by Gow, Kailin
“I can't,” I say again. Why is it so hard to say? Isn't it just sex I'm turning down? Is that all? “Terrence, you, this, all this – this is just part of the job. Training, isn't that what you called it?”
“That was before,” he says. “Staci – please, I can't stop thinking about you.”
“It's just sex,” I say. Somehow it doesn't feel true, but I say it again, anyway, louder, as if my volume will make it real. “It's just sex. That's all it is. We can't have anything else but this...”
“Why not?”
“You can't do this to me...”
The effect of the pills is getting stronger. I feel hazy, cloudy – all I want to do is lie down, sleep, forget all of this, forget my feelings, forget my heart, forget my need. Forget the pleasure and the pain alike.
“But I want you, Staci.” His voice is lower and I think – I wonder – if he's saying what I think he is. I think I might be falling for you, Staci.
Then the elevator stops.
“Terrence, please, I can't – you can't put me in this impossible position.”
The doors open.
I rush to unrumple my clothes, to stand up, but I'm not fast enough.
The man who enters the elevator is looking down at me with a sly smile and a familiar face. “So...” His voice is businesslike and cold. “Is she still a virgin, then?”
It's Mr. Nice and Handsome.
But his smile isn't so nice now.
Chapter 8
I'm in shock. I hardly know what to think. The man in the elevator, in his wildly expensive tailored Italian suit and coldly sensual stare, looks almost nothing like the man with the kind eyes and self-deprecating demeanor I've grown to crush on at the gym. For a second I don't even believe it's the same person. Wild, stupid theories run through my mind – the guy has a twin brother, or a look-a-like, some crazy doppelganger, any truth to distract myself from the one I'm most afraid is true. That Mr. Nice and Handsome is just another client like the rest. Everything's different. His tuxedo, his posture, his manner, his voice – it's as if it belongs to a stranger.
In my Diazepam haze, all I can feel is bitterness, a resigned sense of inevitability. Of course, I think. Of course he wasn't nice, after all – only handsome, and that too was probably a lie. Beauty, I've come to learn during my time at the Blue Room, is something you can buy. Personal trainers, a perfect haircut, a perfect wardrobe – they're just commodities, after all. Like me.
How stupid I was, I think. Thinking that anyone here could be what they seemed. Thinking that anyone here could be trustworthy, could be a real person, not just an automaton caring only for money and for sex.
“You...” I gasp.
He's looking at me with blazing eyes, a heady mix of anger and arousal that, despite myself, gets me aroused once again. My panties are on the floor, and when I feel that familiar wetness beneath my legs anew, I flush with embarrassment as well as desire.
Terrence straightens up, looking the man straight in the eye. “Of course she is...Mr...”
“No thanks to you.”
Who is this man, I wonder? Is this Mr. S – back early from Switzerland? Or is it...
“Considering I was sold expressly a virgin, it seems you're rather taking a narrow definition of virginity, aren't you?”
“She's intact, if that's what you're worried about.”
Terrence is looking Mr. Nice and Handsome straight in the eye – talking about me as if I were a piece of meat, as if I weren't even there.
“Technically, I suppose.” The man's voice is dry. “And to think – your promise to Danny...”
Danny? My head shoots up in shock. This guy knows Danny? That means he's more than just a client.
“Mr...” Terrence hesitates – becoming at last aware of my presence. “Mr. X.,” he says, slowly. “My promise to Danny has been kept.”
Mr. X? Mr. Nice and Handsome is Mr. X? My head is reeling. I can't handle this. I feel like I'm going to pass out from sheer shock.
“I have half a mind to pull out of this whole shambles entirely,” he says. “Sell my shares.”
Mr. X. is a part-owner of the Blue Room?
“Tell your sick father that you can't even keep away from the girls.”
“It's not what it looks like!” Terrence insists. “I'm not going to lie – of course I've been tempted – I mean, look at her.”
