by J. J. Sorel
“Disrespectful to the master playwright, in my book.”
“Stop sucking on that pipe, uncle.”
I chuckled. “So, it’s tonight.” I mulled over it. “Why not. I’m always open to something different. Is it discreet?”
“Very. Meet at Siciliano’s. Eight o’clock?”
“See you there.”
4
* * *
PENELOPE
THE CHERRY ORCHARD HAD A high-class retro feel. Embossed velvet wallpaper and gold framed armchairs hinted at luxury and taste.
Lilly kept reminding me it was a business arrangement—a one-time transaction. I would have preferred to sell a kidney rather than my virginity, but then, desperate times required desperate measures.
“This is nice,” said Lilly, whose vocal quaver wasn’t lost on me.
“Lil”—I took her trembling hand—“you don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”
“I’m going through with it. You’re here to encourage me, not put me off.”
I sighed. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
As we waited for someone to show us through, two men walked in. They were tall, very well dressed, surprisingly gorgeous, and hardly the type I expected to see. They could have had their share of girls, free of charge.
The tall, dark, and handsome one oozed sophistication. I found it hard not to stare. His pants hung elegantly from his waist, and his crisp white shirt revealed enough of a buff physique to make any girl drool. There was something remote in his dark-blue eyes that intrigued and intimidated me at the same time. And that was just from one glance.
His eyes found mine and remained. My cheeks fired up. That was new. I’d never blushed from a man’s stare before.
He towered over me, so I had to lift my face. As he continued to gaze at me with those deep-blue eyes, my legs weakened. I had to lean against Lilly, who was having her own moment gaping at the hot stranger’s friend.
I lost all sense of place and time, staring at the gorgeous man, who held his sensuous mouth in a tight line while a streak of aquamarine smoldered beneath those enviably long lashes. Although mesmerized, I forced myself to turn away.
Even with my back to him, I could still feel his eyes burning into me. I stole another glance. That unshifting stare seemed a little inappropriate, especially when his burning gaze wandered down my body.
Was he surveying the merchandise? The thought of that sickened me. I looked away. Any man at a place like this would have to be rotten.
A woman came to meet us. Dressed in slacks and a pink cotton shirt, she looked more like a suburban housewife than anything else.
She crooked her finger. “Come with me, ladies.”
Just before stepping through the red velvet drapes, I turned for one final look at the man. Like deep-blue magnets, his eyes drew me in again. Although those chiseled features spelled “heartbreaker,” the fire of attraction raged within.
The room we entered reminded me of a dressing room in a theater. Girls leaned into a mirror, applying makeup and chatting. Some didn’t even look sixteen.
“They’re underage,” I whispered to Lilly.
She was off in a world of her own.
“Lil.”
“Did you see those guys?” she asked.
I nodded.
“He was gorgeous,” she said.
“The tall, handsome one?” I asked, realizing that was a vague question, considering that both men were tall.
“The one with the wavy light-brown hair.”
“I was too busy staring at Mr. Dark and Sophisticated to notice.”
She squeezed my hand and giggled. It was the lightest she’d been all night. I supposed seeing sexy men gave Lilly cause for hope.
I looked around the room. There must have been about forty girls in there. I noticed some whose bodies hadn’t even developed. Dressed in string bikinis that covered very little, they appeared jittery and bit their nails while their friends whispered words of encouragement.
The woman in charge entered and gave them what sounded like a pep talk. I heard her say, “Think about the cash,” to a really young girl, who she pushed out to join the others as she lined them up for their little parade.
She looked over at Lilly, beckoning her to hurry along.
“Shit. They’re really young. They’re underage,” I whispered to Lilly.
The woman in charge turned and looked at me. Wearing an icy expression, she approached me. “Can I have a word?” she asked.
Sensing that I was about to be kicked out, I touched Lil’s hand. She drew a tight smile and nodded reassuringly. There was nothing I could do. Poverty was a powerful decider. Morality came off second best when debt and hunger loomed large. And virginity was a powerful commodity.
“You’ll change into your bikinis. And no more whispering or gossiping, okay?”
“I’m not here to sell myself. I’m here to give my friend moral support.”
“Then I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She followed me out to the reception area. “We’re here to facilitate life-changing opportunities for those who have the courage to take control of their lives.”
“You make it sound like one of those self-help seminars.”
“This is all about self-help. I don’t know of too many girls who enjoyed their first fuck or ended up marrying the guy. At least this way, their lives change for the better. Now, please leave. Unless…” Her eyes ran up and down my body. “You’re very beautiful, even without makeup. If you’re still intact, you could easily raise half a million.”
I crossed my arms as her eyes hovered over my chest. “No, thank you. I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”
She laughed. “And marry wealth, you mean? Good luck. They’re all in there, buying their thrill before settling down with rich girls. Money attaches itself to money.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t be bothered telling her that my ambition didn’t extend to marrying wealth.
“Remember, if you change your mind…” Her tone softened. “Why don’t you go have a drink and think about it? Think of what you could do with all that cash.”
