Chapter 3
My alarm clock blares, waking me out of a deep sleep. I reach over to my nightstand and hit the button to shut it up. Shit, it’s seven pm; I slept the day away, but it was needed after the long hours I’ve been working lately. Getting up, I’m still a little tired but feel reenergized nonetheless. I turn on my bedroom light, walk to the closet, and rummage through my wardrobe. Deciding on a tight-fitting black mini-dress, I grab it and a pair of red high heels then head to my bathroom. I haven’t been out in a while, and after the last few weeks at work, I might as well relax a little and try to have some fun to keep my mind off these cases.
I turn the water on in my shower, letting it heat up as I undress. When I remove my socks, the cold marble floor freezes my feet and makes me shiver, so I jump into the scalding water, letting the heat seep through my body. The warmth of the water is so relaxing, the smell of fresh flowers wafting through my walk-in shower as I wash my body and hair. Grabbing my razor, I shave my legs and armpits then look down. I decide what the hell, and start shaving my most intimate place, and then I wash away all my hair down below. It’s not like I’ll be showing it off or using it, but it feels good to take care of myself after lacking the last few weeks.
Opening my clear glass shower door, I grab one towel off the hook and wrap it around my body then reach for the other. Bending over, I twist the towel around my hair. I pick up my phone and look at the time; thirty minutes left until I have to meet Jessie.
Removing the towel from around my body, I make sure I’m completely dry, put my black lace thong and matching bra on, and then slip my little black dress on. I struggle with the back zipper for a few minutes before finally getting it. Wiping away the steam from my mirror, I apply some foundation to hide the black circles under my eyes, set it with some powder, and then apply some eyeshadow to my eyes in a dark smoky style with thick black eyeliner and mascara to make the grey color pop. Down to fifteen minutes, I decide to just let my long black hair stay damp, but I work some gel into the strands to give it a wavy look. Picking up my red heels off the bathroom floor, I rush through my apartment, grabbing everything I need: my red clutch purse, keys, cash, and phone.
I pull into an empty space in Jake’s bar parking lot with no time to spare. I call Jessie; she picks up on the second ring. “Hey!” she shouts through the phone; music booms in the background.
“I just got parked, meet me at the entrance,” I tell her as I get out of my Volvo and hit the key fob to lock the doors.
“See you in a minute,” she replies happily before hanging up.
I see Jessie immediately as I walk up to the entrance. Her fiery red hair hangs loose in long curls around her shoulders. She’s wearing dark, tight-fitting jeans, a burgundy oversized top that hangs off one shoulder, and burgundy heels to match. Like she needs them; she’s already five feet nine inches without the added height. She is beautiful and the opposite of me.
Her eyes connect with mine, a smile forms on both of our faces. “Hey!” she greets and pulls me in for a hug.
“Hey!” I repeat her greeting. It’s so good to see her. We haven’t been out in almost a month, so this is long overdue. She’s been my best friend since freshman year in high school, and while some friendships come and go after graduation, ours has stayed as strong as ever.
She whistles; her green eyes look me over as we break from our hug. “Look at you, Kylie! You look amazing!”
I laugh. “So do you!”
She takes my hand and starts leading me into the bar. “Let’s get some drinks then we can get caught up. It’s been too long.”
“Yes!” I agree with a smile. I’m so happy to have a night off, even if my cases are still in the back of my mind.
I order a sex on the beach and Jessie orders a long island iced tea from the sexy, muscular bartender. While we wait, she turns to me. “What have you been up to?”
“Working long hours, like always. Other than that, not much. Just trying to get the bad guys.” I chuckle. “How about you?”
She shrugs her shoulder. “Oh, you know, living life and having fun.” Jessie smiles. That’s one thing about my best friend: she doesn’t take much seriously, and she doesn’t settle.
“Here you go, beautiful ladies.” The bartender slides our drinks in front of us with a blinding smile.
“Thank you!” we say in unison. “Here.” Jessie hands him a twenty. “Keep the change, sexy.” Her attention turns to me after she watches his ass when he walks away. “Let’s find a table. Next round’s on you. He’ll break me if I’m not careful.” She shakes her head with a small laugh.
Laughing, I reply, “Okay.”