Look at her. A piece of meat. A slab on offer.
“As tempting as she is...”
Like that's supposed to flatter me.
“I've kept my promise. We've never slept together. Sure, we've fooled around....” His smile is twisted. “But that was strictly business.” It shouldn't hurt as much as it does when he says it. “I mean...don't you want a girl with just enough experience to know what a man likes and dislikes? To know what she likes and dislikes?'
Of course, I tell myself. This was all part of the game. All of it.
Nothing can be trusted here. Nothing is ever true. I feel sick to know Terrence never cared for me in any way except as a commodity.
“I'm here, you know.” I can hold back no longer. Right now, I can't bring myself to play the part – not even if it means getting closer to Mr. X. I'm too angry. “I can speak for myself. If you want to know if I'm a virgin, just ask me.”
Mr. X. turns to me in surprise. His face changes. His anger, his cruelty, has vanished. Once more he's the sweet, kind guy from the gym.
“You're right...” he says. He kneels down next to me and gently touches my face. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you’re...” He swallows. “You look so different with the hair, the makeup…I was supposed to be gone tonight for a meeting in San Francisco…meeting you tomorrow. My meeting was canceled and I asked Mrs. Walters if I could meet you tonight. She said you were booked for a dinner date – then she called me back a few minutes ago to say that he'd canceled. That you were free. That I should look for a girl in a gold sequined dress in the Azure...” He sighs. “I just...didn't expect it to be you.”
“You know him?” Terrence is looking at me in shock.
“In the gym...” I say. “I thought...I thought you were normal.” The words just slip out.
He looks almost embarrassed, almost shy. “I thought you were normal, too.”
“I am a virgin,” I say hotly. “In case you were wondering.”
“I believe you,” he says. “You seem...honest. Real.”
Like anyone here is real, I think.
“I've been looking for my next girl. Not a jaded career Blue Girl. Someone...someone to spend time with. Someone to relax with. Someone who really gets me.”
Terrence is looking at us both the way a wolf looks at the rival eating his meat. “Of course, Mr. X.” His voice is stiff and cold. “You're welcome to her. You're welcome to any of our girls, subject to availability, of course.” His face is masked, but his eyes stared at me intensely.
“You...” I'm almost shaking. The shock and the drugs and the alcohol have proven too much for me. “You're so different...”
“Everyone has their demons they need to work out,” he says. His eyes are full of pain. “I come here to work out mine. I thought this was a place where my demons couldn't hurt anyone...until Roz.”
“Roz?”
“I just want someone different. Someone I can keep safe.” His voice is so low, so gentle. “Someone like you.”
Terrence is staring daggers at him.
“You think you can keep her safe? After Roz was killed…”
He stops short, and I know he's said too much.
So Roz was murdered. And Terrence knew the whole time.
I don't know when I start to scream, but the screams are coming unbidden from my throat. I'm screaming so long and so loud, my head numb and dizzy, my brain on fire, until, finally, oblivion comes.
******
When I wake up, I don't know where I am. I remember little. All I can tell is that I'm lying in a soft, comfortable bed, in a luxurious penthouse suite – I ca
n tell by the city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, how the other buildings of the city look so far away, so small. Everything smells like jasmine. My panties are gone; between my legs, I'm still wet. I'm wearing a gold dress that's torn from the side.
Mrs. Walters is going to kill me.
That's all I think. I can't remember what happened, what's going on. There's another smell – here – the smell of musk, of a man's naked chest.
“Terrence...?” I whisper.
But the shirtless man at my side, wearing nothing but a black silk pair of boxers, isn't Terrence at all. It's the man from the gym. And he's looking down at me with tender eyes and a soft, kind smile. Through his boxers I can see evidence of his arousal.
What happened?
“What...” My voice fails me. “Did we...?”
“No, love,” he runs his fingers up and down my arm. His voice is soft, sexy. Much kinder and gentler than Terrence's wicked smile. “I'd never do that to you. I'd never do that to anyone. You...passed out in the elevator.”
