Authors: Wilde, Breena
Copyright © Breena Wilde
This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author,Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by: Steven Novak www.novakillustration.com
Design copyright @2013Breena Wilde
Interior design by:Breena Widle Books
Cadence is in the worst predicament of her illustrious career as a hooker. She's doing her best to please the client, but John Zane is voracious and incredibly egotistical.
He's got her in the Blue Room. It's called that because of all the painand bruising inflicted within the four aluminum walls.
While her body responds to his touch, her mind keeps wandering back to her accidental night with JohnCruze, the famous Hollywood actor whose gorgeous eyes and kindness have melted some of the ice around her heart.
But can the wrong John ever have feelings for a hooker?
Table of Contents
I lay on the bed in the Blue Room for a long time. It might’ve been comfortable if I wasn’t chained up. There isn’t a clock, so I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but it’s been a while. My body hurts from staying in the same position so long; that is, my arms and legs cuffed and spread apart. I know the man I call Big Guy told me to behave, but I’ve really got to go to the bathroom.
So I start to shout.
“Hey! Hey! Someone. I need to pee.” I wait, hoping that’ll get a response. After I count to a thousand in my head, I’m about to shout again when I hear the door rattle.
Big Guy, whose real name is Lincoln, comes in. His face is hard, stoic. “I can unchain you to use the bathroom.”
I sigh. “Awesome.”
Lincoln releases the locks with a key and helps me stand. I’m naked, but he keeps his eyes above the neck at all times. It’s surprising. I’m grateful.
When we reach the makeshift bathroomin the back of the room, Lincoln releases me and turns around.
I stand there a moment, unsure. I really have to go, buthe’s so close I could reach out and touch him.
“Can I have a little privacy?Maybe you could go outside the room for just a few seconds?” I ask.
His thick brows furrow in annoyance.“Go and do it quick. Mr. Zane will be back soon and then you’ll be out of luck.” He turns away, rolls his shoulders, and tilts his neck side-to-side. I’m guessing that’s supposed to convince me he’s serious.
“Fine.” I sit and do my business.Once I’m finished I make my way to the sink. My arms and legs are waking and they’re tingling with sharp pins and needles. Doing my best to ignore it, I turn on the sink and wash my hands. The soap smells like lime and vanilla.
There’s a mirror above the sink and I glance at my reflection. I’m kind of a mess. Makeup from the night I spent with JohnCruze is smeared on my face, mascara under my eyes. My hair looks like I slept on it funny. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to work out the tangles, but that’s it. Zane obviously doesn’t give a fuck what my face looks like. It’s only my body he’s interested in.
When my hands are dry I walkback to Lincoln. “Now what?” I ask when I’m facing him.
Lincoln seems momentarily unsure. I wait. Hopeful. His phone rings and he answers it. “This is Lincoln.” He waits, listens. Then nods. “Understood, Mr. Zane.” He hangs up the phone and turns to me. “Mr. Zane says you’re to take a shower.”
The idea of hot water sounds good. Images of John Cruze and what he did to me in the shower flash through my mind, and my body suddenly wishes he could join me again. But he can’t. Won’t. I shut him down. Hurt his pride. That beautiful night will remain nothing more than a memory.
This—me chained to a bed while Zane has his way with my body—is what I have to look forward to. I have to deal with it. And I steel myself. Thoughts of something other than my current job and my current client can’t be part of my life. There’s no place for love, joy, happiness, making love, kissing. All there can be is fucking and whatever pleasure I can take fromthat.
“That’ll be fine,” I say to Lincoln. The showerstall is in the back of the room, near the sink and the toilet. It’s glass on two sides, the aluminum wall on one side and a glass door on the other. I open it and turn on the water. When it’s warm enough I step in. Lincoln closes the door behind me and turns his back to give me privacy.
It’s kind of a moot point, since he’s seen me naked and spread open. But I appreciate his effort.
I clean up quickly, using shampoo and conditioner. There’s lime and vanilla body wash and a whiteloofah. I scrub my body, working harder than I should, wishing there was more to my life than his.
