Bianca
I stood in the uber-luxurious washroom, which was large enough to contain our entire old home, I thought cynically. Flamboyantly decorated, with exotic plants and the mirrors, so many of them, the washbasins with gold plated handles, I looked about me in wonder.
The hand towels on the shelves were of the purest Indian cotton, so very fluffy and soft to the touch. A huge shelf crowded with designer cosmetics, branded ones, stood in one corner, and I shook my head.
My lips turned up derisively.
What a dreadful waste!
Staring at myself contemplatively, I noticed that the bruise under my eye from Pagie Hardy’s assault had faded. Or been skillfully hidden by clever make-up, care of the two who had come to do my face and hair, before I left.
Disgust shot through me, hands and I dry heaved.
What a dreadful, decadent place. Where every depraved whim would be satisfied.
***
Sighing, I touched up my make-up after visiting the toilet and washing my hand, using the aromatic handwash which stood in a long, slim glass bottle. I shook my head again as I touched up my mouth.
I looked like one of THEM, one of the half-naked women parading their stuff in the corridors outside.
And then, inevitably, I thought of Liam O’Grady.
The man must be a veritable sex beast, he had been aroused just minutes after those women ahd done a job on him; I had felt his hardness against my thighs as I squirmed on his lap.
*
Liam O’Grady looked up from his phones, as the curtain fluttered open.
“Bro, O’Grady, I just wasn’t to check out the action in the dungeons,” said St Just, a feverish glint in his eyes, a feverish look that was familiar to his brother.
Watching him go, O’Grady rose to his feet.
I better go and check on our Pet. Can’t let her get lost in this maze of corridors, he mused as he strode out.
*
Bianca.
I turned around as the door flew open and three women, all in their late twenties, staggered in. My heart sank as the first one sauntered closer and spoke in a nasal voice,
“So what do we have here, gals?”
The others, who might have been cloned, because they looked so similar to Paige, stared at me, blankly.
Obviously, I thought drily, they had forgotten their lines. They looked too drunk to speak or think coherently.
***
O’Grady.
He knew his brother had a craving for this sort of thing. He was a Dom, sadistic to a touch and nothing excited him more than watching his sub grovel at his feet as he inflicted pain on her consenting body.
Unlike him, O’Grady was not inclined to make a woman moan from being flogged, to get his member erect. He secretly disliked the whole scene. This evening had just been a dry run, to check if such an establishment was something he wished to invest in, for he had no intention of going it alone.
But everything he saw, the debauched, brutal and downright wantonness of the clients and their escorts, had made his stomach turn. Though he would be the last one to tell his brother that!
For O’Grady, sex meant a man in control but not to such an extent that he inflicted such sordidness on his partner.
*
Bianca.
Sighing, I folded my arms across my chest.
“Did you want something, Paige?” I said coolly and had the joy of seeing confusion, followed by anger, flash across her face.
She turned to the others, who were smiling dopily and snapped,
“Beth, Candy. Did you guys HEAR her? I mean like…?”
And here she made a gesture that might have meant anything.
I was not going to be browbeaten by Paige and her girlfriends. The first time she had assaulted me, I had been unprepared, traumatized even, after having come so close to making love with O’Grady.
This evening was different. I was sick to the gills of this wretched place and not about to go down quietly.
Sorry, Paige, I thought to myself. You got the wrong script.
*
O’Grady.
Another thing that puzzled the burly Mafia Boss as he strode along the corridors leisurely, was St Just’s reaction to little Bianca Cruz.
She had been the first one who did not see the bad boy side of Saint, thought O’Grady. On the other hand, St Just seemed to be pacing her out, treating her like a piece of priceless glass, before he went in for the kill.
The thought did not make him shrug his shoulders dismissively.
He cared for his brother, but something about the little nineteen-year-old they had bought as their Pet, made his senses go wild.
*
Bianca.
I straightened up.
“Looks like you need to use this place more than I do,” I said it pleasantly, but my senses were on full alert.
I took a step forward.
“Nice meeting you, Paige. And Paiges,” I said smartly and made to walk past them.
*
O’Grady.
