Strife: Part One

by Sky Corgan

  “I'm good.” I nod decidedly.

  James shrugs. “Suit yourself. Drink until your heart is content. Me casa is su casa.” He bows, and I can't help but feel like it's a mocking gesture. Still, I turn tail and head back to the living room, allowing them to continue on to the sex chamber. To be honest, I'm a bit curious to see what it looks like, but I know that if I stepped through that door, I'd be lost. The women would start removing their clothing and primal instinct would take over. There's only so much that I'm capable of resisting.

  I go to the bar and make myself a Crown and coke, impressed by James' set up. The bar is crafted from mahogany with intricate carvings down the sides. It probably cost a fortune. Not to mention it's completely stocked and as fully functional as an actual bar. I smirk to myself as I snoop around a bit, not having anything better to do. More than likely, John and James will be busy for hours. I can hear a chorus of giggles coming from further in the house along with the thumping of club music. The festivities are about to begin.

  I round the bar with my drink and pull myself up on the bar stool directly in the center of the bar, staring at my reflection in the mirror that serves as the backing for the liquor display. Surprisingly, I don't look worn from the long day I've had. My hair is still slicked back with only a few stray pieces out of place. My eyes seem a bit tired, but that's only natural. I rub the stubble on my chin, realizing that it's time for a shave. Whenever I get back to the hotel. Probably in the morning before I go meet with the rest of the cast and crew.

  As the giggling dies down and more sexual noises take their place, I find myself becoming restless. Regret is starting to float through my brain like a fog. It's not too late for me to partake in the nightly activities. Those girls were all super beautiful. But no. I can't. I'm not the man that I was before.

  I shake my head as if it will help to dispel the sounds of foreplay echoing off the walls. Then I grab my drink and head out onto the balcony overlooking the ocean, quickly closing the door behind me. The wind and the waves help to drown out any lingering hint of sex going on inside. I sigh in relief, happy that I temporarily averted disaster. Being a man is difficult sometimes, especially when the need to fuck runs so deep. I guess if I want to resist, I'll have to spend the rest of the evening out here. And even then I might fail. My resolve is slowly dripping away. All it would take at this point is the offer of a second chance. My dick is getting hard just thinking about plunging into one of those girls. Or hell, all of them. If I'm going to piss my morals into the wind, I might as well be greedy.

  The night quickly becomes less fun as the internal debate rages on inside of me. I know what I'm missing out on. At least, I think I know what I'm missing out on. You can do anything you want with them. James' offer rings in my ears. Anything I want. That could be a lot of things. It's been a while since I had that much sexual freedom. It makes giving in all the more appealing.

  I hear the balcony door open and close followed by the sound of heels clicking against the wood. This is it. This is where my resolve disappears. This is where I give in to shameless need and spend the rest of the night buried eight inches deep in as many girls as I can get my hands on.

  I wait for the woman to approach me from behind. She'll touch me soon, offer me a sexy smile and usher me back in. Lead me to that room where I'll do things that I shouldn't. I still feel conflicted, but I know that I've already lost. It's only a matter of time before I surrender.

  My hand wraps around my lowball glass and the ice clinks as it melts from the heat of my palm. I can feel my heart drumming against my chest, my body waiting to ignite from a gentle, feminine touch. It never comes though. The footsteps don't approach me. They stop several feet away.

  I dare to turn and look. At the other end of the balcony is a blonde goddess. She stares out into the distance, the wind whipping her long hair over her shoulders. It takes me a second to realize that she wasn't among the girls I met earlier. She's tall and leggy in a short red dress. There's a matching silk shawl around her shoulders, and she hugs it to her. Her expression is filled with sadness.

  It's at that moment that I realize she doesn't notice me—doesn't even know I'm standing here. What I'm seeing now is real and genuine. No acting. And it reminds me of why I decided I didn't want to do this in the first place.