Maybe someday, I think, then rinse and step out of the shower. Lincoln hands me a towel.
I notice the chains have beenremoved and the bedding has been changed. There are white sheets and a half a dozen decorative pillows in all shades of blue. The sheet is rolled back.
“Get in bed and try to sleep.” Lincoln pulls the sheet over me and gives me a slight smile. “Night, Cadence.”
It could be three in the afternoon for all I know, but I am exhausted. So I close my eyes and listen for the door to open and close, signaling that Lincoln has left. He doesn’t leave though, and I realize he isn’t going to. The room goes dark.
“Night, Lincoln,” I say sleepily.
My mind is fuzzy, but my body is fully awake. Someone isrubbing my clit and sucking on a nipple, tugging it in his mouth, running his tongue over it.
“Cadence. You ready to fuck, sweetie? Your body seems ready. God, you’re so fucking wet.” I open my eyes. The light is on and Zane is watching me.
My heart speeds up.Game face, Cadence, I tell myself.
“Of course, Zane,” I purr calmly.
He leaves the bed. I watch him walk over to a table loaded with sex toys. When he comes back he’s carrying a blindfold, a butt plug, and a wooden paddle. I take a deep breath.
“Do you know why this room is called The Blue Room?” he asks as he puts the blindfold over my eyes.
“No.” I work to keep my voice calm.
“Ask me why,” he says, flipping my body so I’mlying on my stomach.
“Why?”As I ask, the wooden paddle lands across my buttocks.
His lips kiss the spot he just spanked. “I call it theBlue Room because of the bruising I like to inflict on my guests while they’re here.” I can hear the smile in his voice. He bites my ass cheek and I cry out.
“Say my name when you scream,” Zane says, slapping my ass again with the paddle.
“Zane,” I say, forcing back tears. They aren’t of sadness, but pain. My tear ducts have always been connected to pain. Nothing I can do about it.
“With you, I promise it won’t be too unbearable. The idea is to make your body accustomed to the pleasure and the pain.By the time we’re done, you’ll only want to fuck when it hurts.” This time when he spanks me, he massages my clit at the same time. It actually does change the pain, makes it sharper. But it also makes the pleasure build between my thighs and I find myself pressing my sex into his moving hand. He continues the process—spanking me and rubbing my clit with his thumb. “Oh my God,” I groan, and writhe, my mind caught between the pleasure and the pain.
He doesn’t stop until an orgasm is ripped from me. Hard. Pounding. All consuming.My thighs are trembling.
“Holy fuck.” I can’t help the words. The orgasm is different than I’ve ever felt.
Zane chuckles and glides two fingers in my pussy, pulls them out and spreads the juices on my asshole. A moment later, he slowly, gently works the butt plug in and I moan.
He rolls me over so I’m facing himand presses my knees apart. The blindfold is still on, and I can’t see him.
“Now, my delicious little whore, I’m going to fuck you.”
He slapsmy clit and I cry out, reaching for his hand. He pushes it away. “Don’t just nod. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Fuck me, Zane. Fuck my wet pussy.”I grip the sheets in my fists. Waiting. Longing, truth be told.
He slides his hardened dick in and I try not to think about the fact that he doesn’t have a condom on. He grabs my hips and pulls me so that he’s buried inside. He slides out and, as he slides back in, he slaps a breast with the paddle.
I cry out.
“You’re going to come again, sweet Cadence. You’re going to come all over my dick.” He slaps the other breast as he slams into me again.
“Say my name, Cadence. Tell me how it feels.”
“Zane. Oh my God, Zane.” There is so much going on, it’s sensory overload; between my eyes being covered, the butt plug, and his fucking my pussy while he slaps my breasts, all I can do is moan. But my pleasure is building. He’s right. I’m going to come again.
His body is tensing, and I sense he’s going to come.“Shit, Cadence. You’re pussy fits me like a glove.” He throws his head back and groans as he shudders in release. Moving his hands, he pulls the butt plug out and my body responds with another orgasm.
He pulls off the blindfold and lies beside me. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I shake my head, too exhausted to speak. He pinches the inside of my thigh. “I need to hear the words, Cadence.”
