Pandora's Box

by Allison Hobbs

  Mercifully, the waiter appeared with the entrée before the reckless words escaped her lips.

  Suddenly awkward after the revelation of feelings, Victoria became pensive. She didn’t know how to respond to Kareem’s words. Her thoughts became troubled as she gazed at Kareem, his beautifully-chiseled face, the flawless toffee skin, the heavy dark lashes, and the silky brows. And she knew—had memorized—every contour of his hard, muscular body. Yet she and Kareem pretended that the relationship that was developing was something fresh and pure. When in reality, their meeting and union had been a tawdry, sordid affair. Victoria was hit with a wave of self-disgust. Their encounter had been an exchange of sex for money. An elegant dinner in a fancy restaurant could not change that.

  Throughout their meal, Kareem tried to keep up a steady stream of polite conversation, while Victoria, hardly eating, pushed food around her plate, murmuring one-syllable responses. Affected by her mood and keenly aware that the one-sided conversation was not likely to improve; Kareem gave up, and became somber himself.

  The arrival of the dessert cart seemed to give Kareem renewed hope of lifting Victoria’s spirits. He enthusiastically pointed to the array of attractively presented, decadent pleasures. He tried to cajole Victoria into trying a sliver of this or a bite of that, but her woebegone expression did not change. They left the restaurant in a cloud of gloom that neither could explain.

  Kareem shook his head, as if he could not understand how he had so abruptly fallen from favor.

  The jeep roared toward the eastbound ramp of the Schuylkill Expressway. Silent, Kareem and Victoria both pretended to be absorbed in the music from the radio.

  Knowing that she was responsible for creating the tense atmosphere that existed, Victoria wanted to say something that would clear the air, but the words would not come.

  Kareem pulled up to the curb in front of Victoria’s apartment.

  “Thank you for dinner, Kareem. Everything was wonderful.” Victoria’s smile was tinged with sorrow.

  “What’s wrong, Victoria?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to express. I probably just need some time alone to sort things out.”

  “Why? Did I say something to offend you?”

  She shook her head. She wished she could say something to remove the confused hurt from his face.

  “For awhile, everything was flowing perfectly. Then all of a sudden, you just shut down.” Kareem waited for Victoria to respond.

  Victoria looked up, her lips parted as if to speak, and then she sighed and shook her head, offering no explanation.

  “Victoria,” Kareem said in a sharp tone. “Why can’t we talk about whatever’s bothering you? You know I’ll listen and try to understand.” Kareem swallowed and looked at Victoria with pleading eyes. “Don’t shut me out.”

  Without planning, Victoria leaned toward Kareem and placed her head on his shoulder. She felt world weary, listless, and weak. Kareem put a protective arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Moved by the gesture, Victoria tilted her head, offering her lips. But instead of a full kiss, Kareem gently brushed her lips.

  “I’ve had a long day. As a matter of fact, the past two days have been crazy. So look, I’m going to call it a night. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Like a spoiled child, Victoria was so self-absorbed she had ruined their evening, created problems where none existed, and had totally forgotten that Kareem was under a lot of stress. He’d asked her out so he could relax and unwind. Her sudden mood swing had caused him more angst. She was thoroughly ashamed of herself.

  Wordlessly, Victoria got out of the jeep. Her heels rapped the pavement as she rushed toward the steps that led to her apartment. With the motor running, Kareem sat behind the wheel and watched as Victoria disappeared behind the steel security door.

  CHAPTER 24

  A massive maple tree shaded the quaint little house that was graced by neatly-trimmed hedges and blossoming roses. Below the windows, flowers that were set in brightly-colored wooden boxes danced in the breeze. The structure had the innocent appearance of a dollhouse and blended in with the other well-tended homes on Naudain Street. There was no hint of the bawdy activities that went on inside.

  A man who had parked his car a block away, made hesitant steps toward the front door. He checked the address that was scrawled on a piece of paper before pressing the doorbell.