“I did?”
Now I remember. Ben's Diazepam. The warnings about alcohol I so stupidly didn't heed. The shock of finding out that Mr. Nice and Handsome was Mr. X. the whole time.
“Did you...take something?”
I nod, feeling embarrassed. “I was nervous,” I said. “I had a couple Valium...that's all.”
“You shouldn't take those,” he says. “I don't like the idea of one of my girls – needing to feel numb. If you decide you want to be with me – if we decide we want to be with one another –I want you to be present. In the moment.”
If you decide. It's the way he says it. Like it's my choice. Like he respects me. Like I have some say in all of this, instead of being a pawn in someone's game.
“I'm sorry for how I reacted in the elevator,” he says. “It was the shock of seeing you. And it looks like you had a shock, too.”
“I thought you were this nice guy from the gym...” I say.
“And I thought you were this nice girl from the gym.” he says. “I guess it teaches us both a lesson.”
“Not to trust anyone?” I smile, weakly, and I'm gratified to see that he smiles back.
“No, love,” he says. “That all of us have two sides to us. That we can be nice people, good people, even, in the outside world – in our hearts. And still have desires – kinky, dark, deep – that we need a place to share. I need a safe outlet for my fantasies – with people I know can handle them. And you – maybe you need something, too?” He's so gentle with me.
“I don't know,” I say.
“Maybe I'm a fool,” he says, “but the girls here – they're not just driven by money. I know that. The prices are high here – but they're not the highest. Perhaps you think I'm tactless, talking so frankly about money.”
“Actually, I don't mind,” I sit up. “At least you're being honest.”
“I'm in finance, remember?” he smiles.
“And I'm a failed actress...”
“What I mean is – there's a lot of places a girl can earn money in this profession. But the Blue Room – the girls they try to attract want something else, too. Maybe their own fantasies fulfilled.”
I want the truth. That's my fantasy.
“In the outside world,” Mr. X. says. “I don't admit my desires to anyone. Perhaps I'm afraid of them. Of how desperately I need the kind of sex I want...to be a different person. I have so much power in the outside world – here, I want to give up power. To focus on someone else. To adore and become besotted with someone else. Someone like you.”
“So that's why you come here?”
“Staci, I want to kiss you.” His hand is on mine. “All I want, right now, is to kiss you. Do you want that, too?”
I'm so shocked by the fact that he asks that I nod, blankly.
The kiss is wild, passionate, earth-shattering. His tongue probes so tenderly against mine.
“I want to feel you,” he whispers. “All of you. Do you want me to do that?”
“Yes...” I whisper.
His fingers glide upward, between my legs. He begins to move – first to my clitoris, and then inside me, a single deft motion that makes me cry out with pleasure. I can feel him grow hard against me.
“I believe people should always be honest with each other. And I'll be honest with you, too. I believe that the constraints of this place – the money, the directness, even the tawdriness – make it easier for me to be honest with women here than in the outside world.”
He's still moving his fingers, and I'm still moaning.
“Let me tell you what I want. I want to forget what happened with Roz. She and I were close, but nothing is as it seems around here. Nothing. I want to move on, to fall in love again – and yes, I do believe that love has a place, even in a place like this. I want to find a woman who understands me, who understands the way I am, who respects that, whom I can respect. Money will change hands, and I hope that money does you more good than it does me. But I also want something else. I want you to enjoy it. You see – my real interest isn't in receiving pleasure. It's in giving it. I want you to experience the best first time any woman has ever experienced. I want you to experience such exquisite pleasure at my hands. I've caused a lot of pain in my life – I will be honest with you about that. But the pleasure I give you – knowing I can give such pleasure to a woman – will make me forget all that. For a while, at least. I want us to be friends, and lovers, and – colleagues, of a sort.”
The pleasure is skyrocketing.
