Chapter 2 Chap 2

Perspective of Lalaine.

"Can we please just confirm the terms of my contract?" I sighed and said. There was good reason for me to mistrust him.

Without any remorse, he turned a profit off of human beings. I couldn't put my faith in someone whose profession was lying. I wouldn't have been standing there if there was another option available to me.

He returned to his desk and said, "Right," before opening a manila folder with my name in large black letters across the top. "I assure you that confidentiality will not be an issue with tonight's client. In fact, I require it of everyone who enters my business. The upper crust, the elite, the no-nonsense types with more cash than they know what to do with. As long as they're willing to pay, I don't question why they're interested in the products I sell."

I knew someone with enough influence to guarantee the payout necessary to make sure my mom got the surgery she needed and keep his mouth shut about it, which was the only consolation I took in agreeing to this other than the fact that I'd be saving my mother's life.

No one with that much money would have wanted his connection to the operation to become public knowledge. The last thing I wanted was for my parents to find out. Knowing that would be enough to send them to their grav and completely undo any good I could have done for them.

The other benefit, or so I hoped, was that those who could afford to do this would be refined enough to not make my life a living hell in the process. I wasn't naive; I was aware that there were sickos with fetishes in the world, but I still had faith.

He shuffled the papers and asked, "I assume you're still cool with my twenty percent cut?"

"Well played. We agreed on ten percent," I said, not one bit amused by his attempt to hustle me.

"True, true. One tenth. Exactly what I had in mind." When I looked at him, he gave me a creepy wink and pushed the contract across the desk with a pen in his other hand. "Just sign here ... and here."

Knowing that I was giving up the next two years of my life, I sloppily signed my name above the lines he had drawn. The sacrifice wasn't too much to make.

Soon after that, I was taken to another room and instructed to change into the skimpiest bikini imaginable. The point, as far as I could tell, was that it not leave any room for speculation. Before shelling out top dollar, the guys wanted to check out the goods in person. I understood that, but it didn't help me feel any safer in my precarious position.

A stylist then did her magic on my hair and makeup, transforming me into a simple yet elegant woman who was surprisingly not trashy.

Scottie then fastened a lucky number 69 to my gut. Standing with the other girls in front of the two-way mirror, I kept my head held high. The worst part was that whoever or whatever was staring back at me in the mirror was invisible to me.

Only I was visible to me at that point. I wasn't arrogant, but I couldn't deny that I looked better than the other girls.

I never thought of myself as stunningly beautiful, but I knew I had decent looks. My platinum tresses were thick and long. My eyes were a boring blue now, but in the past they sparkled with vitality. My mother's condition had not yet worsened at the time. I wasn't model thin, but neither was I a slob, and I had curves in what I thought were the right places.

In sum, I had hoped for a respectable performance.

The women were dragged out of the room one by one. At first, I mistook it for an indication that they were favoring them over me; I imagined myself being passed over like the fat kid who was always left off the gym team. When my number finally came up, I headed toward the same black door that had taken the others.

After entering, I was escorted to a central location.

There were numerous enclosing glass walls all around me. There was one table lamp in each room, along with a telephone and a plush red velvet chair. It was clear that the only thing the hotel's guests had in common was money, and lots of it.

In the first room lived a sheik dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses. He wore a long white headdress.

On either side of him were two of the women who had been in the hallway with me earlier, kissing and rubbing his crotch and chest.

When I turned away in shame, I saw a man in another room.

He was as big as a house, if not bigger. His demeanor was reminiscent of Jacom Hutt's. A chill ran down my spine as I pictured Princess chained up next to him. As a child, I was never one to daydream about being a princess, and that trait had not changed.

There was a tiny man in the room next to him, guarded by two burly men. Their arms were folded across their chests, and I figured that was as relaxed as they'd ever get. The young man was sitting delicately with his legs crossed and an umbrella protruding from his fruity beverage. The white jacket he was wearing slouched off his shoulders as if he were too cool to bother buttoning it.

The male species seemed like a better fit for him. I never thought he'd be a threat like that. To maintain appearances in front of the public while sneaking someone in the back door, he was probably looking for a young, attractive woman, if you catch my drift.

When I noticed that the light was out in the final bedroom, I sighed to myself. Whoever was in there before me had obviously made his choice and left, leaving me feeling pessimistic about the remaining selection. Then, from the shadows, an orange glow appeared, like the ember of a recently extinguished cigarette.

When I looked more closely, I made out the silhouette of a person lounging in the chair. I got a slightly better look as the figure leaned forward to readjust its position, but still couldn't make out any details.

Scottie clapped his hands, "Gentlemen," and walked around to stand behind me.

"Number 69 on tonight's agenda is the lovely Lalaine Brown. I think you have all of her technical specs, but let me point out some of her more endearing qualities."