  Arianna reached for the buzzer, admitting the fourth customer of the day. Prices at Tatianna’s Boudoir started at two hundred and fifty dollars. The money that Arianna expected to receive from the gentleman at the door would bring her a total of at least one thousand dollars. That money would be tripled by the end of the night if none of her scheduled clients cancelled.

  Arianna sat behind an elegant oak desk in a room that was put together tastefully with the assistance of an interior decorator. Large ferns in ceramic pots were placed carefully for just the right amount of sun. Philodendra and spider plants dangled from the windows, and a crystal vase filled with a bouquet of freshly-cut wildflowers adorned the desktop, adding a splash of brilliant color to the room’s muted color scheme.

  “My name is Joe,” the man said, without bothering to part his lips into a polite smile.

  Preferring transactions that did not require friendly social interactions, Arianna wore a stoic expression and did not extend a cordial greeting either as she surveyed the man.

  His weathered look suggested that years of outdoor activity had taken a toll. Icy blue eyes were starkly contrasted against his tanned leather skin.

  “You called yesterday, right?” Arianna asked. Joe was a name that was commonly-used by customers who wanted to conceal their true identity. She wanted to make sure he was the Joe she was expecting.

  “Yes. I have a two o’clock appointment.” The words came out staccato. “I requested someone submissive.” Joe looked at Arianna suspiciously. His expression suggested that he was doubtful that Arianna would fit the bill, that he did not intend to waste money on the arrogant young lady who sat before him.

  “Is my appointment with you?” he inquired gruffly.

  “Of course not,” Arianna responded sardonically. “Your submissive will be here shortly,” She emphasized the word submissive. “You’re a little early, so why don’t you have a seat? Would you like a drink while you wait?” She waved her hand in the direction of a brass cart with a glass top that was set up with an assortment of top shelf liquor.

  “No thanks.” He glanced impatiently at his watch and handed her three hundred dollar bills.

  “Thank you,” Arianna said without emotion as she slipped the bills inside an envelope in the middle desk drawer. “Bethany will be with you, and as I said, she’ll be here shortly. Your session is for one hour and will take place in the downstairs chamber.” Arianna’s eyes glimmered. She was proud of her fully-equipped dungeon.

  Joe sank into an overstuffed sofa, and then scooted to the edge. Ignoring the carefully arranged magazines displayed on the coffee table in front of him, he kept his cold eyes fixed on the front door.

  Arianna wondered if Bethany enjoyed being submissive or had she been reduced by her crack habit to do anything for a quick hit. Then with a wry smile, she thought, as long as Bethany took care of the difficult customers who wanted things that Arianna chose not to do, she didn’t really give a shit what motivated the trifling girl. Bethany was so trifling she had smoked up the money that was collected for her baby’s funeral and because of that, she couldn’t even get her job back at a seedy place like Pandora’s Box.

  Fifteen minutes later, Joe sighed audibly and shot Arianna an accusing glance. The sigh and a succession of heavy foot taps as he clasped and unclasped his hands clearly indicated that his patience was wearing thin. Arianna appeared not to notice the man’s discomfort as she wrote in a ledger, spoke to potential clients, and made appointments over the phone. But she was livid. She was on the verge of telling the foot-tapping asshole to take his money and get lost. He was working her l
ast nerve.

  Finally, Bethany arrived—disheveled and twenty minutes late. There was smudged black mascara and liner around her eyes, traces of make-up from the night before. Her thin, oily hair was pulled back with a dingy white scrunchy. She wore a wrinkled sweatshirt, a faded pair of black jeans. The Nikes on her feet, beat up with filthy laces, had seen better days.

  Wearing an embarrassed grin, Bethany said to the man, “Give me a few minutes to change. I’ll be right with you.”

  Arianna glared at her, then turned to the stone-faced client.

  “I assure you, sir, I do not condone tardiness. If you’d like to see someone else at another time, it’s not a problem. I can give you a full refund.”

  Bethany’s eyes widened. She owed her dealer half of the one hundred dollars that Arianna had promised for the session.

