Peasants and Kings

by Emma Slate

  I nodded.

  “Good. The one rule we have is utter secrecy. You’ll learn the ropes as time goes on, but secrecy begins immediately. You can discuss any and all things pertaining to The Fifteenth Floor with me and anyone I approve of, and no one else. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent, Sterling,” she said. “Now we can finally get down to business. There are three types of keys. Rose gold, yellow gold, and platinum. Rose gold is the lowest tier. The platinum key is the highest tier. Each key represents something different. Rose gold means a man will have the pleasure of your body, but anal is off limits and you don’t swallow. Yellow gold: He gets your body as he wants…nothing is off limits. Platinum: You behave like the yellow gold level, but you’re also available for threesomes or multiples.” Her grin was wry. “Have I shocked you?”

  “A little,” I admitted with a nervous laugh. “I suppose I’ll have to get over it though, right?”

  “When we speak, I’ll be forthright and honest. When you’re with a man, it’s all about seduction, but right now you have to know the rules. If we can’t get past discussing sexual acts, then you won’t be able to go through with this.”

  I all but gulped the scotch in front of me, waiting for Gen to continue.

  “All girls start at the rose gold level. You will too. Some girls wish to remain at the rose gold level for their entire career. That is entirely up to them. They don’t earn nearly as much, but the choice is always theirs. So is the choice to leave, at any time after their first year is complete. Let’s be clear, if you accept the terms of working here, you must work The Fifteenth Floor for one year minimum.”

  “And if I decide I’m not cut out for this? And want to leave before the year mark?”

  “What The Rex giveth, The Rex can taketh away. You don’t want to find out what happens when you cross us.”

  It wasn’t a full-on threat, but it was enough.

  “I won’t screw over your hotel. I’m one person against an empire. I know you could bury me.”

  “Let’s operate on good will then, okay?” she said with a small smile of understanding.

  “Okay.”

  She took a sip of her own scotch before setting it down. “Do you want to know about the earning tiers? I figure it’s not overly crass discussing money, considering we’re talking about men buying certain holes of yours for the night.”

  I choked on the last of my drink and coughed. Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes and I gasped air.

  Genevieve let out a chuckle. “You’re going to have to get over that prudish instinct.”

  “What exactly says prude about me? Because I literally choked on the word ‘holes’?”

  Genevieve’s humor could no longer be contained, and her chuckle gave way to a full-on belly laugh. “Fair enough. Rose gold earns two thousand a night. Yellow gold is five thousand. Platinum, seventy-five hundred. Of course, we take our cut, and you get what’s left over. It’s plenty. Just ask Tiffany.”

  My head spun at the numbers she’d thrown out.

  “Rex girls aren’t just grouped by keys. They’re also divided by tiers. There are two of them,” she said, speeding right along. “Tiffany is in the regular tier. She keeps her birth name, her normal life, and when people she knows in the outside world ask where she works, she tells them she works at The Rex, just like she told you. Everyone knows The Rex is high-end. When she’s with clients, Tiffany has a persona and they don’t know who she really is. They don’t get personal. They may be powerful, but they also know our ground rules and no one, at any level, gets to violate them. The regular tier girls’ persona is just a reference for the next time a client of theirs calls. Regular girls have clients that are wealthy, but that’s about it. The men have enough money to play the game, but they aren’t the movers and the shakers.”

  She paused and looked at me. “Still with me? Do you need more scotch?”

  “I’m good.”

  Nodding, she continued. “Then there’s the Elite tier. The girls that go that route give up their real name, their identity, everything, because they’re with men who can’t be seen doing what they’re doing or ever be connected with that part of society under any circumstance. We protect all of our clients, but for these men we also take care of travel and security. They don’t just walk into The Rex. They show up in private cars to events and use service entrances in the night. These are politicians, judges, powerful men who shape the world. Those are the men the Elite girls entertain. You will become an Elite girl.” Gen touched the corner of her coaster. “Do you have questions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ask them.”

  “All right.” I took a deep breath. “How does this work, exactly? How do I meet clients?”

  “We don’t have a dedicated room where men come to meet our Elite girls. We hold events. Some of the events will take place at The Rex, where we are the hosts. Some will be at other locations. Mansions, private estates, nightclubs, even ski resorts. Those sorts of places. We are their guests at such events. Sometimes we fly girls out to private locations, with security of course. Dubai, Paris, London.”

  “Okay,” I said, gripping my thigh to keep myself steady and alert.

  “But you will choose the men you sleep with. Every girl does. No man can claim a woman; he can only make her an offer. The choice is always yours. Security does not tolerate any sort of force whatsoever when it comes to our girls. You will be protected by men who are absolute professionals.

  “The keys I discussed earlier, the pendants; they are more than symbols. The keys signal to our clients what you’re available for, but they can’t take them from you or claim you. They will have to”—she paused and smiled—“woo you into choosing them for the evening. Once you choose a client, you give him your key. No money exchanges hands from them to you, and you never ask for, or talk to them about money. All of that is already taken care of, and security knows every client by face and name. They are all vetted and have accounts with us. You and our clients are watched like a hawk from the moment you begin speaking to them to the moment you begin to entertain them.”