  PEPPER

  My mind is reeling as I think about the amount of money I might be willing to give up. Five hundred dollars per hour. Where else could I make that much money without an education? Nowhere. That's where.

  I sucked dick for it and spent almost all of the money I had left on a blood test and this dress. Now I'm having second thoughts. What in the hell is wrong with me?

  I pull at the hem of my red dress, wondering if it's classy enough. These clients I'm meeting with tonight are supposedly very high profile. Hopefully, James won't be pissed that all I could afford is this simple chiffon dress. Hopefully, he won't be able to tell that I only paid twenty bucks for it.

  When he had originally told me I would need to take a blood test and pay for it myself, plus purchase a dress for the party tonight, my heart sank. With only three hundred dollars left to my name, I knew that getting both done would wipe me out completely. And it did. Now, I only have nine dollars and three cents in my purse, and it has to last me until...God knows when.

  I claw my fingers into my hair, stress overwhelming me. I can't back out now. I've risked too much to make this work. How can I possibly look sexy though when all I can think about is how screwed I'll be if I don't get paid for tonight? Common sense tells me that taking the escort job was a bad idea, but I was so hungry for the chance to make my dreams come true. Did I just make a big mistake?

  I can't dwell on it now. It's shit or get off the pot time. If I don't go, I'll almost definitely end up homeless and starving. I made my choice when I went to Planned Parenthood to let them do my blood draw. I was so determined then—determined that I could handle this, that I could change my fortune through hard work and sacrifice. Now that I'm thinking of everything that James said though, I'm not so sure.

  I scrunch up my curls a few times before taking a deep breath and heading towards the door at a speed walk. I've already spent too much time dawdling around and debating on if I can really do this, and the bus isn't going to wait for me. If I don't make it, then this will definitely all be for nothing.

  My heart races as I half walk, half jog toward the bus stop. When I round the street corner and it comes into sight, a wave of relief washes over me as I realize that the bus is there. I haven't missed it. Then that same wave drowns me as the bus pulls away from the stop and takes off down the road.

  “Wait!” I scream, waving my arm in the air, my pace quickening to a run that makes my calves ache.

  My pleas fall on deaf ears though. The bus doesn't stop. It keeps going and turns down a side street, continuing out of sight. Hope leaves me in a deflated sigh, and for the first time in years, I feel the urge to cry. The second it comes on, I suck back the tears. Crying is something I don't do. I won't do it. Nothing this trivial is worth crying over after everything I've been through.

  I tell myself that, but the truth is that this isn't trivial. My whole future rested on catching that bus. And I missed it because I hesitated, because I was worried that going to this party would damage me even more than I'm already damaged.

  I sit on the bench at the bus stop and take a few deep breaths, trying to stabilize my emotions and come up with a new plan. The next bus won't arrive for another thirty minutes. I'll be late by then, and James told me that he doesn't accept tardiness.

  “A girl who doesn't show up on time is a useless girl,” were his exact words. “These clients pay a lot of money to be with my escorts, and making them wait is unacceptable.”

  This isn't just one client though. There will be two clients at the party. And I'm not the only girl who will be entertaining them. Perhaps he won't notice if I sneak in thirty minutes late. Maybe he'll understand if I explain to
him that this was my first time doing anything like this and I was nervous—I am nervous. Surely, I'm not the first girl in the history of the escort industry to show up late for her first appointment because of second thoughts.

  Regardless, all I can do is try. I put way too much into this to back out now.

  With renewed determination, I relax on the bench, staring at the weathered apartment complex across the street. This is the bad part of town. The worst part of town, if I'm being truthful. A million different horrible things could happen to me before I even have a chance to get on the bus. I'm not safe here, but I don't particularly care. I'm at a point in life where there's not much left to lose. The fact that I'm about to sell myself to some rich assholes as a sex slave is proof that my life has a low value to me. Getting knocked off by some drive-by gangbangers might be a blessing in disguise.

