Layers Deep (21 page)

“Did you plan
this?” I asked.

“No, but I
knew I’d have trouble resisting you while you trained.”

“So how are we
going to do this for a week?” I lifted my head to look into his
deep blues, wondering what plan hid underneath the contact
lenses.

“I don’t know.
I may ask Julian to help out, if you’re all right with that.”

Although I’d
prefer Tristan training me, after today I knew we wouldn’t get much
work done if it was just the two of us.

“Yeah, that’s
fine. I don’t imagine we’d do this with him around.” I let out a
long breath.

“Imagine?
Please don’t tell me my brother watching us is on your mind.”

“You gotta
admit, worse could happen. Like a stranger walking in here,” I
teased.

I would come
to wish I hadn’t teased Tristan or spoken those last words, as I
found out that having strangers in the same room playing out a
sexual act wasn’t that much fun at all.

The room
smelled of mold and cigars. My eyes were covered with a cloth.
James let go of my elbow, steadying me. I tried to peak through to
get a glimpse of some sort of light, but nothing seeped in. Tristan
had left me in a hotel room with James, whom I knew I could trust.
After a week of constant training, the time to test our plan
approached quicker than we’d expected. The auction had been moved
to a week earlier, and now, within two weeks of meeting Tristan
Cross, I was about to be sold at a sex-trafficking auction.

We’d taken the
elevator downstairs, where James affixed my blindfold. The room
felt foreign, as it should have. I held no fear in my veins, not
yet. The cop in me listened to every crack, shuffle, voice, and
whisper, trying to find something familiar. Nothing resonated.

“Stand still.
You’ll be on your own in a sec,” James whispered in my ear before
he let me go.

A door
squeaked at the hinges. Someone’s shoulder brushed against mine,
and I heard a gasp of fear. There was another girl beside me, just
like Tristan had said there would be. Her baby scent deodorant
meant she was young, specifically catering to the most perverted.
The thought rushed my pulse a little, but I steadied it with a
deeper breath.

“Remove your
blindfolds, ladies.” The way the male voice said “ladies” made the
hairs on the back of my nape stand. He may as well have called us
bitches or whores.

I lifted my
arms to the back of my head and released the knot. My sight
adjusted quickly. The room was darkened, but not as shitty as I’d
imagined. It resembled a cozy banquet hall suitable to fit one
hundred guests. They’d tried to spice it up with plush red
furniture and velvet drapes at the side of the mirrors in front of
me. They’d pimped up the room to Vegas style as much as possible.
Wherever we were, this place had to be rented. Tristan had said
their location changed every week.

Comfortable
loungers were set up in front. Behind them rose a floor-to-ceiling
mirror that I was sure was a two-way. And it had been some time
since I’d seen velvet tapestries on walls, black patterns weaving
up in a combination of curves and tear-shaped blots. Side tables
filled with drinks as waitresses wearing nothing more than
see-through panties and bras strolled around the room. Tristan had
chosen my clothing. My strapless black dress laced along the nude
fabric that camouflaged my skin and clung to my body as if it had
been sewn on. It covered the most important areas, including where
the crack of my ass should have been visible. But I still felt
overdressed in the skimpy outfit, which wasn’t as revealing as what
the other girls in the room were wearing.

The mirror in
front reflected the row of women. We stood in a straight line, a
line of two dozen ghostly faces. Dark circles under the women’s
eyes couldn’t be hidden with professional make up. My own
expression in the mirror startled me. Either I played my part well,
or I was scared beyond what my instinct told me. But Tristan had
said I’d be safe. Whoever bought me, Tristan guaranteed my safety,
and I trusted him.

I scanned the
faces without moving to see whether I recognized any of the girls.
I was right to think the one standing beside me was young. She
couldn’t have been more than twenty and her features were eerily
familiar to mine. The more I concentrated on her face the more I’d
thought she could have passed for my slightly younger sister. From
her golden brown eyes to the auburn hair and high cheeks, the
resemblance was astounding.