After weaving our way through the crowd of people, we finally find a table. I love the seats here because they aren’t the hard wooden ones a lot of bars have. These are plush, soft, and so comfortable. We set our drinks on the table and look around at the crowd. There are a lot of people here tonight.
I take a sip of my drink and swallow down the sugary sweetness. “So, in the last few weeks since I saw you, you haven’t found a man to lock you up and throw away the key yet?” I question jokingly.
She almost spits out her drink, but swallows quickly and laughs. “Kylie, you know me better than that. Life is too short and there are too many hard bodies out here that I want to get close to.” She shrugs her shoulder again. “Besides, I’m too young to settle down and start a family. That’s not for years to come.”
Shaking my head, I stare at my best friend. “One day you will meet Mr. Right.”
She takes a sip from her tall glass and looks in the direction of the bartender. “You never know; Mr. Sexy over there could be the one to make me change my ways.” She laughs. “What about you? When’s the last time you got laid?” Her eyes drift back to me.
Looking down, I reply, “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. It was with Matt and you guys broke up two years ago, Kylie. You need to let loose, live a little, have some fun…” She tips her glass at me. “And you definitely need to get laid.”
“Pssh, not with the hours I’ve been working and I’m not like you, I can’t just go out and have random sex with someone.” I take a long swallow and finish off the glass.
Jessie flags down a waitress, and we order another round. “What about that hottie partner of yours?”
My eyes widen. “No way!” I shake my head furiously and don’t elaborate further; instead I change the subject. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
Her brows pull down tight as she thinks about my question. “I think I’m free, why?”
“Great! I have to get a ball gown and was wanting your opinion.”
She replies happily, “You know I love shopping. Just call me with the when and where. I’ll meet you.”
By the time we finish off our fourth round we are both feeling pretty tipsy. With the little extra liquid courage, Jessie decides we need to go to the bar.
Sexy bartender walks over to us, puts his elbows on the counter, and leans in closer to Jessie. “More, ladies?” he questions with that bright smile.
“Mhm,” Jessie mumbles.
He chuckles. “I’ll be right back with those.”
We don’t take our eyes off him as he mixes up our drinks. Jessie has that gleam in her eye; I know what’s about to happen. “What’s your number?” she questions when he slides our drinks to us. Just like that; she’s so confident and doesn’t even care if she would get turned down.
“It’s under your glass.” He grins and walks away to help another customer.
“Are you going to call him?” I ask as we take our drinks and work our way onto the dance floor.
“Of course I am.” She smiles.
It’s crowded as we work our way through the bodies, swaying our hips and lifting our arms as we go. One song after another, we dance freely, not a care in the world, and we are having so much fun.
We order more drinks, we dance provocatively to more songs, and we get drunker and drunker. Holding onto one another, we stumble off the dance floor and barely make it back to our table. “I’m not going to be able to drive home.” I laugh as I plop down in my chair.
“Me either!” She whines.
“Jesus, you’re a bad influence.” I huff out and push back my sweaty hair that’s stuck to my forehead and cheeks.
“Oh, please! You’re a grown woman now. That excuse ran out after high school.” We both bust out laughing. It’s true; she was always trying to get me in trouble, but my dad being the chief of police got us away with a lot.
“Whew, I haven’t drunk this much in a long time.” My eyes widen as my vision starts to blur. “I’m calling a cab.”
“Yeah, it’s time to call it a night,” Jessie says, slumping in her chair.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll make sure you get home,” the bartender states from behind Jessie. Where the hell did he come from?
“What kind of friend would I be if I let her go home with you? We don’t even know you.” I narrow my eyes on him in a challenge. It was all fun and games before, but Jessie is too drunk and I’m not taking any chance of something happening to her.
“Okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “Call me,” he says down to Jessie before he walks away.
“I wouldn’t have gone with him,” Jessie tells me, straight-faced.
“I know.” I pull my phone out of my clutch, squint my eyes at the screen, and google a taxi service.
We wait outside the bar in the cool night air, hoping it sobers us up some. The taxi stops along the curb, we both get in, and we give him Jessie’s address first.
“Tonight was fun,” she says and pats my leg before she steps out of the taxi. We watch her stumble up to her door, get her key in the lock, and when she is safely inside I allow the driver to take me home.
