up now?”
“I just wish there was something else I could do. Something less to do with sex. It’s not that I don’t like sex. I do. I just... You know... I mean, do you get paid? Or are you just a manager, or–”
“Damn straight I do. I get paid a lot, too. I’ve been doing this a long time, and putting up with their…” She stops and shakes her head. “I mean, her bullshit can be fucking exhausting.”
“Yes, but do you get paid to sleep with people?”
“Nope, gave that up a while back. Rox just pays me to run the place for her now, look after the girls, deal with the jerks. I just play for fun now. It’s all my choice. I paid my dues.”
“So you must know a lot then, huh?”
“Yeah, I know it all. And as long as you listen, you’ll know it too. But you gotta learn to love it, or at least pretend you do. These clients can tell a fake a fucking mile off, and then you’ll be out on your very attractive backside before you know it.”
Right. Learn to love it. How does one learn to love screwing people for money?
The road steadily begins to fly past as we pick up speed. Clearly the crash has been dealt with. I watch all the business suits purposely rushing from office to office. I remember that life – the early starts, the clothes, the desire to achieve and get better, move up the corporate ladder and succeed. Not that I ever could, or did. Whatever I needed to have to make that existence work, I clearly didn’t have it. According to Roxanne, I still don’t, and never will have.
The car eventually pulls to a stop outside The Parlour, and I stare at the red building wondering how long I’ll have to be here. How long will it be until I can make some money and get away? I may not be corporate. I may never be able to achieve a ranking in that lifestyle, but I’m damned if I’m going to be a whore for the rest of my life either.
“How many stay?” I ask Vixon as we open the doors and get out.
“What?” she says as she wanders around the car to reach me, then smiles a little at the two men that have arrived to greet her. They’re both incredibly handsome. They’re also both looking at the floor and refusing to make eye contact with her for some bizarre reason.
“How many choose this over leaving, when they’ve made some money, I mean?”
“Oh, right. Most do a couple of years and then move on. Some chose a partner and move in with them, become full time subs. Some can only handle a few weeks at it and they choose to go back on the streets. It’s a fucking lottery, lovey, and it’s all up to you,” she replies as she strides away through the door and the two men stare straight at me. They obviously have no problem looking at me. I’m clearly on a different level to Vixon entirely.
“Go,” one of them says as I stare at him. Oh, yes. Go. Right.
My feet scuttle after Vixon and I’m immediately hit by the sound of arguing as I cross the marble floor to catch up with her. It’s loud on Roxanne’s part. She’s positively screaming at someone and swearing like a trooper. I watch a sigh leave Vixon’s mouth as she halts us and looks around the space for where the voices are coming from. The other is a smooth baritone, with an accent of some sort that rolls and swirls around his words. In fact, he keeps flicking in and out of different languages, as does she every now and then. It’s European, maybe Icelandic, or Swedish.
“For fuck’s sake,” Vixon whispers to herself as she points us over to the elevator and walks towards it. I follow and crane my neck around her to get a glimpse of anyone that would dare shout at Roxanne in such a way. She may be odd, but she’s given me a chance at a new life, and if I can help, I will.
“Shouldn’t we–”
“Lovey, we definitely should not. That there is one of the only men in the world you do not want to play with. There are a few others, too, but that one is off limits, you get me?”
“I don’t even know who he is. Why would
“I just wish there was something else I could do. Something less to do with sex. It’s not that I don’t like sex. I do. I just... You know... I mean, do you get paid? Or are you just a manager, or–”
“Damn straight I do. I get paid a lot, too. I’ve been doing this a long time, and putting up with their…” She stops and shakes her head. “I mean, her bullshit can be fucking exhausting.”
“Yes, but do you get paid to sleep with people?”
“Nope, gave that up a while back. Rox just pays me to run the place for her now, look after the girls, deal with the jerks. I just play for fun now. It’s all my choice. I paid my dues.”
“So you must know a lot then, huh?”
“Yeah, I know it all. And as long as you listen, you’ll know it too. But you gotta learn to love it, or at least pretend you do. These clients can tell a fake a fucking mile off, and then you’ll be out on your very attractive backside before you know it.”
Right. Learn to love it. How does one learn to love screwing people for money?
The road steadily begins to fly past as we pick up speed. Clearly the crash has been dealt with. I watch all the business suits purposely rushing from office to office. I remember that life – the early starts, the clothes, the desire to achieve and get better, move up the corporate ladder and succeed. Not that I ever could, or did. Whatever I needed to have to make that existence work, I clearly didn’t have it. According to Roxanne, I still don’t, and never will have.
The car eventually pulls to a stop outside The Parlour, and I stare at the red building wondering how long I’ll have to be here. How long will it be until I can make some money and get away? I may not be corporate. I may never be able to achieve a ranking in that lifestyle, but I’m damned if I’m going to be a whore for the rest of my life either.
“How many stay?” I ask Vixon as we open the doors and get out.
“What?” she says as she wanders around the car to reach me, then smiles a little at the two men that have arrived to greet her. They’re both incredibly handsome. They’re also both looking at the floor and refusing to make eye contact with her for some bizarre reason.
“How many choose this over leaving, when they’ve made some money, I mean?”
“Oh, right. Most do a couple of years and then move on. Some chose a partner and move in with them, become full time subs. Some can only handle a few weeks at it and they choose to go back on the streets. It’s a fucking lottery, lovey, and it’s all up to you,” she replies as she strides away through the door and the two men stare straight at me. They obviously have no problem looking at me. I’m clearly on a different level to Vixon entirely.
“Go,” one of them says as I stare at him. Oh, yes. Go. Right.
My feet scuttle after Vixon and I’m immediately hit by the sound of arguing as I cross the marble floor to catch up with her. It’s loud on Roxanne’s part. She’s positively screaming at someone and swearing like a trooper. I watch a sigh leave Vixon’s mouth as she halts us and looks around the space for where the voices are coming from. The other is a smooth baritone, with an accent of some sort that rolls and swirls around his words. In fact, he keeps flicking in and out of different languages, as does she every now and then. It’s European, maybe Icelandic, or Swedish.
“For fuck’s sake,” Vixon whispers to herself as she points us over to the elevator and walks towards it. I follow and crane my neck around her to get a glimpse of anyone that would dare shout at Roxanne in such a way. She may be odd, but she’s given me a chance at a new life, and if I can help, I will.
“Shouldn’t we–”
“Lovey, we definitely should not. That there is one of the only men in the world you do not want to play with. There are a few others, too, but that one is off limits, you get me?”
“I don’t even know who he is. Why would
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