“Take this,” Halim said, handing Sonya a pill before they left. “It will make you feel better.”
“But, I don’t need anything. I feel okay.”
“Don’t worry. You know I don’t want you to take anything dangerous, like that cocaine you almost tried at Sultan’s on your first night. Remember? This is just to relax, so you don’t feel anxious. It’s safe.”
“Yeah, I remember. Thanks. But I’m not nervous.”
“Fine,” he said curtly.
Halim had wanted to see if Sonya would do as she was told. Since she was still not listening to everything he said, he'd have the drugs put into her room service meal again.
Uppers, downers, drugs to lower anxiety, others to make her happy for no reason. He just needed her to look pretty, smile, not think too much about what was going on, and do whatever he said.
Sonya was still having trouble with that last part, but she would learn. She’d better learn, or she’d soon find out what happens to girls who don’t behave, like Anna did.
“You know, Sonya. It was your friend Dmitri who recommended you for this job. I didn’t think you were mature enough to handle it yet. But he said you’re quite charming and open-minded. I hope you don’t make him turn out to be a liar.”
“Dmitri? Why was he talking about me, about this job?”
“Well, he works for me. He knows what I seek. He’s familiar with the type of clients I have. I often ask his opinion about girls at the club.”
So that’s it? Was Dmitri just “interviewing” me for Halim? Taking me for a spin, seeing how I act at a fancy restaurant? Testing out my cocksucking skills? Open-minded, huh?
As these depressing thoughts rattled through her mind, Sonya’s heart plummeted into her belly and landed like a fat guy doing a cannonball in a swimming pool.
Sonya turned her head and walked away, acting as though she’d forgotten something in her room and was looking for it. She was trying to hide her disgust and shame from Halim, not wanting him to know how much she’d been hurt, especially since it now seemed like Dmitri hadn’t even used her for a good time, but just for business. Maybe he wasn’t even attracted to her.
“Can I have that pill now?” she asked.
“Sure. Here you go.”
They left the penthouse, which was more than just a luxury suite. It took up half a floor by itself. The other half was left open for a pool, jacuzzi, deck, lounge chairs, and a private bar, among other perks.
Sonya didn’t have time to see all the amenities there, as Halim led her to the elevator. They rode down to the lobby, then exited into the valet area.
“Oh, there’s his car. It’s great to have a client pick you up in a limo instead of the other way around, isn’t it?” Halim said cheerfully.
They walked toward a stretch limo Hummer, black and freshly waxed. The driver got out and opened the door. The interior was so spacious, Sonya stepped inside almost without having to duck.
There were four men seated in the back. Halim ordered Sonya to sit close to them, even though there was ample space inside the massive vehicle.
She thought she recognized one or two of the men from the club, oil boys, but wasn’t sure. The oil boys never waited in line at Sultan’s. They were allowed to come in through the employee entrance in back, so Sonya didn’t see them up close.
There were three other men in the limo, one sitting near the front, just behind the driver’s cabin, and two more in the very back. They were dressed in suits, too, but were big and buff and younger than Halim’s friends. They never spoke or made eye contact with anyone. Sonya guessed correctly that they were bodyguards.
Halim said something in Arabic, and his friends all laughed.
“Excuse me, let’s speak English so that our lovely hostess will understand too,” one of the men said. The others agreed.
Once they were out from under the awning covering the entrance of the hotel, Sonya looked out the dark tinted windows and saw skyscrapers and bright lights everywhere. They were in Midtown Manhattan.
“You look bored. Would you like to take a dip in the jacuzzi on the way to dinner?” another man said.
Sonya turned her head away from the window and back toward the men. She did her best to smile at the joke.
A familiar looking man with a big pot belly shrugged his shoulders, picked up a remote control and pressed a button. The sound of bubbling water came from another part of the limo.
“Go ahead,” the man said. “He wasn’t joking.”
This guy seemed to be the leader of the group. The others laughed harder at his jokes and looked to him for approval when they made a clever remark or tried to flirt with Sonya.
Sonya got up, her head bowed, and stepped toward the center of the vehicle, with one hand on the roof and the other on the back of the seats to stabilize herself. She felt wobbly, but sitting beside those men was so awkward, she was glad to do something else.
A man’s hand held her forearm, under the pretense of helping her, but she could sense the lust of those bony fingers. Another hand grazed her thigh as she passed the four men and continued toward what she could now see was a round tank in the center of the limo.
Whack!
Somebody slapped her ass. She didn’t see who did it. If that’d happened at the diner or Sultan’s, she’d have shouted or thrown a drink at someone, everyone. But she felt powerless now. She paused, didn’t even look back, and continued.
“Tsk tsk, boys,” Halim said, followed by something in Arabic, chuckles, and then, “She is not that kind of girl.”
Hearing that gave Sonya a sense of relief. She reached the round tank and looked inside. It was indeed a hot tub.
“Wow, if I had a bathing suit, I’d try it,” she said.
“No problem, it’s a nude-only jacuzzi,” the pot-bellied man said, cackling.
Sonya stared down into the churning water, feeling the steam hit her face and moisten her mascara. For an instant, she imagined herself falling in, sinking to the bottom, disappearing forever from this cruel world.
“Oh, but only if you get permission from your boss!” a man said as he slapped Halim on the knee. They all laughed. Even Sonya. She did not think it was funny, but her mouth was laughing.
“Too late, it’s dinner time,” Halim said.
“Maybe later…” someone else mumbled.
They got out of the limo in front of The Ruble, one of the most famous restaurants in New York. Two of the bodyguards followed them inside, with one waiting behind.
“Do you like Russian food, Sonya?” Halim asked, as the group was seated at a table. His voice was polite yet had a menacing undertone.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever tried any,” she said.
“You’ll love it,” the pot-bellied man assured her. “This restaurant is owned by a friend of ours, Ivan Veselov. He lives in Russia, but he’s here tonight. He’ll make sure we get the best of the best.”
“Okay,” Sonya said. Dmitri had never mentioned his last name to her, so she didn’t realize it was the same as the owner.