by Alice Ward
If a Jewel’s client wanted more than what was on offer, they were taken to the bungalows on campus and the night would continue in one of the luxury suites.
The walk to the stage usually didn’t bother me. I liked being outside. Since everything within Jewel was designed for ocular pleasure, being outside felt like freedom. At times, the heavy brocades and thick, musky aroma that clung to them was too heady a mix. Fresh air reminded me that I wasn’t one of them, and never would be. I could gaze out from Jewel’s perch in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountain range and let the view of the jagged mountains in the distance soothe my anguished soul.
Tonight though, I cursed the rain.
I wore a long black velvet hooded robe that concealed my costume and kept me shrouded in mystery. All of the entertainers and Jewels wore the same capes to conceal themselves when they weren’t in the theater. Just as I neared the stage door, a lightning bolt cracked across the sky.
I screamed, and my hand flew to my chest, terror gripping me so intensely that I lost my footing. Tripping over my cane, I fell forward with my hands out, bracing for the immense pain a fall would cause me.
Rather than splaying out on the rock-hard concrete, I was caught by something warm and solid. Fingers on my arms. The smell of sandalwood and man. Warm breath on my face. My mind swirled with each sensation.
Another crack of thunder, and I was transported to a stage far from here…
An outdoor stage.
Dark, menacing clouds churned overhead.
Nate and I knew the storm was getting worse, but the festival hadn’t been evacuated. While I’d wanted to cancel, Nate insisted we go on with our show. Diehard festival goers would stand through anything, and we didn’t want to disappoint our fans.
Just after our first song, a police officer standing in the wings waved his hands madly, giving us the “stop” sign.
Nate and I looked at one another. We didn’t need words sometimes, we were so connected that we could read each other’s body language, and we’d been rained out before.
Nate grabbed the mic. “Heya, Montana!” The crowd cheered. “There’s quite a storm brewin’ out there, so we’ve been asked to have everyone evacuate the venue. Please take your time and don’t crowd. We promise we’ll give y’all the concert of a lifetime to make up for this mess, but right now everyone needs to get to safety. Adara and I are gonna stay up here and keep singing, but we want y’all to git!”
The crowd, however, didn’t agree and booed loudly, then started to chant our names.
Nate looked longingly at the microphone, but finally set it in the stand, just as a blinding strike a lightning hit the stage. Before I had time to scream, sparks flew everywhere, and the air filled with the acrid smell of burnt wood and steel as the boom of thunder filled the entire universe around me.
It all happened so fast.
The gale-force wind, the sheets of rain, the loud sound of splitting steel.
Then everything went black.
“I’ve got you. You’re okay now.” A man’s soothing voice came to me as if he’d spoken from miles away. “I’ll take care of you.” He was closer now. Closer. So close I could feel his hand on mine.
My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t see in the dark. My hand touched the flat coolness of a wall. I could smell musk and lavender. I was in the theater, in one of the halls.
“You took quite a fall out there. We were getting all wet so… are you okay?” My eyes searched to find the man who possessed the deep, soothing voice.
I was still disoriented, my chest feeling like it had been split in two and my heart wrenched out. “Yeah, I-I’m…” I wasn’t sure how to finish.
“Can I get you some water or something?” the dark-haired man asked as he moved closer and a door down the hall opened, casting a pale light on his face. A face with a strong jaw and coppery brown eyes that were inspecting every inch of me with concern.
It was the most gorgeous face I’d ever seen, and it yanked me back from the nightmare storm two years ago and into reality. Back to Jewel. Back to my current life.
“Oh god, I’m sorry.” I gazed at him for a moment, horrified speechless. He had to be a client, and I didn’t know what I’d uttered in the time he’d brought me inside. Had he carried me? My stomach plummeted. “I must’ve tripped.”
He handed me my cane. “I think you dropped this.”
“Thank you.” I took the cane, letting my gaze linger on him, as I couldn’t pry my eyes away from his. As I grew accustomed to the dim light, I could see that his eyes were the deep mahogany color of the earth just before the sun rose and lit it with its rays. I thought he must have felt the same incredible magnetism because he took my hand and held it between his.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice drawing me in further.
No. No-no-no. Walk away. He’s a john.
“Thank you for catching my fall. I’ve got to go.” Quickly, before I could change my mind, I turned away from him and walked down the hallway toward the stage, trying with extreme effort not to hobble or lean too heavily on my cane.
“Wait!” His hand grabbed my arm through the cape. His grip was strong, and by his tone I could tell he was used to getting what he wanted. “Where are you going?” He seemed frantic, but quickly composed himself. “Can I see you again? Are you in that book?”
I shook my head, pulled free and continued walking as quickly as my disability would allow toward backstage. When I got there, I threw off my wet cape, feeling sore but grateful the gorgeous stranger had caught me. I closed my eyes and focused on taking one breath in and letting it out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Where’ve you been? You’ve three minutes till curtain!” Brandy whisper-screamed as she catapulted toward me.
She looked ridiculous and the utter absurdity of my impending act, blended with the storm and the man, hit me like a brick, and a bark of sob slash laughter leaped out of my throat.