“It felt amazing, Zane.” I swallowback the shakiness in my voice.
“Itwasamazing. I feel kind of bad that I had Fileze beaten so badly. If I’d known how remarkable you would be, I would’ve been more patient with that awful pimp.”
I smile. “I’m here to please,” I say, putting an arm under my head and turning my face toward him.
He brushes some of my hair off mycheek. “Yes, you are. And I’ve been most impressed so far.” He climbs off the bed and slides on his jeans. “Sleep. I’ll have some food and drink brought in soon.”
I do go back to sleep. Exhaustion gets the better of me. When I wake again, it’s on my own. A tray of food—a bowl of cut fruit, a bagel, some cream cheese, and a glass of orange juice—is beside the bed. I sit and pick up the juice. Chug the whole glass. Then pop a strawberry in my mouth.
That’s when I notice Lincoln. He’s standing beside the door.
“Oh, hi Lincoln. This food is meant for me, right?”
Lincoln nods. “It is.”
I finish all the food on the tray in record time. When I’m done, I go over to the bathroom.
“I need to go,” I tell Lincoln.
He faces the door in response and I go.
“Mr. Zane has asked you to take another shower.”
I turn on the water when I’m finished peeing. As I wash I can’t help but think about Zane and this whole weird situation. He knows his way around a woman’s body. I’ve responded to him in a way I never have with another man. It isn’t the same as with John Cruze. Nothing and no one has ever got my body the way he did.
Plus, he’s a clean freak, which is good, and Zane hasn’t been too awful.
At least, not yet, my mind whispers.
For thenext couple of days Zane has his way with me. On the third night he hooks me up to the wooden platform on the wall. “I want you to derive pleasure from pain,” he says as he straps me in.
I tryto act nonchalant. Cool, even. This is a job. He is a client. But the truth is I’m terrified. I’ve never, in my four years as a hooker, experienced anything like this. As hard as I try not to show fear, I can’t stop my bottom lip from trembling.
Zane notices. “Don’t be afraid, sweet Cadence. The pain won’t be more than you can handle.” He takes a deep breath, brushes a thumb across my breast, and kisses my cheek. “I get off watching you scream out. That’s the truth.” I gasp at his words. He continues as though he didn’t hear me. “The pain I inflict is meant only to be pleasurable. Understand?”
I don’t.At least, not yet. But one thing the last few days has taught me is that he’s skilled as a lover and that he doesn’t intend to kill me. I have a good sense of people. Sure, Zane is a twisted motherfucker, no doubt about it, but he hasn’t pissed on me or broken any bones. He hasn’t punched me or ripped out my hair. Overall, I feel lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse. I’m sure Fileze hoped he would be really awful.
One question has been on my mind, though. “Why do you care?” I eke out.
A strange looks crosses his face. “Why do I care about what?”
I clear my throat, knowing I may make him mad. “What do you care if I get any kind of pleasure? I’m here to please you, make sure you’re satisfied. How can me getting any kind of gratification be your concern?”
Zane smirks, astrange, twisted smirk. He reaches over and grabs the cat of nine tails he used on me the first night and whips it across my chest. I cry out in pain. Small droplets of blood surface on my chest, breasts, and stomach. His large cock instantly springs to attention. He grabs himself and runs his hand over the shaft. “It’s my concern because I like it. Simple as that.”
I whimper, wary as he moves closer. He leans in and kisses the bloodied spots. “You really are delicious, Cadence.” When he moves back, I notice blood on his lips.
Definitely a twisted motherfucker, I can’t help thinking.
He spins me so that my head is near thefloor. The blood is rushing to my head. But I momentarily forget that when his lips touch my pussy. I flinch in surprise. A client getting so personal is a rarity. His cock presses between my breasts. His hands spread my lips, exposing my clit. “So beautiful,” Zane whispers and he licks me. Slowly. Swirling. His tongue slides inside and I nearly pass out.
“Oh. My. God. Zane. Shit.” His tongue moves in and out. The heat builds quickly. Then he licks my clit. Wraps his lips that tender part of me and suckles.
