“Is this the worst thing you do?”
“Some people would probably think so. Others wouldn’t. Good, bad, and worse are moral judgements.”
“This is illegal. There’s a clause in my NDA with you, excluding illegal activity for law enforcement.”
“Illegal in Georgia, but as far as I’m concerned it’s the right thing to do. I hope you can see it the same.”
“You aren’t doing it out of the goodness of your heart. You make money off those women.”
“True, but the same can be said of any employer. Why be in business if not to make money? We treat them well and give them a clean, safe working environment.”
“Your ‘right thing to do’ clause wasn’t in our NDA.”
Bud eyed her a few seconds before saying, “So we both know things about the other that could hurt them financially.”
It only took Nickie a split second to realize he was reminding her he knew about her pen names.
“Are you threatening me!?”
She’d raised her voice, but he kept his level. “Are you threatening me? You don’t make a move, neither will I.”
“I don’t think you and I are going to work.” Nickie died a little on the inside just saying the words, but she couldn’t believe he’d threatened to go public. He could ruin her!
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’ll respect your wishes.” Bud stood and dropped a keychain with a single key on the table. “You still owe me two days of twenty-four/seven. If you don’t want to hold up your end of the bargain, no hard feelings and I wish you the best. If you do, I’ll be at the address on the keychain at ten in the morning, and I have the place rented for five days. If you want to talk to one of the girls, text me before midnight. I’ll meet you there and arrange for you to talk to whoever you pick from the lobby. If you show up at the cabin in the morning, it can just be for our last two days together, or it can be for longer. Up to you.”
Nickie watched him leave, and sat in her chair and stared at the key long after he was gone. Fuck, but she’d love another two days with him, but could she? She owed it to him, and yet… he was a damned pimp.
No matter how much she argued with her inner voice, she knew she’d text Bud that night to talk to one of the girls. She was a journalist, and she’d never forgive herself for passing up the opportunity. Even if she couldn’t do a story on these girls, she could do one on other prostitutes in another city. Whatever she learned tonight could help her figure the right angle for her story and help her get close to prostitutes at a different whorehouse.
In the back of her mind, she asked herself if the story would be pro or anti prostitution. If women wanted to do it, were they being exploited?
Yes.
No.
Fuck, she could argue both sides and the realization pissed her off. She ran upstairs to her laptop, opened a new document, and started typing questions. She typed for an hour before returning downstairs to tell Patrick she wanted to use the condo’s workout facility. She needed to hit something, but lifting weights would have to be good enough.
Nickie waited until the last minute to text Bud, but she figured he’d know she wouldn’t turn this opportunity down. She didn’t expect Sandy to be in the lobby, and Nickie made a quick decision between the five girls.
She pointed to the two she wanted. “I’ll pay for the hour for both of them.”
“I have a party in forty-five minutes,” Sandy told her. “You can have me for thirty.”
“Okay then, whatever you can give me.”
“Negotiate your fee without figuring in the RTMC’s cut,” Bud told them. “She wants to talk, and I’m instructing you both to be honest with her. She’s an author who sometimes works as a journalist, but everything you tell her will be off the record. If she uses the information, neither you or the RTMC will be mentioned or implicated in any way.”
“I’m three hundred for thirty minutes,” said Sandy, “I’ll only answer what I want. No guarantees. I’ll eat your pussy, finger you or even fist you to get you off. You can play with my pussy if you want, but anal’s extra.”
“I don’t want to answer any questions,” said the other woman, though she told Bud and not Nickie.
He didn’t get mad at her, and his voice was as gentle as Nickie had ever heard it. “You don’t have to, but I’m asking you to do it as a favor to me. I’ve been dating Nickie. She’s special to me, and I’d like her to understand what it is we do here. She’s offered to pay you, but if she doesn’t, I will.”
“Okay then. As a favor. The MC’s done so much for me. I can’t refuse.”
“Ya’ll can use the office,” Bud said. “Nickie’ll be more comfortable with chairs.”
“No,” Nickie told him. “I want to do it in a room. One where they’d usually work.”