“You want to tell me what’s so funny?” Her lips curled into a scowl.
I looked at her, longing for her true friendship, one where I could confide in her and not have it turned around on me. I needed her to be my family, not my pimp.
The odd tickling feeling I often got before entering the stage danced across my back and settled in my stomach. It wasn’t stage fright. I’d conquered that years ago. It was the fear of facing them. The men. This was a crowd of men who’d only see me as one thing, a prelude to sex. I was to arouse them, get them all hot and bothered so they would pick a Jewel tonight.
My job was to get them hard. Sweaty and ready to spend their money. The room was already electrified with anticipation.
“I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this again,” I confessed, not wanting to face my reality. The men out there were waiting for me, and I needed to be so beguiling that I inspired them to cheat on their wives and girlfriends in order to have a night with a dream.
He was out there… waiting, just like the rest. He probably had a beautiful wife and children at home.
“Yes, you can, and you will. You have to.” Brandy’s eyes were earnest. She must have seen my panic, and she’d known how to talk me down since I was an adolescent. “It’s just music. You love to sing, you always have. It’s what you do, who you are. We won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”
She was right, I could do this. It was only music.
I slipped my arms into the long gossamer wings that swept the floor as stagehands fitted the thick harness straps around my waist. Lights flared onstage and glimmering specks sparkled about the theater.
“Welcome to Jewel,” the announcer crooned. The noise of the men in the theater went silent. The stage stood empty except for the glaring spotlight trained on the announcer. “Tonight, take a journey unlike any you’ve ever traveled, to a land far far away. A land of delights.”
I was hoisted into the air, and my false wings spread wide.
Roman
In the opulent men’s restroom, surrounded by marble and gold-flecked granite, I splashed cold water on my face and dried it with a hand towel that probably cost more than my shoes.
After catching that gorgeous creature in my arms, I carried her inside out of the rain. In the dim hallway behind the stage, the air was highly charged with sensuality. That must have been why I completely lost anything resembling sensibility and decorum.
I shuddered thinking about how I actually asked the masked goddess if she was in the book. How stupid of me, of course she was. Why else would she be here?
I stuck my head under the running water to cool my overheated libido, to freeze out whatever spell that beauty had put me under, practically having me pulling out my Amex Black. This place was legendary because it fucked with you. Everyone here played a game that even the most decent of men would find hard to resist.
After frequent trips here to stimulate clients, I knew that any woman at Jewel could be bought. If they weren’t already on the menu, they would be. All of the hostesses and wait staff were Jewels in training. If the women on offer for the night sold out, discreet offers for your hostess could begin. The girl in the black cape and mask was probably one of their gimmicks. Maybe guys liked to fuck women in masks; that slight limp probably was a thing as well.
By now, my client had more than likely been escorted into the theater, which would become the offer room once the entertainment came to a close. It was unusual for one of my clients to come solo with me to Jewel, and I didn’t want Duk to have to sit alone. I never went in the theater, but this time it would only be in the interest of business for me to join him.
When I returned to Duk, he seemed too delighted to even notice I was gone.
“Did I miss anything?” I whispered as I slipped into the seat beside him.
“Just that!” He motioned to the ceiling. “One of the gentlemen said she is their most amazing act.”
The woman from the hallway was perched overhead, her arms outstretched as a beam of light illuminated her high above us. It was then I noticed the tinkle of music and its haunting melody. That wasn’t… that couldn’t be. Was it her voice? It had to be a recording.
I watched in amazement as she flew over us like a fairy, with her wings outspread, singing in a low, intriguing voice. Her body glimmered under the lights and I caught glimpses of her shape. Wrapped in a nude bodysuit beneath the flowing gauze that floated around her, she appeared nearly bare-skinned. Her body was hourglass shaped, her waist accentuating rounded hips and the curves of her breasts. My eyes flicked to the stage, where acrobats were contorting themselves into a Cirque du Soleil version of the Kama Sutra, but my attention was immediately drawn back to her. She was unreal, like something out of a fairy tale.
“Her voice is beautiful,” I said to myself as I allowed myself to indulge in the moment and was startled when Duk spoke beside me.
“She’s so special.” His eyes were glazed, carnal desire shining in their dark depths. I felt a pang of jealousy before I told myself how ridiculous that was.
As she gradually floated down from the ceiling, the sexual contortionists faded into the shadows behind her, and she stood alone under a green-blue spotlight. In that light, her face under the mask was serene and mysterious.
I didn’t exactly know what it was about her that seized me so completely — whether it was her beauty or the veil of melancholy that surrounded her — but the sound of her husky voice and the hints of her physical form glinting under the light electrified me. The mystery of her had me wanting to possess her more than anything I’d ever desired. To remove her mask, see what beauty lay beneath.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she took command of the room. Her voice riveted every one of us as she sang in a foreign language.
I was transfixed.
Glancing over, Duk too had an adoring glow as he beheld her. He smacked my arm with the back of his hand and motioned to the small tray on the back of the seat in front of me. “I got you bourbon. For watching the boobies.” He laughed. Duk thought everything was funny.