My alarm clock screams at me that it’s seven am and time to get up. Reaching over, I fumble to turn it off and knock it onto my bedroom floor. Groaning, I sit up and my hands fly to my head; it’s pounding from the hangover caused by too many drinks last night with Jessie. Fuck! I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Never again!
My mouth is dry, and what I can only describe as the taste of ass makes me want to vomit all over again. Yes, I vaguely remember coming home and praying to the porcelain God before climbing into bed and passing out. That’s one thing about Jessie: she is all about going big or going home—she has no in-between, no boundaries, no limits. I’m usually the one regretting it the next morning, but you have to love the woman.
Getting out of bed, I stumble into my bathroom, turn on the light, and squint to keep the brightness out of my vision. I find my bottle of pain relievers and the empty glass I keep on my counter, then fill it up with water, take a drink, and swallow a couple of the pills. I turn on the shower and proceed to get ready for work the best I can.
Forty-five minutes later, the pills have started working and I feel a little less like a zombie as I grab my keys, phone, and purse off the kitchen counter. I lock up my apartment, walk down the hall to the elevator, and push the button that has a P on it for parking garage.
When I step out of the elevator, I look around, not seeing my car anywhere. Oh, shit! I remember I left it at the bar; Jessie and I were both far too drunk to drive, so we called a taxi. Sighing, I pull my phone out of my purse and call my partner.
“Jones,” he answers, chipper. Wish I had his enthusiasm today.
“I need a ride to get my car.” I turn back to the elevator and push the up button.
“Rough night?” he questions; I imagine him smirking at my predicament.
“Ugh, don’t ask,” I huff.
He laughs through the phone. “I’ll bring coffee. Would you like some eggs, bacon, toast?” he asks teasingly.
“I hate you sometimes.” I groan, and my stomach rolls at the mention of food.
“Nah, you love me.” He laughs harder and adds, “I’ll be there in twenty.” He hangs up.
I wait for the elevator door to open. When it does, I take it up one level to the ground floor and wait outside for my partner and the coffee I am fiending for.
I step out of Jones’s car with my purse and coffee cup. Bending down to look in at him, I tell him, “Thank you! I’ll meet you at the office.”
“No problem.” He smiles. “See you in a few.”
I shut the car door and walk to mine. He waits until I get in and start the engine before he pulls away.
On my drive to the office, I think about Jessie’s words.
You need to live a little.
You need to have some fun.
You need to let loose.
You need to get laid.
Matt was the only boyfriend I ever had. I started dating him at fourteen and we ended when I was twenty-four. Ten years together is a long time. We didn’t have a sad breakup, we don’t hate each other…it’s just that people change, they grow apart—and that’s what happened to us. We became that old married couple and neither of us was happy anymore. But he’s the only guy I’ve ever been with, ever dated. So where would I even begin to try and find someone new...someone less boring in bed?
Laughing to myself, I shake off my thoughts, park my car, and head into work.
Knocking on John Hershaw’s office door, I wait for him to answer, and when he does, I walk in. “What do you have for me?” I question the lead detective in undercover cases.
“Hello to you too, Detective Sanders.” He smirks and pushes an envelope across his desk as I take a seat opposite of him. “In there you have an ID card, burner phone, birth certificate, and the information about your fake family in case anyone has questions about them.”
Opening it, I take a look at my ID. “Rayven Bridges, twenty-three, from Centerville, Iowa.” My brow cocks and I lift my eyes to meet his.
He stares at me, expressionless. He pushes his black frame glasses further up his nose then starts to explain. “Yes, you’re new to town and need to make some money. Small-town girl wanting to live the big city dream, but didn’t realize it would be so expensive.”
My brows pull down. “And my New York accent?”
“Do research and learn to talk like a Midwesterner.” He sits back in his chair. “You can do this, Kylie, but if at any point you are uncomfortable and want to pull out, just say the word.”
“What if I have to meet these guys?” I ask, not really sure how I could get out of that.
He blankly stares at me. “You will have to meet with them, but we can put a wire on you. Take your gun with you at all times, don’t let them touch you. You ask some questions, have dinner or whatever, but once you are done questioning, get away.”
I nod. “Okay, I can do that. What all do you need me to find out?”
