by Marni Mann
The answer came as quickly as the flashback had. My Emma wasn’t just gone; she was dead, killed on impact when the car struck her side. And I wasn’t in her Benz; I was in the backseat of a limo on my way to an interview.
We had to be close to the end of the fifteen-minute drive, which didn’t give me any time to come down, to process, to breathe out my emotions. Could I do this? Could I change into this revealing dress and keep my mind on the interview and the questions I’d be asked? Maybe this could offer me a break from Lilly. A way to pay the bills.
And maybe something even more…
I swallowed the gulp of saliva that had pooled under my tongue and my hand slowly released the safety bar to pick up the dress beside me.
CHAPTER SIX
The driver opened the door, and my eyes scanned from right to left and back again as I inventoried my surroundings. I didn’t know where we were, but I knew we weren’t in the city. Woods appeared in the distance; a black wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter of the property, foreboding, standing at least ten feet high and blending with the night. In front of me was a gothic mansion, massive in scale, three stories tall and a city block wide, complete with gargoyles and creeping ivy. The only other time I’d seen a house this large was when my eighth grade class visited The Breakers, the summer home of one of the Vanderbilts, in Newport, Rhode Island.
“Ms. Williams,” the driver said, lending me his hand.
I held onto his fingers while my feet reached for the ground. He pulled me out of the limo, and I left behind my clothes and my phone, my purse and my ID…everything that made me, me. We were parked on a narrow stretch of driveway that circled around the house. A thin, pebbled walkway ended directly in front of the door. I moved two steps closer to the entrance with both heels sinking into the small rocks as a sharp breeze blew through my dress. Goose bumps crawled along the surface of my skin. The cups of the gown bulged just enough to hold my breasts in place, but there wasn’t any padding, and the wind caused my nipples to harden and poke against the fabric. Without any panties on, the satin fell flat against my hips and dipped between my thighs as I walked. The whole outline of my body was on display. That was probably the point.
There were potted trees spaced evenly against the house; the lawn was immaculate, and the landscaping well-kept. The door was an antique slab of wood with an iron knocker in the shape of a skull; ancient sconces hung from the limestone exterior. We were neither in the front nor the back of the house; this was a side entrance. Two men stood by the door, wearing black tuxedoes and eye masks in the same color. One held out his arm, waiting for me to loop mine though, as the other opened the door. I released the driver’s hand and spun my arm around the gentleman’s. I was almost positive he could hear my heart thumping—or feel my pulse pounding against his bicep, at the very least. To calm my body, I concentrated on my walk. I moved with the grace, arrogance, and sensuousness of a cat, as though I had a tail that curled around the air and my feet were paws. I allowed the constricted eye slits of my mask to heighten my lust.
I entered the house with nothing but my mind and body, my heels meeting cherry wood floors and area rugs in dark, rich colors. I blinked, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light. Most of the lamps were off; the glass domes that hung on the walls were filled with candles that lit up the hallway and each room it led to. As dim as it was amid the flickering flames, it was difficult to appreciate the artwork or the intricate details of the painted ceilings…or the sculptures that occupied whole walls and corners. Sensuality covered every inch, every surface.
As we moved through the house, the organ that played through the wall speakers drowned out the noise from our steps. The music reminded me of a haunted house. But the loudest sounds of all were those in my mind. Questions swirled with each step: would I be working in this mansion…where was he taking me…what job was I going to be offered…would I accept it…and why was I dressed like this? I was anxious to find out the answers, and yet I was already turned on by my surroundings, and by the way the dress rubbed against my inner thighs.
The man at my side caused a spark, too. He wasn’t just squeezing my arm and causing a light pain that added to the excitement; his hand was also gripping my wrist. I felt as though I were being led to my room for punishment. His head was pointed straight, his jaw firmly shut. I wondered how many others he had chaperoned, what offers had been presented and if they had accepted. I didn’t think he would answer if I asked, so I let my imagination take over.
