LUCIEN

 

THE ANTICIPATION OF their arrival is the hardest thing to deal with, especially with Number Seven.

Jackson, my cousin and most trusted friend --- hell, my only friend, will be flying the girl in today.  Judging from the radar on my computer screen, they should be arriving within the next hour.

Minimizing the tracking screen, I bring up the email from my supplier for probably the fiftieth time today.

My eyes flit over the message even though I have it memorized.

I have what you want, but it's going to cost you.  One-hundred percent pure, virgin, 5'4", around 125 pounds, beautiful with dark hair, as you requested.

Virgins are the most valuable in the flesh trade.  I should know.  I pay top dollar for the ones I buy.  But I know I need to eventually stop all of this and do the right thing.  And the right thing is bringing down Salvatore Valenti's empire and all the men under him, including my current supplier, Giovanni Morello.  Then, when the mafia empire crumbles for good, I'd be saving all the girls, not just some of them like I have been doing.

I pull a stack of bright green post-it notes and place it in front of me.  My hand trembles as I grip a black marker and write the words Eliminate Salvatore Valenti and Giovanni Morello.

I tear off the note and stick it to the edge of my computer desk, along with dozens of other notes of things that I want to do or need to do after I rid myself of this sick obsession of buying women to fulfill some overwhelming need inside of me.

I've tried everything over the years to find some sort of miracle cure for my transgressions --- medication, hypnotherapy, psychological testing --- and nothing worked.

As one psychiatrist put it one time while he stormed out of his very own office, "I'm too fucked up to cure."

Never were truer words spoken.

My childhood did a number on me mentally, and I don't think I'll ever truly be cured.  In all honesty, I agree with the numerous therapists on one thing --- my unconventional behaviors are the only way my brain can block out all of the horrible things that happened to me and allow me to function as a semi-normal adult.  If I somehow find a cure and rid myself of these obsessions, I'm afraid of what will happen to me.

Feeling even more anxious than before, I place the unused stack of notes back in their proper place and return my attention to my computer.

It's almost time.

My eyes focus on the email string between Morello and me once again.

When my supplier told me he found the exact type of girl I wanted, I demanded a picture, something I've never done before.  In the past I liked to be surprised besides knowing their measurements, so that I can order accurate clothing sizes.  But I always preferred to see their face for the first time in person.  It heightened my anticipation and hunger.

But with this girl, Number Seven…I wanted --- no, I needed to see her as soon as possible.

It took Morello almost eight hours before he responded to my request, and I honestly thought the anticipation would kill me.

When I pull up the picture he attached to the email for what feels like the thousandth time today, I suppress a moan in the back of my throat.  He finally found me exactly what I wanted --- a dark-haired beauty with light green eyes.  All the girls in the past haven't been to my specifications, but my suppliers tried.  Oh, they've all tried.

I request brunettes with light eyes because I want the exact opposite of my mother.  I don't want to be reminded of her in any way, shape or form.  All the girls in the past have been blondes.  Not the particular shade of dirty blonde my mother was, thankfully.

I study the girl's picture closely and can't help but feel a sense of apprehension.  She looks…happy.  So much unlike the other girls in the past, although I never asked for a picture to be sent before.

The others had been poor, needing and craving the money and luxuries I gave them.

This girl is on the beach, her long tanned legs stretched out before her on the sand.  Her long, dark hair cascades around her shoulders in soft waves, and she's smiling a flawless smile with straight, white teeth.

She doesn't look like someone I would expect to need money.  In fact, she looks like the exact opposite.

My thumb brushes against her full, glossy lips, and then I curse as I realize I probably left a smudge on my screen with my carelessness.  Quickly, I reach into the top drawer and bring out a cleaner and wipes.  I spend several minutes cleaning my computer screen, making sure my thumbprint is gone, before I put everything away and stare at her beautiful face once more.

Maybe I'm reading too much into the picture.  It's not like I saw her predecessors in their before state.  Perhaps this was just one great day out of her usually miserable life.  Yes, that must be it.

I can't help but wonder what condition she'll be in when she gets here.  All six of the previous girls have come in here dirty and damaged, roughed up by their handlers, against my wishes, of course.  But I have to admit that part of the fun for me was returning them to prestige condition before I took what I paid for.

I need complete and utter perfection before I lay a finger on them.

And I won't settle for anything less when this girl comes under my ownership…even if her beauty most likely will disarm me.

No.

She will be exactly what I crave and precisely what I need.

She will be absolutely perfect.