STRONGER (Runaway)

by Lexie Ray

  “Thank you,” I said, a little confused. Was Don Costa encouraging me to lie to Mama?

  “I’ll make the offer one more time,” he said. “All you have to do is give me a name. I’ll make the son of a bitch who burned you disappear.”

  It was tempting, but I only smiled and went looking for my uniform.

  After we were both fully dressed, Don Costa held open the door for me. Cocoa waited out in the hallway.

  “Hey there, lovebirds,” she said, beaming. “How’d everything go?”

  “Like a dream,” the Don said, slapping me on the ass as I walked past him and into the hallway.

  “Well, you were in there long enough,” my roommate jokingly scolded. “You’ve squandered practically the whole night.”

  “I wouldn’t call what we did squandering a night,” he said, grinning suggestively. Cocoa whooped and laughed, slapping her knee.

  “I knew it,” she said, still giggling. “Our Jazz is a good girl—everywhere except the bedroom, is that what you’re telling me?”

  The Don winked rakishly. I knew my smile probably looked sickening on my face, but I wore it like a mask.

  We went back downstairs, where the crowd was feverishly applauding Mama. Her set was over. I realized that I had no idea what time it was. Was everything really almost over? The world had slowed down while Don Costa plowed into my body. Customers had changed inside the nightclub and the line outside had vanished.

  “We’ll be closing in thirty minutes,” Mama announced to groans and disappointed shouts. She held her hands up. “Now, now, you know I can’t slow down the march of time. I can only help you enjoy it a little better.”

  There were wolf whistles and catcalls to this statement.

  “Finish up your dinners, finish up your drinks, settle up your tabs, whisper sweet words to that special someone,” Mama rattled off. “And tip my girls. They live to make you happy.”

  “Are you okay?” Cocoa whispered to me. I nodded quickly and smiled.

  The curtains closed and Mama emerged on the floor again. She made a beeline for the Don’s table.

  “Well, well,” she said saucily, putting her hands on her hips. “Look who decided to return to grace us with his presence.”

  The Don laughed almost sheepishly. “What can I say, Mama?” he asked. “You have a fireball on your hands with this one. I’m lucky I didn’t come away burned.”

  I flinched at the obvious reference to my scars but didn’t say anything.

  “Well, it looks like you wore Miss Jazz out,” Mama said. “I’m going to send her away early. I bet a shower and bed will do her a world of good.”

  She marched me across the floor and to the staircase leading up to my room.

  “You’ve done good, honey,” she said, kissing me wetly on both cheeks. “You’ve earned more money than any other girl tonight.”

  I felt like I was going to faint, but I tried to smile for Mama. She was proud of me. I had helped the nightclub by sleeping with the Don.

  She patted her breasts. “I’ll keep your money safe,” she vowed. “It’s not safe in here to just leave it scattered around. I keep all the girls’ money in my office. If you want to buy something, all you have to do is ask and I’ll get it for you.”

  That troubled me a little, not knowing how much I made and not having immediate access to it. Then I remembered the two hundred bucks stuffed into my bra, remembered I had a secret to keep from her.

  “Okay, Mama,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I had to drag myself up the stairs and to the room. The soreness of my body was new and vaguely unpleasant, but it was my mind that was in the worst shape. How could I avoid doing that again? I wouldn’t ever be able to refuse the Don—that much was clear. My only perk was those two hundred dollars. I concealed the money in one of my dresser drawers.

  I showered, enduring the hottest water my skin could handle. I stood in there for what felt like hours, listening to the girls coming and going in the bathroom, the other showers, chatting about their tips, the night they had, what they were going to do with the money tomorrow. I let the water run over me, the steam so thick all I could focus on was breathing, not thinking.

  I wrapped a towel around me and shuffled across the hallway, not so much as glancing at my flushed skin in the mirror as I left the bathroom.

  I sat on my bed and held my face in my hands. I didn’t move as the mattress sagged next to me and Cocoa put her arm around my bare shoulders. I didn’t even know she was in the room.

