confused. “But where is everyone? Why am I all alone here on the tarmac?”

  The elderly man nodded again.

  “Miss Wright,” he said formally. “It’s my pleasure to escort you to Las Vegas. Mickey and I will be on the flight with you,” he said, nodding to a man standing by the gleaming staircase.

  But I was still confused because Mickey was wearing a pilot’s uniform, ready to work.

  “I’m sorry Gilbert,” I said slowly. “But if I’m not mistaken, Mickey’s flying the plane, and you’re my escort, which means that I’m the only passenger?” I asked, shaking my head, dazed. How could that be? I had a ticket just like anybody else, stamped with my name and seat number.

  But the old man nodded again kindly.

  “That’s right. You’re seat 1A, aren’t you? Miss, the Club always flies its guests private, and you’re no exception. Now if you don’t mind?” he asked kindly, bowing once more, gesturing with a gloved hand.

  And with numb feet, I ascended the rickety metal staircase to the plane itself. Holy cow, this was so crazy. Inside there were only a few seats, about eight in total, all upholstered in buttery yellow leather, gleaming and new. Each chair was as broad as a La-Z-Boy with all sorts of knobs and cont
rols, like you could command an entire fleet just from your seat.

  “Wow,” I whispered, stunned. “Wow.”

  But Gilbert was already behind me, pouring champagne.

  “Miss, if you’ll just take your seat,” he said kindly. “The pilot’s turned on the seatbelt sign, and it’s about time we were off.”

  Still moving in a daze, I dropped into the nearest chair, pushing my small backpack underneath.

  “Wow,” was all I could manage.

  Gilbert came over once more, a kind smile on his face.

  “Champagne?” he asked, holding out a golden flute of fizzy.

  My hand reached instinctively forwards, but then I paused mid-air. The truth was that I wasn’t legal to drink yet. Although this seemed like a harmless enough setting, I didn’t want to break the law. Who knows who was watching? Moreover, I didn’t want to be drunk on arrival, making a terrible impression on what would be the most important week of my life.

  “No thanks,” I said softly, hand dropping limply back into my lap. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

  And Gilbert nodded.

  “If you need anything, just let me know,” he said before strapping himself into a jumpseat. And with that, we were off, the small plane soaring into the blue skies.

  The trip was fantastic, and after five minutes playing with the chair gadgets, I actually stopped. I was too amped up, too excited, too nervous to watch a movie or listen to music. The only thing I could do was nervously tap my knee while staring out the window, wisps of clouds floating by in an otherwise unbroken blue sky. God, what was happening? I’d never dreamed of such luxury, riding in a private plane. I’d only taken a flight once before, and my knees had been crunched up to my chin, we’d been packed like sardines, babies bawling in the background.

  But this was a totally different experience. Other than Gilbert shuffling about in the small on-board galley, there was no one but me. Silence thick and comforting filled the small cabin, the soothing hum of the engine white noise in the background. And slowly, my eyelids began to drop. The last forty-eight hours of my life had been a mind-boggling whirl, including the decision to sell my body, the interview with Maria, all topped off with a tearful goodbye with Nana and Mattie. What was my little brother up to now? I was doing this for him more than anyone else, and I missed his giggles, his little boy laugh already.

  So with a tired sigh, my head lolled on the seat and I dropped off, exhausted. What waited for me on the other side? I hardly knew … but for now, rest was most important.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kane

  Life is fucking boring. I was killing time before tonight’s auction and had decided to visit the Club’s bowling alley. But this was no regular bowling alley because as usual, it was staffed by fine looking women, blondes, brunettes and redheads. And per club custom, each of the ladies wore nothing but a big smile and a small thong, tottering about in high heels as they served drinks.

  “More sir?” purred a blonde, leaning forwards while balancing a silver tray in her hand. Her jugs were good, yes, but not great. I like mine big, and this girl was no more than a C cup, although her tits were firm and round. But the blonde sure knew how to work it because as she leaned over, those huge sacks of cream rested on the silver tray, offered up like delicacies, tempting and beckoning.

  But it wasn’t enough. I like my girls curvy, and this blonde wasn’t quite there.

  “Naw, I’m good,” I grunted. “You?” I tossed out to my companion.

  Robert shook his head as well.

  “Nah,” he drawled. “Don’t wanna be hammered before the main event tonight, hear there’s gonna be a good one.”

  I shrugged, only half-listening. There’s always rumors of an especially good one, and of course, all of the goods are always grade A at the Billionaires Club. We pay top dollar for scouts to scour the United States, to make sure that the most beautiful, succulent girls go up for auction on our stage. The scouts do a shit ton of pre-screening, physical, mental, emotional, legal, you name it. It’s like working for the FBI. Everyone’s got to jump through a billion hoops to get access here, and that includes the help.

  But I was skeptical of these rumors of a “good one” because just last year, one of my brothers had been sorely disappointed. He’d punched through a girl’s hymen only to realize that a doctor had inserted a piece of plastic in its place. Literally when he pulled his dick out, there were bits of rubber clinging to the pole, except the doctor hadn’t bothered to pick pink or red, or something that might realistically resemble a hymen. That fucking doc had picked fluorescent green, like it was some sick clown joke.