I’d never been to an art gala, but I envisioned that I was at one now: this would be the first celebration held in my honor, and I didn’t have to pay the bill at the end of the night or carry anyone home. My Kerrianna, my Day of the Dead, and a slew of others were being exhibited. The guests greeted me with awe in their eyes. The darkness in my stroke was appreciated and expected—requested, even.
We passed staircases that curled around the edges of each room, floor to ceiling canvases, vases large enough to stand in. My hands twitched for a release; my muse wanted to portray the colors, textures, and lines in paint. Whenever my creativity was stimulated this way, a voice within would scream for a canvas. I didn’t know when I would be home, but I knew what would come out of me when I got there. I would combine the images from this mansion, the emotions and smells, and purée them into a magical assortment of dark and sensual, mirroring the way this dress made me feel.
We stopped in front of a section of books at the back of the library. A guard stood just to the right, arms crossed and feet spread apart. The men nodded at each other. The guard moved the bookshelves to the side, revealing a black wooden door. Once it was unlocked, our bodies created a line, and we moved through and down a narrow case of spiraling stairs. There wasn’t any music in this part of the house. I could hear each stair creak as my feet left them.
When we reached the bottom, the man holding my hand said, “Victoria, I have Ms. Williams here for you.”
My eyes traveled across the room and landed on the woman whose back faced us. I assumed the Recruiter would be the one to meet me. But this woman had lighter skin; her legs weren’t as long and lean, and her waist was thicker. She stood with her hands on her hips, in front of a wall of televisions. I was too far away to make out what was on the screens, but the scene on each looked a little different.
“Thank you,” she said after several seconds. “Please have her take a seat.”
Even at the hotel, with its abundance of bedchambers, I hadn’t been interviewed in one of the guest rooms. But that was exactly what was happening here. I kept my composure, ignoring my fluttering stomach and sweaty palms.
The centerpiece of the room was a dark cherry desk and two chairs; the desk was empty except for a computer. I glanced nervously at the four-poster bed wrapped in a black satin comforter with an oversized headboard. Two spotlights shone in its direction. Directly above, attached to the ceiling, was a web of chains with a handcuff at the end of each. Though I was a bit apprehensive, I couldn’t say I wasn’t intrigued by them. Dallas had used handcuffs on me numerous times; I trusted him, though, and I knew the maximum amount of pain he would inflict. There was a walk-in closet to the right of the bed, lit up by a chandelier and lighted shelves. At least a hundred pairs of shoes sat inside, with three walls of lingerie and trays of jewelry on top of the island. I owned only a few pieces of lingerie—costumes that Dallas had purchased for me—and a couple pairs of heels that I wore to work. The thought of having a collection like this was exhilarating.
The guard exited, leaving Victoria and me alone. Her ass was just as sexy as the Recruiter’s, but her stance was even more self-assured. She was obviously the one in charge around here. I could feel the power radiate off her body. I wanted it.
Victoria’s gaze made me self-conscious so I turned away. I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk and looked at the TV screens instead. Once I realized what they were showing, I couldn’t drag my eyes away. Almost every monitor revealed a
couple who were engaged in some form of sex. There wasn’t any sound, but it didn’t matter; this sex was nothing like what I had witnessed between Lilly and her drunken men. These people weren’t sweating and grunting.
They were beautiful.
Dampness formed between my legs.
“Do you like what you see?” Victoria asked. Fishnet stockings crept up her thighs, held by a garter belt. Her red satin corset was rimmed in lace and beads, and lace boy shorts hugged her body. A matching mask hid all but her eyes. I craved to learn her appeal.
I nodded. “Very much so.” It wasn’t something I could hide.