Most girls
here had their eyes darkened not only with gray under-circles, but
also with the fear of uncertainty of what would happen to them.
There was nothing more I wanted than to rescue them all. Having
worked in a strip club, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen girls
mistreated and abused, but at least we got to go home. These girls
had their lives stolen. Their souls were transparent, and some of
them had probably chosen for their souls to leave their bodies
before they entered this room. The reality of sex trafficking in a
modern world made me sick to my stomach.

I concentrated
on each hollow face again. I’d memorized Kendra’s contorted
features of fear and emptiness, but none of these women seemed
familiar. Today wasn’t going to be the day we saved her. I kept my
stance steady, with shoulders high up; but inside, everything
shrieked in disappointment.

Someone lit a
chocolate cigar, and its white puff floated above a man’s head. The
scent camouflaged the wet stench of fresh mildew. My gaze began
scanning the gents in the plush seats, every single one of them
drooling at the sides of their mouths. Most had a hardened bulge
inside their pants. One in particular had his gaze fixed on me. I
didn’t like it. I recognized the predatory look, and it gave me the
creeps.

James sat in
one of the loungers to the side, legs crossed and a scotch in his
hand. He blended in with the crowd flawlessly. I took my gaze away
from him to not to be obvious. A middle-aged man in a suit clapped
his hands, and the room full of gents silenced their whispers as
they decided who would buy whom.

“You have
forty minutes before they go back to their owners. This is our
special crop tonight. As you can see, every single one is under
twenty-five.”

Everything
inside me twisted and I held back the bile that wanted to come out
of my throat. At this moment Tristan was my ‘owner’, and it felt
good, but I doubted most of these girls felt about their captors
the way I did about Tristan. And I wished all of them could have
their own Tristan with whom they could go back home. More than
anything, I wished Tristan were here. No matter how many times he
reiterated his support and my safety, everything about this place
made the goose bumps on my arms stand like soldiers.

Was there any
way I could save them all?

Desperate
feelings from the past returned. Could I really do this? Knowing
James could not take me back, and that he was here on a different
sting, I had no choice but to be sold. Tristan promised whoever
‘bought’ me would keep me safe. But something about this guy
staring at me was off; or perhaps it was me, or the situation I’d
placed myself in. I’d been here before, and it felt as real as six
years ago when I fought off a drunk who tried to rape me. Once
again, I remembered my promise that I’d never let another man scare
me that way. But these were not men – they were disgusting pigs who
should have been hung by their balls. Still, I didn’t feel like I
was on the job; but then I wasn’t supposed to. Tristan had warned
me this could happen.

Get a grip,
Allie.
For the first time ever, the little devil on my shoulder
had something encouraging to say. Or perhaps my conscience kicked
him out here because she was too afraid to step out herself.

The thud who’d
been starring at me strolled toward me. The predator in him fired
lust through his eyes.

“I like this
one,” he growled possessively, skimming my bare arm with the back
of his hand. Everything about the touch was so wrong, and my
impulse to shove him away or grip him by the throat tingled in my
hands. Instead, submitting like I belonged, I fought the chills on
the tip of my spine caused by the touch, and I flinched.

This isn’t
real,
I kept repeating in my mind.

My whole body
felt cold and numb. I had to remain numb; otherwise, I’d throw up
or break apart. Or worse, I’d punch him in his square nose and
break every single finger on the hand that neared me.

Hold it in,
Allie,
I coached myself.

If the gate
opened, nothing would stop the natural reaction of fear, not even
the cop inside me nor the training I’d gone through.

“What’s your
name?” he asked.

“Whatever you
want it to be,” I replied in the submissive voice I knew these
jerks liked.

“Katie,” he
repeated. The huff of his toxic alcohol breath on my face was
disgusting, yet oddly calming. “From now on you are mine,
Katie.”

He was the
first to sign some papers.

I held my
breath. Either this was a coincidence, or it was Tristan’s way of
letting me know I was safe. It was what I had called myself to
Tristan, as a hooker on the street. Could I take the chance?

