TEN
LIBERTY PULLED HER AUDI A8 UP TO the Geisha House sushi bar in Hollywood and stepped out of the car. It had been two months and life was obviously good. She was in high demand at the brothel and had quickly stacked enough money to live comfortably. The first thing she had purchased was a brand new vehicle. She paid the foreign whip off in full . . . not even realizing that she didn’t know how to drive it until it was time for her to pull it off the lot. She quickly learned with the help of Abia, and the vehicle became her most prized possession. She had a fetish for the finer things. Because she had never had anything, now that she could afford it . . . she wanted to buy everything and as she walked into the popular restaurant she felt accomplished and as if no one could touch her.
She gave her name to the hostess, knowing that her date was already seated and awaiting her presence. As she walked across the room, most heads couldn’t help but to turn her way. She was killing the dress she wore . . . the fabric fitting her curvaceous body like a glove. She spotted her date and gave him a smile as he stood to welcome her. He pulled out her chair for her and she pecked him on the cheek before she sat down.
“Good evening, handsome,” she greeted.
“You look beautiful, Liberty,” he replied.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, your honor,” she whispered over the candle-lit table.
Judge Collin Bridges had presided over the federal district in L.A. for the past twenty years. A 60-year-old gentleman, he was quite attractive with his salt-and-pepper beard that he wore neatly trimmed. Everything about him was distinguished and there was nothing more attractive to Liberty than established money. Judge Bridges radiated confidence and power. A widower and father of two adult children, he lived a lonely life. The women at the brothel had become the companions that he chose to keep time with. Liberty had been instructed to treat him very well. He had requested her in particular because after seeing her portfolio, she had sparked his interest.
“So how much is a night with someone like you going to cost me?” he asked.
“$5,000,” Liberty answered. “I’m worth every penny though.”
The judge smiled and sat back as he took her all in. He had been with many women in his day, but Liberty was a rare beauty. There was something about her that stood out amongst the masses. It was more in the way that she carried herself than in her actual looks. He watched as she picked up her champagne flute . . . so graceful as if she were a prima ballerina and life was her stage.
“I’m sure you are,” he replied. “So where are you from?” he asked.
Liberty could tell that the judge was there for companionship. She had learned to read her clients and to provide them with whatever void they were missing in their lives. Whether it be a night of mind-blowing sex or just a listening ear, Liberty could provide her men with all that their hearts desired as long as the price was right.
Liberty no longer felt like a two-bit whore. She was clocking a salary that rivaled that of physicians and attorneys. Instead of hating what she had become, she embraced it. There was no point in dwelling on the things she couldn’t change so instead she buried her past, vowing to never think about it again. With Abia’s help Liberty was given a new life. The right palms had been greased to make Liberty’s presence in the states as legal as if she had really been birthed there. All of her paperwork was legit. With a phony social security card and birth certificate she had all the makings of a new life, and it was up to her to make the most of it. Instead of chasing an education or developing a trade, she was living the fast life. It was all she knew. Seduction was the only skill that she had ever developed and with connected friends like Abia, she was going to let it take her straight to the top.
Her past was not something that she ever spoke about so instead of answering the judge’s question she replied, “I’m really not in the mood to talk, Collin. I could think of some other things that we could be doing right now.”
She smiled sexily as the judge moved his chair closer to hers and she slid her hand in the seat of his crotch, massaging his stiffening manhood. A job that she used to hate had become one that she appreciated. She loved the power that she held over her clients. Instead of being the one that was taken advantage of, she felt like the manipulator . . . the black widow that trapped men in her web. She could see the lust in his eyes and it gave her a natural high because she knew that all of the cards were in her hands.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.
Liberty rose from her seat and grabbed the judge’s necktie and held onto it as she walked out of the restaurant, dragging him playfully behind her as he became hypnotized by the natural sway of her hips. He was in for a long night. It was his first time requesting her company, but Liberty knew how to hook a man. After she put her thing down on him he would become just another regular on her rotation.
Liberty entered the mansion just before dawn. She crept inside to avoid waking the other ladies. She hadn’t made many friends in her time there, but it didn’t bother her. She was there to make the money . . . f*ck the bitch standing beside her. The way she saw it, they were her competition. Her cut-throat mentality was a direct result of her sordid past. Everyone she had ever let into her heart was always ripped away from her so she had closed and locked it to avoid losing someone else she cared for. She didn’t even give anyone the opportunity to get close to her.
“Long night?” Abia’s voice cut through the pitch black mansion, causing Liberty to gasp unexpectedly as she dropped her handbag, spilling the contents of it onto the floor. Abia flicked on the light and bent down to help Liberty pick her things up. She noticed the white powder that dusted the floor and then she looked up to notice that Liberty was high. Abia wasn’t naïve to the fact that most of the girls in her stable indulged in one drug or the other, but Liberty went hard on narcotics like a true addict. The last thing Abia needed was a junkie bitch. She was known for having a high quality operation. She wasn’t about to allow Liberty to ruin the reputation of a brothel she had worked years to establish. Her clients didn’t pay to be around the likes of base heads, crack heads, or dope heads and if Liberty didn’t tread lightly she could easily become one.
“You might want to slow down on this stuff, Liberty. You’re not working the streets anymore. You don’t need this to cope. I can help you wean off this shit if you want,” Abia suggested as she handed Liberty her bag. Both women stood and Liberty shook her head.
“No, I’m good. I can handle it,” she replied. She was only nineteen years old, but had been snorting heroin since the tender age of ten. She noticed the sympathetic look on Abia’s face. “Don’t judge me, Abia. You gave me this habit . . . people like you led me down this road. You don’t get to look at me like that,” Liberty spat as she snatched her clutch.
Abia knew that Liberty was right, but she had been in the business long enough to notice when one of her girls was headed towards self-destruction. Liberty had only been at the brothel for a couple of months and already she was bringing in more money than even the most experienced girl. Liberty was going on two, sometimes three dates a day, making her the highest earner out of the group. It was good money, but she was going so hard that she would eventually burn out. Most days Liberty only came home to shower before darting right back out the door to meet another client. Her body and mind needed a break. It took a lot of drugs to keep a person flying non-stop the way that Liberty was doing, and Abia could tell from Liberty’s constantly running nose that she had graduated to snorting cocaine. It was Abia’s job to keep the inventory in good condition and Liberty was no exception.
“I’m not judging you, hun, but you need to slow down. The Gentleman’s Ball is coming up soon, and I need you to be at your best for that Liberty,” Abia replied.
“The Gentleman’s what?” Liberty asked in irritation. All she wanted to do was sleep at this point. She hadn’t known that Abia was going to be watching her every move, and she wasn’t feeling the authority that Abia was trying to put on her.
“The ball, Liberty. I’ve been telling you ladies about this since you stepped foot inside this house. It’s the most important event of the year. The men who come to this event make our regular clients look like blue-collar workers. It’s like an auction. Girls get sold to the highest bidder,” Abia explained.
“Like slaves,” Liberty said dismally.
“Like rarities,” Abia shot back. “Some men pay for one night . . . they fly out and leave their wives at home so that they can enjoy a single night of pleasure . . . but some of the men pay to keep you long term. Those men are so rich that you won’t have to lie on your back another day of your life. They spend big money, and I can’t have you walking in there with bags under your eyes from these sleepless, drug-filled rendezvous. So like I said . . . slow down before you crash and burn.”