“We need names, what is happening on the inside, and anything else you can get on Magdalene. Do you think you can handle that? We believe this is one murderer, we just need your help in finding out who it is.” His eyes soften some, so I know he’s not trying to be an ass with the question. I’ve never worked an undercover case before and I’m feeling out of my comfort zone, but I need to help bring this murderer down.
“I’ll be fine.” I smile, put the ID back into the envelope, and stand with it in my hand. “Thanks, John.” I walk out of his office and head to mine that I share with Jones.
When I open our door, he’s sitting at the computer, typing away. “Hey.”
He swivels in his chair to look at me. “Hey.” He gives me his megawatt smile as I walk to my desk. “What’s the plan?”
Taking in a deep breath, I dump the contents of the envelope on my desk. “I have to call Miss Magdalene’s; hopefully I can get in good with her and head over.”
I turn on my computer and start my research on how to not sound so much like a New Yorker.
“You want me to go with you?” he questions, worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Gazing in his direction, I take in his features.
He really is good-looking, and if we didn’t work together I could see myself going for Tanner Jones. But...he’s like a brother to me. We’ve been partners for the last five years, since we were rookie cops just out of the academy. We worked together, climbing up our department until we became lead detectives in the homicide unit. I’m not too sure I could get over the awkwardness of mixing business with pleasure. Isn’t that supposed to be like a number-one rule?
Getting out of my crazy thoughts, I reply, “Nah, I’ll be fine. You should talk with Jeffers and find out if he has any new information on the victim from yesterday.”
He shrugs. “Okay, but hey—be careful.” Jones no longer looks at me, but goes back to working on his computer.
My brows knit together. “I will.” I mean, how much trouble could I get in?
I spent most of the day learning how to pronounce my Rs, stopping only long enough to eat a hot dog Jones brought me from the stand down the block. Then I went back to my research and learning how to not elongate my vowels. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be, and now that I’m home you’d think I was a crazy person if you could see me talking to myself. I’m confident I’ll be ready to make the call tomorrow.
One pm in the afternoon; I just finished off the clam chowder and sub I had for lunch. I wipe my mouth with a napkin and roll my chair over to the side, away from my computer. Our desks are pushed together, and our computers keep us blocked from one another. “Wish me luck.”
“For what?” He releases a small laugh.
“I have to make the call to the escort service.” I bite down on my bottom lip in nervousness.
“I thought you were doing that yesterday?” he questions, his eyes staying on me.
“I was supposed to, but do you know how hard it is to learn how to talk different than you have all your life?” I shake my head. “I don’t know about this.” I put my elbow on the edge of my desk and rest my chin in my palm with a pout.
“Hey, they wouldn’t have put you on the case if they didn’t have faith in you.” His eyes bore into mine with complete faith in me.
“I guess you’re right, or it could have been I’m the prettiest.” I joke and sit back up straight in my chair.
“Yeah, I don’t think old lady Williams could make the cut.” That makes me laugh; he joins in and it eases some of my anxiety. Old lady Williams has worked in the department as a dispatcher for the last forty years and is well into her sixties; she’s at retirement age but doesn’t want to sit at home doing nothing.
Sucking in a lungful of air, I slowly release it. Here goes nothing—I dial the number into the burner phone and wait for someone to answer.
The sweet sound of a young female receptionist comes through the phone after a few rings. “Hello, Miss Magdalene’s, how can I help you?”
“Hi, umm, I mean hello.” I roll my eyes. I’m already messing up. “My name is...” I have to stop and remember to give my fake name. “Rayven Bridges and I was...umm...wondering if you have any need for women?” I sigh and hang my head.
“Hold, please.” The line goes silent.
An older woman takes me off hold. She sounds more sophisticated. “Hello, this is Magdalene. How can I help you?”
“Yes, hi, I got your number out of the phone book. I’m new to New York and was wondering if you have any availability for work.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Actually, yes. Can you come by my office in an hour?” She sounds hopeful and it gives me encouragement that I may pull this undercover business off.
Smiling, I reply, “Yes, I’ll be there.” We hang up and I look at my partner. “I’m in!”
Mirroring my smile, he says, “Knew you could do it.”
“Oh, any word on that victim?” I question, not able to fully let go of our original case.
He taps his pen on the desk. “Yeah, minor record of theft.”
My brows knit down. “In the eighties?”
