Chapter 3
Vivianna
Oliver circled his finger. “Turn around.”
Holding my breath, I whipped around, while crossing my arms. His eagle-eyed gaping made my blood freeze.
He turned to Erika. “Show her around.”
With legs like concrete, I followed her to the back of the venue. We entered through black curtains that led to a stage.
“Do they have performances here?”
“Yes. You could say that.”
Too wound up to probe further, I ignored the questions banking up in my head and moved along.
Get a grip. It’s only skin. Think of the five hundred pounds.
Droplets of sweat trickled down my arms as I sucked back fear and stepped into a dimly lit crowded space.
Girls in skimpy gear carried trays around the decorative room, which reminded me of the Playboy palace with its rich dark velvets and paintings of nudes. The air smelt of alcohol and smoke and an indefinable seedy stench. I imagined that’s what lust might have smelt like—musky and sickeningly sweaty.
The customers were all men, with the only women being the staff and waitresses.
I pointed at booths with red velvet curtains. “What happens in there?”
Erika’s lips curled up slightly. “Private lap dances.”
“Private as in sex?”
She shrugged. “It’s up to the girl. If the money’s right. We don’t question anything. There are guards everywhere so the girls are protected. But they make a ton of money that way.”
“I’m not doing that.” I crossed my arms.
“Just get used to the floor and carrying trays. Sometimes they may ask you to join them at their table. You get a kickback for that.”
“On top of my five hundred pounds?”
She nodded. “Let me get you another drink. That will help you relax.”
For someone who didn’t normally drink much, I was already on my second drink. I couldn’t resist. Anything to get me through this night and deal with the crazy shit swirling in my head.
She returned with two shots, and handing me one glass, she gulped hers down and I followed suit, coughing and clearing my throat.
Feeling extra light-headed, I said, “Let’s do this” like someone about to dive into an icy lake in the middle of winter.
Erika led me onto the floor filled with tables of men. They all turned and stared at me like I was some novelty act. Some even whistled, while others smiled at me.
I kept my arms crossed.
The girls looked young, even younger than me, and came in all shapes and nationalities. I was amazed at how many pretty girls there were. A reminder of the desperation in that ridiculously expensive city, where a forty-hour week barely paid for rent and food.
At least the club was busy, so I could get lost in the crowd.
Erika crooked her finger, and I followed her to the bar. She pointed to a couple of women behind the bar. “This is Eve and Lucy.”
I nodded a greeting.
“Get her another shot,” Erika said to Lucy.
She passed me a vodka, and I took it without question. “At this stage, I might drop the tray.” I swallowed the shot in one face-scrunching gulp.
“I don’t think you’ll have too many complaints.” Erika returned a wry smile.
She handed me a tray. “Just walk around and collect glasses for now. And take orders as they come, okay?”
“Won’t I need a pad and pen?” I asked, close to slurring my words.
“I’m sure you can manage. Most customers either drink beer or straight spirits. They’re not too complicated.”
I collected a few glasses, and the men seemed quite well behaved, which made it easier, and after a while I went with the flow.
Until I came to one table where an old man asked me to join him for a drink. His droopy eyes were all over my breasts, and I shook my head and scurried off.
After an hour of collecting glasses, delivering drinks, and being ogled, I took a break and went to the bathroom behind the stage, where two girls sat smoking.
“Hey there,” one of the girls said. “How are you finding it?”
“It’s okay. I mean this corset’s seriously scratchy. I can’t wait to get back into my clothes.”
“Yeah, I know how you feel. So, are you going to auction?”
“Hmm?” My brows gathered.
“You didn’t sign up for the auction?” She looked surprised.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re all selling ourselves tonight.”
“Selling your body?”
Silly question. What else would they be selling?
The pair nodded. “We’re selling our virginity to the highest bidder.”
“Holy shit. Really?”
One of the girls bit a nail. “It’s great money.”
“It would have to be.”
“My friend did it last week, and she got one hundred thousand pounds. It’s set her up for her twenties. I’m not seeing anyone.