  “Do you have any questions after your first night?” she asked softly.

  “No,” I whispered. How many showers would it take to wash this feeling away?

  “Take this.”

  I let my hands drop and looked at what Cocoa was offering me. She held out a pill and a small bottle of water.

  “This’ll take care of you for now,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the clinic and get you on some birth control.”

  Cocoa had probably been with the Don often enough to know his habits in the bedroom, including his forgoing of condoms. I swallowed the pill and Cocoa pulled the covers over me. Too tired to process anything that happened, my eyes closed, my brain shutting down as a promise for the blissful nothingness of slumber.

  As I drifted off, I realized something. Now I really did know everything about Mama and her so-called nightclub.

  Chapter Three

  Life went on after I lost my virginity to a mob boss, I was unsurprised to find. I did the chores I was assigned, opened and closed the club, learned how to flirt from Cocoa and the other girls, and gave all my tips to Mama for her to squirrel away in her safe. She didn’t give anyone a choice about that.

  I asked for money several times and she always gave me the amount I requested, but it still made me uneasy for her to hold all of my earnings. There had to be hundreds of my dollars in that office safe. Whenever I felt angry about it, I turned my mind to the secret tip from Don Costa.

  It didn’t surprise me the next time that the Don came in to the nightclub to enjoy himself with his companions that I was pulled to serve him. By then, I could carry a tray of martini glasses filled to the brims with vermouth, vodka, or gin as well as any other girl there.

  My continued innocence in the bedroom turned him on thoroughly. It pleased him when I repeated actions that he’d taught me, the little tricks to make him feel good.

  My only concern was that it hurt Cocoa’s feelings. Blues had told me that first night that Cocoa always got the Don, but it looked like he preferred me over her—for now. It was just as the Don had said that night. Sometimes a man preferred steak, but sometimes he wanted fish for a change. Soon, I was sure the Don would develop a taste for chicken or lamb or pork. I was just the dish of the moment.

  When his attentions inevitably waned and he displayed more than a passing glance at another of Mama’s girls, that girl started serving the Don’s table.

  It was something of a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to have sex with him anymore.

  But then, Mama called me over to a table one night, not long after the Don had taken another girl.

  “Mr. Lamprey, I want you to meet my newest girl, Jazz,” Mama said. She was lying. A new girl had started just a few days ago. I had already been there for more than a month.

  The man was pale, almost sickly looking, but I could tell from the cut and material of his suit that he was very rich.

  “The pleasure’s mine,” Lamprey said, looking me up and down.

  Mama leaned forward in confidence, drawing both of us closer.

  “Now, this stays between us,” she began, “but Jazz used to be Don Costa’s girl when she first started out.”

  “Is that true?” Lamprey demanded, staring at me with his limpid blue eyes.

  “Yes, it is,” I said, looking at Mama and wondering what her game was.

  “How many men could say they tasted the leader of the Italian mob’s spoils?” she asked, raising an eyebrow
suggestively.

  I scowled. Mama was pimping me out to this Lamprey guy. How could she do this to me? I thought I was done with the sex when the mob boss lost interest in me.

  “I don’t think the Don would like it very much if another man touched me,” I spat, but it was the wrong thing to say.

  “You’re right,” Lamprey said, the arousal making his voice throaty. “The Don wouldn’t like me touching you at all.”

  He took out an expensive-looking wallet and I counted the bills as he flipped them out. It was nearly $5,000 dollars.

  “Go on and take Mr. Lamprey upstairs, Jazz,” Mama said. “You remember the way.”

  How could I gracefully refuse at this point? I didn’t know how much of a cut Mama would take from five grand, but that still left a ton of money for me. I couldn’t extricate myself from this situation without embarrassing Lamprey, Mama, the nightclub, and myself.

