I need to get him alone so I can find out what happened to my sister.
“Kelly, Kelly?” Elaine called.
For a moment, I drifted away thinking about Harvey and about Penny. I looked back into Elaine’s eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I was thinking about what to wear.”
I was going to tell her that it wouldn’t be necessary, that I had already purchased everything I would need, but I stopped myself.
“Now, for The Agreement,” she said. “If you want a job, go somewhere else. If you want a family, accept me as Madam and take me as your ‘substitute mom.’ That means no secrets.
“Let me tell you what secrets do, Kelly. They isolate you from others and create misunderstandings. They break trust, and trust is very important to me. In this business, secrets can get you killed. Promise me Kelly, can I trust you?”
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation, lying to her.
“Okay, great,” she replied. “I want you to see Lori at the receptionist desk. She has a check for you.”
Elaine stood up, “Oh, I didn’t think of it until just now, do you have a bank account in Vegas yet?”
“Yes,” I said. Lie number two. It was something on my list, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. I was carrying lots of cash and my bank account was in New York City.
“Super,” Elaine said. “Then I want you to come tomorrow night, if that’s not too soon.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine.”
Elaine walked around the desk and opened up her arms, signaling that she wanted to hug me. I had not been hugged in over a year, not since last Christmas with Penny — I missed her so bad. When Elaine hugged me, I could smell her perfume and feel her warmth. Her soft sincere embrace made me emotional.
She held me tight, like a mother would. I couldn’t even remember hugging my own mom anymore. The scars, the wounds, the loss of memory, the meds, and the pain caused me to lose touch with my emotions. Elaine’s sincerity was refreshing, but it started to open my emotional floodgates and that was not good; I gently pushed her away to end the kind cuddle. She let me go, giving me a smile and some more instructions.
The next night I went to work with a duffle bag full of clothes. I did not know what to expect, or what to wear, so I brought several outfits for different occasions and moods. Janine met me at the door and took me to the employee changing room. Each escort had an assigned locker. It was so professional.
Janine gave me an ID badge, along with the security code numbers and passwords. Every room had a keypad (with a unique code) and security cameras. Madam Elaine did not sit and watch us on the cameras, she hired a professional security company who operated the video feed 24/7. It felt safer at the brothel than most government buildings.
It was nearly seven o’clock. I sat in the main lobby on a crushed velvet couch, listening to music from the speakers mounted in the ceiling and chatting with a couple other girls that Janine had introduced to me,
After some chit-chat with a few of the escorts — who were giving me pointers and telling stories — Janine went to the restroom and vomited. She did that three times in a fifteen-minute span, at which point Elaine sent her home early, not wanting the others to catch whatever it was that she had.
I was scheduled to watch the monitors with Madam Elaine as part of my training. But because Janine went home sick, she was shorthanded. She tried to get a replacement, but the two girls she contacted were out of town and unavailable.
Elaine walked into the lobby and motioned for me to follow her. We walked into her office and shut the door.
“I’m down one girl tonight,” she told me. “I can move some girls around, but I was wondering if you would be up to starting tonight.”
My heart pounded forcibly.
Am I really ready for this?
What am I doing?
I thought of Penny and realized that I was doing it for her.
“What do you need?” I responded.
She told me that it would be an easy assignment. “The client is married and never touches the girls. He likes to watch and masturbate. Tonight, you will go to room seven, the room with a dance pole. He wants to watch you pole dance and then you play with yourself. Are you up for that?”
“Not a problem,” I answered. I had no clue how to pole dance and, as I went to the changing room, all I could think was, don’t fall, Cindy.
As I put on my outfit, I started thinking of the Girls Gone Wild videos, remembering the drunken girls spinning on the poles to the cheers of men in a bar. I tried to think of some moves, but I decided that if all else failed, my tits and my ass would get him excited.
I did my routine while the client sat on a chair in the dark and watched. Fortunately, the exercise regiment I was on before I left New York had made me very flexible. After a few minutes, spinning like a top, I stopped and removed my bra; when my boobs plopped out, he pulled his dick out of his pants. I could not see with the light shining in my eyes, so I could not tell if he was hard or not. I started touching myself to get him excited.
I removed my G-string and rubbed my hand down my freshly shaved pussy. When I did, I could faintly hear him groan over the canned music pounding from the speakers above. I rocked my head down, causing my long blonde hair to cover my tits, then I thrust my hair over my head, grabbed my nipples with my index fingers and thumbs and squeezing them tight until they grew hard. His hand was moving up and down, so I knew he was hard.
I turned around and bent over, resting my weight on the pole with one hand. I spread my legs apart and squatted, bending my knees and skimming my ass on the floor. I stood back up and reached for my twat with my other hand, rubbing my vagina lips with my fingers. I looked over my shoulder and gave him a sexy scowl, knowing it would excite him.
I bent over, placing my face between my legs as my hair drooped to my knees. I made eye contact — or rather I looked where I thought his face was — and slid my finger into my vagina. As I started fingering myself I heard him groaning and then shouting, “Finger that pussy!” He said it repeatedly, so I stuck two fingers inside and continued to penetrate.
