Lucky

I arrive at the penthouse at the arranged time of six thirty. The uniformed doorman holds the door open without questioning my status, and calls the elevator for me. I make eye contact long enough to murmur thanks and breathe a sigh of relief when the doors shut. The relief lasts as long as it takes for me to tug the cap off my head and stuff it into my bag. I’m beset by a whole new set of nerves when I exit the elevator to find Fionnella waiting for me, minus her clipboard. For the first time, she’s less than total sparkle.

“There you are. We need to get straight to it. The boss wants the first shots done tonight.”

“Shots?”

She nods and falls into step with me when I reach her. “Yes. Todd can’t start until we have you properly prepped.”

I’m ushered down the hall to the great room and straight across to the grooming area. She introduces me to Angela, the technician who was absent on Monday and yesterday, when I met with the fitness trainer. The petite woman with a mop of dark brown hair beckons me into her section and pulls the curtain closed.

“I’ll leave you to it. We need to finalize your lingerie choices.” Fionnella stops when her gaze lands on my extra piece of luggage. She glances back up but doesn’t voice the question lingering in her eyes. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll get you something for when you’re done waxing. You can eat while your hair is being done.”

Satisfied with her schedule, she nods and exits.

I drop my stuff in one corner and turn around to find Angela staring at me. I’m not sure whether she’s assessing me for work purposes or her personal curiosity is getting the better of her.

“Your face, honey,” she eventually says. “Are you temporarily blotchy or am I dealing with something else?”

Heat surges into my face. I’d forgotten about my epic crying jag among the detritus of everything else I’m dealing with. I swipe self-consciously at my cheeks. “It’s temporary.”

“Great. That helps a lot. Okay, get your clothes off, slip into the white gown and hop on the bed. Have you had a Brazilian before?”

 I shake my head as I toe off my boots.

“What about a bleach?”

“No.”

“Depending on your coloring down there, we may not need the bleach, but prepare yourself for the possibility.”

She heads to the prepping table and turns on a machine that looks like a fondue set without the tower. I get rid of my clothes, tug the gown over my head and stretch out on the massage table. She returns with a small bowl, which she sets down at the foot of the bed. In the grand scheme of the huge obstacles I face, I’m mildly shocked to find myself nervous at the thought of having a patch of hair ripped off my pussy. But my nerves clearly filter through because she lays a hand on my knee.

“Relax, honey. The first time is a bitch, I won’t lie, but tensing up will make it worse. I’ll go as fast as I can.”

Laughter spills out before I can hold it in. Even to my ears, I sound a touch off my rocker. “I’m sorry. This is all a little…surreal.”

She nods as if she totally understands. Maybe she does. I wonder how often she does this for…the boss.

Q.

Did I really name him that? And what exactly did he mean by bravo?

My spinning thoughts refocus on the room and what’s being done to my private parts. I take a slow, deep breath and force my limbs to slacken.

Twenty minutes later, I’m a full member of the Brazilian club, shock and pain-induced tears included.

Luckily, I pass the no-need-for-a-bleached-butthole test, much to my semi-hysterical relief. When Angela instructs me to, I get off the bed and hobble gingerly to the hair wash section of her domain.

The touch of firm fingers massaging heavenly smelling shampoo into my hair takes my mind off the stinging in my crotch. And thanks to the miraculous hypoallergenic mist she sprayed down there, by the time I’m seated in front of the mirror with my dinner of fettuccini, garlic bread and slice of cheesecake in my lap, the pain is almost gone.

The blow dry warms me from the outside and the hot food releases the chill inside me. By the time I’m done with both, I feel a little more able to form thoughts that don’t start and end with abject hopelessness.

I need to find a place to stay tonight. That’s my first priority once I’m done here. Fionnella has a laptop, but asking for it would involve too many questions. I toss the problem around while Angela combs and trims my hair.

Deciding I have no choice but to return to Queens and take my chances with the homeless shelter, I look up as Angela fluffs my hair one last time.

“There. We’re done with your hair.”

I look into the mirror and my eyes widen. My hair has always held a natural wave, but Angela has emphasized the curls with a hot iron and teased the layers so the caramel and blonde swirl around each other in eye-catching waves. I no longer have split ends and whatever product she used has left a shiny, healthy head of hair styled back away from my face. A few of the girls back at The Villa often attempted to replicate styles like these, but I’ve only ever seen perfection like this in a magazine.

