Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“And you believed him?”
“Where I was staying was bad. There was a bathroom everyone on the same floor shared, and it was scary, especially at night.”
“Then what?”
“I moved in. There were two other guys sharing the apartment, both young like me, both really beautiful—like, they could have modeled—and it was nice. The apartment was clean, we all had our own rooms, and when Gen came and said that in his club, all I had to do was serve drinks, it sounded great.”
“But?”
“No but. My roommates served drinks, so did I, but none of us were allowed onstage, no dancing for us, and we weren’t allowed to turn tricks in the back room—not that I ever considered that—like a lot of the dancers did. In fact, once, I was back there, carrying a tray of drinks to Gen and his friends, who were playing poker, and this guy grabbed me, and Gen was there really fast. I don’t think he beat the guy to death, but it was close and there was a lot of blood.”
Colton smiled down at me. “You liked that. You felt safe.”
I nodded. “I did.”
“Things changed after that, didn’t they?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t add that when I was in the bathroom, rinsing out my jeans that were soaked in vodka and beer, he came in with extra clothes for me. When he was about to go, I took hold of his arm, made him stop and thanked him. For years after that I’d blamed myself. If I had let him leave, never reached out, never touched him, maybe things would have been different.
But he took hold of my chin, lifted it, and then kissed me so sweetly, so gently, that I tumbled right into his trap. He’d been amazing since he met me, and I wanted to show him my gratitude with a gift. I had one thing to give him, and that was my virginity. And of course, by that time, I realized that he was beautiful and so very sexy. With his glossy black hair and midnight-blue eyes, everyone fell at his feet. There were women and men, all drawn to his power, money, and the immediate need to become his possession.
Much later, when I was broken, I watched gorgeous, proud, wealthy women beg him to come home with them. Men who were bigger, stronger, would willingly submit to being taken, in front of others, tied down, put in chains, anything to please him, as long as Gen would make them his. The trouble began when he was done, when he had whoever at his mercy, and once the fog of passion cleared, that was when he would invite others to take them as well. For a price…
I had started as his love, moved into my own apartment, showered with gifts, supported to get my GED and then start college. He paid for everything, and I was on his arm. It was, in the beginning, a fairy tale I’d never imagined.
Yes, I knew he still had sex with other people, but he came home every night to my bed.
Yes, I knew he was a criminal, but he also took care of widows and orphans and protected everyone who worked for him, as well as their families.
The requests, when they came, started slow. He wanted a threesome, and then he wanted to watch the fun. Then a new threesome without him, instead with friends. When strangers showed up at my door, I packed my things and ran. I got as far as the bus station.
He showed up and swore he was sorry, said I’d never made it clear I didn’t want to be shared, and promised me it would never happen again.
It was always fine for a while, but inevitably, the pattern would be repeated.
The amount of times I left, and then allowed myself to be talked into returning, was far too many to count. It was easier to listen to him, to believe him. The gutter beckoned if I ran away. And even the time before the last, when I moved out, got a new apartment and a new job, when I was attacked by a junkie on my way home, it was him, stepping from the shadows, there to save me. I was leaning up against a wall, hyperventilating, when he stood there with me, rubbing my back, telling me everything would be all right. I went home with him that night. But always, always, it would start again.
He would point out some man in the crowd at the club. “He thinks I’m so lucky because you’re so beautiful. Come on, let him touch you one time. I’ll be right here.”
“Why would you want any other man to touch me?” I’d asked, not understanding, my own desire always to have him all to myself.
The last time we were together alone, when I still cared, when I still loved him, I was giving him head, and suddenly there were hands on my hips. When I jolted and gasped, that was it, there were three men clustered around us, and when I reached for Gen, he laughed and shoved me away. When he walked out of the room and left me, my heart broke in two.