His brow cocks. “Yeah.”
“Find out if they were in jail together. That might be the connection.” I shake my head. “I’m out for the day.”
“Alright, I’ll update you if I hear anything more.” His attention goes back to paperwork on his desk.
“Thanks.” I grab my purse out from under my desk as well as the contents from the envelope then walk out of the office.
When I get to my car I send Jessie a text.
Me: You up for some shopping?
Three dots let me know she’s messaging back.
J: Always
Me: Meet me in a couple of hours at High Designs dress shop.
J: See ya then.
I bring up the GPS on my phone, type in the address for the escort service, and turn the key in the ignition.
I find my destination without any problems and park in the driveway of Miss Magdalene’s with ten minutes to spare. I start to wonder if maybe I have the wrong address; there’s no sign of advertising, but why would there be? I thought maybe it would be a building or something, but I didn’t expect it to be a small cottage-like home.
It’s cute, in fact: light grey siding with mauve shutters and a matching mauve front door. Flower beds with bright-colored flowers line both sides of the porch and between them are white wooden rails going up three steps and across both sides of the porch.
I remove my black blazer, badge, and gun, leaving myself in a fitted white button-up blouse and black slacks. I remove the hair tie and let my black hair fall down my shoulders and back. Fluffing it up a bit, I look at myself in the rearview mirror. This will have to do, and hopefully I’ll pass for twenty-three.
I check the address on the paper one more time; it’s correct. I step out of my car then head up the drive and onto the porch. There’s a small decal on the screen door that says office; instead of knocking, I turn the doorknob and walk in.
Inside what would be the living room is turned into a waiting room; I look around the space. It has a bright, open feel to it with high ceilings and pale yellow painted walls; a navy blue couch sits along the west wall and a few matching chairs line the east wall. There’s a glass coffee table with some magazines that sit atop it.
“Can I help you?” That sweet voice I spoke to an hour ago pulls me away from admiring this place.
My attention goes to the girl behind the mahogany desk. “Yes, I spoke to you earlier. I have an appointment with Magdalene.”
“Yes.” She gives me a kind smile. “Have a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here. Would you like anything to drink?” she asks as she stands.
“No, thank you,” I state and continue to look around the room.
She gives me a nod and walks down the hallway. She’s a petite girl—I’d say no more than nineteen—with sandy blonde hair cut in a bob and brown eyes. She’s dressed in a sleek dark business suit with white pinstripes and a white blouse much like mine under her blazer. She’s far too young to be in this type of business.
I take a seat in one of the chairs, wipe my sweaty palms on my slack-covered thighs, and wait for her return.
Two pairs of heels clink on the Brazilian hardwood floors. One belongs to the receptionist and the other belongs to a beautiful brunette wearing a tight fitting white dress that fits her body perfectly and looks classy.
Eyes that are almost black meet mine; she smiles and holds her hand for me to shake. “You must be Rayven.”
I stand and take her hand in mine, firmly shaking a couple of times before pulling away. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Please call me Magdalene or Maggie. And this is my assistant Heather. Follow me.”
My gaze goes to the assistant. “Nice to meet you, Heather.”
“You too.” She dips her head and goes back to her desk.
I follow behind Magdalene, passing a few doors until we get to the last one on the right. The office is modern: walls painted a darker shade of grey than outside, with crown molding in white around the room that gives it a more spacious feel, and the two leather chairs and desk are black.
“Have a seat, Rayven.” Magdalene gestures to one of the chairs before walking behind her desk and sitting in her own black rolling desk chair. She lays her forearms on the top of the desk, laces her fingers together, and meets my eyes. “So, tell me what brings you in here today, looking for work.”
“Like I said on the phone, I’m new to New York and I need money. I had started college, but it didn’t really work out for me, so I dropped out. You would think as big as this city is I could find a job.” I shrug my shoulder and purse my lips. “But...that’s not the case, and I’m running out of savings.”
“What about your family?” she questions with pulled down brows.
“I’m a small-town girl that had dreams to live in the big city. I’m from a small town in Iowa, born and raised, but to say my parents didn’t approve of me moving here would be an understatement.”
“Why didn’t they approve?”
I look down at my hands. “They expected me to stay living in Centerville all my life, get married to a rich lawyer, and have babies. That’s not me and not what I wanted.” I lift my eyes back up to meet hers.
