Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Genevieve
“VIP just arrived!” One of the girls, Sylvie, rushed into the changing room, waving two fifties. “It’s about to be a big night.”
“I heard the boss is hosting a post-business hangout,” another said, rolling up a sheer pantyhose.
“The boss is hardly around, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have time for hangouts.”
Sylvie stuck out her tongue at the second girl, still waving her money again. “Boss or no boss, my pocket is about to be full.”
A couple of others squealed and set to dressing up, adding extra layers of makeup and padding up their boobs.
“You know,” Sylvie said, appearing behind me in the mirror. “If I had a body like yours and lips like that? I would’ve made enough bank to live in Miami.”
“Miami is a beautiful place,” I replied, covering my upper body with the server's uniform.
“You good?”
I nodded with a tight-lipped smile. A week in this place and I knew these girls weren’t friends. I wasn’t about to get under the delusion that someone cared because they gave me a compliment.
“I mean, you’ve never looked happy around here.”
I picked up my name tag, securing my last button and clipping it on. “I’m fine, Sylvie. We can only work at night, you know. I'm always tired.”
She studied me momentarily before picking up a blow drier from the shelf. “Quit being a serving girl and come make good money on stage. You’re wasting away.”
She left with a wink and extra sway to her hips while I stared at the mirror, marveling at how much a person’s life can change in a month.
Twenty-year-old Gen would have an aneurysm if anyone told her she would be working as a server in the VIP suite of a lounge that only catered to men of ‘high’ caliber.
She would progress into a coma or vegetative state if you told her the reason she was in said situation was as a result of a misdiagnosis and the series of events and decisions she made because she was convinced she only had a few months to live.
Honestly, I didn’t know which was worse. Waking up every day with the knowledge of a looming demise and wondering if today would be the D-Day, or learning that the diagnosis was wrong, that you still had your whole life ahead of you, but whatever was left of it hardly belonged to you.
I went from young and promising to young with a bleak future. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
Anna said to sue the hospital, but I barely had the energy, not to talk of the money for legal actions.
Besides, they didn’t force me to fuck my boss or to offer up myself as a pawn to offset my brother's debt. The same one I was yet to set my eyes on.
“Medium rare steak ready for table two.”
I straightened at the sound of my voice, checking my reflection to make sure I was presentable before heading out.
Alexei had made it clear I was only considered for my looks.
“The men love to look at pretty things and pretty things bring in the money,” he had said during my tour of the facility.
“So you look good, smile big, jiggle your tits or whatever and if you’re lucky, you might find someone to take that debt off your neck.”
His words proved true in the days that followed. I did get a few tips and a couple of offers.
I also had to smile even in the presence of improper and distasteful remarks. I also had to pretend I never noticed the fingers mistakenly brushing my thigh or the eyes ogling my boobs when I leaned to serve.
The first few days were hell, but when I realized there were rules and they wouldn’t force themselves on me, I relaxed a little.
Even now, as I walked into the low-lit VIP suite with Sylvie hanging off the pole and felt a pair of eyes burning into my ass, I repeated the mantra to myself.
There are rules and they can only look.
I slapped my best smile on when I got to my destination. “Good evening, gentlemen. Steak for table seven?”
“Yes.” A man who looked to be in his fifties with greying hair responded. “Over here, sweet thing.”
“Here’s your steak.” I placed a slab of meat on the table. “Medium rare as you requested, and here’s your drink.”
His eyes had caught a spark in them when I looked up. “Why don’t you pour it out for me, darling.”
I willed myself to move, despite the sudden stiffness in my muscles.
A trick I had learned from Sylvie was to always keep my body in line with the light and to lean instead of getting close, but the man was seated at the left corner of the table, an area shielded from the lights by the shadows from the stage.
I managed to put enough distance to be safe without seeming disrespectful.
But the distance was hardly enough. I felt a hand at the back of my thigh when I bent to pour the drink.
A line of hairs raised at the nape of my neck and my arms, but I remained steady, taking great care to not show any form of discomfort.
I had long learned the men had very fragile but inflated egos and hated to not feel wanted.
But this man wasn’t like the others. He didn’t want a lingering touch to satisfy his curiosity, he wanted to cup a feel.
