Selling Scarlett

chapter Seventeen

~ELIZABETH~

I'm tired, and I don't really want to work out, but if this is what they do at Love Inc., I will do it. I can already tell this place is its own little universe, and the last thing I want is to stick out any more than I already do.

Juniper and Geneese have let go of my hands, so I feel a less like a five-year-old.

“There are stairs,” Geneese says, as we pass a brunette sitting on one of the couches, reading a magazine, “but it's hard to look elegant going up the stairs. Anyway, that's what boxing is for. You ever boxed?”

“I have before.” I spot another couple—both with black hair—sitting together on a love seat, and Juniper explains, “This is where we meet our clients. They have to pass Rachelle and the cameras and then they wait for us in a pre-set spot. It's a security measure. Marchant Radcliffe—that's the guy who built this place—based it on the dormitory system. At uni, you know, or rather college.”

I nod as we pass a beautiful bookcase and a little nook filled with bean bag chairs. The rug under my feet is spotless and looks soft enough to lie on. About twenty yards ahead, rising from the floor and up into the ceiling, is the nearest elevator bank. The elevator is old-fashioned and iron—pretty, if an elevator can be pretty.

“It's beautiful here.”

“Some of us have rooms here,” Juniper says. “The others bunk in the whorehouse.”

I must look surprised, because she blinks. “You do know there's an actual whorehouse where we're made to f*ck for our dinner, yes?”

I'm totally confused, and totally at a loss for what to say, when Geneese elbows Juniper. “Girl, that's so wrong.”

“So I hear, so I hear.” Juniper smiles wickedly, and Geneese presses the “4” button on the elevator.

“Your room will be here in the main house, with some of the girls who can't get on with the others, or have a wooden leg, or need to be watched closely,” Juniper says as the doors glide open.

I smile weakly, hoping she’s joking.

Geneese pulls me inside and then releases my hand. “I'm kind of a touchy feely person,” she says smiling. “You have to bat me off.”

I smile back at her, and she laughs. “You look nervous. Don't be nervous. This is a good place. You'll like it here.”

I nod. “This is a first for me.”

“Well of course,” Juniper says. “You're a virgin.”

The doors ding open, and we file into a hardwood hall with a deep crimson runner. The walls are done in creamy velvet wallpaper, and the ceilings are high, dark wood, punched in little hexagons where the chandeliers are mounted. On this floor, they're spindly and brass.

“It smells delicious,” I say, and Geneese smiles. “This place is supposed to be appetizing.”

The hall ends in a rounded nook where a portrait of a half-nude woman hangs, spotlighted and framed by gold tassels.

We walk a few more steps and Juniper pulls out a key, tries it in the antique-looking brass lock on one of the wide, wood doors, and pushes the door open. It creaks, and as soon as it swings open I can smell flowers.

Geneese waves her hand for me to go first, and as I step inside the lights come on automatically. A few steps on lush hardwood topped by a thin oriental rug, and I'm out of the small foyer and into a large living area. I've been in enough million-dollar homes to know the furniture and fixings are all nice, none of that mass-produced hotel crap. The claw-footed Victorian couch is really a Victorian couch, and the dainty chairs on either side, covered in lush lime green fabric, are probably also from England. A glance beyond my immediate surroundings reveals mirrors, original artwork and framed photos adoring the walls, and a full kitchen over to my left. There's a dark hall out in front of me, and at the mouth of it is all my bags.

“That was fast,” I say.

“We aim to please. Why don't you come and see your room?”

Geneese waves me down the hall; she and Juniper follow. I almost gasp when I see the bedroom. At the center is the biggest canopy bed I've ever seen in my life, with lush crimson bedding, yellow and cream pillows, and a canopy so thick it actually creates walls around the bed.

At the foot of the bed is an old-fashioned soaking tub, and all along the outermost wall are windows—no, doors. Doors that lead onto a candle-lit balcony.

“This is really nice,” I say, feeling almost intimidated.