“I won't expect you to be monogamous. I understand there will be other men. I won't hold you to any promises, make you make promises you can't keep. All that I ask is that when we are together, you give yourself, mind and body, over to me – and let me take over. If you choose to see me exclusively, I can promise that I will never see another woman at the Blue Room, or any other establishment – though I cannot promise monogamy in the traditional way.
“But the question, Staci, is – what do you want?”
My body answers before my mind does.
I want the truth. I want to get close to him. I want to find out what the “pain” he's caused is, and whether it has anything to do with Roz's death, or with Rita's disappearance. I want to find out the secrets of the Blue Room.
But that's not what I say.
What I say is the truth.
“I want you to make love to me now.”
Chapter 8
The moment I am no longer a virgin, nothing much changes. I am still the same person, the same me – the same body, experiencing a slight shudder of pain and then a wave of pleasure as he entered me.
A part of me is almost amused by this fact. All this fuss, I think – over whether I was a technical virgin or not, whether I'd had this kind of sex – did men really pay thousands of dollars in premium for such a particular kind of pain? And really – nothing much had changed.
But the thought soon leaves me. Soon, my thoughts are obliterated entirely by the pleasure I am experiencing.
Mr. X. is an expert lover. He is gentle with me, at the beginning – tender. He makes sure that the pain I am at first experiencing when he enters me is manageable; he goes slowly, making sure I am aroused beforehand before plunging into me. Once the pain is gone, however, once I begin to moan with pleasure once again, the gentleness gives way to a rougher passion. His thrusts become quicker; his nails dig into my back so deeply in the intensity of his grip, punctuating the waves of ecstasy with pain I enjoy – I've never known pain could be this arousing before. He thrusts into me faster and faster, deeper and deeper, each move of his perfectly formed body increasing in intensity. He lifts my legs above his shoulders so that he can drive deeper into me, filling me completely – leading me into a depth of pleasure I had never before experienced.
Everything I had ever done with Terrence, everything I had ever experimented with, everything I'd ever tried – has only led up to this, this moment, this connection. This beautiful em
otional and downright hotly intense connection like I was one with this man.
I tell myself that this isn't real. That this is the Blue Room. That this is all in the service of a greater mystery. I'm not a prostitute, not a lover; I'm a detective, undercover investigator…
But somehow, despite this, I feel a genuine connection with Mr. X. He'd trusted me with something. Now I want to trust him. I feel so close to him. Maybe it's just the adrenaline; I think maybe it's just the endorphins. Or maybe there really is something to the old truism that sex brings people closer – at least temporarily.
We come together, at the same moment, crying out words that made no sense. If I had known his real name, I would have cried it out. Instead, I’m so overwhelmed with pleasure and passion, the feeling of intimacy with him, I have tears rolling down my eyes. Happy tears.
It is so easy to pretend. That I wasn't a prostitute. That this man wasn't my john. That We were lovers – a couple that had met while flirting in the gym, that had fallen for each other. That had decided to have sex.
His phone rings, and he rises to take it. He goes outside onto the balcony, fully naked, and I smile as I watch him cross the room from behind: his sleek muscular backside as perfectly formed as his front. He’s so beautiful. The dawn is just cresting across the horizon, and I ache for him to take me again, hungry for him.
“I'm sorry, love,” he says to me. “I've got an important business meeting ahead. As much as I'd love to stay.”
He reaches inside the bedside table and gives me an envelope.
“Oh...”
I feel the bills inside. More money than I've ever seen in my life.
But proof that this is business, after all.
“I thought this one was on the house,” I say.
He smiles. “I was wondering about that...was that your idea?”
“Yes,” I said. “I'd heard about you. I wanted you to come back to the Blue Room.”
“Scrappy,” he says. “Brave. I have to admit – I was curious about you – even before I knew you were you, based on that. But...” he sighs “I can't take you up on your kind offer. I think it's better if things are...open. Honest. In the future I'll pay you beforehand.”