Feather brush turned to a palm at the bottom of my ass and I jumped before I could stop myself, and watched in horror as the wine I spilled rolled from the table to drop onto his well-pressed suit pants.
“I’m so sorry, sir. It was a mistake.”
I was expecting him to create a scene and demand that I be thrown out as I’ve seen one of them do, but he smiled. “That’s okay. You can always lick it off my dick.”
My blood ran cold. My brain could hardly form words and my throat closed around the few I could think of.
“Or…” his smile widened. “You could get on the stage and show me a bit of that sweet ass.”
The combination of a whistle and a low laugh reminded me of his company.
“I'd prefer the dance. She shouldn't be serving with a body like that. Are they trying to bait us?” The bald one with a distended stomach spoke.
“Definitely the dance.” The last one chimed in. “You can have her on your cock after we’ve had a taste.”
His tongue darted out, sweeping over his lower lip in a way that made my skin crawl.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen.” I tried to sound confident despite the small steps I was taking backwards. “The rule says I’m only a server.”
“Nonsense.” Silver hair spat. “The rule is whatever we say it is.”
I glanced around the room, trying to find Alexei or Eyepatch. My agreement with them was simple and clear. I served and that was it.
“Looking for someone?”
“Maybe she wants to change into something more accessible.”
“Nah. She’s best this way. It’ll feel great to watch those layers fall off to reveal that sweet body of hers. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
I jumped when a hand grabbed my ass. That was my clue to leave.
“Thanks for the flattery, gentlemen, but my job is a bit different.”
I turned to leave and was stopped by a strong hand wrapping around my wrist.
“I didn’t say you could go.” Silver hair’s tone had lost every bit of playfulness in it and a cold glare replaced the spark in his eyes.
His companions watched in amusement. We were beginning to draw attention. The VIP lounge was not a very big area and it was only a matter of time till everyone was involved.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I have a line of orders waiting.”
I was visibly shaking. I knew the chances of Alexei or anyone appearing was slim. The VIP lounge was hardly guarded, giving patrons the liberty to indulge as they pleased, but I still sent a prayer to the universe.
“You could give us a private show on the side if you’re a shy one.”
“Don’t be stingy, Peter.” A voice called from two tables away. “I’ve got my eyes on that one for a while and I’d pay for a peek.”
“You hear that, darling?” Silver hair—Peter, smiled, his fingers still digging into my wrist. “They’re willing to pay for your ass. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Please…” I was defeated, and with no one in sight, there was no escaping without begging.
His lips twisted wryly. “Save the begging for when my cock is inside you.”
Like a bright light in the dark, Eyepatch appeared in the doorway. His uncovered eye landed on Peter’s hand wrapped around my wrist and he made a beeline for us.
“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
“I thought your girls were trained to be obedient?” Peter asked.
His eye darted briefly to me. “Yes, they are.”
“So why won’t she get on the stage and strip?”
“Oh. She’s not a dancer, but if you want one, I’m sure Sylvie over there and some of the girls will be happy to indulge.”
“I want this one. Besides, she has to pay for a new suit.”
Eyepatch’s eyes followed to the wet spot on Peter’s trousers.
“We want this one.” A new voice from another table joined, and only then did I notice that we had the attention of the whole corner.
Eyepatch nodded and turned to me, whispering. “You’ll have to do this one.”
I felt my flickering hope go off in the wind. “It was part of the agreement,” I whispered back.
“Yes, but you poured wine on him and he’s asking for compensation.”
My palms were clammy with sweat despite the cold air-conditioned room. I felt my heart in my stomach. Every eye in the corner felt like needles prickling through my skin, I was awfully aware of them.
“You’ll be in the corner and they’re willing to pay. If you play your cards well, you can take a huge chunk off your debt tonight.”
As tempting as the prospect was, I couldn’t see myself stripping in a low-lit corner for a group of lewd men who were currently staring at me like meat on display.
“I can’t.” My voice trembled. “I don’t know how—”
“I’m sorry,” Eyepatch said, backing away and turning to the men.
“No. No. No,” I repeated when I realized what he was about to do, but it changed nothing.