My gaze lifts and catches hers in the mirror. “Thanks,” I murmur. I can’t summon more enthusiasm than that because, although I want to feel elated that my hair looks amazing, the purpose behind the makeover remains firmly locked in my mind.

The makeup session is even more dramatic than the hair, despite the subtle colors she uses. I barely recognize my own face by the time she finishes. I suddenly have noticeable cheekbones and my eyes are huge pools of deep green. I’m still staring at myself, stunned, when Fionnella walks in.

“Perfect, you’re right on time.” Her smile is back, although a touch strained at the edges. Angela excuses herself to tidy up and leaves Fionnella to judge her handiwork.

She makes pleased hums as she touches the curled ends of my hair.

“Come on, let’s get you fitted for the shoot.”

Her gaze follows me when I go to grab my stuff and when I return, she nods at my large backpack. “You look like you’re going somewhere. Is there a change of address we need to know about?”

I need to be careful with my answer. “I…yes, but I’m not exactly sure what it’s going to be just yet.”

The smile leaves her eyes. “Is there a problem I need to know about, Lucky?” She cuts to the point.

My grip tightens on my backpack and I decide to come clean. “The place I was staying at was kinda…raided.”

Her mouth purses. “Drugs?”

I shake my head quickly, although I can’t exactly stop her from forming her own opinion. My motel address is scribbled down on one of her clipboards. She knows in which part of town I live. Or lived. “No, some other…vermin problem. Anyway, I didn’t have time to find a new place because I had to come here.” The half-lie slips out easier than expected.

She spears me with an incisive look. “We won’t be done here for another couple of hours. You know that, don’t you? That means you won’t be able to start looking for a place to stay until almost midnight.”

I nod. “I’ll be fine,” I say. The dull thudding of my heart states otherwise.

Fionnella turns away without responding, and I don’t know whether my answer is satisfactory or not. Still in my gown, we head to Wendy’s station. “Put your stuff over there.” She points to the area behind her desk. “I’ll go and see if Todd is ready.”

But she doesn’t head to Todd’s area. She leaves the room for five minutes and when she returns her smile is back.

She inspects the lingerie on the table for a minute before she picks up a moss green ensemble. “This one first.”

To my surprise it’s a simple lace-trimmed half teddy and French knickers set. Considering the nature of what I agreed to, I was expecting the pieces to be much saucier than this. With a touch of relief, I retreat to the curtained off area and slip the garments on, taking care to avoid messing up my hair. The silk feels warm and soft against my skin, and I let my fingers drift over it for a stolen second before I emerge.

“Great, we got your size right.” She reaches for her clipboard and ticks a box, then cocks her head toward Todd’s area. As we head over, the lights dim and I notice the three staged areas for the first time.

One area is set up to resemble a window of a suite or bedroom. A posh velvet chaise longue is set against roped off, expensive curtains. The setting is classy and flawless, but it’s clear the spotlight is on the chaise.

The other two areas follow the same design—one’s a bed with sexily rumpled sheets, and the other the mirrored vanity of a black and gold bathroom.

Todd looks up from the piece of equipment in his hand and points to the chaise. “We’ll start there.”

Nerves attack me as I walk toward it. “What…what do you need me to do?”

“Just recline on it. Try not to exaggerate your poses. And look directly into the camera.”

I recite the steps and nod. “Okay.”

I climb onto the dais and walk to the chaise. The spotlight trained on the stage is warm but not uncomfortably so. I sit, place my hands on the seat and scoot back on the smooth velvet. It feels so natural to lay sideways and tuck my feet beneath me, so that’s what I do. Taking care not to ruffle my hair too much, I tuck it over my shoulders and recline into the corner.

The first flash blinds me and I wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool, but try not to shut your eyes.”

I take a breath and stare into the lens. Todd snaps several shots, taking a step closer with each one. After five minutes, he swaps cameras. This one doesn’t need a flash, so I relax a little.

Staring into the lens, I’m suddenly reminded of another camera in another room down the hall and my first audition when I had to perform. Something stirs inside me—hot and urgent. I try not to fidget; the memory grows stronger.

Convince me that you’re worth fucking. Convince me you’re worth dying for.

The mechanical voice is so clear in my head, it feels like I’m back in that room again, giving myself over to commands that tap into fantasies I didn’t know I harbored until I was challenged.