We’re a rare species apparently.” She chuckled. Like her friend she was only wearing a bra and panties.
“So, you go on like that?” I asked.
They nodded. “There’s about eight of us so far. The other girls are in there. Some of them are shitting themselves.” Her eyes settled on my body. “You’d do well. You’re probably not a virgin.” She wore an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know that’s personal.”
“I am a virgin.”
Just as I spoke, Erika came by and said, “Can I have a word?”
I followed her into another dressing room, where girls, who I figured were also selling their innocence, applied makeup.
Erika smiled at the six girls. “Can you give us a little space? We’ll start soon. I’ve arranged for some champagne.”
I felt their fear mingled with anticipation.
“You’re like everyone’s mum,” I said.
She smiled sadly. “I like to look after the girls. I also work the floor. That’s why I dress like this.”
She was a very beautiful woman, and despite being older than the others, I imagined Erika being popular.
“So, what exactly were you told about tonight?”
“That I’d get five hundred pounds for waitressing in costume.”
“You knocked back a client. He wasn’t too happy.”
“I didn’t think I had to drink with them.” I flinched. Was she reprimanding me?
“You do.” She dropped the soft act and gave me a stony stare. “You could make a fortune tonight. It’s an opportunity I wish I’d had.”
“You mean me fucking someone?”
“I mean you auctioning yourself to the highest bidder.”
“I can’t do that.” My eyes burned with a threat of tears, more out of frustration than fear.
Studying me for a moment, she tipped her head. “You’re twenty-four? Yes?”
I nodded.
“Two men have already asked if you have a reserve.”
“A reserve?” My face scrunched in horror, like I’d been asked to sacrifice an arm. “I’m not a commodity. I’m a human.”
“Yes, a girl who is broke. Has nowhere to live and is still a virgin.”
My veins tightened. “How do you know that?”
“Teo told us about you.”
“But he wouldn’t have known I was a virgin.” I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream from sheer frustration with myself.
Because I should have known agreeing to anything with Teo would turn nasty.
“He did.” Her mouth curled at one end.
His sister, my former flatmate, must have blabbed.
“I’m not going to sell myself.” I stared her square in the face with defiance. I became that wilful teenager telling my mother to go fuck herself after she told me to stop wearing tight jeans. All because her sleazy new husband couldn’t stop perving at my arse.
“One of the clients. He’s handsome. Distinguished. Late forties, early fifties at the most. Filthy rich.” She nodded as though that was something rare to be celebrated.
My sleazy stepfather was around that age when he tried to rape me.
No fucking way.
Wearing a sympathetic smile, Erika must have noticed my shaking hands as I bit into a fingernail. “I accept it’s not an easy decision. But he’s offered a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. You won’t even have to parade like the others.”
“Parade? Like the others?”
She lifted a finger for me to wait. Just as I was debating whether to run away, she returned.
Erika passed me a glass of champagne. “Here. The girls are all enjoying one.”
Reminding myself I had one hour to go and then five hundred pounds would be mine, I accepted the glass and took a sip. “You got me here on false pretences.”
“No. The money’s yours. Just collect glasses and sit with the clients. But you can walk out of here and become an independent woman. No one will know.”
“I’ll continue waitressing,” I said about to leave when she grabbed my arm.
“You’ll have to lose your virginity sometime, and this way you’ll be rich enough to make your own way in life.”
“Is that what you did?” I had to ask.
Her eyes stared at me without blinking. “I would have, had it not been robbed from me. I had a shitty homelife.”
“Your father?” My spine shrivelled, sensing where this was going.
“Stepfather. I was thirteen. He ripped it out of me for free.” Her eyes had a haunted look.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I touched her arm.
Deflecting my sympathy, her face hardened again.
She didn’t do pity. Nobody understood that better than me. After drowning in self-pity throughout my teens, I’d spent the last six years buried in denial. Because if I allowed myself to dwell on what happened back at home, I would have descended into that bottomless black hole of depression.