Intense and immediate pleasure shoots through my body. My head is pounding, but my pussy is pounding harder and my orgasm wracks my body.
I feel him smile.
I don’t get it. I sure as shit don’t trust the asshole, but my body doesn’t seem to give a fuck. So I go with it.
Zane spins me to the side so my face is even with his dick. He sticks two fingers inside, moving in and out slowly.
“Suck it,” he commands, motioning to his throbbing cock.
I comply, taking him in my mouth until the tip is touching the back of my throat. He moves in and out. I run my lips along his shaft and feel him get harder and bigger.He presses another finger inside my pussy and strokes my clit slowly in just the right place, allowing my pleasure to build again. When I’m about to orgasm, Zane whips the cat of nine tails against my stomach. My orgasm explodes through me. My breathing comes quickly and my heart is pounding.
Zanecomes too—in my mouth. I let his cum drip from my mouth and onto the concrete floor.
“Holy fuck, you’re incredible.Everything about your little body is perfect.” He pulls out and I watch him walk to the sink. He takes a washcloth from the shelf, wets it and brings it over. Carefully, he spins me so I’m upright, and then cleans off my face and mouth. “I hope you can see that I like what I like. Some would say I’m a kinky fuck, but I’m not evil. And I seriously fucking like you.”
I’m shocked by his words and don’t say anything. Just listen.
He unhooks me and helps me stand. Stars twinkle in my vision and I hold onto him for support until they dissipate.
“Tomorrow I’ll let you go. But you’ll need to sign some paperwork.”
That surprises me. “Paperwork?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. The places where the cat of nine tails connected with my skin are stinging a little.
“Yes. Some non-disclosures. I need your word that you won’t tell anyone who you were with, what you did, and where you were.You can do that, right?” He takes me by the elbow and directs me to the shower.
I nod and then remember that he likes me to speak. “Yes, of course.”
“Good.” He turns on the shower. “Get cleaned up.” He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. “I’ll see you around, Cadence.”
He pulls on his jeans and is out the door before I’m even fullyimmersed in the water.
Lincoln comes in with a pair of black silk pajamas. I watch him place them on the freshly cleaned bed and then stand with his back to me.
I wash quickly, paying special attention to the little cuts. When I’m out and dry, I walk over to the bed. “Are these for me?” I ask, indicating the pajamas.
“Of course,” Lincoln says. “Get some sleep. In the morning I’ll bring you some breakfast and your paperwork. Then I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
“Okay. Thanks, Lincoln.”
I put on the pajamas and climb into bed. Lincoln walks over and turns off the light. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and wonder what tomorrow will bring. Will Zane keep his word, or is this some kind of ploy, a trick to get me to relax? He said my pain gets him off.
And what about Jessica? I hope she hasn’tspent my three grand, but she probably has. Jessica and money can’t stand to be in the same room together. If she has some, it has to be spent.
I releaseanother deep breath.
After a while I sleep.
The following morning Lincoln brings in the promised paperwork, in triplicate, and I sign it all.
The contract basically says I won’t tell anyone anything, ever. It’s a promise I’ll gladly keep. John Zane wasn’t that bad. He was actually a lot more giving sexually than most of my clients. His pleasure and pain type of sex was better than I thought it’d be.At least my body thinks so. Every time I remember the pain when Zane whipped me or spanked me, my mind cringes but my pussy gets wet.
I heave a deep breath. It doesn’t matter what my body thinks. Our time together is over and I’m a free woman.
There’s a brush on the shelf next to the towels. I pick up and run it through my tangled hair. It dried without a hair dryer for days and it’s extra curly.
“Get dressed,” Lincoln says, and I see he’s got a pair of expensivejeans, a pink polo shirt, and a white pair of shoes in his hands.
So not my style, but I put them on.
“Thanks.” I’m surprised they fit so perfectly. Even the shoes fit. As I check my reflection I realize this is the first time I’ve worn regular clothes in years. In my line of work there’s only sleeping, eating, and fucking. I change from pajamas to hooker clothes and nothing else. My heart clenches. I’ve been hooking for such a long time I don’t even know my style.