  After losing her job at Pandora’s, Bethany started turning tricks in cars on Twenty-second Street in North Philly. Charging only twenty dollars for a blowjob and sometimes less if the competition was stiff made it next to impossible to earn a hundred dollars on most nights. The dominance sessions that Arianna offered lasted only an hour and always paid well. Besides, the spankings and other physical abuse she endured dulled the continuous emotional pain almost as effectively as crack. On the occasions when a customer chose to torment her mentally by spitting at her and calling her names like bitch, whore, cum slut, and worthless white trash—she couldn’t disagree. What kind of mother, she asked herself repeatedly, bore four children and ended up with none.

  “That’s okay. She’ll do,” Joe said. He rolled his eyes heavenward.

  Bethany tossed him a look of gratitude, which he returned with vacant, dead eyes.

  “Bethany will be with you in a moment,” Arianna said, managing a slight smile. “You can come with me.”

  Looking regal in a flowing crepe dress, Arianna cast Bethany another disapproving glance, then escorted the client past two sunny Victorian-style bedrooms and across shiny parquet floors to a stairwell that led down to the basement.

  When Arianna returned upstairs the sight of Bethany slouched on the love seat offended her.

  “I am so humiliated. How dare you come here late and looking like shit? Please get off my furniture.”

  Bethany sprang up. “I’m really sorry, Arianna. I over-slept and…”

  “Shut up, Bethany,” Arianna snapped. “Look, you’re almost a half hour late and I had to return half his money,” she lied. “Needless to say, if you want the session I’m going to have to deduct half of your pay.”

  Bethany swallowed and nodded her head.

  “So what does he want to do? Greek?” Bethany asked, ready to get the session over.

  “I don’t know if he’s into Greek. I don’t care. If he wants Greek included in his session, then so be it. He asked for a submissive and I booked your worthless ass for the session because you told me you’d do it.” Arianna looked upon Bethany with murderous eyes. “Listen, Bethany, I’ve had it up to here with you. You’re late and your appearance makes me want to throw up. So if you’re no longer interested in complying with the desires of my customer, then just get the fuck out.”

  Arianna’s harsh words, coupled with the way her lips were twisted, made Bethany flinch. “No, no. Uh, it’s cool,” Bethany stammered. “I was just wondering before I went down there if you knew what he wanted to do.”

  Arianna sighed, then dramatically held up her wrist and stared at her Movado bracelet watch. “I’d love to chat, Bethany, but…” Bethany about-faced and headed for the stairs. Like a lamb to slaughter, Bethany gripped the railing and descended slowly.

  CHAPTER 25

  Victoria did a double take when she arrived at work and saw a young black girl languishing on the sofa in the lounge. At first glance, the girl looked to be no more than fifteen or sixteen, looking closer, it was apparent that she was a little older—eighteen, at least. The girl was the color of mocha and wore emerald contacts that gave her an eerie feline look. Her dark hair was streaked with blonde, pulled back with a curly artificial ponytail. Tiny swirls of hair were plastered to her forehead and hardened with gobs of gel. She wore a gold lamé halter and skirt set; the skimpy skirt barely covered her tiny butt. The girl lit a cigarette and puckered berry-colored lips as she blew out long streams of smoke in a manner that informed everyone in the room that she was not to be fucked with.

  “Girl, it’s gonna be a mess in here tonight,” Jonee warned in a hushed voice as she nudged Victoria and cut her eyes in the direction of the nubile vixen.

  “What kind of mess? What are you talking about?” Victoria asked with an edge in her voice. Although the presence of the young girl did not bode well, Jonee’s doom and gloom talk was unsettling and annoying. Victoria had been on edge and testy ever since her botched date with Kareem two nights ago.

  “That little hoochie’s gonna get all the money tonight.”

  “Why do you say that? She looks like a child.”

  “Duh! That’s what I’m talking about!” Jonee waggled her finger and twisted her neck around to emphasize her point. “That chile looks like a little girl dressed up like a woman. The tricks are gonna take a look at her and lose their minds. What do you think they fantasize about? I’m telling you, Pleasure, not ne’er motherfucka in here—black or white, is gonna make a dime tonight.”