“Let’s try another pose.”

I slowly sit upright, my mind still in another room, and move to the middle of the seat. I plant both feet on the floor and bring my knees together. Hands on either side of me, I slowly lower my head until my nose is pointed to the floor and waterfalls of hair gently brush my cheek. As I lift my gaze and stare into the camera another voice, another room, slides into my mind frame.

Tell me, Elly, do I look like a freak to you?

It’ll be our little secret…

Come here, Elly.

Sit.

The heat in my belly intensifies. My breath shudders in and out. My knees want to part. I fight them, fight the deeper tingling between my legs. Todd climbs the stage again, comes closer. My bare feet slide in opposite directions on the smooth wooden floor, but my knees stay glued together.

Quinn’s low, gravel-rough voice replays over and over in my head as his deeply hypnotic, soulless eyes, stare at me from the ever-advancing camera lens.

Come here, Elly.

Sit.

Elly…

Elly.

“I think that’s it for this set up. Let’s get you ready for the next one.”

My body jerks into the present. I turn away from the camera and tighten my belly against the persistent heat. The sight of sour-faced Wendy waiting just behind Todd helps dissipate the electricity sizzling through my blood.

I stand and follow her. She hands me a russet-colored lace Basque and thong and I change.

Todd directs me to the bed and again allows me to strike my own poses. The sensations return, stronger than before.

My mind whirls with more than a touch of confusion. How can I be enjoying this? How can my body be this hot when everything about what I’m doing is wrong?

Yes, I’m doing this for a blindingly simple reason—to keep myself alive and to keep Clayton from discovering the secret I hold locked in my heart. But a part of me is also enjoying the thrill of dressing up in nice lingerie, wearing makeup and playing minx with the camera. Because I know the man with the mechanical voice will see it?

Yes.

The answer slides deep into me, twists within my groin and hardens my nipples as Todd snaps away. The silk sheets tangle around my body. I let my fingers glide over it, loving the texture, wondering how it would feel warmed by two bodies instead of one. I slide my hands up, rest them on either side of my head. I know my body is on show, my nipples clear to see beneath the lace, but I don’t care. In fact, the idea makes me hotter. So much so, I feel a deep pang of regret when Todd calls a halt.

The third and final scene before the vanity mirror is simple. In a purple and black slip that barely covers my naked ass, I pick up the gold-cased lipstick, lean forward and slide the tube across my lip. Without instruction, I allow my gaze to find the lens through the mirror. The faster clicks of the camera tells me I’m doing something right, and when Todd mutters, “Fantastic!” beneath his breath, elation spikes through me.

I’m sad when he lowers his camera. For the first time, he smiles. “That was good. Really good.”

I return his smile. “Thanks.”

He hands me the gown to cover up and I see a cheeky gleam in his eyes. “You’re the kind of girl that gives people the idea that gay guys like me can be convinced to switch lanes.”

I laugh. “Thanks, I think.”

He grins and walks away.

Fionnella is waiting for me once I change back into my normal clothes.

“The boss would like to see you. Leave your stuff, you can get them after.”

My heart leaps into my throat. I try to read her face but she’s too good for me. I leave the room, my mind a chaotic vortex. He said we wouldn’t speak again until my training was done. So why does he want me? Have I blown it?

Has he already seen the pictures and decided I’m no longer suitable? The thought of losing something I’m even now not sure was ever in my grasp fills me with so much anguish, my fingers shake as I turn the door handle and enter the familiar room.

Everything is the same, and yet I sense a difference in the atmosphere. A subtle shift I’m unable to pinpoint exactly.

“Lucky.”

The way he says my name draws a shiver.

“Hi,” I manage as I shut the door behind me.

“Sit down.”

My movements lack perfect coordination as I move forward, and for the first time since this whole surreal situation started I experience real fear. Oh, I’ve been afraid for my life since fleeing The Villa. But there’s nothing like being offered hope, and having it yanked away from you without explanation.

Fists balled in my lap, I stare at the surface of the table. Looking into the camera is too much. My desperation is too raw.

“Look at me, Lucky.”

The request is absurd seeing as he’s not in the room with me, but I know what he means. I want to pre-empt rejection with a plea. Or a fuck you. But words refuse to form.

I look into the camera.

“I’m told we have an accommodation problem.”

Shock spikes through me. “I…what?”