  As I led the man upstairs by the hand, it dawned on me that Mama was only in it for the money. Did she care for any of the girls at all? It didn’t seem like it—certainly not for me. She was charging an exorbitant amount for this man to sleep with me. How much had she charged the Don for the first time?

  It was obvious that I was just another paycheck to her, a commodity that she could use to make her money.

  In the room, Lamprey was already practically panting. I could see his boner through his trousers.

  “Is this the same room you were in with the Don?” he asked, loosening his tie.

  “Yes,” I murmured. It was. Don Costa had taken me several times on that very bed. The curtains and lighting looked less romantic to me and seedier than anything. How could I have been impressed by the décor my first night in here?

  While trying to woo Lamprey, I realized it wasn’t necessarily me he was titillated by—it was Don Costa. Or at least the premise that he could have what the Don had already touched and claimed for his own.

  “You know,” I said slyly, “I was even wearing this lingerie when the Don took me for the first time.”

  That was a lie. The set I was wearing was new—bright polka dots over a nude background. I’d had on black lace for the Don.

  Lamprey almost tore my panties in his haste to get them off my body and examine them.

  I helped him take off the rest of his clothes, as the Don had liked for me to do for him. Lamprey’s penis was pathetically small, which gave me some relief. He wasn’t going to hurt me. At least the man had his money.

  “What about his cock?” he asked. “Who was bigger—me or the Don?”

  I smiled against his ear, kissing him softly. “The Don said that if I ever told another living soul about the size of his dick, he’d make me disappear.” I took hold of Lamprey’s penis, squeezing it and pumping it. He moaned.

  “I’ll give you a hint, though,” I whispered. “You’re bigger.”

  The moan Lamprey gave at that little lie was almost delirious.

  The sex that came after was nothing to me. I felt nothing, thought nothing. It was easy to moan, to cry out, to act like Lamprey was really giving it to me. My mind was on Mama.

  She told me she’d look out for me. She told me that she was my Mama now. Why would a mother push her daughter into prostitution? Was everything Mama had told me a lie? I wanted to get out of this place, but where could I go?

  I didn’t have a home. This place certainly wasn’t my home. It was as much my home as Jack’s house had been.

  Lamprey sprayed his seed into me, and I swore he moaned “Don Costa” as he came. I remembered to screech ecstatically, then rolled off the bed to get cleaned up.

  Lamprey was only the first of many men to follow the Don. Mama had to be making sweet money off of my body. Her wardrobe got even fancier and I got skinnier and quieter. I withdrew from my friends—at least the girls I thought were my friends. They shared their sex stories cheerfully, laughing hysterically about the shape or bend of a customer’s cock. I knew they’d love the story about Lamprey murmuring the Don’s name as he had his orgasm, but it just wasn’t that funny to me.

  I even stopped talking to Cocoa. She tried to draw me out of my shell, inviting me to lunch or shopping dates, buying me little trinkets like earrings or magazines. I could barely get out of bed in the afternoon in time to make it to open the nightclub.

  Finally, in a fit of desperation, Cocoa grabbed me by the shoulder before I walked out of the room to take a shower.

  “What is your problem?” she demanded. “What’s going on with you?”

  Something inside me snapped. “I’m a fucking prostitute is what’s the matter!” I hissed. “If I knew this is what Mama’s nightclub was all about, I would’ve just turned tricks on the street by myself. At least I’d know how much money I was getting.”

  “Mama’s always fair with her money,” Cocoa said. “Has she ever denied you any money you asked for?”

  I shook my head. “But if you ever tried to withdraw all your earnings at once, do you think she’d let you?”

  That made Cocoa pause. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Do you even know how much money you’ve made during your time here?” I asked. “Is anyone keeping track?”

  I knew I had Cocoa there. She looked confused and hurt.

  “My old roommate, Candy, did,” Cocoa said slowly. “She tried to withdraw all her money when she decided she’d made enough and wanted to move on with her life.”

  “And did she move on?” I demanded. I had to know the answer to this. I was making so much money that I knew I could leave the game soon if only Mama would let me out.