She nods in understanding, but doesn’t speak for a minute. “Have you ever done anything like escorting before?”
I shake my head and keep my eyes on hers, trying to look confident.
“I do not advertise sex. I give gentlemen the opportunity to have some companionship when they are in town. Whether that be going to an event, dinner, whatever he needs. What happens when you are out on a job is up to the two of you and not to be discussed here.”
“I understand.”
“I have some papers for you to fill out and an NDA for you to sign. The nondisclosure agreement is to keep the privacy of our clients. We are not a whorehouse, a brothel, or a sleazy establishment. We are classy, high-end, and I have worked hard to get where I am today. I have gained the respect of the wealthy and it is to stay that way.” Her eyes bore into mine. She takes her business very seriously.
“I understand. I won’t do anything to jeopardize your reputation.” I look down at my lap and up again; she is now smiling.
“Very good, Rayven. After you fill out the papers, bring them to me and we will get started on the next step.” She stands from her desk and walks over to a filing cabinet. She grabs several sheets of paper, shuts the drawer, and comes back to her desk. She sets the papers down in front of me then lays a pen on top. “I’ll give you some time to fill those out.” She leaves the room and I exhale the breath I had been holding.
I go through each sheet of paper: the nondisclosure agreement, personal information about myself like whether I’ve ever had any STDs, when was the last time I was tested, how many partners have I had. Then I come to a paper that says soft and hard limits. I swear, my cheeks turn ten shades of red reading some of these. Miss Magdalene may not advertise sex, but she sure does ask a lot of questions about what you will and will not do.
Bondage
Choking
Whipping (different instruments used)
Ball gag
Anal
That’s just a few; the list goes on and on.
I think back to being with Matt, there was no: spontaneity, passion, experimenting, foreplay. It was a boring sex life; how can I answer no to any of these if I’ve never tried?
I check ‘no’ for not a hard limit on each box, my face burning up once again, but this time it’s because I’m thinking about what it would be like to do some of these. Would I like it? I think of Jessie’s words.
You only live once, so why not live to the fullest?
Maybe she’s right. I used to fantasize when I was with Matt. It’s the only way I could have an orgasm, but it always made me feel dirty at some of the thoughts I had. It was like my secret because he sure as hell would have never tried some of these and he would have probably thought I was crazy even suggesting them.
My body betrays me as I sit here with wetness growing between my legs at the thought of someone tying me down, spanking me, being rough. I shake the thoughts away. Jesus, this is an undercover job. I’m not actually supposed to be having sex with anyone. But...what if he is sexy? Shit! I’m going to be in trouble.
When I have filled out every paper, I take them up front to give them to Heather, but I stop short when I hear them quietly talking. “Jenna, Dawn, and now Celeste.” Heather sobs and adds, “Are you sure you should be hiring any new girls?”
“It’s unfortunate, I know, but if my girls keep getting killed and I don’t bring anyone new in, then I will go out of business.”
There’s been another murder. That puts me in perspective of why I’m really here. Being a little louder, I round the hall, and they stop talking to look in my direction. I give them a bright smile and hold out the papers. “All filled out.”
Magdalene claps her hands, takes them from me, and mimics my smile. “Great! I’ll take a look. We have a nurse on duty here to do a pap smear, test you for any diseases, and check your urine.”
Jeez, she is thorough, isn’t she? “Okay.” I smile.
“Follow me.” We walk back down the hall to a different door. Magdalene opens it. “This is Justine; Justine, this is Rayven. She will need a full examination.”
“Nice to meet you, Rayven.” She gives me a kind smile and begins gathering items. I look around the room; they have it set up just like if you were at a doctor’s office.
“Nice to meet you too.” Magdalene shuts the door.
“Here is a sheet; I need you undressed from the waist down. Here is a cup. I need you to urinate in it—half full. The bathroom is right over there.
I open the bathroom door and do everything she needed. With the sheet wrapped around me, I carry the cup back out and set it on the counter. “Have a seat on the table,” she says as she unscrews the cap on my cup of urine with her gloved hands.
She tests my urine for drugs and pregnancy, which both come back clear, then performs a blood draw to check for HIV and AIDS and finally, she does the pap smear. “Okay. You are free to change; we should have the results back in a week on both the blood test and pap smear.”