Bud looked at the man behind the check-in desk, who said, “Room seven.”
“You heard the man,” Bud told Nickie. “I’ll see you in an hour. One of the girls can bring you to the office.”
“I should tell Patrick and Tyler what room I’ll be in.”
They’d waited outside, which had surprised Nickie. Tyler usually stuck to her like glue.
“They know you’ll be safe here. We’re a haven and anyone who causes problems on the property is dealt with.”
Well, alrighty then.
When asked, Sandy said her name was Jeni, and she spelled it out to make sure Nickie got it right. The other girl said her name was Kate.
“Are those your real names, or work names?”
“Does it matter?” Kate asked.
“So, work names then.” She opened her purse and pulled her laptop out. “I’m going to type as we talk, because I assume neither of you will want this recorded. I promise you I won’t record the conversation.”
The girls looked at each other and Sandy/Jeni told Kate, “Bud will protect us. The MC’s always had our backs. He won’t let anyone hurt us — not even his girlfriend.”
Nickie looked at Sandy and thought Jeni a dozen times. She needed to think of her that way in her thoughts, too, or she’d fuck up and say it aloud.
“I know someone who worked here when Bud’s wife was killed,” Kate told Nickie, “and I’ve heard stories about how he was — a zombie who only lived because his daughter needed him. He hasn’t dated anyone serious since he lost her. Rumor has it he didn’t go downstairs when they ran a train on the new sweetbutt in the clubhouse last week — is that because of you?”
“Ran a train?” Nickie had researched biker terms and understood what a sweetbutt was, but the train term hadn’t come up.
Kate looked to Jeni for help, and Jeni said, “He said to answer her questions, but he didn’t say to ask them.”
With a sigh, Kate told Nickie, “It’s when the whole club uses a girl one after the other. Or, the ones not attached, anyway. Bud didn’t go downstairs and everyone was talkin’ about it.”
“Consensual? Does she want to have sex with the whole club?”
“No one’s raped, if that’s what you’re askin’. If a sweetbutt says she wants to leave, they’ll show her the door.”
Jeni’s grammar was perfect, while Kate sounded like she’d dropped out of school before hitting junior high.
“Can I ask how educated the two of you are?”
“I’m in my third year of college,” said Jeni. “Kate chose another route.”
“I ran away from home in the sixth grade and I ain’t never been back. Came to the big city and a nice man named Daniel took me in, fed me, and then put me in a room with a man who’d paid him to provide a young girl to rape, with a huge bonus if she was a virgin. He beat me up pretty bad when he raped me.” She was looking at her hands, but her voice was strong. “Daniel took care of me for two weeks while I healed, even had a real nurse come in to check me over and stitch me up. I stayed with him for years because it was a roof over my head and food in my belly. No school, no chores, not many rules, and all I had to do was let people fuck me w
hen he told me to. Lots of men like getting rough with kids, and while I was young I usually only had to do stuff once or twice a week because he didn’t want me all worn out. Wanted me to look young and innocent. He kept me at his place for probably a year or more. I had to give him blow jobs whenever he wanted, but he didn’t fuck my other holes. He auctioned off my ass and sold tickets to people who wanted to watch me scream and cry for my first time. It was awful, but he always took care of me when it was over.”
Nickie was mortified, but afraid if she said anything, Kate might stop talking.
“When I stopped bein’ his youngest star, he took me to an apartment where a bunch of other girls lived. I hated it there, but it was still a roof over my head and food in my belly. We lived four girls to a room, two sets of bunk beds. Four chests – one for each of us. He’d given me an allowance when I lived with him, but once I moved out I started getting money only when I worked, and not much. When I complained to him I needed more money, he took me to an abandoned warehouse and tied my hands to the rafters in the basement. Left me there all day. That night, an audience came in to watch him use his belt on me until I was black and blue all over. He sold tickets for that, too.”
