Sam

Sid kept me in the private room for the rest of the night and into the next morning. One of the dancers came in a few times to check on me. She gave me some ice in a plastic bag for my swollen lip. She showed a bit of empathy in her eyes. I was exhausted and slept on a black worn out leather couch with a blanket and pillow she gave me. The only acts of kindness I appreciated that day.

I woke up touching the side of my cheek and winced at the pain. It probably colored overnight to a shade of purple or blue.

Three knocks on the door.

“It’s Skully. Brought you somethin’ to eat.” He walked in holding a brown paper bag and placed it on the couch next to me, “couple of donuts and a bottle of water.”

I sat up on the couch and opened the bag.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t acknowledge me. His eyes moved to the floor searching for something. Then his eyes roamed over me.

“You wearing your jeans?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Take them off under that blanket and give them to me.”

Any of the Hounds could do what they wanted with me. I had to fend for myself.

“Not what you’re thinkin’. I’m not here for that. Do you want Sid to come in and take ’em off you? Just give them to me.”

He never touched or said anything nasty to me. I did as he said and wiggled myself out them and then handed them over.

He held them up examining them, “It shouldn’t be that fuckin’ complicated.” He took out his pocket knife, switched it open and began tearing into the pant legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a pair of ass-cheek cut-offs. Hold on. Never done this before.”

He finished the one pant leg, cutting them off right below the back pocket and continued with the second one. When the last of the material fell to the floor, he held them up again.

“This should work. Put ‘em back on. I’ll get one of the girls to find you a top to wear.”

My ripped up jeans landed in my lap. Skully left me alone, and I brought them under the blanket and wiggled myself back into them. I reached into the brown bag and devoured the donuts and finished the whole bottle of water.

Later the same girl from the night before came in and gave me a couple of tank tops to try on. I chose the leopard print and put on a pair of black wedge slip-on sandals. Along with my newly cut-off jeans, I looked the part of a club whore who worked at the strip club.

She also gave me a few things to freshen myself up with in the bathroom.

It was noon, and I worked the bar. Three women started their first cage dances. Sid was sitting with Rusty and Skully at one of the small tables by the main stage. Sid looked smug. Relaxed, taking another long drag off his smoke, talking to the two other Hounds at his table.

Three men appeared from the darkness of the front entrance into the disco colored light beams and black lights. They were huge, as wide as Ratchet. Only they had very short haircuts, and wore expensive looking designer suits. One had a fat cigar that he gripped between his teeth and nestled to the side of his mouth.

They took a seat at one of the semi-circle red velvet booths. Their backs faced the back of the club. They watched the women dancing in the cages in the far corners.

I was staring at the big suited men and jumped when Vik suddenly appeared in front of me. His eyes roamed from my leopard tank top and cut-off jeans, lingering on my crotch and legs.

“You look good enough to eat, Little Lamb,” he grumbled low, licking his bottom lip.

He nodded toward the three men at the booth but kept his eyes on my chest.

“See those three gentlemen over there? You go over and serve them what they want. Arch your back some little lamb and shake that nice little ass when you walk over there.”

“Tainted Love” by Marilyn Manson came on through the speakers. I grabbed a cocktail tray and walked over to them. They watched as I tried to do my best at a saunter. I stopped a few feet from the booth and smiled.

“Hi, Gentlemen. Welcome to the Steel Cage. I’m Sam. What would you all like to drink?”

I didn’t think they heard what I said as their eyes were fixed on my body. The one with the cigar took it out of his mouth and grinned.

“Do you dance too, Little Lamb?”

He had a Russian accent, thicker than Vik’s.

“Ah. No. I just serve drinks,” I stammered with a smile.

“Don’t be shy, little one. Call me Demy. And here are my close friends, Stan and Boris.”

“Hello, Demy. I’m Sam.”

I stood there frozen. I just realized they didn’t come here to have a drink or watch the dancers.

“You are very sweet, Sam. Now turn around for Demy.”

My throat suddenly went dry, and I fought back a cough. They wanted to appraise my body. I closed my eyes and turned around. I felt warmth creep up from my chest to my scalp.

The beat of “Tainted Love” pounded in my ears as I stood there, my back turned to Demy and the other men, knowing their eyes roamed over my backside.

“Nice. Now you can get us a glass of your best Russian vodka you serve here.”

I exhaled, realizing I held my breath and opened my eyes. I walked back to the bar to pour them their glasses of expensive vodka. My hand started to shake. The realization just hit me. Those men were Russians. They must know Vik. All three looked me over like I was on an auction block. They wanted to buy me. Sex trafficking.

Fear and panic punched my stomach. I poured the vodka and walked back to them, placing the glasses on their table.

“Thank you, Sam,” Demy raised his glass to me and took a drink.

Panic kicked in. I walked back, placed the tray on the bar and veered toward the front entrance to the club. The bass of the music reverberated throughout the place. Red and blue beams of light rotating through the club, clouds of smoke billowing from tables enveloped me. I kept walking toward the front door. Only a few yards now. Keep walking, don’t look back.

A hand suddenly grasped my upper arm and spun me around, “Where do you think you’re goin’ sheep?” It was Rusty. Grinning.

I froze, my eyes wide. I tasted bile rising in my throat from his touch. I dreaded him as much as Sid.

I tried to jerk my arm from his grasp.

“Let me go, Rusty! I’m not cool with this!”

He started to chuckle. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest. He smelled of sweat, weed, and liquor. I almost dry-heaved.

“Don’t give a fuck what you think is cool or not, Whore.”

I struggled against him, grunting to get away, but that made Rusty chuckle even more.

“I like it when you try to fight back. Just gets my dick harder.”

I suddenly felt the sting of his slap hard across my cheek.

“Now shut the fuck up.”

He released me but kept his grip on my arm, dragging me back into the club, away from the front door.

“Take her in the back, Rusty,” Sid barked above the loud music. He sat down with the Russian men as I was trying to escape.

Rusty pushed me down the hall back into the same room I had slept in overnight. He stepped in after me. I turned around to face him, ready for another slap or something worse.

“Now, keep your fuckin’ mouth shut and stay in this room until Sid wants to fetch you.” He turned, left and shut the door.

My heart was racing, bile rising again. I bent over and almost threw up the two donuts I’d eaten that morning. It was only a few dry heaves. I rose back up and screamed at the top of my lungs. I was angry and frightened. Mad at myself for believing that Sid would take me back and everything would be like it was before. I was angry at myself for saying those horrible things to Ratchet and in front of Sid and his disgusting Hounds.