“She’ll dance.”
Peter’s hand loosened around my wrist and I felt the last bit of hope in me crumple.
“Ten thousand if the skirt goes first.”
“No. Look at those tits, they’re practically begging to be released from the shirt. Fifteen thousand if the shirt goes first.”
“Twenty if she can pull them off at once.”
I was drowning in a sea of voices, none sounded like help.
“Get on with it, girl.”
It was as though attention had shifted from Sylvie on the stage and everyone was suddenly interested in my nakedness.
The view of Peter’s shrewd smile blurred, a lump collected in my throat. I’d never felt so small in my life.
The voices grew louder until they fused into figures being hurled.
Eventually, a palm found its way to my ass, releasing the tear that had collected in my eyes.
“Fuck, I love it when they cry. Gets my blood rushing.”
“Please…” I croaked, not caring how pathetic I sounded or how loudly they laughed.
These were some of the most respected and civilized men in the U.S. Surely one of them would tap into their humanity before things got far.
“Here.” A younger version of Peter stepped into view, a bundle of cash in hand. “A little something to loosen you up.”
His hand made for my top button. I could only utter a plea when I felt his hand on me. It was no use fighting, I would never win in a room like this.
“Don’t do this, please.”
“But I will,” he smiled, hooking his finger around the button and bringing the cash to my face. “And you’ll enjoy it.”
He didn’t get to stuff the money into my boobs when a pitched sound exploded in the room and warm liquid splashed all over me.
It took a moment for me to realize the loud screeching noise was coming from me.
The man in front of me was missing three fingers. He had fallen to his knees and his cries of pain accentuated mine.
The room was however still, and not in the state you would expect a room where someone was shot to be.
I followed the direction of the gunshot and at the end of the trail was a vision I'd never dreamt of seeing in life.
Whatever drop of horror I felt heaped beneath a slim thread of relief.
Kazimir sat at the far end of the VIP room, a line of smoke blurring cold blue eyes. Eyes that were currently burning through me. I suddenly felt light-headed.
I was standing in the middle of an office. Sylvie had helped clean the blood off me and I changed into something more presentable.
My body was yet to relax from the event I just witnessed. I wasn’t shaking like a leaf anymore, but I sure as hell wasn’t settled.
Kazimir was in the mob? But how? He was my boss, a respected CEO who ran a security company.
He caught the bad guys, he put them away. It didn’t make sense for him to be here, and it made even less sense for everyone to refer to him as boss.
The door opened, causing me to jump a little.
Kazimir settled into a chair behind the large wooden table.
“You are free to go.”
I blinked. That was definitely not what I was expecting.
“Thank you for saving me, sir, but I owe—”
“I am aware of your debt, Genevieve.”
Between the sound of my name rolling out from his lips and the way his eyes burned into mine, I wasn’t sure which was responsible for the sudden heat in my body.
“Leave and never return.”
I should be grateful, my boss just saved me and proclaimed me debt-free. I should sing for joy and thank him, but the Genevieve who believed in cozy stories of how the knight saved the damsel was long gone, and this one knew there were no knights. Especially in places like this.
I straightened a little. “What’s the catch?”
His brows lifted by a fraction and I could almost hear his disbelief.
The question might be silly, but I wasn’t going to leave and risk Alexei and Eyepatch at my door ten years later demanding a payment for a favour.
“There’s no catch.” His voice was monotonous. “Would you prefer me to bend you over the table and fuck the belief into you? Would that be a good enough exchange?”
I hated the way my stomach flipped at the vivid picture he’d painted for me. Through my problems, I’ve barely had the time to reminisce about our time together, but I’ve thought of him in the little breaks in between and the dead of the night when sleep eluded me.
He gave me a moment to come up with a response before speaking again.
“You’re welcome to your previous job if you still want it.”
"What previous job?" My jaw dropped in shock.
"Working for me. Unless you'd rather continue working as an exotic dancer?" he sneered.
“There’s... really no catch?”
He leveled me with a gaze. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I should leave but I wanted answers. $50,000 was a lot of money, and I don’t care how rich he was, men like him never let anyone get away.
“I hate bad dancers. Now leave before I change my mind.”