Kate stopped talking a good minute before Jeni continued for her. “He pimped her out solely to the johns who liked to spank and whip girls for a few months after that, as punishment for speaking up, and he kept paying her what he’d been paying her — nearly nothing. One of the RTMC guys who isn’t around anymore heard her begging for the pain to stop. Daniel had sent her to the john’s house for an entire night, and Bash heard her begging from the sidewalk. He broke the door in to rescue her, but she begged him to please leave or she’d get in trouble. He asked who she’d get in trouble with, and when she didn’t answer he cut her loose from the chin-up bar her hands were tied to and said she was coming with him. He took the man’s driver’s license with him, told him he’d be in touch, and reminded him he knew where he lived.”
“She don’t need all the details.” Kate looked up, met Nickie’s gaze. “Bash saved me. He found out who my pimp was, told him I wasn’t employed by him anymore, and told one of the sweetbutts at the club to help a prospect nurse me back to health, and told everyone I was off limits. When I was better, Bash arranged for me to live at a women’s shelter. Told me I could get an education and better myself, and the shelter would help me get on my feet.”
She shrugged. “I tried, but it didn’t work for me. Stupid rules, and they’d only help if you jumped through their damned hoops and dressed appropriately and didn’t use inappropriate language. I needed money, and one of the women at the shelter hooked me up with a pimp. A real one who just took a percentage of what I made in exchange for setting appointments. When the shelter manager found out, she kicked me to the curb. Bash tracked me down and told me if I was determined to hook, the MC would keep me safe. He paid my deposit and first two month’s rent on an apartment, and the MC kept back an extra ten percent of my income until it was paid back.”
Kate looked at her hands again before meeting Nickie’s gaze. “They’ve helped me a few times like that, more than an employer has to. When I broke up with my boyfriend and he refused to move out of my house, I texted the office I needed help. Bubbles showed up ten minutes later, whispered something in his ear, and my ex threw some stuff in his duffel and left. He had a closet full of clothes, and all his stuff in the bathroom — he never come back for none of it. I never saw him again.”
“We have the option of being on their health insurance plan,” said Jeni. “We get a big bonus at Christmas, and as long as we give them a few weeks’ notice, they’re chill about us taking as much time off as we want. I took all summer off last year and traveled Europe.”
“Do your boyfriends know what you do?”
“I don’t date,” said Jeni. “I carry a full load at college, and I work here Friday and Saturday a full shift, and Monday and Wednesday a part-shift.”
“What’s a full shift?”
“Six hours,” said Jeni. “We shower and freshen up our makeup and hair between every customer. Depending on how long we have each one, we might only have four billable hours in a six hour shift, sometimes a little less, sometimes more. There’s no breaks for lunch or anything, though we can get something to drink and a quick snack while we freshen up.”
“Thank you for sharing your story,” she told Kate. Her gaze turned to Jeni. “Do you mind telling me how you landed this job?”
“My parents make just enough money I don’t qualify for a scholarship, but not nearly enough to help me pay for Georgia Tech. They live three hours away, so I have to pay my living expenses too. I looked around for creative ways to earn more money than I could waitressing, because paying tuition including dorm fees and all my books was never going to happen on what a waitress makes. No way did I want to owe a half-million dollars in student loans when I graduate, either.”
She shrugged. “I applied at some strip clubs, thought I’d just take my clothes off on stage. Turns out, at the club I was hired at, you make most of your money giving hand jobs and blow jobs in the back. I figured if I was going to do that, I may as well do it as a profession and not risk being seen on stage. I asked around, like I was looking to pay a woman to see if I might be bisexual. Asked where the cleanest girls are. Found out about this place, and walked in and told them I wanted a job.”
“You’d never… worked… before? You didn’t have any experience?” Nickie tried to ask the question without insulting her.
“Yeah, I was at the strip club about six weeks, but I didn’t have a customer list I could bring with me. They partnered me with other girls when their john wanted a two-girl party my first couple of days, before they let me fly solo. Six months in, they offered to promote me to the girlfriend experience level, but I hated it. I don’t do well in public, pretending. In these rooms, sometimes there’s more talk than sex, but it’s real. Nothing about that was real. Gramps seemed to know it wasn’t working for me after my second date, and told me I could come back to doing this if I’d rather.”
