“Everything. I’d love to see your facility. Watch you train. I heard you take all types.”
“My hobby is not a theme park. You can’t come and wander around, eat fucking popcorn and watch me work the girls.”
He straightens, shifts in response, and I feel the cold possessive slide of his hand, down the back of my arm and around my waist. “It was nice to meet you. A big honor.” He pulled on my waist, moving me a step towards him, the hurt kid taking his toys and going home.
“The band on your arm indicates you’re here to buy.” Brett’s voice interrupts our exit.
“I am.”
“You know I have hundreds. Tell me what you are interested in. Or, since you have such an interest in my dealings, come and pick one out.”
A slight release, the turn of Him back to Brett. “And what about her?” He tips his head toward me. “You like American girls. Do you want to do a trade?”
“I’ll give you twenty for the girl now. You can use it to rebuy tonight, or save it for your trip to my ranch.”
I was so close to freedom. I wish I could pin my eyes in place, the danger of them lifting so strong. Brett sounded so calm, so smooth. Was playing the game better than I ever would have been able to.
“Twenty-five?” I may faint if this negotiation lasts much longer.
“No.” Brett’s voice was cold. “Take the deal or get the fuck out of my sight.”
The man beside me laughed, high and awkwardly, his step passing in front of my line of vision, my gaze lifting slightly to see their hands shake. “We have a deal. Enjoy her.”
I feel the push of my keeper’s *ex-keeper’s* hand and step forward. I can’t lift my eyes or I will break, am stepping over the edge to freedom, cannot lose this now.
“Come here.” It is not Brett who speaks, it’s the man on his left, who holds out his hand, and I step towards him, my hands clasped, daring to raise my head and I meet his gaze. It is strong and steady, a hard jaw, kind eyes — I know this man. Met him at Brett’s house, the full introduction made in the outdoor kitchen, him setting down tongs long enough to shake my hand and give me his name. I can’t remember it, but know that he had two kids, one who played soccer.
He smiled at me but I was too scared to respond. Wanted to be out of this party as soon as possible. Wanted to scrub my skin until I removed every layer of him. Wanted to be alone with Brett and burrow into his chest. Look into his face and rediscover every detail I’d struggled to memorize. Never let go of him.
I heard the slap of a handshake behind me, money exchanged, a string of subservient words pouring at Brett from the man who had demanded obedience from me. Heard, or imagined, the click of his shoe as he stepped away. Felt the close of a hand, Brett’s hand, around my arm as he gently pushed me forward, steering me toward the door, his voice low and urgent when he turned to the others. “Make sure we get to the car safely, then stay here and deal with the other girls. I’ll meet you back at the house.”
It took a thousand steps to reach the street, his hand firmly wrapped around my bare bicep, every bit of my skin obsessed with the warm grip of him. A thousand steps where, at one moment, turning a corner, he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of my shoulder. Inhaled a deep breath and smelled me. Moved the thumb of his hand gently and caressed the underside of my arm for one moment before we rounded the edge and he was, again, pure business.
When we stepped past Polished Shoes, I took in a shuddering breath. When a hand pushed on the door and it opened, a burst of free air greeting us, the night outside quiet, an SUV ahead of us waiting, the back door opened by a faceless man, I exhaled. Stepped up, into the warm vehicle, the driver turned in his seat, his face flinching in surprise when our eyes connected, recognition hitting us both at the same time. Another meeting. Another time. Another friend.
The door shut behind Brett, the truck accelerated away from the house, and I felt the crush of his arms around me.
He gripped me as if he was drowning, his arms wrapping around me, his head in my neck, breath gasping as if he was broken, a quivering sob of wracking inhalations, the action paused only by his kisses, quick and soft against my shoulder, collarbone, neck. He moved a shaky hand to either side of my face and held it, still, his lips pressing to mine before he pulled away and I looked fully into his face for the first time in the rest of my life. Saw heartbreak there that rivaled my own. Need and stress, a man aged in my time away, his fingers trembling as he ran the pads of digits across my lips.
“I thought…” he shuddered out a breath. “I thought you were gone. Oh my god…” he sobbed, a wet shaky inhale, his hands sliding into my curls and gripping them, pulling me closer.
I dug my hands into his hair and pulled him toward me, our lips meeting and knew in that moment that nothing between us - not with the time, or the separation, or my servitude - had changed. He didn’t see me as ruined or used, he gripped me like I was priceless, kissed me like he’d never let go. He was still mine. We were still us.
Whatever he had injected me with, I had my senses about me when he lifted my arm. Threw it over his shoulder and propped me up on my feet. Walked us both past the bathrooms, through the dim hall and back into the club, the floor more crowded, a colorful swirl before me. I tried to reach out a hand, to grab a person, tried to open my mouth and scream for help. Tried to do something other than close my eyes and slump against him.
I heard his laugh, heard words I couldn’t understand, saw the door open, the night dark, my taxi, where was my taxi? I twisted a floppy ankle on the cobblestone streets, pulled against him and felt his hand tighten, to a point of pain.
This was bad. I tried to yell for Brett, tried to lift my head and look up, to the VIP... private party ... and I wondered, for a minute, through the haze, if he was like Brett - a drug trafficker. Maybe I would be a mule, maybe I would...
He threw me in the back seat of a car and shut the door, the hard motion slamming at the bottom of my heel, my knee popping up, my face against a cold vinyl seat. I tried to finish my thought, tried to move my mouth to ask a question tried to... couldn’t ....
BLACK.
“Oh my god, I thought you were gone.” Brett pulled his lips off of mine long enough to whisper the words, the press of his lips against my forehead warm and soft and him. I would never again have to be in that cell. I would never again have to look into that man’s eyes or feel his fists or answer his questions. I was no longer a slave, I was free. My mind choked on that final concept and I pulled away, his eyes widening, his pursuit of me halted as he held himself back. I pulled at the neck of the cheap dress, it choking me, the scratch of its polyester against my bare skin hot and lingering and maddening.