Two ~ Opal
The redheaded man was relentless, aggressive, and insanely determined to claim me as his.
I’d watched him all night, his stature and intensity calling to me. He was a big man, easily six three or four, perhaps two hundred or so pounds. His suit was crisply tailored, snug along his wide shoulders, tapered down to accentuate his lean waist. He had long legs with thick thighs and was obviously the most handsome, fit, well-kept man in the brothel tonight, or for many nights. Feigning indifference because Kennedy did not allow us to express a desire to be with one man over the other, I heard the bidding bell chime for the first time. All the customers fell into silence. The lights over our stations dimmed and two of Kennedy’s security men appeared out of the woodwork to escort us all up to our suites. Drawn to look back at the redhead, I locked my gaze on my feet instead, my painted toenails peeking out from under my robe as the ten of us climbed the stairs. The second bidding bell would ring as soon as we were all safely ensconced in our private rooms, not before.
I gave Garnet a fast look. He was perhaps the closest friend I had among the others here. A beautiful ginger with eyes the color of washed denim. Garnet was close to my age, only a year older at twenty-one, but our pasts were strikingly similar. Most of us who worked here had childhoods that were horribly identical to the others. It was one of the things that bonded us. The others were fear of Kennedy’s wrath and our names signed to a contract.
“Hope your bidder is nice,” Garnet whispered before he was hustled along down the winding hall to his room.
“Yours, too,” I shouted to him. The mountain of a man who kept us safe opened my door. I inclined my head in thanks and scurried into my suite. The door clicked behind me and I scowled at the décor. It was Kennedy’s twisted imagery of what could only be described as a Chinese restaurant on steroids. The walls were red, the one dresser and headboard black lacquered wood, the carpeting a pricey Oriental rug. There were ferns in the corners, a changing screen on one side with tawdry paintings of naked geisha girls, and a gong by the door. A fucking gong. Every time I stepped foot in this room, my skin crawled.
I’d tried to explain to Kennedy that not every Asian room was this stupidly gaudy. I was informed that the customers didn’t know Korea from China from Japan. They only wanted a pretty Asian boy to suck their dicks and whimper in pained broken English when they got fucked. And I got that we were here for the customer. We were the gems that they longed to own if only for a night, but could we not at least show a little respect for different cultures?
The heady incense made my nose tickle but I refused to sneeze and ruin my makeup. Padding on bare feet to the small bathroom, I flicked on the light and inspected my face and hair. It all had to be perfect. If we were flawed gems, Kennedy would hear about it. He disliked being told that Pearl had a pimple on his ass or Peridot’s mascara was smudged. It was all about the ideal of masculine perfection in its most alluring forms here. Yes, it was belittling to be displayed like a tennis bracelet in a glass case, but the twenty percent cut of the winning bid every night made up for the itchy feeling of being subjugated. Twenty percent of five hundred dollars, the standard bid for any of the ten of us according to Kennedy, wasn’t bad. Sure beat giving blowjobs for ten bucks in an alley.
Dabbing at my lipstick, I did a quick reapply of the dark red coloring, then I took a piss, washed my hands, and slipped my robe off to dust myself with more of the ivory shimmering body powder. I dabbed a dot of jasmine oil behind my ears, to my wrists, and then pressed a small amount to the juncture of my thigh where it joined my body. Some men loved to nuzzle their faces between my legs. I slid my robe back on, tied it loosely around my waist, and went back to the bedroom to ready things. Lube, condoms, a package of wet wipes, my “menu” placed just so on the fresh clean satin sheets by the mound of pillows. Water bottles in the small dorm fridge hidden behind the changing screen. Pepper spray hidden in the nightstand beside the bed just in case. I’d not had to use it, but I did have to threaten to once.
When all was in order, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Hands clasped, eyes on the lettering that ran around the top of the walls, letterings that were not from any established Asian culture so there was that slap in the face again. The bidding would be over by now. Garnet had told me of the one time he’d snuck from his suite to watch the chaotic frenzy and was quite shocked at how gentlemanly the bidding process was.
Each customer had a numbered paddle they held up. Kennedy started the bid with a set starting price of two hundred dollars. There might be a bidding war over one particular gem, for some of us appealed to certain tastes more than others, but it was handled with quiet decorum. Much like an auction at Sotheby’s, only these rich men were bidding on human beings instead of Victorian spittoons or a handkerchief used by Mary Queen of Scots. Most of us tried not to focus on how degrading it was. We counted our money every night and told ourselves it was all that mattered.
I bit down on my lower lip, caught myself, and quickly scrubbed at my teeth with my finger. The door opened and my customer for the night stepped in. I leaped to my feet, pleased to see it was the big redhead. He gave me a long look, his blue eyes hot with desire.
“Please, come in and join me,” I said, keeping my voice demure and pleasant.
His faltering steps told me much. He was not experienced in this sort of thing at all. For some reason that was appealing to me. Most customers would be pulling at me already, trying to kiss me, throwing me to the bed, pawing and groping, eager to get off. This one seemed…shy.
“My name is Ian.” He said, then gently shut the door, his elbow hitting the gong and making it ring out. He quickly grabbed it, blushing hotly. I lowered my head to hide my smile. “Now that everyone knows I’m here…” He turned from the gong and caught my eye. “I’m Ian.”
“And I’m Opal. How can I please you tonight?”