“Gramps?”
“Works in the office, takes care of us. He’s old and he listens to hippie sixties music, but he’s still a bad-ass biker and the johns give him respect.”
Nickie nodded and thought through the rest of what Jeni had said. She’d done some research but needed to verify. “So, they have girls who go on dates with men and then provide sex after the date, roleplaying they’re the girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” said Kate. “Girlfriend experience. I ain’t right for it, but they sent me to do it at a farmer’s convention thing once. Guy didn’t want to go alone. Grew onions. I had to learn about onions before the weekend so I’d be believable, but mostly I was s’posed to act real shy and not talk to other people much. It was okay, and the guy paid three thousand dollars to have me from Friday noon ’til Sunday noon, plus a clothing allowance since he sent pictures from the year before so I’d know what to wear to fit in. He didn’t last long, poor fella. Ten minutes after we were in bed at night, he’d shot his wad and was snorin’. He lasted a little longer in the morning, but not by much. I gave him blow jobs even when he didn’t start it ’cause I kinda felt sorry for him. I hope he finds a real girlfriend who does him right. He’s rough around the edges but a real nice guy.”
“You don’t let people whip you anymore?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t like it. Some of the girls do, and they get a lot more money, but nothin’s worth that. Not to me.”
“I’ll allow for an over-the-knee gentle hand spanking,” said Jeni. “Not a hard one, but lots of guys just want to play around with punishments and aren’t interested in anything extreme.” She looked at Kate and back to Nickie. “Some guys like the little girl thing. Baby fetish, but they don’t want an actual little girl. I have a few clients who pay top dollar to put me in a diaper and a pacifier, spank me when I’m naughty, and then swap out the pacifier for their cock. They want me to beg them
to stop and not hurt me down there when they fuck me, and most of them comfort me while they pretend to hurt me. The house safeword is red — I say it and they have to stop or they risk the wrath of whoever’s working security. So, it’s okay I’m begging them to stop as long as I don’t safeword.”
“Have you ever safeworded?”
“Of course. Someone who spanks too hard, or who goes too deep and is trying to hit my fucking cervix.”
“Do you ever meet people away from here?”
“Only if the MC sets it up. Longtime customers I trust, sure. Someone new, the client has to pay extra for my security if they want me offsite. I’m not sure why I’m okay with a guy who wants me to be his baby for a weekend when I’m not okay being someone’s girlfriend, but the role play is… I dunno. Real. I mean, it’s for him. His kink. I’m making him happy, fulfilling a desire. The girlfriend thing is more like you’re being paraded around as a trophy. It just feels wrong.”
“What happens if you’re scheduled to work and a professor heaps a ton of homework on you, or tells you on Monday about a huge test on Wednesday that you need to cram for every waking minute?”
“It happens a couple times a year. I call the office and let them know. They’re supportive of my education and work with me. I usually have at least a few clients booked for days I come in, and if it’s a customer I know won’t be happy with anyone else, I may come in for an hour or two to take care of them, but I don’t have to.” She looked at the curtained window a second and turned back to Nickie. “I’m not majoring in a field they’ll ever hire me for, but other girls sometimes have them for a first client when they graduate. Lawyers, graphic artists, whatever.” She stood. “My time’s up. I hope I’ve been helpful.”
“You have. How did you know your time was up? The clock’s behind you.”
She held her left arm up. “Vibrating watch. I set it before we came in. It gave me a five-minute warning, a one minute warning, and then let me know when the time was up.”
I saw the same watch on Kate’s arm and she absentmindedly touched it with a grin. “We all have them.” Her finger lifted a little medallion hooked to the side of the face — a silver stylized RTMC. “Means we’re theirs. Not their property, not really their family because that’s only the brothers and their ol’ladies, but still theirs. They’ll mess anyone up who fucks with us. I had someone open my car door last year at a stop sign, hold a gun to my head, and tell me to get out. He noticed my watch and said, “Never mind,” and jogged away. Not everyone knows what it means, but the gangs leave us alone.”
Bud (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 10) Page 23