Maybe that can change.
Since Zane has decided to let me live—though now that I think about it, I doubt he ever intended to kill me—I have options.
I’ll get my money back from Jessica, fuck a few more clients, and go to college.
If she’s spent my money… “Hey Lincoln, how many days have I been here?”
“Five,” he answers quickly.
Shit,I think. No doubt Jessica’s spent some of it, which means more time on my back.
For the first time ever, a sinking feeling fills the pit of my stomach. I realize I’m beyond sick of fucking men for money. The job has kept me from being homeless, but I’m tired of it.
Still, I’m not a complainer. “Life is tough. You gotta make the most of it. You gotta do whatever it takes to survive.” Those are the final words my mom said to me before she was carted off to federal prison.
“Ready,” Lincoln asks, bringing meout of my reverie and back into the Blue Room.
That gets a tiny smile from Lincoln.
“Right this way,” he says, opening the door.
When Lincoln drops me off at my apartment, he hands me a card. “Mr. Zane wanted me to give you this—just in case.”
“In case, what?” I ask.Just in case I want to fuck while being whipped, flogged or spun around on a strange wooden contraption. No thanks.
Lincoln shrugs. “Just in case wasall he said.” He climbs into his black sedan and drives away.
“Alrighty then.” The card is black and in silver letters in his name—John Zane. Underneath is a number. On the back are two words:call me.
I tuck his card into my back pocket.
Early morning light filters through thedarkness and dances on the water. I’m guessing it’s close to six. The waves and the salty air fill my senses, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m alive.I’m home. I’m a survivor.
Opening the door to my apartment complex, I walk through the dingy lobby and press the elevator button. When I reach the top, I walk down the hall. My apartment is at the end of the hall, on the right. I can see that someone has propped the door against the entry.
I knock softly, hopingJessica is inside and not some squatters.
No one answers.
“Jessica,” I whisper shout.
“Go away. I’ve got a gun,” Jessica says, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Jessica, it’s me. Cadence.”
“Cade?” She peeks through one of the cracks. The light from the hallway catches her worried blue eyes.
“Yep.” I smile encouragingly.
“Fuck me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she says through sobs.
I help her move the door just enoughto squeeze through, and then we move it back together. Before I can turn to face her, she’s got her arms around me and is squeezing the life from me.
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
She lets go and turns me around. “You said you’d call, bitch. You never did. I thought you were dead. Every time someone found a dead body I thought for sure it would be you.” Tears stream from her eyes and drench her cheeks.
I wipe them away. “I know. I wanted to call, but I didn’t have my phone.”
She sniffles and wipes her nose on her tank. “Where the fuck were you?”
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant since I can’t tell her anything. “Just with a client.”
She grabs my face in her hand, making my lips squeeze together. “You gave me all your money and sent me out the window. Some guy with a gun forced his way into our apartment. It wasn’t just some client. Don’t fuck with me.” Her eyes are burning with worried anger. She sniffles.
“Yeah,” I look away, yanking my face from her grasp. “It was the guy I was supposed to fuck for Fileze. He was pissed I didn’t show up when I was supposed to. The guy who broke in was one of histhugs.”
“Oh. My. God. Are you okay?” She notices what I’m wearingand does a double take. “Did he fuck you or take you shopping in the uppity stick-up-your-ass part of town?” She touches the edge of my shirt with her fingers.
Iwalk past her into the kitchen. It consists of two cupboards, a microwave, a sink, a stove we use to store our large sugared-cereal boxes, a refrigerator, and our coffee pot. None of the appliances match. The cupboards are the color of honey. The refrigerator is white. Our microwave is mustard yellow and the stove is pea green. The counters are covered in cream linoleum that’s peeling in several places.
The one thing that’s nice about the kitchen area is the small window above the sink. If you look hard enough you can see the ocean, but a quick looks gives you a view of thedumpsters in the alley behind our apartment complex.
It’s better than most.
I flip on the coffee pot even though I’m exhausted. There’s no way I can sleep right now. “We fucked. Of course,” I finally say.