“We want you to feel like a princess when you are here,” Juniper says.

“Oh, I do.” I turn a slow circle, and Geneese says, “I've always liked this room. You got a good one.”

“I believe it.”

They go into the living area while I change, and as soon as the bedroom door shuts behind them, I drop into the nearest chair and put my head into my hands. My cheeks feel warm, my heart is racing, and my stomach is about to fly out of my chest. Damned belly bats.

I stand up, dig some work-out clothes out of my bag, and pace as I wriggle into them. It's not just nerves, I realize. Some of what I feel right now is real anxiety. That I don't belong here. That I can't handle the task ahead of me. That I'll fail.

A virgin at a brothel...

I'm in way over my head.

I try to talk myself up as I pull my hair into a pony-tail. I think about Cross and Suri and Crestwood Place, with its familiar fields and my familiar bedroom, smelling like my favorite vanilla bean lotion and coffee from the Keurig I keep right beside my bed. I picture myself reading one of my text books, and I remind myself that I can use this experience as school research. That makes me feel a little more level, so I'm gathered as I make my way into the living area.

Juniper grins as I step out of the hallway. “Looking sharp,” she says, and Geneese points. “Your legs are so long and tight.”

“I bet yours aren't much different,” I say.

“You sure you're game for working out? You had a long trip if you drove. I wasn't thinking about that earlier.”

“No, I'm okay. I want to see more of the place, and I missed my work-out today, so this is good.”

Juniper gives me the story of how Love Inc. came to be as we walk back to the elevators, and it’s pretty much what I read on Wiki. Back on the first floor, we exit out a side door and follow a shaded stone walkway around a small garden. The path leads us to the smaller manor house, and as we approach it, I can see the curtains hanging in the windows don't match—some are red, some blue, some pink.

“This is where the escorts and the trainers and the tutors live,” Loveless tells me. “Behind the big house—” she points between the main house and the manor where the staff lives— “is another wing where Marchant and his buddies have their private suites. The other building across the way,” she says, pointing across the courtyard at the third manor house, “is where we do official things, like see a doctor or go to the media lab or study if we want. If someone comes out here, like to fix the roof or a plumber or something, that's where Rach meets them. Can't have strangers in and out of the big house.”

“There are privacy issues,” Juniper says.

“That makes sense. Is Marchant Radcliffe here often?” I ask. I feel slightly nauseated, but Juniper shakes her head. “He's in and out. He trusts Richard and Rachelle to keep us straight.”

The door opens for us from the inside, and we step into a smaller, more relaxed version of the 'big house'. It's decorated in vibrant lavender, deep purple, and silver, with silver fixtures, a ping-pong table, a pool table, and a cheery fireplace.

"This is our building," Geneese says. "You can call me Loveless, by the way. Everybody else does.”

I follow them to the second floor, past identical faux wood doors decorated by welcome mats and the occasional potted plant. While we walk, Loveless and Juniper tell me about the gym below the building. As I wait for them to change, sitting in a plush chair outside Juniper's room, I feel awkward again, like the new girl, and I wonder how much they like me, or if they feel obligated to entertain me. I decide eventually that they both seem real enough, and even if they're being phony, there's no point in worrying about it.

A few minutes later, Juniper emerges from her flower-adorned doorway in nothing but a black leotard and hot pink sneakers. She smiles and hands me a bottle of Evian. “I'm glad you're working out with us. I was wondering about you.” Before she says exactly what she was wondering, she asks, “Do you have your own bag?”

“Gym bag?”

She shakes her head. “Punching bag.”

“Not my own, but I've used them at gyms.”

“It's therapeutic,” she smiles, but I get the feeling she doesn't have too many demons.

She slants an eyebrow at me and gives me a look that's caught somewhere between a smile and a smirk. “I know what you're thinking,” she says coyly. “I'm British, and I don't seem like a whore.”

I gape, although that isn't really what I was thinking—I'm too shell-shocked to have gotten that far—and Juniper bursts out laughing. I make a mental note that she doesn't think she seems like a whore. I’ll enjoy dissecting that later.