  I wrap the cheap shawl I'm wearing around my shoulders to keep myself warm, even though it's so sheer that it barely does any good. I try not to think about the dangers that lurk around every corner—drug dealers and thieves and God knows who else—and concentrate on the horrors that will likely face me if James does let me participate in the group orgy.

  “This party will be the perfect opportunity to break you in and see what you're capable of,” he told me. “You'll do whatever the clients want, without question. Do you understand?”

  I nodded meekly, my mind going wild with possibilities.

  “These men are rich, and some of them have very specific tastes.” The way he said it made it sound unpleasant. “If you're going to survive in this industry, you'll have to learn to adapt. I don't cater to little prisses with preferences. I need girls who will do anything and everything. That's where the big money is at.”

  I assured him that I could handle the job. After all, I had just sucked his dick with no guarantee of employment. That was a pretty good statement that I was willing to go above and beyond. And I was so afraid that he'd renege on his offer that I didn't bother asking what exactly he meant by specific tastes. If I can deaden my emotions, then it shouldn't matter anyway. The body is just a vessel, capable of handling incredible amounts of pain and cruelty. If I can separate it from my mind, I'll be alright.

  That's easier said than done though in the moment. For as much as we don't want to feel, we do feel. Even if it's just a little bit. Every encounter changes us somehow, molds us, even if we don't want it to. Will I really be alright if I go through with this? What are these men going to want to do? What will this do to me?

  My chest begins to feel hollow as time passes until the next bus comes. I'm doing everything in my power to become numb.

  There's a tiny sparkle of hope that I'll be too late, that James will turn me away at the door. I know that's not what I need to happen though. I need for this to work, to walk into his house like a boss and take everything that's thrown at me in sexy stride. I need to compete with the other girls, to show James that I'm an investment worth making. I really need to shine tonight. And if things tear me up too badly emotionally, I can just use some of the money to go to counseling. There will certainly be enough of it if James was honest about what he plans to pay me.

  The bus finally arrives, and I climb on board. A man slaps my ass as I walk past him. When I turn to look at him, I see that he's in his early sixties, missing teeth, and wearing clothing that probably hasn't been washed in months. He drags his dry tongue across his sunk in bottom lip and wiggles his eyebrows at me. I huff in disdain, praying to God I'll never have to sleep with anyone like him. That choice won't be mine anymore though. Not if things go well tonight. It's a disconcerting thought, that I'll have to pretend to enjoy being with someone so vile. Anyone with enough money will be able to buy me. Anyone.

  I find a seat toward the back of the bus and curse myself for feeling. Shame is spreading through me like a disease, and again I find myself wondering how it came to this. What did I ever do wrong besides existing?

  Suck it up, Pepper. Nothing ever changed by moping. All you can do now is grab life by the balls and suck them until things get better. A man is a man, and all men are worthless. Money doesn't make them better. It just makes their lives easier. You'll get through this. You'll survive. You always do. Even if you end up on the streets by the end of next month, you'll survive. One way or another.

  I hold my head in my hands, using it as a barrier of protection from anyone approaching me. It works well enough most of the time though there are a lot of guys who can't take a clue. As far as those guys are concerned, I just try to ignore them or get away from them. Usually, the bus driver is kind enough to tell them to leave me alone.

  Thankfully, aside from the guy who smacked my ass when I got on the bus, no one bothers me. Despite my attempt to deaden my emotions, nervousness swirls inside of me, building in my stomach all the way to my stop. I take long strides to exit the bus, hoping to not get assaulted again on my way out. No such luck. The pervert at the front of the bus tries to grab my crotch this time though his hand just rolls off of my thigh. It takes everything in me not to turn around and slap him, but I can't afford the time or the assault charge.

  When I reach James' doorstep, I'm practically drenched in sweat from the walk. So unattractive. This isn't going to help my plea. It's probably not going to make me too appealing to the clients either.