I wrapped my hand around the glass, brought it to my lips and emptied it in one long swallow. Most likely, Duk would select her tonight. I couldn’t imagine any other woman being more enticing. I signaled the waitress roaming our section of the theater for another glass to numb my envy of men who could allow themselves such indulgences.
Then the music changed, and the butterfly sang a lighter, sexier number. Half-naked dancers replaced the contortionists, undulating and grinding on each other behind her. The entertainment bordered on distasteful, especially with such a beautiful singer. The staged fuckery was somehow well done, whether because the dancers took more of a modern dance approach that raised the bar a little, or because I’d already downed two bourbons and was on my third, I didn’t know.
The end came too fast. I needed more.
Ignoring the voice in my head that chastised me for allowing the orchestrated magic of the place to get to me, I nonchalantly picked up the catalog and searched for the mystery woman’s page. The next performer took to the stage as I flipped through page after page of beautiful women, scanning to find her with no luck. Perhaps I was looking for a woman without a mask on.
I leaned toward Duk as I pretended to carelessly graze the pages. “Did you read about that last one, the one in the mask?”
“She’s only for the show,” he remarked with a note of disappointment as new waitresses began to serve an elaborate dinner that led to an entrée of wild caught salmon.
I ate a little, so I wouldn’t be sloshed, but couldn’t seem to turn my attention from the damn book. Each woman pictured in the book was gorgeous. I couldn’t help but think they could have been models or actresses. Why choose the Jewel?
I huffed. Money. Money was the ultimate draw, as always.
The book advertised that one woman was good at fellatio, another had remarkable hands, some were into whips and chains, others dominated or could be the recipient. As I scanned the pages covered with women I’d never seen before, a sense of loss crept in, until I reached the last entry in the book. My heart lifted a little at her beautiful masked face in glossy print.
The Butterfly, it read.
My eyes zeroed in on her description, and part of me cringed to know that I was about to see what was listed as her sexual specialties. Yet, I was curious. Part of what drew me to her so fiercely was that she didn’t seem human. She was more like a goddess, something I already knew was fake and wouldn’t take me by surprise.
When I spoke to her outside of the theater, I wasn’t sure if her cane was a part of her performance or something she really needed, but either way, her delicacy was intoxicating. She was powerful enough to walk away from me without much conversation, so I knew she had great command over her will, but she was also unabashedly imperfect.
I read over the blurb twice and saw no mention of sexual expertise, and further, no starting offer. Was it possible Duk was right, this incredible goddess-woman was not for sale? That as the book advertised, she was a prelude to intense sexual satisfaction?
I signaled for service while the next act, two female contortionists dressed in what I could only call strings, finished their performance. Everyone had a price.
The hostess who answered my summons wore the highest fashion, probably just recently created by some hot, young designer. She was as stunning as the rest of the women at Jewel but gave the place a touch of class, presenting herself more in the line of service and business than sexual allure. With the hostesses, security guards, and management being so impeccably dressed, I could almost delude myself into thinking I wasn’t in a brothel.
“May I assist you, Mr. Wellington?” she asked, sounding eager to meet my every need.
I pointed casually to the The Butterfly’s picture. “I don’t see her starting price listed.”
“This is because she is purely to delight your senses as a prelude t
o tonight’s other entertainments. She is not on offer.” The hostess was kind, her voice smooth and delightful, the sort that made you feel like everything was right in the world.
At her words, a desperation gripped me. I pretended to peruse the menu again to catch my breath. How could I covet this woman to the point that my insides constricted knowing she was out of reach? It was laughable. I felt like a love-starved teenager.
And probably for no reason.
Beneath the mask, I was sure she was like any other woman. A gold digger looking for a rich husband, or even a sugar daddy to keep her in the comfort she felt she deserved.
But she didn’t strike me as like any of the others. Something told me she wasn’t fake.
Fuck it. I wanted her, real or not.
“I’m not interested in her for entertainment, I just want to talk to her for an hour or so.” My eyes locked with the woman’s, giving her my best comply-with-my-instruction look. My palms dampened with sweat as my heart ticked faster in my chest. I studied the hostess’ face, intently willing her to give a positive reaction.
Duk made a disgusted face. “Just talk? That’s stupid.” He playfully knocked my shoulder with the open palm of his hand. “Just offer a lot of money, you can have anything you want.”
I ignored him. Kept my gaze on the hostess, never breaking eye contact with her.
“Let me see what I can arrange for you, Mr. Wellington,” the hostess graciously offered. “Would you like to define your terms? You may use your cell phone if you’d like. Just text to JEWEL. We have a text service for women not included in this evening’s program.”
I marveled at how civilized she made selling sex sound as I pulled my cell out of my pocket. “Thank you, I’ll send the text now.”
She bowed to me. “I’ll return with the manager’s answer. It may take a moment as she’ll be securing the offerings in the catalog first.” She flashed a wide, deliberate smile, fabricated to create a sense of ease and courtesy. Everyone in this establishment was well trained.
