Mine

Less - 11

The bald man brought us to our rooms. I’m relieved that I don’t have to share mine, which also meant I get to see where each of the other girls’ rooms are. I walk along, holding pinkies with Blondie as we go. The girls are each handed a gold card as they get to their rooms.

Finally, there are three of us left. The bald man stops at room 3F and signals Blondie and the last new girl, a fiery redhead, into the space. She gives me a half smile and a tight squeeze as she turns, takes her card, and is followed into the room by another unspeaking man.

The bald man and I walk the hall to the next room, 3G. He holds out a golden card and stares at me. His eyes are beady and s**t brown. Even in this dim hall, the lights reflect off of his shiny head.

I take the card, but he doesn’t let go. I tug as he holds it firm. When I look up, his eyes are planted directly on my breasts as they sway from the motion of my tugging.

He smiles as he realizes I’ve seen, letting go of the card. I scan the silver plate on the door, and hurry inside, slamming it behind me. Before I can do much, I hear the lock click and he enters the room.

“I’m assigned to you, buttercup."

“No pet names.”

He chuckles.

“Unfortunately, you’re in no position to make demands.”

I watch him and carefully try sizing him up. I can tell that he’s a brute. Likes to throw his weight around. Perhaps even dislikes that he can’t make his own decisions.

“Assigned to me? What does that mean?” I keep my voice light and as sweet as I can manage in this ridiculous dress.

He adjusts his black suit by throwing his arms out, puffing up his chest.

“It means, I’m at your service.” He says, squinting a bit.

“Ah. So it seems more like you’re not in the position to make demands either, huh?”

He tenses. I laugh.

“Anything you want, I can get it. Anywhere you need to go, I go with you. Someone disrespects you in the warehouse, I take care of ‘em. I’m not your maid. I’m not your best friend. Don’t cry to me, don’t expect nothing from me other than a business transaction.”

His brows furrow while he speaks, tensing more as he c***s his head to the side. I can hear a New Jersey accent.

I tuck my arms behind my back, taking small steps around the room as I fake interest in all the furnishings. It’s incredibly nice and I can’t wait for him to leave so that I can really look at everything.

“What if… I asked for a burger? Extra pickles. Oh, and a large chocolate shake?”

He shrugs.

“Yeah."

“Really? That would be amazing. I’ve not eaten in days.” I say and genuinely mean it.

The experience has been incredibly dirty and stressful. I slept next to literal piles of s**t on a bus or in a truck more times than I care to admit.

“I’ll be back. Is there anything else you need?”

“Clothes. Food. Like for cooking. Movies. Anything to keep me entertained when I’m not out there, fulfilling my position where I don’t make demands.”

He smirks, nodding as he leaves the room. I think he and I will get along just fine once I break down his exterior. That’s what I need, to get him on my side.

I find the hall that leads to my room, and I’m happy there’s only one bed. The other room which would have held another girl is empty. Void of anything at all. It’s odd considering the rest of the place has been made up.

The decor is right up my alley; girly, dark, and looming. The bed catches my eye and for a moment all I can do is stare at it. The headboard stretches up half the wall, and a two-pillar arch looms over it at ceiling height. A chandelier with real candles hangs low over it, its golden brushed filigree haunting me as it glints in the flames of the candles.

On either side of the pillars are gothic arches with handprinted pictures inside of them. The footboard is even more elegant, raising in the center to the same height as the headboard. The center holds a woman with demon wings, but her face is peaceful.

The space around her is made of vines and leaves. The posts have tall spindle points on them. The sheets look like silk and everything is black. Even the candelabras that adorn the bedside tables.

The only thing not black is the white ceiling and the blood-red curtains. I hate to ask, but can someone be turned on by the aesthetic of a room?