Chapter 1.
You’re sure you want to do this?" My best friend asked me repeatedly over a million times as we walked through the doors of the private club where she worked as a bartender.
Carla was my friend since she moved here to the US from Cuba. We have been through so much together, she's my ride or die and I'm hers. Carla was know to most men as “she devil.” She had no problems putting men in their place if the weren't behaving how she liked. Carla's parents own dance studios here in the US and also in Cuba. She was born and raised in Cuba. She was crazy beautiful, long, silky black hair, hourglass figure, legs that go on for days, and the face of a goddess. The only problem was that she carried herself like a damsel which made guys think she was easy. She liked to play all the guys. Some women would go so far as to calling her a slut, but never to her face. But I loved her like she was my own flesh and blood. And considering what I was willing to do for my flesh and blood, that was saying a lot.
“No, I’m not sure, Carla, but I have to. So stop asking me before I end up changing my mind and I go running out of here like the chicken shit we both know I really am,” I snapped at her.
She knew me so well and didn’t dwell on my sudden outburst drama too personally, because she knew I had my reasons for what I was about to do.
“And you’re really willing to give up your V-card to a total stranger?" She snaps her fingers "just like that? No wining, no dining, no sixty-nining?” Her incessant questioning grated on my last nerve, but I knew it was because she loved me and wanted to be sure I’d considered everything. We had gone over all the pros and cons with a fine-toothed comb, and I really didn’t think we had missed anything. But the unknown was what worried me the most.
“I have my reasons Carla, we talked about it. Im already scared shitless so can you please stop with the twenty questions already geez” I said as I followed her down the dark corridor that led to the underbelly of Foreplay, the club where she worked. Foreplay: that was where my life would change. It was the point of no return. My mother, Majia, was terminally ill and it had progressively gotten worse over the years. She had nearly died while giving birth to me, but had managed to bounce back from that and countless other operations and procedures. There was no bouncing back now. Her light was fading entirely too fast.
She was so weak and frail at this stage that she couldn't even get out of bed. Having been in and out of hospitals so much had caused my father, Giuseppe to lose his job. He had refused to leave her alone and prioritised her over his job in the name of helping some stupid factory meet its production numbers. I never blamed him for that. She was his wife, he loved her with his whole heart, and he took his duty as her husband very seriously. She was his to care for, his shining light, and he was hers. She would’ve cared for him if the roles had been reversed. But no job meant no health insurance. It also meant we were forced to live off the savings account my father had managed to put away for their retirement. Ergo, purchasing health insurance was a luxury my parents could not afford.
Things had gotten even worse. Majia's illness had progressed to the point that a heart transplant was essential in order for her to survive. That bit of news had taken a toll on all of us, but none more than Giuseppe.
I’d watched my father everyday. He had been losing weight, his primary concern for my mother overshadowing his own care. The dark rings under his red eyes made it obvious that he hadn’t been getting as much sleep as he should have, either. Be that as it may, he had always put on a brave face for my mother. She had accepted her imminent demise, but my father … he still held out hope. The problem was that his hope was diminishing. It was killing his very soul to watch her die a little more each day. I think a piece of him went with every little piece of her.
I had walked in on him one night after my mother had fallen fast asleep. He was slumped over in his armchair with his head in his hands and his shoulders heaving from his disheartened sobs.
He hadn’t meant for anyone to see him that way. He wouĺd be embarrassed. But I had.
I had never seen him so despondent. There was this nagging feeling tugging at my heart constantly that told me when my mother died, my father wouldn’t be far behind. He would literally mourn himself to death. There was no doubt in my mind.
I had to do something. I was desperate to make everything better. To make them better.
Carla was my best friend. My very best friend. I had always shared everything with her, so she was wholly aware of the situation. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and after seeing just how desperate I had become, she had finally told me about the more scandalous business that was conducted beneath the private club Foreplay where she worked.
Raul Nunez, the owner, was what one might call an aggressive entrepreneur. Basically, he was a pimp, but not just any run-of-the-mill kina pimp on the streets. He’d found a way to tap the pockets of those whose pockets were overflowing, high rollers or big players as they were called but this plce was no cassino. His was a high-class operation, an auction where women were sold to the highest bidder. Foreplay might have been the face of his business, but the auction was his bread and butter. It was a big frat party on top, rich college kids spending daddy's money finding their next hookup and getting so wasted they couldn’t even remember their own names, which was the perfect cover for the refined establishment underneath. From what I understood of what Carla told me, some of the women—myself included—were participating voluntarily, while others owed Raul in some way. Selling their bodies was their last-ditch effort to repay him, even though it meant losing their freedom in the process.
Carla told me that the clients were always men with large bank accounts. Even the world’s richest tycoons had a thing for the kinkiest of fantasies—fantasies that they would never want to see go public. For the right amount of cash, they could find willing body to fulfill their desire and never have to worry about their secret getting out. But it was luck of the draw—I could end up with someone gracious and kind, or a total dickhead who enjoyed dominating his property. If history was any indication, I’d end up with the latter knowing my luck. I hadn’t exactly had the best of luck in my life, so I dare not believe the powers that be would grant me any favors here and now.