  I blinked in confusion. “Hold on. I really get to choose?”

  “You get to choose,” she repeated.

  “But isn’t that—well, doesn’t that seem counterintuitive? If a man wants to pay for sex, why are we giving them hoops to jump through?”

  “These men are alpha males. They enjoy the chase; no, they thrive on it. The Rex is not an average hotel and The Fifteenth Floor is not your average brothel. Just like our clients, The Rex is elite. Everyone who works here is elite in some fashion. The bartenders, security, everyone. The Rex stands for the best, and in our world of decadence and sin, our girls are desired worldwide.

  “The way we operate means that our clients never grow bored. It’s not just about sex, Sterling. It’s about the art of seduction, and the keys given by our women are like trophies to them. You’re not regular prostitutes,” she emphasized. “You’re courtesans. We use our femininity, our sensuality, and our minds to charm them into wooing us. It’s reverse psychology at its finest, a clever game of cat and mouse where they see a woman they want, and even if they’ve already been chosen by her in return, they have to earn their time with her. After a night with you, they will feel like they have really won something of value that can’t be bought with any amount of money, and they’ll have a key to prove it.”

  She cocked her head to the side and studied me. “If it was just about sex, we’d do things like every other high-class escort business. They’d come in, pick a girl on looks alone, have sex with her, and then leave. But that market is saturated, and believe it or not, men grow bored of that. Particularly these men.”

  She’d thrown a lot of information at me, but the only thing I focused on was the fact that Rex girls got to choose who they slept with.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I murmured, slipping off the stool.

  “Other side of th
e room.” Genevieve pointed.

  I grabbed my clutch and almost jogged to the bathroom, but I forced myself to keep my steps steady. I was retreating—and I was sure Genevieve knew it. It was one thing to discuss the idea in the abstract. It was quite another to venture forward with the details.

  I quickly found the empty restroom. I took a moment to grip the marble counter. Forcing my gaze into the glass, I studied my reflection.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “You have to do this. Stop looking scared. Stop looking like a wounded bird. She sees it all.”

  I opened my clutch and found the mint tin and popped a tiny breath freshener. After the quick reprieve, I headed back to the bar.

  Gen impassively watched me stride across the empty room toward her. She was a keen observer and even though I didn’t know her, I found that I admired her shrewd acumen, her discerning eye, her ability to cut through the bullshit and tell me what I needed to know.

  I settled on the stool and set my clutch aside.

  “Better?” she asked with wry amusement.

  I arched a brow. “Better than what?”

  She chuckled knowingly and then picked up where we’d left off. “All of The Rex girls go through a six-week training period—”

  “I don’t have six weeks. The car accident…I’m on camera...I need a new identity now.”

  Genevieve paused for a moment and then said, “Okay. There’s an event three days from now. You will be there.” Her eyes bored into mine. “Due to your circumstances, I’ll skip the formalities and you can train later. If you give your key away to a client at the event, the job is yours and you will become an Elite tier Rex girl. We’ll get you set up with a new identity, a new social, a new name. Your old life will be dead to you. As far as the world will know, you’ll have suffered a terrible car accident and been buried hastily, without family. We’ll publish an obituary in the local paper to confirm your death. The old you simply won’t exist. That’s what we do. You’ll be completely anonymous in your new life, and more importantly, you’ll be safe. Now, pour yourself a second drink and finish it quickly so we can move on to phase two.”

  I blinked. “Phase two?”

  “Phase two is the physical exam.”

  Chapter Six

  Hours later I was back in Tiffany’s plush apartment, curled up on the couch with a red and black wool blanket around my shoulders. My mind glided over the events of the afternoon—and I realized I was processing everything with a clear sort of detachment.

  I’d seen a doctor who had drawn my blood to test for any abnormalities or blood-borne diseases and to confirm I was actively taking birth control, and then she’d given me a gynecological exam. She’d been gentle and efficient, but I felt violated, nonetheless.

  I’d also had to stand naked in front of Genevieve, who’d studied my body like I was a piece of livestock. It was beyond intimate, and there was no part of my being that hadn’t been examined.

  Somehow, I’d managed to remain aloof and disconnected, realizing that at some point I’d have to bare all to a man I’d give my key to.

  “We’re not looking for perfection,” Genevieve stated after I’d slid back into my dress. “We’re not looking for a perfect stomach or a size four woman with a specific hair color. Women come in all shapes and sizes. This is about making sure you aren’t trying to hide track marks or scars from self-harm.”

  Genevieve had told me to come back to The Rex the next morning at nine for my spa and salon appointment. After, she’d get me sorted with an outfit for the event.

  I was beginning to feel like a doll being dressed up. None of it felt real and I was having trouble wrapping my mind around what I had agreed to do.

  Tiffany blew through the door and then locked it before striding across the floor, her heels clacking against wood.