I sighed. It was tempting, especially with that handsome stud whose eyes had fucked me already. I sensed he might be in the market for me. But it felt wrong. Sleazy. Besides, by his mere presence in that establishment, he’d already become a creep.
Taking sheepish steps, I made my way back to a civilized world where things happened naturally.
I ran into a couple doing a drug deal and a young girl squabbling with her boyfriend and reminded myself that life wasn’t that black and white.
5
* * *
BLAKE
I ONLY STAYED BECAUSE OF HER.
As each girl gyrated her ass and offered to show me what awaited should I wish to pay, my thoughts revolved around the dark-haired beauty whose bewitching eyes had collided with mine. I’d noticed her mouth-watering curves too. Curves had a way of alerting my cock. Even buried in loose unattractive clothes, she was a flower I would have loved to sniff and pluck.
James was lost in his own little erotic paradigm. The girl who had caught his interest paraded before us in a pink bikini, after which he insisted on a private showing, costing him five thousand pounds, where one could touch but not fuck.
My cock remained limp. The girls were too young and skinny. A smart mouth could do more for me than some young girl needing cash in return for her pussy and sanity. And I’m sure it would fuck their heads up. How could it not?
Although that place wasn’t my thing, I waited for the dark-headed flower to make an appearance.
When she didn’t, I felt a tinge of disappointment, despite respecting her for not parading.
Blending with a cocktail of cheap perfumes, the pungency of male desire thickened the air. Most of the clients were middle-aged men who breathed heavily. Some even stuck their hands down their trousers. It was really fucking gross.
I told myself that James had to up his game. The guy was a ch
ick magnet. Why would he need to be here?
Just as I was leaving, I spied someone I’d hoped never to see again. He was gesticulating at a creepy guy with a scar down his cheek, the type of person one expected to meet in such an establishment. Fancy silk wallpaper or scum-stained walls—sleaze always smelled the same.
Having spotted me, Dylan Fox gave a penetrating stare that chilled my bones.
When the woman running the show whispered something in his ear, I sensed he was part of management. His body language suggested he was in charge, and knowing Dylan Fox, he wouldn’t settle for anything but domination. Even as a conniving child, he’d stopped at nothing in his need to rule.
I left, determined to do some digging because I could have sworn that some of those girls were underage. Ammunition to bring down my enemy had just landed on my lap.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING DAY, I roared down the M1 and took the turn for Northampton. Running late for my appointment, I hadn’t slept, which wasn’t unusual—I had chronic insomnia. At least this time, that dark-haired beauty had entered my thoughts, instead of the cast of evil faces that normally plagued me.
I drove into the gardens of a Georgian estate that I planned to buy. Poplars lined the road, and a feast of colorful blooms filled the vast grounds. It was as though I’d stepped into a parallel universe, in that those old estates trapped time. That was what made them so desirable to visitors and why transforming them into resorts had swollen my bank balance.
Pulling up at the car park, I noticed three people standing at the pillared entrance, waiting for me. As someone who believed in punctuality, I hated being late.
Stepping out of the car, I grabbed my jacket and put it on.
“Please accept my apologies,” I said on my approach. “The traffic was bad leaving London.”
The realtor smiled sweetly. Her eyes twinkling, she stretched out her hand. “I’m Melissa Campbell. I work for Jonathon Sharpe.”
I took her hand and nodded. “Pleased to meet you.” I shifted my focus to the pair selling their family home and offered my hand to the girl first. “Blake Sinclair.”
She nodded and smiled.
Melissa said, “This is Jane Joyce, and her brother Michael.”
I took the brother’s hand and shook it, while he stared at my car, googly-eyed.
“That’s a beauty. It’s the exact Bond model, isn’t it?”
Reluctant to get into a discussion about the engine, of which I had scant knowledge, I nodded and directed my attention to the building.
“Should we go in and take a look?” I asked.
Melissa was busy gaping at me with wide-eyed expectation, while Michael seemed gripped with want as his hands ran over the body of my car as if it were a woman’s shapely thigh.
His sister, Jane, looked as though she’d burst into tears at any moment. I’d seen it before—kids of wealth whose parents had left more bills than assets. After being spoon-fed all their lives, they’d been thrust into frugality.
As we walked about the checkered floor, I looked up, bathed in the illumination of color from the stained glass window. Sitting proudly at the top of the landing, that feature alone overwhelmed my senses.
“It’s fully heated,” said Melissa. “And it comes with all the furnishings.”
“You’re not planning on gutting it, are you?” asked Jane.
“If I were to buy it, that would be my right,” I replied. “But judging by its condition, I can’t imagine that will be necessary.” I turned to Melissa. “You have all the structural reports for me, I trust?”
“I’ll email those to you,” she said, her eyes remaining on my face.
We walked into the grand ballroom surrounded by windows that looked out onto the extensive grounds. The light was perfect. I visualized a restaurant and a bar. The model was perfect for my standard resort. The price was a bit higher than usual, but I felt sorry for the pair.
After I’d made them an offer and left them to discuss it among themselves, I stepped out onto the ground and called James. He’d left a message earlier.
