Chapter
425: Baby Doll II—Perhaps He May Look Kindly
After all that, he suddenly became
tender, suddenly became gentle and quiet, his finger soft on her chin. This man
registered to Chloe as a demon, a monster, something powerful and dark in such
a beautiful way she couldn’t believe how her body enjoyed him and how much it
hurt. Sadistic asshole, that’s all she had to say about that. “Go and take a
shower,” he told her, as if that were the answer to all of her life’s problems,
as if he cared anything about her life’s problems.
She turned on the water hard and hot and
fast just so she could drown out
the sounds of Peter's rising voice. He hadn't lifted a finger in her
defense for that torturous, pleasurable drowning moment of time Patrick had
her, but as soon as she had entered the bathroom she had heard him
yell something at Patrick. Patrick’s voice had been low, deep and calm,
but Peter was yelling and he was irate. Now he finally showed some life.
Chloe was slow getting out of the shower
and getting dressed, she was
muttering to herself and whistling through her
teeth. She'd seen worse.... She'd seen
worse.... But even that statement wasn’t exactly accurate. Other clients, they
were less graceful, more greedy, ugly, fumbling, but even the worst of those,
they were sick, lustful, timid, worried, they were evil in a way that they had
a sickness and craving for girls her age, mindless zombies. Patrick, this man,
back to the thought of this demon, didn’t seem to even process her as a child,
or a girl, or even a human, and the same for his appetite with Peter.
He’d frightened her and awed her
more than anything with his dead blue black eyes and his ability to twist her
to complete pleasure, she’d never wanted or thought she’d feel with a man and
that pissed her off. Being stripped of the last thing she could control, her
own body, her own pleasure, it angered and confused her. True, she’d found a
rare delight with Peter as it had been, but even then it’d been her choice.
Chloe shook her head and pushed her
hair out of her face. She wasn't going
to think about it anymore, she wasn't gonna rage about it. What was
the fucking use? She was gonna get paid, she was never gonna see them
again. Life goes on.
Unfortunately she hobbled, and she
felt like a drugged crack whore when she left the bathroom unable to believe
how ragged and raw her body felt. Never before had she been broken like this,
and now she felt irritated that her normal body guard was not around, attending
to a larger gathering elsewhere in the city. No one would be around for her
until sometime tomorrow afternoon. It seemed insanely stupid that they’d
neglect to put a guard on her for this segment of time, but as big as The
Agency had become in the past few years, things could fall through the crack.
She scowled when she saw the men, on
the bed, again. Peter, she figured had been a heterosexual man coming into this
night but he seemed to really enjoy Patrick’s attentions to him. She’d never
seen a man so quickly swing his tastes in flesh, not like a woman could. Chloe
realized that this moment would probably be the best time for
her to escape, to just fuck the money owed her
and run out the door.
And she
hated herself for again being fascinated. She walked as quietly as she could
to the bed, sitting on the edge of it.
Patrick, this man, she stared at
him, titillating Peter, working him over better than most of the girls she knew
could. Where had he come from, what was he? The feed off him completely hid
from her, and her gut told her more than unclean, dangerous, more than
dangerous, unholy. And what’s more, she craved one
more touch from him, just another searing from his energy, destructive energy.
Chloe noticed a small cut at Peter’s throat,
a round little slice and her fingers went to her own itchy little wound on her
own throat. When she looked at her fingers she saw a little dab of blood which
she wiped on her skirt. What a vampire and she couldn’t really remember being
bit.
Unable to help herself, she crawled
onto the bed and towards Peter. His eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth
trembling in ecstasy. She pressed herself onto his chest and kissed the bite
wound on his throat. She could feel the vibration of his groan and his large,
strong hands hugged her close. Chloe looked into his eyes, which were a mix of
pleasure and sadness. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, running his fingers over
her throat. “I didn’t know he would do that to you.”
Chloe smiled suddenly feeling like
the stronger one again. “No worry hon,” she replied.
“You didn’t know what ya had comin to ya too I
reckon.”
“GOD!”
Peter moaned and his arms fell away from her.