“You’ve been evicted from your motel.”

Fionnella.

My gaze drops. “Yes.”

“Lucky.” The demand is robotic, but no less intractable.

I find the lens again.

“A situation like this is potentially disruptive. Do you agree, Lucky?”

Potentially. All’s not lost. Yet. I clench my gut against premature relief. “I won’t let it get in the way of what I’m doing.”

“It already has.”

“How?”

“I’m here. Talking to you.”

I ignore the sting of the words. “Right. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You said you wouldn’t fail me.”

“I haven’t,” I answer, sharper than I intended. I wince and bite the inside of my lip. “Not really. I’m sorry Fionnella had to disturb you, but I had things under control.”

“How?” He throws my question back at me.

My gaze drops again, even though I sense that doesn’t please him. But I can’t bear for him to witness my shame. “I was going to find another place tonight.”

“Where? And before you think of lying or refusing to answer, know that I won’t allow you to leave until I have an address where I can reach you.”

I glare at him. “I wasn’t going to lie.”

“Good.”

He waits.

I purse my lips, stomp down hard on my shame. It doesn’t die a complete death but it’s temporarily maimed. “I was going to find a bed at a shelter for the night, then hunt for somewhere else to live tomorrow.”

Thick silence pulses through the wall, feeds through the lens. I’m not even sure if he’s in this apartment or this building, never mind the same city as me. And yet I feel him. Around me. Above me. Inside me.

“A shelter.”

I nod.

“Remember the guy in the bar, Lucky? The one who wants to fuck you more than he wants to live? Do you think that guy would want the woman he craves to be spending the night in a shelter?”

Who is this guy? Who the fuck is he to mess with me like this?

Fuck him and fuck this bullshit.

I charge to my feet and glare straight into the blinking light of the camera. “That was a made-up fantasy. This is my life! I’m sorry if I ruined your grand plans for the evening. You think I enjoy being made homeless? You think I enjoy being tossed out on my ass without getting my money back for the rat hole I had the privilege of calling home, or some dumb fuck telling me the only way I’m going to get my money is to suck his cock?”

I know I should stop, but my last nerve is shredded to pieces along with my hope. And if all I’m going to get out of this acid trip is a waxed crotch, nice smelling hair and a few free meals, then I deserve to rant a little.

Because, fuck karma.

“I know I’m nothing more than some expendable commodity to you, but you have no right to call me out for doing what I need to do to survive. I said I’ll take care of it and I will. If that’s not good enough for you, then too bad.”

My chest burns with the need for air and I realize I haven’t taken a breath throughout my outburst. Several quick breaths, then I toss the brand new phone on the table.

Thank God I didn’t throw the burner away.

“Are you done?”

I raise my chin. “I’m most definitely done.”

“Sit down.”

I don’t want to. I don’t want to be led by the nose into hope again. Besides, it’s way past time to get off this crazy train. “No, thanks.”

“I’ve spent time and resources on you, Lucky. Sit down.”

“Or what?”

He doesn’t respond. I walk backward until my ass hits the door, keeping my hands loose at my sides. So I can what? Make a quick escape if I need to? When every single person in this place reports to him? When I need a special passcode for the elevator to go either up or down?

If things head further south than they are now, I’m fucked. But I’ll remain standing for the fucking, thanks.

“Would you like me to help you with your little problem, Lucky?”

 My no surges up my windpipe and hovers on the tip of my tongue. I pause. Swallow down the yes that threatens to take its place.

This was too good to be true right from the start. Had I been reading this in the paper or watching it on some shitty documentary on TV, I’d be screaming at the brainless bitch for being so gullible.

But reality is a stark, terrifying place.

“You need help, Lucky. I’m offering it. All you need to say is yes.”

The fight drains out of me so swiftly and so harshly, it actually resonates as physical pain within my bones. I want to drop where I stand, hand over the life I’m fighting so hard for to somebody. Anybody.

Him.

My booted foot kicks back against the door in a feeble attempt not to give in.

But he has all the time in the world.

Whereas I can count the grains of sand left in my hourglass.

I pick up my heavy head. Attempt to shake it, but it moves in the opposite direction.

“Say it, Lucky. If you want my help, say yes. Give yourself to me.”

My heartbeat slows to a drugged thudding. I look into the camera. “Yes.”

Q

She’s mine.

And now she’s exactly where I want her.

Fully under my control.