Chapter 2 Pleasing the Guests

Two years later...

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Ramirez. I'll do my best to ensure all outstanding payments are cleared." Miguel shook the wiry hand of the old man standing in the living room.

I'd been coming inside the living room at intervals to dust the chairs or serve food and drinks to the guests, who are mostly men dressed in well-tailored suits.

Upon Maria's orders, I've been instructed to position myself as some "buffer" to make the guests less angry with Miguel, who seems to be owing them a lot of money.

I stepped in once more to carry the empty plates and glasses back to the kitchen, and Mr. Ramirez nodded absentmindedly as his eyes hovered over my body like I was a free piece of meat.

The maid outfit I wore could barely cover my thighs. Maria told me to put on the shortest maid outfit any time we had male guests come over.

And when the male guests asked them who I was, Maria and Miguel would pique with excitement as they gladly told the guests I was a prostitute they had saved from a trafficking brothel.

The twins also told them that sometimes I liked to dress provocatively when guests were over because I still craved the attention of men. As they said all this to the guests, I'd bow my head in shame and try not to cry because tears meant more slaps from Maria or brutal beatings from Miguel.

It was a situation I couldn't win.

Mr. Ramirez licked his lips as his eyes skated from my thighs up to my chest, showing my cleavage that wasn't covered due to the very low cut of the maid dress. The dress was like a slip of illusion, merely for show.

It was better to be naked than to look like this in front of all these men. Miguel eyed Mr. Ramirez with a knowing look, as if proud his plans of "prostituting me" were working. So far, Maria and Miguel haven't agreed to give me off to any of the men who wanted to sleep with me or buy me for a limited period of time.

It was something I was so grateful for, but with the way Mr. Ramirez looked at me now, maybe my safety was coming to an end.

And it frightened me to my bones because I was still a virgin. I never had a boyfriend in university since I was a class topper and took my studies seriously. When I graduated, I thought I'd finally get the chance to date, but then my dad died a week later, leaving me to suffer at the hands of these cruel twins.

I wish I'd been the one to die instead of dad.

"Like what you see?" Miguel whispered conspiratorially to Mr. Ramirez.

Mr. Ramirez licked his stupid lips once more and nodded, his eyes never leaving my body.

Miguel laughed as Mr. Ramirez's eyes became dark with lust and dangerous longing.

Which brings me to another disadvantage of being a maid and a slave to the twins. Since the day dad died, I've never left the house. I've asked for permission from Miguel countless times, but he's shut me down and threatened to sell me off to bad men who will turn me into a sexual slave.

Maria then spoke to me one night and said I'd never leave the house because they don't trust that I will run away or try to report them to the authorities.

But what good will reporting do? The authorities won't believe that an adult woman like me is being treated like a slave in her own house. They would think I'm crazy or schizophrenic.

A sigh escaped my dry lips as Miguel engaged Mr. Ramirez in a conversation my ears couldn't make much of. From their hushed tones, I knew they were no longer talking about business. It was about me and whether I was available for the night.

I watched Mr. Ramirez's smile fade into a frown as Miguel gave him a gentle slap on the shoulders. It was the universal gesture for "I hate to break it to you."

A smile was about to creep on my face until I felt a dry palm slide up my bare thighs and try to grab my butt from underneath the short gown. My blood ran cold. I've been in this type of situation many times where a male guest would feel my body, but I cannot protest or rebuke them.

Miguel would only lock me inside the cold cellar for twenty-four hours if I did that. My only option was to let the male guest feel me up and harass me until they were satisfied. Sometimes, a few of them would pull me to their laps and stroke their horrid penis on my dress, then spill their sperm into my laps.

Silently, I prayed that this current male visitor wouldn't pull me into his laps, but I forgot that there was nobody by my side. Not even the universe. As if mocking my silent prayers, the male guest, who happened to be in his mid-thirties, tugged on my dress until I non-gracefully fell into his lap.

My butt collided with his already-erected penis that was out of his zipper. He grunted when I landed on his butt, then began to fondle my ass from underneath my dress. As he fondled my ass, he began to stoke himself.

My eyes stung with unshed tears as I closed them, willing myself not to cry. The meeting would soon be over, and all these disgusting men would finally leave. That was my only comforting thought as the male guest continued to harass me with his hands and penis.