Her black sparkly lids disappeared as we made eye contact again. “I thought you would.” She took a seat behind the desk. When her red acrylic nails reached inside a drawer, the monitors turned black. “Now that I’ve given you a small sample, you have an idea of what goes on here. What makes us different from other establishments of similar…service, shall we say…is our exclusivity. Not just anyone can enter our doors; we’ve been in business for over fifty years, and our clients are the most influential, prestigious members of New England’s society. There’s a five-year waiting list, and acceptance is by invitation only. Our roster of members guarantees the confidentiality of the mansion and its workers.”
I thought back to the previous night when I had held Lilly’s bills in my hand and believed the job had something to do with painting. It was what I had wanted to believe, but a part of me had known the truth. I still had to ask my questions.
“Would I live here?”
Her long black hair fell to her breasts when she shook her head. “No, but it will feel like home, and we’ll take care of you just like you’re family.” She paused. “That means I would constantly be monitoring your privacy and security and, because of that, I wouldn’t allow our clients to remove your mask, or theirs. You will also be escorted by limo to and from the mansion every evening.”
“Every night?”
“Three nights a week, and only three weeks a month. Based on your cycle, you will get a whole week off, but we’ll compensate you during that time as well. Your shift will last six hours; one will be spent getting ready, and the remaining will be spent with your client.”
I glanced over to the closet and the items that filled each rack. The few costumes I had were tattered from the washing machine, and I didn’t own enough hair products or makeup to spend that long getting ready.
“We supply everything,” she said, as though she were reading my mind. “Clothes, shoes, jewelry, food…condoms, so you’re always protected…and whatever else you’ll need when you’re inside here. You’re not allowed to bring anything into the mansion, or to take anything out.” She reached into the desk, and one of the TV screens flipped on. It showed me changing in the backseat of the limo. “We watch every move, so I have complete confidence in your safety.”
The note that was left for me on top of the box said I’d have privacy from the driver, but it didn’t say I’d have it from anyone else. Most people would have felt violated that a stranger had watched them undress. I was turned on.
“Are there any other rules I should know about?”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “We care about you, Charlie, and the way you take care of yourself…we wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your abilities, your health, or do anything that would scar or harm your body. Besides the heart and the date, no more tattoos.” She grinned as though she were proud of her clairvoyant ways. “When making or receiving any calls or texts—for business or personal—we ask that you always use the cell phone that we provide. This is for your protection as much as it is for ours. The only other requirement is that you must never discuss the mansion or what you do here with anyone. Ever.”
It seemed harsh. But I understood.
“What if I decide I’ve had enough, and I don’t want to work here anymore?”
“You can stop working here any time you choose to…but you won’t. One of the reasons we chose you, Charlie, is because sex isn’t emotional for you. You’re going to be worshipped and cared for. You won’t want to leave. Trust me.”
I wasn’t surprised that she knew about my tattoos, despite how small they were, and how they were almost always hidden by a ring or closed fist. And she could have easily found out about Dallas or any of the other people I had slept with. But how did she know my desires…things that didn’t show on my face because I wouldn’t allow them to?
“The clients are going to be so captivated by you. They’ll lavish you with gifts and tips and bonuses, and I promise you’ll be completely safe every minute that you’re in here. I take care of my girls, Charlie, and I personally watch all the TV monitors. But I’m not here only for your protection and care; I’m here for you, to become the family you don’t have, and for you to become something of a protégée.” She stopped and leaned across the desk. “The nights that you’re here, you’ll get to leave poor Charlie and her drunk mom behind, and you’ll turn into a beautiful, desired woman for the evening.”
This stunning, powerful woman wanted to protect me? She believed in my abilities and wanted to become my family? I wasn’t sure I could trust this.
“How much would you pay me?”
She smiled. “Two thousand a week. If we like your work, that number will double.”
The Recruiter had been right. That was more than I made in a month.
I looked around the room again, at the lace and satin in her closet that would cling to my body every night, at the flickering candles that would cast their glow across my skin, at the televisions on her back wall that would show every stroke of penetration. Did I really belong here?