  Victoria sighed resignedly and made a mental count of the girls working. There were six including the young girl—three black and three white. Too many for a Monday night. She should have stayed home and tried to patch things up with Kareem.

  “She cleaned up on the morning shift. Everybody went home broke.” Jonee continued to rage. “Even the blondest blonde with the biggest tits couldn’t make any money. She should have took her greedy narrow ass on home, but nooo…she wants more money. Fuckin’ bitch!”

  Victoria had a vision of the horrible time she’d had when she worked the morning shift and had left empty-handed. “She made money on the morning shift?” Victoria asked, incredulous. “I thought only light-skinned girls…”

  “Chile, please,” Jonee interrupted with a wave of her hand. “How many times do I have to tell you: there ain’t no accounting for the taste of a trick!” On a roll, Jonee continued, “Miss Thang brought out the freaky deaky in all those morning shift businessmen. If you think I’m lying, go ask Rover to let you see the sheet from this morning. Hershey’s name is all up and down the page.”

  “Hershey?”

  “Yeah, that’s what she calls herself,” Jonee replied, her lip curled in a snarl.

  Overcome by what she felt was irrational fear, Victoria felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t afford to sit around without making any money when she only had two hundred dollars to her name.

  Ever since she’d started working at Pandora’s Box, Victoria had spent money as quickly as she made it. Sometimes it seemed to her that the money was something vile and she had to get rid of it. Besides the home of her own that Nana had wanted for her, there wasn’t another thing that she needed for herself or Jordan. And so that very morning, after tossing the idea around for weeks, Victoria put thirty-five hundred dollars into a high interest one-year certificate of deposit, never doubting that she could make the money back quickly.

  It was the first step toward securing their future. The purchase of the CD had given her the adrenaline rush that she needed. She had planned to buy another with an even higher interest rates, and perhaps call a financial advisor to find out how to sock away some of her taxfree dollars. Those thoughts had motivated Victoria to once again leave the sanctuary of her apartment to sell her soul at Pandora’s Box.

  Engrossed in her thoughts, Victoria caught only the tail end of something Jonee whispered.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said we have to figure out a way to get her out of here.”

  Involuntarily, Victoria shot a guilty glance at Hershey. Seeming to suspect that Jonee and Victoria were whispering about her, H
ershey shifted her position on the couch and arched her back like a cat ready to attack. Narrowing her eyes at Victoria, Hershey drew up her lips. The sight was so disturbing, Victoria eagerly accompanied Jonee into a vacant room to talk privately.

  Still wearing her street clothes, Victoria dragged her workbag into the room and began rummaging through it, pulling out and examining one outfit after another.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Jonee said. “If the gov’ment don’t do something about welfare reform, this place is going to be swarming with hot-to-trot hoochies just like Hershey.”

  Victoria looked at Jonee quizzically.

  “That’s right! Those bitches getting kicked off welfare ain’t prepared to hold down no job. They done got accustomed to getting paid to watch soap operas and run they mouths on the phone all day. They got bad habits and no type of work ethic. They can’t handle the responsibility of holding down no job—especially a job that’s only paying minimum wage.”

  Victoria was hesitant to get into a political discussion with Jonee, who tended to be overbearing and inflexible in her opinions. “So what is your suggestion?” Victoria asked, treading lightly. “The welfare system has failed, change was necessary.”

  “The gov’ment created that monster. Why should the rest of us suffer? Let ’em stay on welfare. What difference does it make? This country can afford it with all the money politicians waste on dumb shit.” Jonee paused as she unraveled a new pack of cigarettes. Victoria watched Jonee use a long, navy blue, clawed nail to effortlessly extract a cigarette from the pack.

  Jonee lit the cigarette and dragged deeply. “In my opinion,” she said through a puff of smoke, “if you want welfare reform, then you have to take care of the next generation and educate ’em. ’Cause public schools in Philadelphia ain’t turning out nothing but drug dealers, welfare recipients, and…and hoes like us!” Jonee laughed as she spoke the last few words, but Victoria didn’t laugh in turn. She was in deep thought. Though spoken crudely, Jonee’s comments provoked thought.