Lowering my
head in submission, my insides twisted in revulsion. I didn’t like
this part. I’d left that girl who succumbed to the dirty minds of
sick smiling men as they stuck bills down her chest and panties in
the past, when I quit stripping. But looking at the other girls
beside me, it was clear I’d gotten off easier than most had. My
purchaser only devoured me with his gaze and put me down with his
words. But at least I’d been claimed already. No one else could
touch me. The other girls were subjected to having their dresses
lifted and panties lowered as the men checked over their
merchandise. The young girl beside me was fondled. Her whole body
tensed, and he slapped her bare ass. All my nerves tightened as I
fought the urge to stop him, but I knew I couldn’t. I’d just make
it worse. The girl beside me, my look-alike, whom they called
Marissa, couldn’t have been more than twenty. She stiffened but
spread her legs on his command as he put his hand up her dress and
jabbed a finger inside her.

“That’s a good
girl. You like this more than you’re letting on, don’t you? I can
feel how wet you are.”

I wanted to
puke. To subject her to such embarrassment was the lowest of the
low, but that’s what got him off. I could already see his pants
running out of room to hold his erection.

“Focus.” I
heard a whisper from the thug who had purchased me.

“Virgins are
rare, but I guess you won’t be one much longer, will you,
sweetheart?” He pulled out a photo from his breast pocket.

I wished I
could have seen it.

“Your new
owner will be pleased.”

And she wasn’t
even for this dweeb. The pleasantries out of his mouth were filled
with hate and acid. They were meant to frighten, humiliate, and
mortify at the same time. Everything inside me crunched and turned
as I thought about this girl’s first sexual experience being with
this man, or whomever he was buying her for.

The fondling
went on for another half an hour. The girl’s breasts were freed
from her bra, and her nipples flicked in front of everyone until
they hardened. He clasped them harder, then released them again,
and I could tell the effect it had on her below the belt as she
squeezed her thighs together. The man liked it. He smirked while
saying, “You’re mine.”

Further down
the line a familiar scene unfolded.

Everything was
done to imply we were the ones wanting and enjoying all this. A man
lowered to his knees and sniffed a woman’s panties, then removed
them and sucked her off until she came. Another one, right beside
him, pushed on the girl’s shoulders, forcing her to kneel and
shoved himself in her mouth. One gent sat in the corner of the
room, shadowed by a fake tree, masturbating to the sale which had
become more of a show for many of these men.

“I want to see
this one’s pussy.” A short man resembling a stump stood in front of
me.

“She’s already
bought.” The thug crossed in front of me blocking the way.

“So?”

“So, she’s
mine. I don’t share.”

“I’ll pay you
double.” He adjusted his glasses, sweat beating down his face.

“Piss off!” my
thug growled. I was beginning to like him more and more.

A bell dinged,
as if a boxing match had ended. The men zipped their pants. A
waitress brought papers on a clip board from one to another, and
they each signed for their new toys. Some girls were covered with
robes; other had collars fastened to their necks with leashes
hanging down. Their owners handed them branded scarves and
cloths.

I got a black
tie.

“Cover your
eyes,” my thug instructed.

The smooth
fabric against my face reminded me of Tristan. It was him I was
doing this for, and for Kendra. And if I could have bet, I would
have said this exact tie belonged to him. No one else had that
specific sweet and musky smell of scotch and Old Spice.

“What’s your
name?” I whispered.

“Gene. Don’t
talk yet.”

He tightened
the tie around my eyes and led me out the room, guiding my elbow. I
expected his firm grip to loosen when we stepped into a different
room, but it didn’t. Something automatic resonated in my ears, like
the opening of a supermarket door. Gravity pulled my insides down
to my feet and I felt heavier than before. The ascent was quicker
than the elevator in Tristan’s penthouse. I hadn’t gone through a
tunnel or outside, so we must have stayed in the same hotel.

The thug
removed my blindfold just before the elevator came to a stop. There
was another man with a girl I recognized from the room
downstairs.