“Ah, there you are,” said James.
“I scrambled out early. I had a morning appointment in Northampton.”
“Are you back tonight?”
“I’m driving back after a coffee and some lunch.”
“There’s an exhibition later on. I thought you might be interested.” He sounded flat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m kind of lost. We’ll talk later?”
“Sure. I should be back by late afternoon. I’ll call you, and we can meet for a drink beforehand if you like.”
“Look forward to it. Catch you then,” he said.
I hoped he’d obtained the blond girl’s phone number so that I could find out more about her friend.
I wasn’t normally in the habit of chasing girls. Sex was something that arrived at my behest, in that I bought it. No strings attached. No quibbling over not staying the night or inviting her into my home. I could enjoy dirty, guilt-free sex. But this girl was different. I couldn’t recall this kind of lingering obsession for a girl before, considering I hadn’t even spoken to her. Very odd.
6
* * *
PENELOPE
THE IMAGES LEAPT OFF the canvas. Gifted when it came to drafting, Sheldon painted three-dimensional shapes with enviable skill.
“I love this one,” I said.
Sheldon held his chin. “Mm… I did that one in one night. After Roger broke my heart, I painted like a demon. I seem to create my best work when I’m sad.”
“Isn’t that what it’s all about?” I sighed, thinking of how my colors intensified the more my life spiraled downward.
“I guess so.” He sipped wine almost mournfully.
We were both slumped in chairs, waiting for the public to arrive. The lighting was brighter than I would have liked, but the curator had insisted on it, and when it came to showing art, Marius had an edge over his competitors. He also didn’t charge as much commission as they did and took risks with student art. Sometimes he even lost money with avant-garde shows that mainly attracted impoverished folk looking for an interesting scene and free wine.
“Is Drew coming?” I asked.
“He promised me he would.” Sheldon lacked his typical ebullience.
“Please tell me he’s not in the closet,” I said. Sheldon had this horrible habit of falling for guys in denial, who only hooked up with him to satisfy their sexual needs.
“No… he’s a bona fide queen.”
I giggled despite his glum face. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I saw Roger the other day. He was with a girl. My fucking heart snapped.” His mouth tightened, and his hazel eyes misted over.
I took his hand. “Darling, he’s a cop.”
“So?”
We’d had this conversation before. Sheldon had been seeing Roger, a policeman, on and off for a year, and it was meant to be casual. I’d witnessed his unease after I answered the door at Sheldon’s one night and found Roger there, staring at his feet. I offered to leave, but being selfless and aware of my predicament at home, Sheldon had insisted I stay.
Marius sauntered into the room, explaining to a pair of waiters which wine to serve and instructing them to avoid the stragglers. I looked at Sheldon and rolled my eyes. I was always going to exhibitions for the free booze and snacks.
“At least Drew’s true to himself,” I said. “That way, you can have a proper relationship.”
“But Drew’s transitioning. I like my men to be men.”
I thought of Roger, who was the last guy one would have thought was gay. He had a rugged, almost savage kind of masculinity that Sheldon pined for.
“You’re only twenty-five. I’m sure you’ll meet a brutishly handsome man one day.”
“I wish.” His eyes returned to their natural sparkle. Sheldon and I were always discussing men—shirtless, of course—and art. “Come on,” he said, rising and offering me his arm. “L
et’s ponce around with our noses in the air, pretending we’re art critics or experts so that we can listen to opinions.”
My mouth twisted. “Mm… I’m not sure I want to hear. And we’re owed some bad karma,” I said, referring to the many times we’d attended exhibitions and thrown our critical banter about like know-it-alls—something I regretted now that I’d matured.
“Let them bitch, for all I care. As far as I’m concerned, your Mad Witch series is fucking wild and beautiful, just like you are.” He hugged me and stroked my hair. I loved Sheldon.
“And your pieces are amazing.”
“A bit controversial,” he said. “I can’t imagine the highbrows going for them.”
“Hey, it’s finally dawned on me.” I pointed at the large canvas. “This is a modern take on the half-man, half-woman freakshow act.”
He clasped his hands. “Yes. That’s why I painted them. You know how much I love freakish things. After Dismaland, Banksy’s bemusement park, I was never the same again.”
I studied the image of two twisted figures dancing—a bearded man in a ball gown and a girl with a high bun, chandelier earrings, an oversized man’s jacket, and a moustache. “It’s brilliant, Shelly. You should be proud.”
He smiled.
The doors opened, and suddenly, a crowd spilled in. Predictably, the art-students and hipster arty types had arrived first.
My cell pinged. Peering down at the screen, I saw Lilly’s smiling face. “Hey, I hope you’re on your way,” I said.
Lilly had me worried. Ever since that night, she’d been hitting it hard. I knew that selling herself wouldn’t end well, despite the two hundred thousand pounds sitting in her account. When I visited her, she could hardly move off the couch. She was in so much pain that I offered to take her to the doctor. The hot young guy had been outbid by a creep who’d been so brutal and fucked her so hard, including anally, that the next morning, she was unable to walk.