“When you put on that dress inside the limo, you felt powerful, didn’t you? You were seduced by its luxury, and the thought of becoming Cee.” She stopped and scanned my eyes, then my face. “When you become her, I’ll welcome her like a daughter.”
Whenever I walked through Emma’s front door, I left my life in her driveway. I didn’t think about the liquor that turned Lilly into a monster…or the collectors who called non-stop, or the showers I had to take in the girls’ locker room at school because we didn’t have hot water, or how I shivered at night from not having heat. Or the men Lilly had chosen over me. Victoria was offering exactly what the Hunt’s had: a place where I would be taken care of, dressed and fed, and where I could live out a fantasy. I could leave Charlie in the limo. And when I stepped inside the mansion, I could become Cee.
“Would I ever be asked to do something that I didn’t want to do?” My eyes drifted to the handcuffs. “Would the men be allowed to hurt me?”
“No one hurts my girls.” Her voice rose with each word, but her tone wasn’t angry. It was protective. “What you do within these walls is your decision—not your client’s, and not mine.”
I closed my eyes just briefly, and then opened them again and smiled. “When can I start?”
Victoria reached inside her desk drawer. The wall to my left began to move as a pocket door slowly slid open. A woman walked in, her honey colored hair bouncing as she moved closer. Her chin was sharp and defined; her beautiful, all-knowing eyes stared back at me. But the characteristic that stood out the most was the seam that ran down the middle of her bottom lip. It was the Recruiter.
Finally.
The long wrinkle in her lip deepened when she said, “You’ll start tomorrow, assuming you pass tonight’s test.”
“A test?” I asked.
She was dressed in a light pink lace bra with a matching thong and mask. Her body was slender but toned, her skin a golden bronze. Her mouth had mesmerized me last night, but tonight it was her breasts. She moved behind me, pressing her lower stomach into my neck. Then her hands landed on my shoulders, gently rubbing my muscles, the pads of her fingers tracing the straps on my dress. “Let’s call it an audition instead.” Her nails ran over my chest.
I had only ever been with two women: one was a nurse who worked at my doctor’s offic
e, and the other was a cashier at the grocery store near my house. I’d had sex with each of them more than once. The taste of a woman, the softness of their skin and the way my tongue could dip around their curves were things I craved on occasion. Men would always be my first choice, but women understood my body; they knew how each of my spots wanted to be touched…and licked.
“Can you be one of us, Cee?” the Recruiter whispered in my ear, her lips lingering just above my lobe. The air she exhaled smelled of perfume: a crisp apple, a fresh white rose, and the musk from amber. It tickled the side of my face and fluttered down toward my breasts, warming the dress against my bare skin.
Her movements were confident, but there was tenderness in the way she stroked my flesh. Her teasing was soft and sensual; the tiny moans that came from her mouth were barely audible, yet they reached me. I wanted her to be rougher, for her teeth to pierce my nipple and her nails to drag up my legs.
Victoria stayed behind her desk, but I felt the intensity from her stare. Her eyes would always be on me if I worked here. The thought excited me; I wanted my monitor to be the one she watched the most. She appeared to hold so much control, and it could possibly be a challenge to impress her. But I wanted to try. I wanted to show her how many times my body could climax.
The Recruiter slowly moved in front of me, straddling her legs over my lap, her hands lightly resting on my shoulders. Every few seconds her fingers danced down my arms. As her neck turned, her locks fell onto my chest, dipping into the top of my dress, caressing the patch of skin between my breasts. My head tilted back from the sensation; my mouth opened. And when I finally looked up, her lips hovered just inches above mine.
My thighs parted from the build up of anticipation and from the way her tongue licked my neck. Her movements had turned hungry; she was feral in her need, and so was I. Her hot breath whispered promises that my body craved to accept. She finally gave me her mouth, but pulled away after only a few seconds. She took my lip with her, holding it between her teeth, and then dropped it.