Chloe sighed and fell to her back on the
mattress, not caring what would happen to her next. She lay there, next to
Peter in silence and feeling so sleepy and comfortable next to his body for a
long while and she could hear Patty moving around, picking up clothes, the
jingling of keys and change. “I have to get out of here,” Peter finally said.
“Then go,” Patrick replied. “No one
is stopping you.”
Then the bed shifted as Peter stood
up, leaving Chloe unprotected and cold and she could hear him gathering his
clothes and putting them on. “How much do I owe?” Peter asked but Chloe could
tell that he wasn’t talking to her.
“Six hundred,” Patrick replied, “Unless
you want to throw in some extra...”
“Right,” Peter said and she could
hear the rustle of a wallet, of money being counted, of business being done.
“There... Patty I...What just happened, I really, I mean it felt really… I mean
what’s going to happen now... I mean between...”
“What would you like?” Patrick said
in an almost irritated voice, “You’re not going to take this putain home with you, eh? Why should you take me?”
Peter said nothing else, nothing to
her as he walked with heavy steps out of the room, slamming the door behind
him, leaving her behind. There was a quiet laugh from Patrick. “He has
problems,” he said. “Sit up.”
Chloe didn’t sigh as she sat up,
even though she wanted to. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the wad of money
in his pale hands. She could see the twenties and a flash of a hundred-dollar
bill. He flashed each individual bill as he counted and then he handed it to
her. “Eight hundred for your boss.”
Chloe took the money, holding it
lightly in her fingers angry with herself for actually believing that he would
come through on his promise he’d made earlier to give her a lot more money.
“Thanks,” she muttered and she slid off the bed, hurting between her thighs.
She opened her purse and pulled out a little rubber band, stretching it and
snapping it around the wad of money before dropping it into her purse.
“And for you,” he said.
Chloe looked at him and at the money
in his hand. “I may have lost count,” he continued. “Eight hundred will do,
yes?”
Chloe blinked then took the money,
not bothering to count it. That was all hers. She had never had that much all
to herself before. Now what was she gonna do with it?
She
made a move to leave and his voice stopped and crushed her. “Don’t leave.”
Completely frustrated and helpless,
Chloe sat back on the bed. He stood up and circled the bed where she sat and
she could feel him move behind her, his hands on her shirt and taking it off,
his hands at her skirt and taking it off. I’m not gonna survive this! Physically,
she supposed she could take whatever he had in mind, but her mind, her spirit,
her soul, she could feel it touching him, shriveling, burning away. Perhaps she
wouldn’t survive, she knew she could just die, close her eyes and let him have
the last of her pulse, he’d probably enjoy.
But he wasn’t aroused or heated as
he did any of this, she could tell as he pulled her
body to him and pulled the covers over them. He just gave her one soft kiss on
the forehead and sighed. The sick evil feeling lifted from her, the metallic
fear in her mouth disappeared and Chloe felt at ease. “You have any guilt?”
Chloe asked, her voice sounding too loud for her own taste. “About
me bein a kid an all? Sometimes I wonder... I
mean I could tell the other one, but what about you?”
Patrick yawned with closed eyes. “We
used to play a game, on my old team. If there was a nanny or a babysitter
asleep when we came home, if the wife was busy with going to bed or already
asleep, we would see how long we could touch her before she woke up. And if she
panicked we would pay her extra, if she liked it we would give her more. That I
feel sometimes guilty about.”
“But not me?”
Chloe asked, feeling a tinge of curiosity at the distinction he could possibly make,
the denial he could bring forth.
“Not you,” he said. “You are a ‘pleasure-baby’,
a resource. You made it clear what you would provide and we took as much from
you. No, I don’t feel ashamed for that. Not when you have eight hundred dollars
that you made a business query for.”
Chloe felt anger and surprise. “But
I’m a kid hon, and... well what if I were your
daughter? Ever think about somethin’ like that?”
“My daughter could be a nanny or a
babysitter someday,” he said in a low voice, still not opening his eyes, “never
a whore. I needn’t feel the sympathy for a plight she’ll never have, yes?”