In a matter of seconds, I heard him screaming, “Yes . . . yes . . . yes!”
Then, a man’s voice came over the intercom and said, “Thank you for your visit, your time is up.”
I figured that was my clue to stop. I picked up my bra and panties, wrapped myself in my robe and left the room. Elaine met me at the stairs at the end of the hallway. “You were great,” she said.
After watching a few girls with Madam Elaine, my shift was over. It was only 11 pm. I was paid and I left. I got back to the hotel and opened the envelope to find ten $100 bills.
The next night, I arrived at the brothel around ten minutes to six. I was informed Janine was sick with food poisoning and she would not be coming in. Madam Elaine met me in the changing room and asked if I would take Janine’s place because Tammy and Angela were still in LA. I agreed. Elaine took me to her office and that’s when I found out something that sunk my heart to the pit of my stomach.
My client for the evening was none other than Harvey Goldman.
5
The Offer
It was Friday night and, just as Alex predicted, Harvey Goldman was on his weekend party and sex binge in Las Vegas. Elaine was prepping me like a college student cramming for a trigonometry exam. She told me his likes, his dislikes, what he liked women to wear and what his favorite sexual position was. “He’s particularly fond of BDSM,” she told me. “Are you okay with that?”
“Ask Thomas and Janine,” I replied confidently.
I had no idea what type of bondage or dominance positions there were, or whatever they were called. The girl at the Lion’s Den picked out all the apparel and accessories for me. I told her it was for a costume party and that the participants wanted the attire to be as realistic as possible. I knew what I was going to be watching that night before I went to bed: bondage and
submission porn.
It was time to meet my adversary, Harvey Goldman, the killer to my sister and the snake in the grass to my parents. I was finally going to get a chance to face him, finally getting the chance to see the prick who had destroyed my life.
Elaine escorted me to the lobby where several girls were gathered around a man, flirting, laughing and hanging around him likes flies around shit. We came into the entryway, and then Elaine spoke up, “All right girls, let Mr. Goldman go free.”
The escorts, who all wanted the opportunity to spend the evening with Harvey because of his extravagant tips, reluctantly moved away. Before the girls cleared out, he grabbed their attention by giving each of them $100 apiece, paying them just for flirting with him. His arrogance made me sick.
“Harvey,” Elaine said. “Let me introduce you to our newest girl, Kelly. Kelly, this is Harvey Goldman.”
I offered him my hand, greeting him as I had been trained, even though I wanted to strangle him where he stood. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He took my hand and turned it over, kissing my forehand. I wanted to puke.
“No,” he said, “It’s my pleasure to meet you.”
How a man this handsome can be such an asshole blows my mind.
Alex said he was 35, but his face suggested otherwise. He did not look a day over 28. There were no wrinkles on his face or neck; he had perfectly smooth skin and a perfect tan. He was six-foot tall, well built with dirty blonde hair. He looked striking and buff in his Tom Ford suit and Black Ostrich Cap shoes.
He just stared at me, as if he could see right through me, through my dress and at my naked breasts. I did not know how I would endure, but I knew I had to go through with it. After all, Penny did not deserve to die and Harvey was going to pay for what he had done to her.
“My God, Elaine, when you said you had a stand-in for Janine, you didn’t tell me she was a goddess.”
“Oh, you’re too kind,” I said.
Flattery will get you nowhere, you pig.
Elaine thanked him for his kind words. He continued to comment on my looks, making me feel sick to my stomach.
Elaine said that he liked room 11; it was the dungeon, a place of sexual torture and bondage toys. When Harvey said he did not want to play tonight, the look on Elaine’s face told it all. He said he was hungry and wanted to take me somewhere to eat. When he saw the color drain from Madam’s face he must have realized that she was concerned about the $5,000 he usually paid to play. However, when he offered to pay the full amount it shocked Madam Elaine so much so that she was willing to go along with his request and allow him to take one of her girls out of the brothel.
We left the Cat Tails in a long black limousine. He had his personal driver, David, fly in from New York just to drive him around town. David opened the door for me, I thanked him and then climbed in. I slid across the black leather seat to make room for Harvey. Once inside I looked up and saw the neon lights and the crystal glass wine goblets waiting in the cup holders. My heart stopped and then rushed to a start again. I started to hyperventilate.
This cannot be happening.
Harvey noticed I was uncomfortable. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?” I asked, trying to brush it off.
“You look pale.”
Something was wrong—very wrong. I could not believe it. I thought I was seeing things. I closed my eyes and opened them again, only to see that everything was the same. I was getting sick and I felt like I was about to throw up. The limousine was exactly like the one I had been in during Penny’s funeral.
I felt my breath catch in my throat, felt my mouth run dry. I asked for a glass of water.
He opened a compartment and retrieved a bottle of water. He scooped some ice into a glass, poured in the water and then handed it to me. He made David pull over as I took a sip and thanked him, before insisting that we continue.
“Are you sure?” Harvey asked. “Seriously, if you feel uncomfortable or scared, I can have David take us back to the house.”