“And the clothes?” she asks, sitting on one of our rickety barstools.
“He gave them to me.” I shrug and get twomismatched mugs from the cupboard.
“Do you still have my money?” I blurt out the question after two cups of coffee and a blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese smeared thickly on both sides.
She scoffs, blusters. “Yes,” she says, but there’s a hint of deception in her voice. From between her mattresses she pulls out a wad of cash. Tosses it on the counter. “Here you go.”
There’s a lot of ones, fives, and twenties. I gave her hundreds. I slowly organize them, counting as I go. When I’m finished it’s clear she spent most of it. “This is it?” I ask, and try not to let my emotions get the better of me. Tears have clouded my eyes, but I blink them away.
“Yeah, Cade. I thought you were dead, and I needed some pick-me-ups.” Her face is sad, but she grits her teeth. “I fucking thought you weren’t coming back.”
I nod. “I know.” I tuck the remainder of the money into my back pocket. “It’s no biggie.”
But it is a big deal and I’m devastated. At this rate I’ll be able to go to college when I’m fifty.
“Sorry,” Jessica says.
I try to discreetly wipe at my eyes. “It’s okay. I gave you the money. It isn’t your fault.”
She frowns, but perks up suddenly. “At least Fileze-the-fucking-Sleaze isn’t your pimp any longer. You can do what you want, when you want, and with whomever you want.”
“Right,” I agree.
“Did you hear Fileze got his ass kicked? He’s still in the hospital. He may never walk again.” She pulls herfrizzy blond hair into a ponytail. “At least that’s the word on the streets.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Jessica goes over to our grungy plaid couch and sits, then flips on the old TV with tin foil on the antennae.
“Wanna watch 90210 reruns with me?”
“Sure.” Why the fuck not? I’ve got nothing better to do. It’s going to take years to earn enough for college. No bank will loan me the money and the government won’t approve any federal aid. I’m royally fucked. It was a stupid dream anyway. Girls like me aren’t supposed to go to college. I never would’ve fit in.
Whore turned businesswoman, I think with a snort.
It definitely wouldn’t have worked.And in a few hours I have to put on my hooker clothes and go out. The prospect doesn’t excite me.
I lean my head against the couch and close my eyes. JohnCruze’s face is there. His brilliant eyes and gorgeous smile light up my insides. It’s his fault I don’t want this job anymore. It’s his fault I want more.
Damn you, JohnCruze.
“JohnCruze is so hot,” I hear Jessica say. My eyes pop open. How did she know I was thinking about him? She staring at the TV and I look. A slightly younger John Cruze is playing a hunky young love interest. He’s cocky. One of the actresses says something and he responds with a smile, flashing his dimple.
My dimple, I think, and then internally kick myself.
“I’d forgottenhe guest-starred on this show before his career really took off.” Jessica makes kissing noises.
Ichuckle, sit up. My eyes are glued to the TV. “Yeah, me too.”
I’m mesmerized as JohnCruze saunters closer to the girl on the screen. My body responds. The characters are going to kiss, and every ounce of me wishes it was me instead of that damn actress.
“Did you hear he was caught with some prostitute? He took her to the hospital. All the tabloids say he beat her.”Jessica is talking to me, but she’s still staring at the screen.
While she’s talking my face heatsup with embarrassment. “He didn’t beat her,” I say quietly.
“How do you—” She starts to giggle. “Oh. My. Fucking. God. You’re the prostitute he was with, aren’t you?”
I’m sure my face is the color of beets at this point. “No,” I say, but it’s obvious I’m lying.
She scoots closer so she’s practically in my lap. “Tell me everything. How was it? Does he have a teeny dick? Please tell me that totally hot man has no weaknesses.”
I scoot back. “Jessica, he was good.”
She snorts. “Good? Fuck that. He was either a rock star or a total weeney. Which is it?” She pulls a menthol cigarette from a pack sitting on the messy coffee table and lights it up. Sucks in and blows out.
“I so need one of those,” I say and light up one of my own. After I’ve taken a couple of drags and am happily feeling the buzz, I look at Jessica. “His cock is huge and he fucks like a champion.”
