05: Unmasked client
1552 Words
Christmas Eve
“You can stop here.”
My taxi pulls to a halt in front of the Tulip, a luxurious restaurant set in a two-story terrace in the city.
After filling out the Flower Den forms last night, I got a call this morning instructing me to report to the hospital across the street. I glance at the building now as I step out of the taxi, then I make my way into the restaurant. The hospital visit was mandatory; the brothel requires a physical exam.
Werewolves don’t get or transmit STDs, so that wasn’t the concern. They needed to confirm I met their physical standards - clear, smooth skin with no noticeable scars. Then came the beauty requirements: a specific height and weight, facial structure, curves, posture… everything.
Thankfully, I passed.
After that, I was told to be at the Tulip at 9 p.m. for further instructions. The whole process has been so official that it makes me uneasy; like selling one's body for money or gold is a legitimate profession.
It’s past dinner time, and the restaurant is winding down. I imagine I’ll get picked up soon and taken to the Flower Den’s mysterious location.
A waiter sets a glass of water in front of me and asks if I’d like anything else. My nerves won’t allow it.
“Just this, thank you.”
Fifteen minutes pass as I sit there, staring at nothing, thinking about Dad. He’s lying in a hospital bed, hooked to machines, while the rest of the world celebrates Christmas Eve. Admittedly, I’m not only doing this for him.
Tyrel mocked me for wanting to wait. Emily did too.
They were right to laugh.
Tonight, I stop waiting, and at a great price, too. I'm getting a great deal because I'm buying dad's life.
Rather than give myself to Tyrel, who expects me to turn a blind eye to his cheating, I'll rather give myself to a total stranger.
My relationship experience has proven that no man or wolf deserves saving myself for. Not my nonexistent fated mate and certainly not any male I end up with in the future, whom I highly doubt is saving himself for me.
My thought is interrupted by a beautiful red-haired female with freckles. She's dressed in the restaurant's uniform as she approaches.
"Would you like some tea while you wait, Miss?" She asked.
At least, she knows I'm waiting.
"Yes, please. Thank you."
As she leaves, I glance around and notice two other girls seated by the window, quietly drinking tea. Our eyes meet briefly before they look away.
They’re here for the same reason.
According to the gossip back in college, girls come from far to secretly make quick, big cash from the Flower Den, then return quietly to their lives. It seems not everyone gets accepted. They don't make it easy to anonymously sell yourself for gold or money.
A half hour goes by and I'm still nursing my tea when the red-haired returns, places a folded note on the table and gently slides it towards me.
Minutes after reading the note, I'm walking into a rather sophisticated stairwell that leads to what should be a basement within the restaurant. Soon, I enter a hallway with a red door ahead. The Flower Den shone in neon lights above the door.
In another half hour, I have been briefed along with the other girls I saw in the restaurants. They were new 'flowers' like me. They make us sign another privacy agreement before sending us into the makeup room.
The matron walks in when they finish dolling us up. She looks at all three of us and smiles satisfactorily. I'm less nervous as I adjust the mask they put on me. No one can see my face now, at least.
She motions for the other girls to be led to where they'll be waiting to get picked by a client respectively.
When the others have left the room, she says to me,
"What I'm about to tell you is already in the papers you signed, but I feel I should inform you anyway. You know, in case you missed it." She pauses and moves further inside the room. I become wary of what she's about to say. Do they have a problem with me not having a wolf?
"Our tests revealed that you're untouched."
"Yes, matron. Is that a problem?" I'm well aware that some wolves will prefer a female with experience.
"No," she replies emphatically. "I want to let you know that the rate we're offering for your first three days is higher than the regular rate. So don't expect as much after your third day."
That's great news, but don't expect me after tonight. I don't say this aloud. No need to dash her hopes just yet. Not until I get my money and get dad's surgery.
"You're a premium find, but only for three nights. Of course, your customer won't know you're untouched. Not until he claims you, at least. Some males can't even tell unless you tell them you're a virgin. Anyway, I thought you should know, so you're not disappointed after day 3. The price can only stay the same or even go higher if you're good, and your demand stays high. Let's go.”
I don't care about the information she just gave me. My focus is on this one night. Girls lounge about in couches wearing very little and their masks as we walk by.
"They're waiting for clients,” the Matron informs me. “The door is open now, and some have already been booked"
"Ah..."
Can I really do this? My heart is thumping in my chest. Focus on the money, Kes. No one can see your face. Whoever buys me would have to be swimming in money to throw in the extra cash just take off the mask. That's what the stylist said.
For the first time in my life, I am so glad for my weak senses. The faint smell of exotic incense and herbs are in the air, masking everyone's distinct natural scent. Still, I'm glad my preternatural senses are limited. I imagine I would feel sick from all the aphrodisiac in the air.
The Matron leads me into a room with no door. Only a bed and a fancy lamp is in the room.
"Just a heads up. Your client may want you to take off the mask. See that on the wall?" She points at three buttons lined up on the wall near the bed. "Yellow means only mask off. Green means paid in full. You'll do everything he wants."
"What do you mean everything?"
"I mean everything he wants. You know what I'm talking about."
I grow doubtful. I can't take off the mask. Can I do anything the client asks?
How many times have I dreamed of my first time with Tyrel? I've fantasized about his tenderness. His loving care and gentleness when he claims me.
Instead I'm standing here, about to give myself to someone who will pay to do whatever he wants with me. The fear must've shown in my face because she said,
"Calm down, Butterfly. Those lights mean more money for you, too. It's in the papers you signed."
Then she walks out. My legs are wobbly but I dread sitting on the bed decorated with Christmas ribbons. Like me. I settle myself on the bench at the foot of the bed instead.
My nervousness begins to slip away as time goes by. Impatience takes it place. The Matron did warn me that I'm pricey. That means I may not get a customer tonight. She's confident that I will get one eventually, though.
I doubt I can return if tonight does not work out. There's no clock in the room, but hours must have gone by as I wait for a customer. The building have grown noisy, too. My senses may be limited, but the walls are not thick enough.
I stood up to pace like I've done a million times but something stops me. A shadow darkens the entrance of the room, making me hold my breath. The client is here.
His strides are slow, deliberate and soundless. Relief and dread wash over me all at once.
Within moments, a towering figure steps into the room. Strength and dominance pours out of him like smoke. My palms get sweaty. I back away and sit on the bench, keeping my head down.
He's big.
Taller and broader than Tyrel.
What if he crushes me? He could break me in half.
My eyes nervously move to the buttons on the wall. The lights are off. Thank Fates.
I am his tonight. Only tonight. I must get through it. I risk a look at his face and conclude that he can't be from my pack. I've probably never seen him before.
Eyes like fierce storm travel from my face raking over my body.
"My own Christmas present, huh," he mumbles. "Oh what the hell." He takes off his mask.
I almost jump out of my skin at the person in front of me.
Zach Stone?
What the hell is Tyrel's uncle doing in a place like this?
He takes another step closer, and I move back on the bed.
- Writer
