Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

“My virginity,” I whisper.

It’s not something special, something to be proud of. It’s just another way men have controlled me. I’m supposed to guard my virtue, that’s what the sermons say. But it’s never really been up to me when I would lose my innocence. It’s never been something I could give away. Until now.

He cocks his head. “Why would you give me that?”

He doesn’t ask, Why would I want that? Because he does want it.

Lying didn’t help me before. He saw right through the lie about my age. So I fall back on the truth. “It will be taken from me if I go back. I may as well give it to you. And that way, I get what I want too.”

“A job?”

I nod. A job means freedom. Dancing and nakedness and music mean freedom too.

He crouches down in front of me, and something about our positions now makes me feel young. He’s still holding the arms of the chair, and my hands are clenched in my lap. His eyes meet mine, but he’s down low. I feel small and helpless. Trapped.

“You could ask for money,” he says, a strange note in his voice. It’s like he’s coaxing me. Like he’s testing me. “If I paid you well, you’d be able to get a nice hotel room. Maybe you could keep me coming back for more.”

There are too many sha

dows here, too many vines ready to grab me. “I want to work here.”

He puts his hand on my knee. Just his hand. Not very high. It’s an innocent touch. Any one of the elders might have touched me this way. Leader Allen definitely has.

It doesn’t feel innocent. It feels dangerous, a snaking vine.

His expression is severe, but his voice is soft. It’s a contradiction, just like him. “I could set you up with pretty jewelry and pretty clothes. My very own doll to dress up.”

My breathing’s coming faster. His words don’t sound like an offer. They sound like a warning. “No.”

“You’d rather fuck a hundred men than just one?”

I’d rather keep running so that nothing can ever tie me down, no one can hold me down, ever again. “If that’s what it takes to work here.”

Surprise flicks through his pale blue eyes. He draws back, considering me. He has me trapped, but he’s no longer in my face. I sit very still under his regard. I have sat for hours during prayer, unable to move, unwilling. If I even stretch or look up for a second, it would prove my unworthiness. I would have to start over and face my punishment after. I can wait forever for him to decide.

“No,” he says softly.

My hopes fall. If he doesn’t let me stay, I’ll have to go back into the streets. Fear is a cold band around my chest. You’d rather fuck a hundred men than just one? I may just live to find out.

“Wait,” I say, desperate, crying.

“No,” he says more sharply. “You won’t be fucking anyone.”

I blink fast, forcing back tears. “What?”

“Those are my conditions. You’ll practice dancing until you’re ready to go onstage, and when I decide, that’s when you’ll start—not a second earlier. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper, excitement a hot current in my veins.

“And you’re not going to fuck anyone, not as long as you work for me.”

His words make me cold, and I shiver. This is just like Harmony Hills, isn’t it? I left there because I didn’t want to live like cattle anymore, because I didn’t want to be caged and bred and then shot when I was no longer useful.

Does it really matter if I’m pure?

Will I really burn in hell for my sins?

Those are the questions that churn inside me, fighting to get out, but I don’t ask them. Instead I ask, “How will I know how to please the men out there if I’ve never…done that?”