Liam O’Grady stood in the corridor outside the women’s washrooms, scowling. Where in the name of Jaysus was the little sexy girl? She had been gone a long time now. He cursed and told himself that if she did not return in a few minutes more, he was going to go in. A couple of his men were waiting awkwardly at the entrance to the corridor and he knew they were wondering the same thing.
Where in hell was Bianca Cruz?
*
Bianca.
‘Hey, where do you think you are going, you little piece of sh*t?” screamed Paige, her blonde hair flopping on her forehead limply as she glared at me.
Then she giggled and made a gesture to her friends.
“Girls,” she screamed, “Hold her arms.”
I looked at them quickly. Neither looked quite steady on their feet and it took them a tiny amount of time to react. I let them pin my hands to my sides but my eyes were steady on Paige. No way was I going to let her get away with hurting me again, I thought.
*
So I played at being the damsel in distress.
I stood, limp and cried out in a suitably frightened voice,
“I’m so sorry, please let me go…”
I managed to make my voice tremble, which was not very difficult to do when I saw what she had extracted from her bag.
A Swiss knife.
*
O’Grady.
He had a sudden idea.
“Hey, Al,” he shouted, and his wingman trotted up, looking apprehensive.
“Find out if there is a way out of the women’s. A window or something.”
Because he would not put it across Bianca. She had been positively fuming and looked like she would rush out of the club any minute now.
*
Bianca.
I groaned, rolling my eyes. A Swiss army knife now? Kill me now!!!
Alright, not exactly!
I had been brought up in the parts of the town where girls used to go about with some weapon or the other, because of the antisocial elements who lingered around. The trailer park housed some very unsavory types, then, of course, drugs and weapons being freely available, there was always some disgruntled teen with one in his pocket. Although I had never seen a gun in my life till I had become associated with O’Grady and St Just,
But I was not without my wits.
*
As she came at me, her arm held high above her head, in what could only be called a dramatic stance, I made a quick calculation. Paige launched herself at me, shrieking obscene curses, just as I jerked the girl who was holding my left arm hard; she was the one who was staring at Paige open-mouthed, caught in the drama.
In a flash, she stumbled, lurching straight into Paige, who was caught completely unawares.
That sent Paige toppling over her, head first into the washbasin. My arm was free, at least the left was, and I kicked the knife which had fallen to the ground, under one of the stalls. Then I head-butted Paige who had turned to me, snarling, spitting curses and just for effect, I swung my free arm out and slammed my fist into the face of the girl who was still holding me captive, a look like a cornered rabbit on her painted face.
Shaking my head, I stepped back, surveying the mess quickly.
*
Paige was holding her nose, which was bleeding freely, and one of her friends was out cold. The other skittered away, eyes wide and quite alert now.
*
I brushed my hands and allowed myself a smirk.
I thanked Dad as I drew in my breaths harshly.
*
Those had been the days when Dad had forced me to attend rugby classes at school. I had hated it but he had been a fan of the game and had insisted that I play on the school team when I was given a chance.
And I had learnt how to tackle and bring down an opponent effectively.
Dad had once explained that it was because his family had migrated from the UK, and as a young lad in the UK, he used to play on the greens with his friends.
Now as I moved to the door, I looked back at the trio on the ground, groaning. My elaborate hairdo had come undone and I casually ran my fingers through my hair, allowing the brown waves to cascade to my waist.
Then flipping them the bird, I sailed out.
*
And cannoned into Liam O’Grady, who was reaching out to fling open the door.
His annoyed expression was replaced by one of stupefaction and I belatedly realized that during the scuffle, my dress had gotten torn; exposing my thighs up to my underwear and one of my breasts was also on display.
Tugging the shreds of my outfit to look passably decent, I scowled at him as I marched past, pushing him out of the way;
“You should see the others,” I muttered.
The wingman in the corridor studied me with an expression between comical disbelief and admiration and new-founded respect.
Possibly because I looked like a prize fighter, I thought darkly.
I heard Liam O’Grady fling open the washroom door which I had just exited but I did not stop to listen to him pacify his fiancee.
I was done!