Sicko

L’artisaniant. James had said that they only do them once a month, so why now.

Bringing the glass up to my mouth, I’m quick to find the room I was in the last time that I was here. Everyone around me fades to the background of my mind as I study it like it’s the most important test in history.

Running the cushion of my thumb across my lips, goose bumps shiver down my spine as memories flash back to me. It felt different with them. Sex never felt like that with James, or any of the men he pawned me off to.

James spins me around to him, his mask is the same. Simple black leather carving around his features. It covers most of what a mask normally would. “Why are you wearing a mask but not me?” I ask, watching his reaction carefully. Since the second hotel video, things between James and I have shifted drastically. I used to trust him to a certain extent, and that was probably from years and years of being handled by him. But now I just want to run.

“Hmmmm.” He gestures to the elevators that are hidden behind the sea of people. I chew on my lip nervously before finally following him toward the rustic metal doors. The elevator is one of the old ones, where you slide the metal gate across manually. Once we’ve entered and the music cuts out from premier niveau, the elevator ascends as my fists tighten. I watch as the old hand stops at deux. Sweat seeps down the nape of my neck as the hand shifts again. Trois. We don’t stop. Not until quatre.

We’re instantly in a room dipped with darkness. There are teal lights placed sporadically around the room, but not enough to offer much sight. The teal tint is more on the green spectrum and it’s an odd color choice, but it fits with the aesthetic that seems to shift around the room quietly. There’s a black leather couch right in the middle, no windows or curtains, no sign of light except for the LED lines that stick to the rim of the skirtings. I want to ask what we’re doing here.

Why this place?

A mask is placed over my eyes as James’ mouth lowers to the nape of my neck. “Now you need it.”

I gulp past my nerves, wiping the sweat off the palms of my hands. “Okay.” The lighting dims even further and the music gains volume. In the other room, it felt intimate.

This one feels more charged.

Just. More.

Korn “Twisted Transistor” is playing heavily in the background as James moves farther into the room. He pauses at the threshold where the lounge and another room join, his hands in his pockets.

“Boys.”

Oh fuck.

I take the steps I need to reach where he stands, and when I bring my eyes up in front of me, I freeze.

Four men.

All wearing dark clothes, and dark leather masks that cover the top halves of their face. Level fucking four.

They’re all scattered, seated in different seats. There’s a small makeshift stage in the middle of the room, and when James leaves me standing there on my own, I realize what I’m supposed to do.

James strolls toward a small bar area where a tender stands behind in a white suit. He orders a drink and turns to face me.

His voice comes through again, only distorted. He likes his toys to manipulate his words. As if he knows why he does what he does and who he’s hiding from.

“Change” from Deftones starts playing loudly, and I find myself checking everyone who is here.

Two are wearing dark hoodies, their mouths blanketed with white bandanas, one is wearing an expensive suit with a black leather mask, hiding the top half of his face, and the final guy is wearing a leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, with the same plain white bandana around his mouth.

I run my tongue over my lips, placing my phone onto the floor and making my way to the makeshift stage. This isn’t new. James has had me dance for people in the past, but it was always for a purpose. To entertain rich, fat men who had too much money and not enough humanity. It would tease them. James would say that I was a direct image of the kind of girls he had for sale.

I found that disturbing, but there’s nothing I could ever do about it.

The song continues to play into the chorus and my fingers flex around the cold pole as I tousle my hair out of the braid. Rolling my body off the pole, I allow my mind to drift to other places, only once I’m turned away from them, someone is at my back, his fingers spread out over my lower belly.

I recognize his touch almost instantly, and before I can think too much into it, I realize the reason why I recognized it is because he was one of the two guys from the first night I attended.