Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“Why is he inviting us to his party?”
The girls trade a glance. “Maisy,” Gina starts. “We hate seeing you come home every day exhausted and filthy. What if we told you…you could earn what you make in three months cleaning houses…in one night?”
“Oh God.” My face stings with heat and I fan myself to cool it. Without realizing it, this is what I’ve been afraid of all along. My mother’s prophecy coming true. “They pay you for sex here. Don’t they?”
Their silence answers my question.
“I’m not…” I swallow the riot of nerves in my throat. “I’m not judging you. Nothing like that. But if you brought me here so I could…I just can’t. I’ve never even kissed a guy.”
Two pairs of owl eyes are staring back at me.
“Not one?”
“Never? You’re eighteen.”
“I know,” I breathe, trying not to have a panic attack. “I’ve been busy.”
Also, the men in real life are nothing like the heroes in my audiobooks. They’re generally kind of stinky, breath-wise, and say awkward things. Like, you’ve sure grown up nice, Maisy. Or, what are you listening to in those headphones? Nothing dirty, I hope.
What am I supposed to say to that?
Darlene reaches into the backseat and squeezes my knee. “Do you have any idea how much one of these rich, old bastards will pay for a virgin?”
“Five figures,” Gina whispers reverently, as if she’s talking about something religious. “Maybe more. Their bank accounts are bottomless and they’re bored as hell.”
“And horny,” Darlene snorts. “The girl takes home twenty percent of whatever they earn, Winston Creed keeps the rest.”
I stare between the two of them. “If you’re making that much money, why are you still living in the poor part of town?”
“Two reasons.” Gina counts off on her blue-tipped fingers. “One. They don’t pay that much for us. Not even close. And two…”
Darlene ducks her head and smiles, flushing up to the roots of her hair. “We’re saving up for a place of our own. A houseboat down in Miami.”
“You two are together?” I ask, falling back against the seat. “I never knew.”
“Back to the topic at hand,” Gina says briskly, but a smile plays around the edges of her mouth. “Maisy, you don’t have to do anything in there unless you’re comfortable. Okay? But I think you should consider checking it out. Five minutes on your back could be your ticket out of this shit stack town, too. No more cleaning the school or those dusty offices. Think about it.”
I can’t help it.
What would it be like, to have financial security?
I could actually pursue my dream of being an audiobook narrator.
Maybe it’s vain to think so…but even my mother says I have a pleasant voice and she almost never gives out compliments. I often find myself repeating some of the more beautiful sentences out loud when I’m listening to a book, just to see if I can do it better. If I had money, I could buy the necessary recording equipment and sound booth. I could enjoy what I do.
Still…no. I can’t do it.
It’s not worth letting a stranger take my virginity, no affection between us. My narrator dreams will have to stay on the shelf until I can pursue them in a way I feel comfortable with.
“Thank you for considering my situation. I do appreciate that, but…” I shake my head, sending a dark lock of hair tumbling down from my bun. “I’ll just come inside and wait until you’re ready to leave.”
Gina shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
The three of us exit the car and advance toward the entrance. When we’re almost there, I start to hear laughter from within. Male and female. Music. Apprehension tickles my belly, but I tell myself it’s just a couple of hours and I’m not participating. Nothing can make me. Truthfully, I’m not sure some fancy rich man would be interested in me anyway. Unlike Gina and Darlene who look amazing, I’m dressed in a plain, pink silk dress from the discount store, my shoes are cheap and white with bows decorating the toe.
Darlene raps on the door and a silver-haired man pulls it open, his cold eyes sweeping over us, before he steps aside. “Good evening.”
“Who is that?” I whisper to Darlene as we step over the threshold.
“That’s Banks. He’s kind of a…lookout.”
“A lookout,” I murmur. Of course. Because this is completely illegal.
After that, all I can do is gape at the splendor in front of me. The interior is elegant, smelling lightly of cigars and cologne. The lights are low. Very low. But I can still make out the groups of men, the scattering of girls who look to be around my age or slightly older. They’re gathered around talking in the main room, although some of the men openly grope the girls. Hands fondle breasts, squeeze backsides, fingers trail up thighs, as if it’s completely normal.