“I am an escort,” she says, “but I'm also a cliché.”

“Huh?”

She grins. “I’m a student. I'm studying at a distance, and later I'll probably also teach that way. But this has been my job for seven years.”

My eyes widen, and she nods. “I'm an expert in the field of cock and balls.”

Now it's my turn to crack up. We're both smiling when we get to Loveless's room.

She comes out in turquoise tights, an orange sports bra, and high-top trainers, looking like a model for sports clothes. As she turns to lock her door, she looks over her shoulder.

“I can't wait to get to know you. We haven’t had any new blood in months.”

“Druscilla,” Juniper reminds her.

“That girl's as exciting as a roll of toilet paper.”

Juniper elbows Loveless. "A soft, sweet roll."

“True,” Loveless says. “But Scarlett, she's got secrets."

I laugh, though my heart is in my throat. “Secrets?” I shake my head. “I'm afraid I'm an open book.”

But Juniper nods. “Richard hasn't told us anything about you. I mean, flat-out nothing. You're shrouded in mystery.”

“Am I?”

“Well, a few of us know you want to keep everything quiet,” Loveless says.

I chew my lip. “Wow. I didn't realize Richard had discussed me with anyone else.”

“Just Loveless and Rachelle,” Juniper tells me. “Rach is the manager here, as I'm sure you know, and Loveless is the Head Girl." I arch a brow, and they both laugh. "We try to keep it light," Loveless says. "And I do give mean head."

I blush, and Juniper says, "You will, too, before it's over. We'll teach you."

When my eyes widen, she says, "Don't worry. We'll use a dildo."

Loveless nods as I try to get my face to return to its regular color. "A big, blue dildo. You've got a whole box of treasures waiting in your room. But we can talk about the sexin' later. For now, we want to hear more about you."

My stomach flips, and I hate myself for it. For being so un-smooth. I'm in my twenties now. I should be more confident. Less afraid of what everyone thinks. After firing off a quick, sarcastic thank you to my Mom, who's got to be the source of my perpetual fear of others' judgments, I sigh. “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from?” Juniper asks.

Seeing no reason to lie, I say, “I'm from California.”

“Wouldn't be the Napa Valley area, would it?” Loveless asks me. She's wiggling her eyebrows.

I gape, truly taken aback, and they eagle-eye me.

I quickly pull it together, feeling a little more confident as we file into a stairwell. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Juniper says. “We've got one of those Superman kind of clients. Loveless and a few of the other girls are half in love with him. Quite pathetic, really.”

“I am not,” Loveless says defensively. “He's just a mystery. Well, he was," she says, looking troubled.

“Who is he?” I ask, trying maybe too hard to be one of the girls. Honestly the thought of any client scares the poo out of me..

Loveless looks over her shoulder, casual as can be. “His name is Hunter.”

“Hunter.” I barely have enough air in my lungs to get the word out; I'm slayed by the image of Hunter locked around beautiful Loveless.

“We should go by first name only,” Juniper interjects. “Privacy,” she tells me with her brows arched. “Hunter's been a client here for years, but he mainly just sees Sarabelle, Loveless, and Marie V.”

I'm silent as I imagine Marie V. and Loveless with their paws on Hunter.

Hunter visits Love Inc.? The shock of it makes my chest ache, although why am I surprised? His BBF owns the place.

We push through a metal door, into hallway that quickly leads us into a fabulous gym, and my brain is so rattled I'm barely able to follow them over to a hot pink mat. Hunter visits escorts to have sex. Hunter comes here. Holy shit, this is bad news. Holy shit. I can't run into Hunter here!

“What happened to make him stop coming?” I manage after a moment. Automatically I expect a joke about my wording, so I'm kind of surprised when they exchange a dark look.

They both look somber. Loveless, especially, has a blank look in her eyes. “It makes me so upset, to think about that,” she says quietly. “Something terrible happened.”