  “Hey gal,” she said, eyeing me warily. She set her clutch down on the coffee table and took a seat next to me, crossing her legs. She was wearing dark skinny jeans and a rhinestone bustier. She looked oddly ready for a night out. I glanced at the clock. It was only seven p.m. Fatigue made it feel like two in the morning.

  “How was the interview?” she asked.

  “Long,” I said.

  She plucked the mug of tea from my hand and sniffed it. “There’s no bourbon in this.”

  I smirked. “No. Just good old-fashioned chamomile.”

  She fell silent and then said, “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  She groaned. “I’m sorry, Sterling. I wanted to tell you about my job so many times, you have to believe me.”

  I nodded slowly. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, going over and over everything.” I frowned. “I felt betrayed, at first. That you sent me to Gen without telling me a damn thing.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I know.”

  “And I—”

  “Hold on, let me get this out.” I paused and then looked at her. Her gemstone-colored eyes gleamed in the light, but they were steady and piercing. “I came to you, without a doubt in my mind that I could trust you. I told you the truth about my mother, about her past, the letter—all of it. You not telling me about The Rex and what you really do for a living? Yeah, it hurt. It made me feel like you didn’t trust me, but once I got past all my anger, I realized you kept your word. You didn’t betray The Rex and tell me the truth, which is how I know I was right in coming to you.” I grabbed her hand. “You’re trustworthy and I’m—I’m honored that you went to bat for me.”

  She swallowed and tears welled in her eyes. “Damn you. All this time, I thought you were going to tear me a new one…”

  I shook my head. “Gen said you’ve never asked her to meet with a girl on your recommendation.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “She also said she owes you one. What’s that about?”

  She smiled slightly. “Iron vault, remember? She offered you a job, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah. I’ll work the event in three days and go through the training period after.”

  “That’s not normally how it’s done. The training period is to get you ready for—”

  “I don’t have time. I need the new identity now.”

  She paused. “It’s a serious commitment. It will make you question everything you’ve been taught about morality. You’ll have really intense moments where you think you’re doing something wrong, but then you’ll make your peace with it.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about right or wrong.”

  Tiffany cocked her head to the side. “Do you think it’s wrong?”

  “Well, it’s illegal.”

  “So, laws are always right?”

  “No. Definitely not. Damn, this is all sorts of weird. I’m talking about making my living by selling my body. How did you reconcile it when you first began?” I asked.

  “You’ve been on dates, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have any of the men you were with paid for dinner?”

  “Yeah. Most of them, but that’s not the—”

  “Did you sleep with any of them? I mean, after they paid for dinner and held doors open for you and treated you like a queen?”

  “A few.”

  “So technically, in a roundabout way, you’ve slept with men for money. I mean, it was food, and society doesn’t like to call a spade a spade, but basically you got something and were treated a certain way, and it made you feel good and then they got something in return.”

  “I disagree. I slept with them because I wanted to. There was no coercion or demands. I could’ve gone home alone. A lot of the time, I did go home alone.”

  “So, we’re talking choice, right?”

  “I guess so, yeah.”

  “I have a choice,” she said. “I don’t have to do this job. I choose to do this job. I choose who I want to spend my nights with, and you will have that choice too. I don’t feel used or dirty or ashamed. I get paid for something that most people gi
ve away for free. It’s like going on a date where at the end of the night you get to keep a shitload of money. None of it is forced. Sex is the oldest profession in the world. Why aren’t we allowed to use what we have to our advantage?”

  “It’s an odd sort of rationalization, but I see what you mean. Your life seems pretty charmed.” I flashed a smile that wasn’t genuine. “How do you feel? I mean, from when you started until now?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an adjustment period. The act itself wasn’t the problem,” she admitted. “It was all mindset. I had to forget everything I’d been taught about sex, you know? The Rex taught me to value myself—to have pride in my body and to own my sexuality. I earned my condo and my car. I earned the three hundred-dollar highlights in my hair. I earned the salt scrubs, the trips to Monaco, the designer clothes, the jewelry given to me as thank you gifts.”

  It was all about the presentation, I realized. How she rationalized using her body for her financial security and outright luxury.

  “The first time is the weirdest because you’re deconstructing your programming. You’re unraveling everything you’ve been taught to think about sex. Rex girls aren’t normal prostitutes.”

  I flinched at the word.

  “It’s not ugly, Sterling. I go to Rex events or fly to private estates for parties. And even though everyone knows why I’m there, I still get to choose who I want to spend my night with. Do you know where I was last month?” she asked suddenly.

  “No. Where?”

  “Monte Carlo. Me. In Monte Carlo. Do you know how much money I lost at the casino? Ten thousand Euros. Do you know what the duke I was with did? He laughed and gave me a diamond necklace just because.” She leaned back against the plush cushions of her custom designed couch. “People can judge me all they want. But I don’t have to answer to any of them.” She shrugged. “I make more than plastic surgeons in LA. What does that tell you?”

  “How can The Rex get away with running a brothel?” I asked quietly. “It’s illegal.”

  “Not if you grease the palms of the right people. The world is a different place if you have money, Sterling. Remember that.”