Jessica bursts out laughing. “You’re such a cunt. You always get the good ones. Did he pay you?”
I pause, thinking about what I want to say. Finally I decide on the truth. “I fucked him by mistake.”
“You did what?” Her face lights up with shock. “How is that possible?”
I tell her about the text, about meeting Johnat the Bel Ayre, about how amazing he was. When I’m finished, she sighs.
“You’re seriously the luckiest person I know. And the stupidest.”
“Stupid? Why?” I ask, putting out the butt of the cigarette on an ashtray. I’m watching the television again. John Cruze’s character and the female are in bed. Talking. Laughing. I can’t help but feel jealous. I want to be in bed with him. I want to talk and laugh with him.
Just the ideamakes me happy and angry at the same time.
“I would’ve stayed. Better to fuck him than fuck some random client, don’t you think?”
I turn to her. She has a point. The problem with that thinkingthough is I like him. I want him for more than a client. But I can’t tell her that. Instead I say, “No, I don’t fucking think so. Otherwise I would’ve stayed.” A part of me wants to kick myself. I should’ve stayed. But it’s too late for second-guessing my decisions. No sense dwelling on it.
I light up another cigarette.
“So what are you going to do now?” Jessica pats my knee.
I sigh and stand. “I guess getmy ass back to work.”
I’m wearing a short black mini, my red platforms and a red spaghetti strap top. My hair is up in a high ponytail and I’ve got an inch of makeup on.I don’t look half bad. Jessica is wearing pleather hot pants, black heels, and a white halter. She straightened her blond hair and lined her blue eyes in glittery blue-blue eye shadow.
We’re across the street from theTCL Chinese Theater. It’s lit up, old and beautiful, except for the scaffolding surrounding part of it. The city is refurbishing the building, turning it into a giant movie theater.
That’s life though.
Jessica and I are in front of atattoo parlor. There are papers scattered all over the sidewalk. People amble by, some whistle, some ask how much, but my heart isn’t in it.
Jessica takes off with a client and I’m left alone.
I cross the street and walk over to Marilyn Monroe’s shoe prints, permanently engraved in the concrete. My feet are bigger than hers. Marilyn had tiny feet.
“Hey,you selling?” Someone asks.
I turn around. There’s a tall young man, early twenties, dark hair and darker eyes. He’s standing in front of me. Watching me. His features heavy with lust. It’s obvious what he wants.
“How much?” he asks, moving closer.
I grit my teeth, steel myself. “Depends on what you want.”
He whistles low. “I want to fuck, whore. What’s thatgonna cost?”
“Fifty bucks,”I say, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
“Sold,” he says and grabs me by the arm. I walk with him to his car. Once he’s shut the door and is sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to me. “I’ve got a room down the street.”
“That’s fine,”I say, touching his thigh, pretending I’m so excited to be with him.
As soon as he closes the doorto the room, I open my mouth. He needs to pay me first. And I want to tell him my rules. Before I can, the asshole pushes my on the bed and lifts my skirt. I’m wearing a black thong. He pushes it to the side.
“Condom,” I say trying to turn out of his grasp. I have my rules for a reason.
“Withpleasure. I certainly don’t want to catch anything.” I hear a wrapper tear. Seconds later he slams into me. His dick isn’t very big, thankfully.
I bury my face in the disgustingsmelling comforter, grinding my teeth together. He goes for a long while but I finally feel his body tense.
Soon, I think and let out a moan, hoping that’ll hurry the dirty business along.
He has his orgasm. Pulls outand pushes down my skirt.
“Thanks, whore.” I hear his pants zip. Then he grabs my wrists, puts them behind my back and cuffs me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to get a handle onwhat game he’s playing.
“You’re under arrest, whore. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say canand will be used against you in a court of law.”
“What?Is this some kind of game? I don’t mind playing, but I need to know what’s going on. I need to know the rules.” Shock racks my body. My arms hurt.
“This is no game. You are under arrest. And if you say anything about what just happened in here, I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another fucking day. Understood?”
“Yes,” I say, fighting back angry tears.