“Thank you,” I respond. Hopping off the table, I go back into the bathroom and change back into my clothes.
Magdalene is waiting in the lobby when I return. “Come by tomorrow to meet some of the other women. You can get acquainted,” she tells me with a smile.
“Sounds good. Thank you!” I mimic her expression.
“Nice meeting you, Rayven.”
“It was nice meeting you too.” She nods once and walks back to her office.
I look over my shoulder on my way out; Heather is staring out the window, lost in her thoughts as tears cascade down her cheeks.
I shut the door behind me, walk back to my car, and drive to meet Jessie at High Designs. On the way to meet Jessie, I use my hands-free device to call Jones.
“Jones,” he answers like he didn’t look at the caller ID to know it’s me calling.
“Another one?” I question and don’t need to elaborate; he knows what I’m talking about.
He blows out a breath. “Yeah: Celeste Marshall, twenty-eight, and worked for Magdalene for eight years. The maid went in to clean the room and found her body, facedown on the bed, strangled.”
“Just like the others,” I state, more to myself, and bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Looks like a serial killer. Are they targeting just Magdalene’s girls, or is it happening at other escort services?”
“Don’t know yet. I’m headed over to Magdalene’s office now to get any information on the last John she was with. Then I’ll check out the others.”
“Alright, keep me updated. I’m on my way to get a dress for the masquerade ball.”
“Hey, how’d it go at Magdalene’s?” he asks quickly before I have a chance to hang up.
“Oh, it went good. I’m in and have to go back tomorrow to meet some of the other girls. I’ll try and get all the inside knowledge I can.”
“Sounds good. Have fun dress shopping.” He laughs then hangs up.
I pull into the parking lot, where Jessie stands on the sidewalk waiting; her long red hair always makes her noticeable. I get out, lock my doors, and as I approach I ask, “Have you been waiting long?”
“No, I just got here myself.” As we enter her eyes are like magnets on a long, flowing red gown.
“Red is gorgeous on you. You should buy it,” I tell her as I approach her from behind.
She scoffs. “And where would I wear it?”
“I’m sure you would find somewhere to show it off.” I laugh as I start to wander around the store. I find a few dresses in my size and take them to the dressing room to try on.
The first is a one-shoulder midnight blue gown; it’s simple, and I think it looks okay. I walk out, and Jessie scrunches up her nose. I turn back around, close the door, and try on the next.
It’s black with sparkles throughout. I don’t care much for it because the color with my black hair makes me look washed out. I don’t bother showing Jessie—she would hate it too.
Trying on the third dress, I know this is it. The champagne color shines in the light, it has spaghetti straps and the neckline is cut into a V to show off some of my cleavage, and the slit that runs up my thigh is sexy. When I step out of the dressing room, Jessie’s eyes light up and a smile appears.
“That is gorgeous, Kylie!” she gushes.
“I love it!” I smile back.
“I’ll go find you shoes to match.”
She walks off, and I go back to change into my regular clothes. I leave the two dresses I don’t want on the rack right outside of the dressing room and carry the champagne one up to the sales desk. Jessie is there waiting with the strappy heels to match and she grabbed the red dress with matching heels for herself.
“Are you ladies ready to check out?” the sales clerk asks.
“Yes, we are,” we reply in unison.
She looks at what we picked out. “Nice choices,” she praises our taste before ringing my dress and shoes up. “That will be 800 dollars,” she says with a smile.
I swallow hard; I bet she is smiling from the commission she’s going to make off us. Never in my life have I spent this much on a dress. Not even for prom!
Sucking up the hurt my debit card is going to take, I reach in my purse, pull out my wallet, and reluctantly hand over my card.
“Beauty doesn’t come cheap,” Jessie whispers next to me.
“You can say that again,” I whisper back.
After she is done with me, she rings up Jessie, who spends just as much as me.
“You ladies have a wonderful day! Come back and see us.”
“Thank you,” we reply and get the hell out of there.
The next afternoon, I walk into Miss Magdalene’s, but Heather isn’t behind her desk. Maybe it’s not the best idea to go ahead and walk down the hall, but I do it anyway, quietly. Magdalene’s office door is slightly open, and I hear her on the phone, so I decide to listen and see if I can get any information.
