He nods. “That’s it. If you do this thing, you won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m a little disappointed right now. I expected some kind of hard sell.”
“I don’t need to,” he says, shrugging. “Truth is, you’re lucky to get invited.”
“Lucky?” I give him a look. “I don’t need to pay for pussy, you know.”
“Oh, I know that.” He sips his martini and eyes me. “But that’s not what we’re talking about.”
I pause, not sure what he means. “The text said an auction,” I say.
“It’s an auction and it’s for women, but it’s not just for pussy.”
“What else to they do?” I ask. “Clean your house?”
“Maybe,” he says, a serious look on his face. “Truth is, man, they’ll do whatever you want. For as long as you’re paying. And these girls, they’re beautiful. Untouched. Unspoiled. They’re not a bunch of old pros. They’re... special.”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. He’s talking like he’s in love with these girls or something. They’re still just people, just women, and I can’t imagine that they’re anything amazing.
I have to admit, I was picturing a bunch of old and used-up hookers, but that’s probably not fair. High-end escorts tend to be young and beautiful. But he’s making it sound like these are real virgins or something like that.
“Have you gone?” I ask him.
“Absolutely.”
“Why?” I ask, mystified. “You don’t have trouble bringing women home.”
“It’s hard to explain,” he says softly. “When you buy these girls... you own them. It’s like every fantasy you’ve ever had all rolled into one, and you get them for as long as you want them.”
“I don’t have time to buy anyone,” I say, laughing again, although Mack doesn’t find it funny. “This just isn’t the time.”
“This is the perfect time. Whoever you bring home will be there, in your house, waiting for you. If you don’t touch her, that’s your choice, and it won’t matter. This is no work, no fuss, no bullshit. Just an attractive companion that’s down for anything.”
I have to admit, he’s making it sound enticing. Maybe it’s the martini, but I do like the idea of a beautiful woman waiting for me to come home, ready to be dominated and willing to do whatever I ask of her.
I finish my martini in one quick motion. “Last question. This Syndicate. Are they dangerous?”
He nods once. “They are. But only if you cross them. If you decide not to attend, just delete the message and never speak of this again. Including to me.”
“You’re serious?” I ask.
“I’m very serious.”
“Okay then,” I say. “This is the last time we’ll talk about it.” I slide out of the booth and stand up.
“You’re making a mistake,” Mack says.
“I’m not so sure that I am.”
“You are.” He stares me in the eye. “Go to the auction. Trust me. You won’t regret it.”
I watch him for a second. “I’ll see you later, Mack.”
He nods and goes back to his martini as I leave the restaurant and head back outside. The driver is still waiting for me, and I climb into the back of the car.
For the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about what Mack said. He seemed so earnest, so serious, and it’s hard to ignore that sort of thing. Mack isn’t the type of man to bullshit or exaggerate. If he says something is a certain way, you can be pretty damn sure that it’s a certain way.
Which makes it so intriguing. Even more than that, the fact that The Syndicate is dangerous, and how seriously he takes them, makes me even more fascinated. This is a secret world hiding underneath our world, and I’m being given a glimpse. I can choose to turn back and ignore it all, or I can dive in and join it.
I don’t know why I can’t get it out of my head. I have been stressed lately, very stressed, and maybe a little meaningless sex will do me good. I could use the release at the very least. Mack makes it sound like a gift from heaven or something like that, and maybe he’s right.
It’s around two in the morning by the time I finish my day’s work and break out a bottle of whisky. I pour a drink into a glass and kick my feet up on my desk. There’s a couch against the far wall and my own private bathroom with a shower, and I know I’ll be sleeping on that couch and showering in that shower again tonight. I could go home, but I have to be here at five anyway. No point in wasting time that I could be using on sleep.