  And of course Les had gone ballistic. The girl who’d supposedly been a virgin was immediately escorted off premises, and the scout who found her fired summarily. But that wasn’t the end, hell no. The Club moves in subtle ways, and vengeance is best when you have no idea it’s coming.

  Because that scout’s career was ruined. He never sourced another girl, in fact he was black-balled by all the casinos on the strip, couldn’t even get a job as a croupier if he wanted. So last I heard, the dude was living in Mexico somewhere, trying to sell plastic souvenirs to tourists, jangling keychains and other such shit.

  But hey, that’s just life. Fuck with the Club and your life will be fucked. I had no sympathy for the loser, he rolled the dice and lost … as expected. After all, we’re a group of billionaires with unlimited resources, what’s one little guy in our way? It was almost like he wanted to be crushed, was begging for it, dying to be stamped into the concrete.

  But all that’s over and tonight’s a new auction. I was going, for sure. It’s been a long time since I had a woman, and I was ready for some fresh pussy. It’s not that I can get it, oh no. Women fall flat on their face when Kane Caldwell’s around, practically pushing each other to get to me. I could be at Starbucks, at the gym, or just walking down the street, and women are practically catfighting, scrambling for access.

  But lately, something’s been missing. Maybe it’s the fact that the ladies lately have been stick thin, with arms and legs like rubbery chickens. It’s gross the way females today do it. They eat nothing, trying to survive on sunlight and air, and as a result they look like scarecrows. Boobs shrivel, becoming droopy sacks, and their appendages are stringy and insect-like. And oh shit, those asses and pussies? I don’t mean to go ballistic, but I’m an ass man, I like big butts and I cannot lie. And lately there’s literally nothing there. What the hell? What happened to butt-injections and ass lifts? I thought this shit was the next thing with Kim Kardashian and all, but evidently on the Upper East Side, a certain set of overly-tanned blondes still think small is good.

  So yeah, I was fucking disgusted with the women I’d been seeing. I can’t even remember their names at the moment, it’s just a faceless rotation of female bodies. Oh wait, there’s one that springs to mind. Bunny. That’s right, she’s got an overbite to match her nickname, although she tries not to smile too much to hide those teeth.

  So I’d taken a jet to Vegas for the weekend, leaving the ladies back home in a lurch. What the hell. I deserved a night off from those harpies, they’d find something else to do, whatever it was, I didn’t care.

  And of course, the Club didn’t let me down. After getting a massage and taking a dip in the Olympic-sized pool, I headed to the bowling alley, and whaddya know, but Robert was here. Robert is a mofo from way back, he actually got me involved in this shit, recommended me for membership. So I felt obligated to make some conversation, to acknowledge the other alpha.

  “So what’s the special tonight?” I grunted.

  Robert knew I wasn’t talking about drinks at the bar or any shit like that.

  “I hear she’s a virgin,” he said.

  I snorted.

  “They’re always virgins,” I said, looking off into the distance, bored. “So what? That’s what we pay for.”

  “Yeah, but I hear the one tonight is special. Super curvy, ass and tits out to there,
right up your alley.”

  Although I gave no indication that I’d heard, still relaxed in the plush club chair, my dick jerked involuntarily. Fuck, just how curvy were we talking? This was like water to a thirsty man, I’d been wandering the desert for ages now. And despite myself, I had to ask

  “You got some stats?” I ground out.

  Robert smirked like a motherfucker.

  “You bet I do. You didn’t see the bulletin the office sent out? It’s a new thing, they’re distributing key vitals before sales so that buyers can get the scoop.”

  And with that, the man pulled out a catalogue. For real, an actual catalogue with glossy pages and the Club’s emblem emblazoned on the front.

  “What the fuck?” I grunted, sitting up. “What the fuck? Is that a yearbook or something?”

  Robert smirked again.

  “Naw, not a yearbook, just an introduction to the goods, to see the girls before they come up, learn a little about the females. See?” he asked, flipping to a page somewhere in the middle. “I tagged this one, this is the one I want tonight,” he said, passing the book to me.

  And true to form, this asshole had played me. Because sure enough, the catalogue opened to a delectable redhead, some girl named “Cathy” with a sweet, winsome smile. But even worse, Robert had jizzed on her face, the magazine pages sticky with dried cum, yellow crusted stuff flaking off.

  “What the fuck!” I roared, throwing the book back at him. “What the fuck?”

  And Robert literally roared with laughter, throwing his head back and opening his mouth so wide I could see his molars. Other guests in the bowling alley turned to look at us, shooting us dirty looks.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I raged. “This is so fucking disgusting, asshole.”

  Robert just laughed even more.

  “So what?” he smirked. “You set me up on that date with Tammy the space case, so it’s fair play.”

  I paused for a moment. That was true, I’d set him up with Miss November, who was perfect to look at but who suffered from severe autism. Tammy knew exactly how to take her clothes off and spread her legs for pictures, holding a pose, but a conversation? Naw, that was out of her league, even “Hi” was hard.