“She’s new, young, and pretty. You would like her.” She’s quiet for a moment then continues, “Because I still have a business to run.” I wonder if they are asking why she hired me. “She checked no hard limits.” Magdalene is talking about me. My heart races at who might be on the other end. “No, she’s never worked for an escort service and she has only had one sexual partner. If she’s of your liking, be easy on her until she gets used to you.” She laughs.
“Can I help you?” I quickly turn around. A woman I don’t recognize stands at the end of the hallway. She’s dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt and her blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun; her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares daggers at me.
“Sorry, I didn’t see Heather at her desk. I was going to knock on Magdalene’s door, but I heard her on the phone and didn’t want to interrupt. I signed on yesterday.” I start walking back down the hall and the tension evaporates from her body.
“Are you Rayven?” she questions, looking me over once.
“Yes.” I kindly smile and hold my hand out for her to shake.
She shakes it quickly then releases my hand and introduces herself. “I’m Jacqueline. It’s nice to meet you. Maggie told us that we would be meeting the new girl today. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the girls.”
I follow behind her out the back door that leads to a giant deck with a grill that’s smoking. “Are you cooking?”
“Yeah.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “We always want to make the new girls feel welcome, so we do a dinner. Since it’s nice out, grilling it is.” She smiles ear-to-ear. She starts pointing around the deck. “Tina, Elise, Candy, Nina, Faith, and you met Heather. Everybody, this is Rayven.”
They all smile and wave; I mimic them and say, “It’s nice to meet all of you.”
I was nervous about meeting these ladies. I didn’t know what to expect, but as I sit here eating and having a few drinks with them, they make me feel welcome. Cutting myself off at two drinks, I switch to water with the excuse that I have to drive, but I know the more I drink the more my New York accent with come through.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask no one in particular; my eyes scan the girls.
Candy is the first to respond. “Sure.”
“What are the clients like?” Looking down, I fidget with my hands and meet their stares once again. “I mean...I’ve never done anything like this, so I was just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you can’t.”
“No, it’s okay,” Tina responds. “We can’t go into specifics, but we have older gentleman that like the sugar babies.”
“Sugar babies?” My brow cocks.
“I got this,” Candy says with a dazzling smile. “This is my specialty. They like us younger girls for arm candy. We go to: dinners, events, trips, or anywhere else they need our company. In return we get cars, bills paid, jewelry, or anything else our pretty little hearts desire.”
Nina takes over. “We have the married businessmen that need company because they are bored in their marriages. We spend a little time with them and we get paid more in a few hours than most make in a month.”
Elise starts as soon as Nina stops. “Then we have the high-profile men. We don’t know who they are, what they do, most use a fake name, and everything is done through text between the man and girl of his choosing. These were Celeste’s favorites.”
“Celeste?” I question like I don’t know who she is.
“She worked here longer than any of us. Mr. Freedman was her best client,” Faith tells me; all smiles disappear, and heads hang to their chests. Some wipe away a fallen tear.
“What happened to her?” My gaze drifts between all the girls.
“We can’t discuss that.” Heather sniffs. “Maybe we should head inside.” She stands, but no one joins her.
When the backdoor closes, I ask, “Who’s Mr. Freedman?”
Candy leans in close; her eyes bore into mine. “He’s the roughest of them all. He wears a mask; you never see his face, he has no limits, and you can’t either.” I swallow hard; my mouth suddenly becomes dry. “He’s a beast. A filthy fucking monster, but he will make you love every dirty second of it…if you can handle him.”
An ache forms between my thighs. What the hell is happening to my morals? This is a job! I need to keep my head straight.
I drive home later that night, jump in the shower, finally able to relieve the pressure that kept building every time I thought about what it would be like to have a man taking what he wanted from me. Making me submit to him. My fingers circled my clit and drove deep inside my pussy at the thought of him dominating me. I came on a shout at the thought of a faceless man I know nothing about.
One week later, all my tests come back good and I receive a text on the burner phone from an unknown number. I open the text message and read.
U: I’m Mr. Freedman. Ritz Carlton 8pm. Check in under my name and the room is yours for the night.
I look around the office.
No one is here.
No one can see my response.
Me: Ok.