Mr. Ramirez spoke loudly in an angry voice.

"I thought you said she wasn't for play. Why can he touch her?"

Miguel laughed tightly before answering. Whenever he laughs tightly like that, it means he wants to punch someone, but Mr. Ramirez doesn't know that.

"She can be felt and fondled, but no sex," Miguel answered quietly in a deadly voice that held no room for arguments or questions.

My eyes were still closed, so I couldn't see Mr. Ramirez's expression, but I knew he might look a bit terrified because, even though Miguel owed him money for God knows what, he was still quite a scary man.

I've never seen Miguel bow to anybody or take anything lightly. He was always serious and intimidating. Even Maria, who is his twin, fears him a little.

I always told myself that if the earth should kill off everyone with no shred of humanity in them, only Miguel would be dead. That's just how sociopathic he can be.

"Well then," Mr. Ramirez said, clearing his throat. "I've laid down my terms. It will no longer be in my hands once the state of the law is involved. Do well to clear all outstanding debts before next week."

"I understand," Miguel said tightly.

"Good. I'll be taking my leave now," Mr. Ramirez announced before I heard his footsteps withdraw from the living room. The pervert currently harassing me began to breathe fast as his rough hands grabbed the flesh of mass and fondled harshly.

I could feel his hand move rapidly as he stroked himself faster. He was about to come. I shut my eyes even tighter and started to sing in my head so I wouldn't hear his harsh grunts of release.

But no matter how hard or how loud I tried to sing in my head, I still heard the pervert grunt loudly as he came all over my laps.

When he finished, he exhaled a harsh, hot breath and collapsed against the back of the couch.

"God damn," he whispered to himself, his voice soaked with hazy lust.

I pondered leaving him or staying still in his lap, but Mr. Ramirez answered that question for me.

"Andrew, we have to leave. Now."

The pervert, whose name is apparently Andrew, slid me onto the couch as he adjusted his trousers. After zipping up his fly, he stood up and threw me a wink that almost made me vomit on the floor I'd mopped an hour ago.

When the remaining guests followed Andrew and Mr. Ramirez out, the house became instantly cold, as if they took the warmth with them.

I waited for Miguel's next course of action.

This was the angriest I'd ever felt from him in weeks. He'd seemed to be in a good mood these days, and Miguel being in a good mood means I don't receive any beatings.

I wonder what outstanding debts he owed Mr. Ramirez and how much money it was. I haven't been outside the house in two years, and I had no access to a phone or computer, so I didn't know what happened outside these four walls.

Miguel and Maria don't let me hang around them, so I have no sliver of gossip to rely on for information.

Even after two years, Catherine still treats me like I'm a washed-up leper, so I don't have anyone to speak to.

All I have is myself. It's a miracle that I haven't gone crazy yet. Every day since I became a maid for the twins, all I've ever done is slave away on chores and display myself as a cheap prostitute for male guests who wanted to rile Miguel up.

The atmosphere got tense with every passing second as the corners of Miguel's mouth tightened in an annoyed frown. What has made him so angry? I wondered once more as I stood up from the couch to pack up the empty plates and glasses.

"Where do you think you're going?" Miguel spoke quietly, making me flinch.

"I...I..." I stuttered, at a loss for words.

He looked like a predator who had his prey trapped.

There was no escape for me.

He stalked closer until he was only a few feet away, towering over me with his six-foot height. I won't deny that Miguel is a handsome man. At six feet, he is blessed with brownish blond hair that makes him look boyish if he smiles.

The thing is, he never smiles genuinely, so his frown made his handsome face look like a man tired of all of life's difficulties. Like a man who knows how powerful he is and is not afraid to use that power.

The corner of his lips tilted into a smirk as he regarded me disdainfully.

"You know, sweet sister..."

Anytime Miguel calls me sister, it means bad news always follows. I prefer if he calls me gremlin like he usually does. It also reminded me that we were half-siblings, even though he never treated me like family.

My blood iced as I waited for him to continue talking.

"You've blossomed into a woman. I mean, you've always been a woman, but with the way these visitors always ask for your body to warm their beds whenever they see you, it tells me that you're worth more than I thought."