“I’m strong.” She squared her shoulders. “My life’s good now. I’m only telling you this because the whole man-woman thing is complicated. Men want young pretty things, and for virgins they’re willing to pay big. These are very rich men. This is an exclusive club.”
“I’ll go back out and keep working.” I mirrored her cool tone and walked off.
Inside of me, however, emotion tangled me in knots as my disturbing, unwelcomed past filled my thoughts.
My mother might as well have pushed me out that door herself. But she’d never been a good mother, so her not giving a shit about my safety came as no surprise.
Only I wasn’t ready for the wide world. I’d had plans. Plans to finish my studies. All that crumbled along with my sanity.
Alone in the world from the age of eighteen. One obstacle after another. Talk about crappy karma when it came to people. And already, I’d met my share of problems. Often men who offered me everything if I opened my legs. Even hot guys, that girls oohed and aahed over, barely raised my temperature, which was parked at cool.
And now here I was again, having to maintain a level of dignity, surviving in a jungle of men hungry for sex with someone young enough to be their daughter, or even granddaughter.
Doing my best to fight back nausea, I went back to waitressing. Between the odd pinch on the bum, I managed to deliver trays of drinks without spilling them. And after a while, I got used to being leered at. I even had a drink with a couple of men, which came with a fifty-pound tip.
Then the parade started. One of the waitresses came and stood next to me and offered me a drink from her tray.
I took it. Having a few drinks had helped get me through this night, and now I only had ten minutes to go before my shift ended.
The girls came out one by one. In bra and thongs. They were mostly slim and very young.
I leaned into the girl and said, “Do you think she’s even eighteen?”
She shrugged. “No idea. I don’t question what goes on in here. I just do my job. Occasionally I fuck the odd client when he’s paying well.”
I studied her for a moment. It was like she’d admitted to something mundane like shopping for shoes.
Maybe I needed a counsellor. No. I needed a counsellor. Just couldn’t afford one. Men freaked me out.
I liked the look of some boys, and handsome actors were nice to ogle, but older men with that hungry look in their eyes turned me to ice.
One girl bent over and opened her legs, and the bidding started. It went to fifty thousand pounds, and she was sold to a fat old man.
Ick.
“He’ll be a quicky.” The waitress in a tiger-print teddy giggled.
My legs began wobbling, and everything swirled around me. “I feel like I’ve been drugged.”
“You have.” She pulled a wicked smile.
“You did it…” I could barely talk, let along call her a fucking bitch.
Next thing, someone was practically carrying me to the back of the stage, where a man in a suit, smelling of strong cologne, held open a chequebook.
“This is—”
I interrupted Erika and spat out, “Satan. That’s who you are. You drugged me.”
“Obviously not enough it seems.”
“What did you give me?” My raised voice slurred.
“He’ll look after you. He’s a reliable regular.” Her honied voice made me want to slap her, but my arms felt like rubber. “Who knows, you might even like it.” From nice in that kindly aunt way to being a scheming, betraying bitch, Erika’s face had turned hard and ugly.
I stepped out of my heels, so I could stand up without swaying.
“I need to get my bag,” I slurred.
Erika followed me into the dressing room.
Cursing at my blind stupidity for taking those drinks, I struggled to walk. My legs had become anchors as the room spun.
Erika held out an envelope with cash, but when she saw me leaning against the bench, propping myself up, she slipped the cash into my bag.
I opened my mouth to say something when the stranger with the strong cologne joined us. His shoes creaked and his tie dangled onto my skin as he leaned close.
I shook as his wrinkled finger grazed my shoulder. His face went all blurry.
Clutching my bag, I had to stay alert, despite heavy eyelids begging me to curl up into a ball and sleep. But the stench of danger kept my blood pumping. That predacious, suffocating mix of cologne and depraved hunger thickened the air.
Strangling fear squeezed my vocal cords, because for a minute, I thought I was in my childhood bedroom.
I picked up one of my shoes to use as a weapon, and when he turned to speak to Erika, I rushed out of the room and down the dark hallway towards the glowing exit sign.