“Good.” He lifts me and turns me so I’m sitting on the bed. Then he pulls a radio from his jacket pocket and calls in the crime.
I can’t hold back the tears any longer. And when he puts me into the back of his partner’s police cruiser I let them flow.
The asshole cop books me and tosses me into a cell with three other hookers.Two I know. Sylvia and Megan.
I sit on the edge of a bench and they walk over.
“Hey cunt. Nice to see ya in here. You know Fileze is still in the hospital because of your sorry ass,” Megan says.
Sylvia chimes in. “Yeah, stupid Cadence can’t even fuck the right guy.”
They both laugh.
The third prostitute looks terrified.
“This is Nikki. She’s new. First night and her last, I’m sure.” Megan strokes the girl’s shiny black hair. “Sureare pretty though. Fileze woulda loved you, prolly even made your ass his pet.”
Sylvia laughs. “Just ask Cadence here.She was Fileze’s pet. Until she thought she got too good for him and decided to bail. It was good while it lasted though, wasn’t it?”
I don’tacknowledge her. It was good—at first. Until he started to make advances and think that being my pimp meant he could fuck me anytime he wanted.
Nearly fifty percent ofthe girls who decide to become prostitutes end up quitting, strung out on drugs, or dead. You have to be tough to deal with this life. And beyond tough, you have to know how to shut yourself off.
That’s the only reason I’ve survived as long as I have.
Until fucking John Cruze.
“You know when Fileze gets better he gonna to come after you?” Megan says, pulling little Nikki’s hair and making her cry harder. “Yeah, I heard from Amberlee, who heard from Saundra, who heard from Jimmy Stix that Fileze is already planning ways to kill you.”
“Ugh, special,” I say, feeling a headache coming on.
“Oh, it is.I have a couple of suggestions as well. Hope I’ll get to share.” Megan pushes my shoulder and I fall back onto the concrete floor.
I stand quickly.“Don’t fuck with me, Megan. I’m not in the mood.” I walk to the door and shake the bars. “I want my one phone call.”
Detective SmallPrick walks over and unlocks the cell door. He lets me out and walks me down a hall, up some stairs, and through several electronic doors to an office with a phone on the edge of the desk.
He pushes me into a hard wooden chair.“Don’t try anything, bitch.”
Idial Jessica’s cell phone number.
The detective is watching me. He sits down next to me and strokes my knee.
Itry to ignore him. The room is small, quaint. White walls. Empty. A computer sits at one end of the desk. Papers and folders are scattered around. There’s a box of half eaten donuts and a half empty cup filled with coffee near the phone.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, I think. My silent pleas go unanswered. I get Jessica’s voice mail.
“Shit.” I hang up.
The detective leans in and whispers in my ear. “Maybe you can work off your bail money.” He peeks around the room and then continues, “There’s an interrogation room over there. It’s available.” His hand moves up my thigh. “We can slip in, slip out. No one will know. In a few days I’ll set you free.”
I shake my headand try to keep calm, but I’m freaking out. I’m so fucking sick of men thinking they can do whatever they want to me. What the fuck has happened to my life? I’ve got no one to call and no money.
How didI ever think I could be anything but what I am? It’s all I know.
And I’d be okay with that if I hadn’t had that one night with John and then the next several nights with Zane. For different reasons they both ruined me.
The detective grabs my breast and I quickly dial a number—his number. The number I memorized even though I swore I’d never use it.
“Hello, sweet Cadence. This is a surprise.”
“Um, yes. Hello Zane. It seems I’m in a bit of a jam.”
“A jam, huh? What’s going on?”
I can’t help but sigh. “I’m in jail and I-I…” I bite back a sob. Asking him this is going to make be beholden to him. “Fuck,” I whisper.
“I’ll have you out of there in ten minutes.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back any kind of emotion. “Thank you, Zane.” I set the receiver in its cradle and stand.
“I’ll be out in ten minutes,” I tell the detective.
He bursts out laughing. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
I lift my chin, but don’t say anything.
The detective leads me by the elbow back to thesmelly jail cell.
And I wait.
For fucking Zane.