  “She moved out,” Cocoa said, “but she wasn’t happy. She was really upset. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on, what was wrong. She just told me to have a happy life and left.”

  “Think she got all that money she earned?” I spat. “Think you or I ever will?”

  I left Cocoa gaping in the hallway and took a shower. The show must go on, even as I lamented my situation.

  I wasn’t surprised to see the Don at the nightclub. He came in a little more than once a month. I was, however, surprised to be paired up with him. I thought his tastes had changed for good.

  “Don Costa, what a pleasure,” I said, kissing him on his cheek.

  “Look how skinny you are,” the Don remarked. “You’re even lovelier than I remembered.”

  It was difficult to maintain an appetite when different men were consuming me each night, but I didn’t say so.

  “Can I get you your usual?” I asked once we were at his table.

  The Don took me on his lap and put his lips against my ear. “I actually thought we could do something different tonight,” he murmured. “A very close friend of mine is celebrating his birthday and I thought you would be perfect for him.”

  “Anything for you,” I said automatically.

  “There’s another thing,” the Don continued. “He’s a bit eccentric in his tastes. But if you please him, you will be able to swim in the cash. Mama doesn’t have to know. It can all be yours.”

  I weighed this statement. Surely the Don’s friend couldn’t be any more eccentric than everything else I’d experienced. And if I had cash on hand, I could leave this place.

  “I’d love to help your friend have a happy birthday,” I said.

  I took the Don’s order and served drinks and dinner to the occupants of his table. The music that night was a swanky big band quartet. I returned to the table at one point to find someone new had joined the party.

  I’d never seen this man before, or else I would have recognized him. I’d spent that long serving the Don. The new man had a long scar running from his eye to his chin. It was wicked looking, but I found myself wondering what the other guy looked like. This guy carried himself with a self-assurance bordering on arrogance. His silver hair was cropped closely to his skull.

  “Birthday boy, I’d like you to meet your present, Jazz,” the Don said grandly. “Jazz, meet the birthday boy.”

  I shook his ha
nd playfully. “Pleased to meet you, birthday boy.” I concealed a wince when he squeezed my hand a little bit too tight.

  “Call me Tracy,” he said.

  Don Costa’s eyes darted over the floor. “I don’t see Mama anywhere,” he said. “Now’s your chance to get Tracy and yourself upstairs.”

  I felt a rush of warmth toward the Don. He had always been looking out for me, I realized. He wanted me to make money under Mama’s nose. He’d encouraged it from the very first day.

  I led Tracy upstairs as quickly as I could without attracting attention. His hand still gripped mine too tightly.

  The bedroom I always used with the Don was occupied, so I went into another. It was decorated in shades of purple.

  “Now,” I said, turning back to Tracy and smiling winningly. My escape depended on my performance tonight. “Tell me what I can do to make your birthday wish come true.”

  “Strip,” he said simply. “Then lie face down on the bed.”

  Simple and to the point. I liked that better than men who thought they had to woo me when we were in the room together. If we were in the room, I was already theirs. They didn’t have to kiss me or whisper sweet nothings into my ear.

  I left my lingerie on—a red satin set that the Don had gifted me with early on—and did what Tracy asked.

  He joined me on the bed, rubbing his hands down both of my arms before looping something around my wrists. I looked and was surprised to see him belting me to the headboard.

  I began shaking uncontrollably. Customers asked me for kinky favors sometimes, but I’d never been tied up since I started working at Mama’s nightclub.

  I hadn’t been tied up since Jack.

  I tried to stay calm as Tracy secured my ankles to the footboards with what I could only assume were also belts. Where had he been hiding these?

  “I usually like giving my birthday spankings to someone else,” he said, his voice audibly excited. “And I just turned 60.”

  “I love spankings,” I said, turning my head and trying to look at him. “I wish you were turning one hundred.”

  He jerked the panties down my thighs, a rush of cold air hitting my bare ass.