It had been three weeks since I arrived at The Cathouse. Madam was living in a residential medical facility. She was adamant that she wanted to come home, but the doctors ordered that she stay where she would be monitored and they could nurse her back to health. Every time I saw her, she appeared to look better. The bruises had faded and she was walking on her own for the most part. They didn’t think she would suffer any long-term impairment.
I hadn’t spoken or seen Sebastian since our last encounter and it made my heart bleed more with each passing day.
We had a private party that evening and our presence was required, according to Madam. I hated looking in the mirror, I found myself avoiding it at all costs, and the fact that Sebastian associated my appearance as a whore left a bitter taste in my mouth. I would remember his last words to me and it would make me physically ache. I hated that we hadn’t spoken. I knew I told him I needed space, but the longer the days went by, the harder it was to stay away.
My heart called for him.
He was everywhere.
It was on instant replay in my head, over and over again.
I couldn’t stop it, and furthermore…I didn’t want to.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I hadn’t been to a VIP event since The Gala, and this wasn’t even a VIP extravaganza, a client was throwing this shindig. I dressed in a black gown; diamonds were on my ears and neck, along with picture-perfect makeup and a flawless up-do; my matching black heels were sky high.
“Oh, Bella, that bracelet doesn’t match that gown. Here let—”
“No.” I swiftly moved my hand away. “I’m not taking this off.”
She nodded, understanding my silent objection. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
There was a stretch white limo in the driveway. We arrived at a mansion the size of The Cathouse in less than thirty minutes. The doors were opened and we were greeted with glasses of champagne. We entered into a palace of hedonism. I could smell the sex in the air. It flowed like a decadence of your favorite dessert. Waitresses were everywhere, dressed in nothing but panties and heels. There were dancers on block stages that wore boudoir lingerie. Cocaine was spread on tables with lines already split and rolled up bills beside it.
Lights…
“Ysabelle, so nice to see you again.”
Camera…
“You look amazing, as always.”
Action…
I was on.
I batted my eyelashes and smiled like I had just won the goddamn lottery. “Good evening, Charles, always a pleasure.”
“So the rumors are true. You’ve taken over?”
“Not at all. Brooke and I are just babysitting while Madam gets well.”
“It’s great to see you again. Will you be on the menu tonight?” He winked and I wanted to punch him in the fucking face for even asking me that.
I grinned. “No, Charles, I will not. Like I said, I’m a mere spectator, I don’t get to play.”
“Such a shame…I would pay anything to get another…taste.”
And I would like nothing more than to shove your balls down your pervy little throat. Fucker.
I giggled. “Now, now, you know the rules. All the girls are here. I’d love to set you up with one of them.”
“I’m sure I can be persuaded.”
I spent the next few hours schmoozing and getting reacquainted. I went to the bathroom and made a wrong turn somewhere. I recognized the sounds instantly, and like a moth to a flame, I followed them. I rounded the corner and I was face-to-face with my past.
VIPs were everywhere; some were straddling men, others were going at it with women, and some were even in groups, taking it in every fucking hole. I watched as they sucked cock and ate pussy or fucked and received pleasure. That used to be me.
Nothing was ever enough.
Always down for a good time.
Never one to say no.
I was a VIP.
It was a slow moving train wreck, except I was tied to the tracks, waiting to be run over by the oncoming force of a mechanical machine. For the first time…I didn’t see the glamour or the beauty behind it. There was no, “You’re a one of a kind. You’re made for this. You’re the elite.” That’s not what it was. I was a whore who used my body to get money. To hurt people. My pussy wasn’t made of stone, my heart was.
To have experienced the kind of love that I shared with Sebastian wouldn’t even come close to the mockery of the illusion of want and need before me. There was no lust, passion, or even desire. It was primal and seedy. It was heartless and nasty, tainted with drugs and promises of nothing. I was disgusted that this was my life, that I was one of these VIPs and proud to be.
Very Important Pussy was a fuck show.
And I was a puppet.
“Gorgeous.” I heard him whisper from behind. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
I didn’t have to turn to know whose voice murmured in my ear…
Gabriel.