  For the briefest of moments, I think about going home. My mood is shit, I look like crap, and I highly doubt I'll be able to fake sexy right now. This was a complete waste of time and money and energy. The urge to cry replaces my nervousness, and I squash it down again.

  You're not crying. You never cry. And you damn sure didn't come all this way for nothing.

  I think about ringing the doorbell but then decide to knock lightly instead. There's no response, and all I can hear coming from inside is the thrumming of music. They probably can't hear me knocking, and I fear that ringing the doorbell will make me seem unprofessional.

  I inhale deeply, trying to steady my breathing as I smooth down my dress. It's now or never. All or nothing. I have to do this. I'm going to do this.

  I wrap my hand around the door handle and turn it, entering the house with my nose turned up. Even if I don't feel like it, I need to make myself look like I'm worth a grand an hour because that's what these gentlemen will be paying for me. The five hundred dollars is my fifty percent split. And I want my five hundred dollars for going through all of this. If James doesn't turn me away, I'm going to do everything that I can to earn it, I don't care how disgusting.

  I try to look elegant as I walk into the living room, putting one leg in front of the other like a model on a catwalk. There's no one to see it though because the living room is empty. I allow the fake smile that I've been wearing to falter as the sound of moaning greets me from somewhere further into the house. They've already gotten started. I had at least hoped I could sneak in beforehand and blend seamlessly with the other girls. My luck tonight is really shitty.

  My eyes land on the bar, and I feel a strong need to make myself a drink. My nerves are eating me alive, and I think some alcohol might take the edge off. I'm already going to be on James' bad side though, and I don't want to make it worse by helping myself to his booze. Still, I can't go in there like this. Internally, I'm falling apart, crumbling with every second that takes me closer to selling my soul for money. That's what it feels like I'm about to do, slough off my last bit of humanity—the part that makes me a person and not an object.

  I stand at an impasse, my eyes dancing between the door to the balcony and the direction where the voices are coming from. I know I shouldn't waste any more time, that the right direction to go in is the one where people are enjoying sexual delights. I should burst through the door like the main event and give the clients a night they'll never forget, securing a job that's so close to being lost. But my feet carry me in the opposite direction toward the balcony instead. I just need a minute. One more minute to recompose myself and summon up my inner sultry Goddess. I'm
already more than thirty minutes late. What's a few more?

  I push open the sliding glass door leading out onto the balcony, and the cool ocean air rushes up to greet me, kissing my face with its salty embrace. I close the door behind me and head to the railing, wrapping my hands around it and facing the sea. This alone was worth the trip. It feels incredible and reminds me of another life, a life that I could someday have if everything goes right tonight. If dirty, horrible men can afford something like this, then why can't I someday? Not everyone makes it to the top with decent work. It's not about how you get there but that you do eventually get there. Could I sell myself for this? Can I destroy myself tonight for the chance to rebuild myself into someone whole? Yes. It will be worth the pain. It has to be.

  DMITRI

  Part of me feels guilty for watching her, but it's nice to be able to see through the smoke and mirrors to what this is really about. She's not happy to be here. It's written all over her beautiful face. Her ruby lips are a straight line. No fake smile. Her blue eyes are vacant.

  I wonder when she arrived and who she is. Judging by the fact that she's not in the orgy room with James and John, she either must have just got here or is someone special. She certainly doesn't look like she feels special though.

  For several seconds, I think about remaining silent. It seems like she's having some kind of moment, lost deep in thought. But then I realize how much of a creeper I'll look like if she catches me staring.

  “Late to the party?” I ask, turning my gaze back to the ocean and swirling the ice in my glass.

  She lets out a small alarmed cry, her hand moving up to clutch at her chest. “You about scared me to death.”

  “I'm sorry.” I grin, turning to lean against the railing and cast a sideways glance at her. At any moment, she'll realize who I am. Then it will be fangirl worship all over again.