Mr. President - Page 169

“I thought it’d be one of the places where they were holding women, but it wasn’t. It was just a warehouse filled with street hookers, and I realized then that he was shaking them down so that they could keep working,” Mistress Strokes continues. “I talked to them anyway, and one told me that she was actually thinking of leaving the life; she had a son, you see? She wanted to be better. Anyway, she told me she was coming to Python, because the owner had a reputation between the street hookers: if you really wanted to straighten up your act, Austin would help you without asking for anything in return.”

“And that was when she showed up in here. Nervous and shaking, clutching a backpack to her chest,” Austin laughs, and I finally realize how much he cares for Strokes. She’s his protegé.

Mistress Strokes sighs.

“I’m tired of it always being women who get persecuted, Destiny,” she tells me and I nod. I’m the same way. Remember? How I said I could have sex with anyone I wanted to? And fuck off if they didn’t like it?

Well, while I was going out spreading my legs, Mistress Strokes was putting herself in danger to free women.

We could all be more like her.

“With the information I stole from Lester, and with Austin financing things we started saving as many women as we could and we were making a difference,” she goes on. She stops and pauses. “We still are, and Lester wants to stop us at all costs. He’s not going to give up.”

“Well neither are we, goddamit,” Austin says, first looking at me and then exchanging a glance with Strokes. “We can’t let him destroy what you’ve fucking built. Whatever it fucking takes, we’ll bring that motherfucker down.”

“And how are we going to do that…?” Mistress Strokes asks him, looking at me.

I see where she’s going and I chime in, not sure what Austin is thinking either. “Lester’s got the entire NYPD at his fingertips,” I tell him making it seem like I’m worried about whatever Austin is planning, but what I’m really thinking of is the child I’m carrying inside my belly.

Is it really a good idea to go to war with Lester when I’m expecting Austin’s baby?

“All I know is we’re looking at Python right here,” Austin grins gesturing to the three of us, the confidence in him making him look as handsome as a movie star, “and Python is where dreams come true, ladies.”

He gets up and looks at us before finishing. “Let’s make this dream fucking come true as well.”

82

Austin

I’ve been having trouble fucking sleeping since Mistress Strokes told Destiny her story. The horrified look in her face told me something I really needed to realize: Lester has to be fucking stopped.

There has to be a way to do it.

Somehow.

“Austin…?” I hear Destiny’s voice coming from the bed, and I see her head peeking from under the covers. Her hair is disheveled and she has no makeup on but, somehow, I think that seeing her like this just makes me love her even more. Fantasies and mirrors are fun, but I think that the simple things are the ones most worthy of our attention.

And that’s right.

I fucking love her. I’m sure of it by now.

I mean, I’ve been telling you for a few chapters now.

And regardless of what I do next, there’s one thing I need to do first.

I need to fucking tell her.

“Yeah, babe, I’m here,” I reply to her query.

I’m standing against the wall-to-ceiling windows in my (or should I say our?) bedroom, wearing nothing but boxer briefs. We fucked like crazy when we got home tonight, Strokes coming clean about everything drawing us even closer, but I just couldn’t fall asleep.

Even when Destiny drifted off, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling and counting the minutes. Eventually, I just got out of the bed as quietly as I could and came here to the window so that I could watch the city outside.

There’s something about New York that calms me down. Which is kinda fucking ironic, don’t you think?

This city which really doesn’t fucking sleep, it just has a soothing effect on me. Whenever I need to think, New York and its bright tall skyscrapers are what I turn to. Just like that tonight.

“What are you doing over there? Come back to bed,” she tells me in a lazy tone, still half-asleep.

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