The house. That’s what Elaine called it. Why didn’t he call it the brothel?
Something was different. Elaine told me that Harvey was an arrogant chauvinist; a foul-mouthed, egotistical narcissist. But he was not acting that way at all, he was being kind and courteous.
I rested my neck back on the leather headrest, closed my eyes and said, “I’ll be fine, this Vegas heat can get to you sometimes, that’s all.” I could not look at the interior of the limousine any longer. It was making me think of Penny, and thinking of Penny made me want to claw Harvey’s eyes out with my fingernails.
I could feel the motion of the limousine resume as the ride continued.
I rested back peacefully and flinched slightly when I felt a trace of movement on my forehead. I tried not to open my eyes or even move as Harvey stroked his hand gently across my forehead and onto my hair. It was not a provocative touch, but one with tender compassion—something you would see in a movie.
“Just relax,” he said. His words creeped me out a little.
I lifted my head and Harvey removed his hand.
“Hey,” he said in a soft voice.
I turned and looked at him quizzically.
“I’m serious, if you want to go back to the house, I won’t be upset. If it’s the money, I will pay you the full amount. No, I’ll pay you for an all-night service. Just say the word and I’ll take you back—no strings attached.”
His generosity seemed sincere. He not only didn’t make a pass at me during the ride, but he was a gentleman—no sexual innuendos, no dirty jokes, no perverted statements and no unwanted touching.
We arrived at the restaurant. David opened the door, but Harvey reached his hand into the limousine to assist me. We had a private table waiting away from all the other diners. We had a glass of wine, sourdough bread as an appetizer, a Caesar salad and my favorite desert, peach cobbler.
Harvey talked and talked, he wouldn’t shut up, but he wasn’t obnoxious. He talked about his childhood and his fond memories of working in his dad’s butcher shop. He told funny stories about time spent with his dad—fishing trips, Disney vacations, the Grand Canyon. He told me about his mother, how she taught him to cook, bake, sew and crochet. He shared some of her secret recipes and methods for cooking a turkey, along with tips on baking the best desserts.
When I excused myself to use the restroom he jumped up and pulled the chair out for me. I powdered my face, staring into the mirror and trying to think my way through the situation.
What’s wrong with me? I hate this guy. Why is he being so nice? It’s a trick . . . that’s it. He wants to get in my pants. Then again…he paid for that and yet he’s making no attempt to have sex.
I could not believe I was having an argument with myself over Harvey’s apparent breakdown of a “Doctor Jekyll - Mister Hyde” moment.
When I returned to the table I noticed that something was different. The lights were dim and a flickering glow was ruminating from the table. The closer I got to the table I more noticed the radiance coming from two candles which now rested on the table. Behind the candles was a vase full of red roses, at least three dozen in total, without a single wilted or drooping petal.
I was speechless when I arrived at the table. I just stared at the flowers. Never had any man bought me flowers before.
“Do you like them?” Harvey asked. “I had David go find them while we were eating. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Gorgeous. They really are.
Harvey pulled up his coat sleeve to expose Hugo Boss cufflinks and gazed at his watch. “My, the time’s got away from us,” he said. “But I had a good time.”
He reached for his wine glass and lifted it in the air, making a toast. I clinked my glass against his glass and the chime echoed melodically. We both took a sip of wine and set our glass on the table.
“Are you ready?” Harvey asked.
My heart pounded.
This is it. Here comes the hustler H
arvey.
“Ready for what?” I said.
“To take you back to the house, it’s getting late.”
What the hell?
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I noticed you were not feeling good on the way here, but you came anyway. I appreciate that, but maybe you’re tired and need to rest.”
Riding back to the brothel I kept waiting for Harvey to place his hand on my breast or slide his fingers up my dress. He just sat there with his hands on his thighs.
Is he gay?
After a few minutes of silence, Harvey said, “Kelly, can I ask you something?”
Here we go.
“What is it, Harvey?”
“I really don’t know how to say this,” he started stammering his words. “Well, what I’m trying to say is, hmmm.” He stopped, nervously rubbed his fingers through his hair and stared into space. “I want to ask you…”
“Just say it,” I replied impatiently, waiting for his big question.
“I want to make you an offer,” he said. He took a deep breath as if he was going to pass out. He turned and faced me. I was getting nervous.
“I want to offer you a chance to get out of this.”
I waited a few seconds for him to finish. When he did not, I said, “Get out of what?”
He raised his hand above my head, waved it down my body toward my feet and said, “This, this lifestyle, this job. I want to offer you… will you come to New York? I mean, will you consider moving to New York City and…I think I’m going nuts,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I love you. There, I said it. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Holy shit. This guy needs Prozac. This guy is even more fanatical than I thought. I love you? Does he not realize I want to kill him? He wants me to move to New York, is he crazy?
I shifted my hips toward the door, not wanting to be so close to him. “Harvey, I think…”
Before I could finish my sentence, he cut me off and said, “Let me finish. You look like someone, someone that is no longer—I can’t get over how much you remind me of her.”
The Plan Page 5