Chloe sighed and ran a finger over
his forehead and he still didn’t open his eyes. “I’m not gonna die this way,
you know.”
His eyes opened, the pupils dilated
and then contracted like a cat’s would. “Really?” She
felt a chill and prickling that went the entire length of her body.
“Nope,” she said. “I’m smarter than
the other girls and I’m tougher. I don’t do drugs I smoke only when I’m told,
and I never ferget a condom. I ain’t
gonna forget why I’m here and accept it. Shit I even speak Spanish!” Bragging,
obviously, but why to him?
He smiled his eyes half-closed. “You
do?”
“Yup,” Chloe said suddenly feeling
proud of herself and wanting to show him. “Perfect Spanish.
I have to cause we get a lot of girls from Mexico an they don’t know what’s the
shit, and the poor things aint got no one to tell em nothin so I learnt Spanish to help them.”
“Know anymore?” he asked.
“I’m gonna learn Frinch
next,” Chloe said, feeling her tongue loosen. Sickness and evil, all of that
didn’t even emanate from his body anymore. She could even feel some of his
interest and lightness, and he felt like a completely different human being. “Maybe somethin else. And when I’m
eighteen, I’m gone! They got enough whores that they don’t need another eighteen
year old they won’t miss me.”
“And what would you do?” he asked,
his eyes open again.
Chloe felt completely relaxed now,
feeling as if she were talking to a friend. “I dunno, maybe teach shit to
little kids. But ye haveta go to school for that don’t
ye? I don’t want to have nothin to do with cocks, I’m
sick of cocks. I think I want to be somewhere beautiful... I saw this picture
in a book once of a beautiful church with huge stain glass windows, and blue
light over the organ, blue lights... I want to go there,
maybe I’ll be a nun.”
The sudden laughter from him was
infuriating and Chloe snarled in hurt pride. “Don’t laugh at me! I buh-leeve in God, and I know he forgives whores, and a whore
like me never had a choice! I wanna be where men who
look at me will know that THEY CAN’T TOUCH ME! ‘Sides you just fucked a man,
you can’t afford to believe in God.”
“Shhh,” he
said kissing her mouth softly. “I don’t doubt your resolve, I’m sorry for
laughing. I know what church you are talking about though.”
Chloe felt a twinge of excitement as
she calmed down. “You do?!”
“Oui,” he
said. “Notre-Dame Basilica, it’s in
Chloe sighed feeling a pain now that
she knew that the church was real and she would probably never see it. She was
hoping it was a dream. “I love stained glass,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes thinking of the
church and then she heard him snoring, his arms heavy on her body. It occurred
to her that she should probably turn off the light but by the time she thought
to do it, she had fallen asleep too, her body aching for rest.
Chloe woke up with a start, fast
forgetting a dream that had disrupted her sleep. A shot, a yell, a scream,
Patrick’s eyes…. She blinked, trying to realize where she was and then she felt
the heat of his body, and heard his snores. The light was still on. Chloe squinted
at the clock seeing it past two in the morning.
She sat up and stretched, feeling
the aches anew all over her body. She could see her reflection in the mirror
across the room and it startled her. Purple bruises spotted her throat and
arms, and even her thighs. It would be easy, she bet to just keep all of the
money in her purse now, and just say that she’d been raped and robbed. That
would teach them to leave her without a bodyguard.
Chloe smiled and looked down at
Patrick, at his uncovered body. The top of him was muscled and pleasant looking
but down his torso that she noticed the world upon him, a scar across the side
of his belly, scars across his flanks over his hips and on both of his knees.
In a way he looked like he had been stitched together like Frankenstein’s
monster. Chloe yawned and reached over his body, and flicked off the light. At
the sound of the click, Patty jerked and barked, “What?!” in a voice that
sounded frightened.
“It’s just me,” Chloe said.
He wasn’t snoring so she assumed he
was awake and she ran her hand over his chest to calm him. He grabbed it and
kissed the inside of her wrist and wordlessly he moved on top of her body.
“Oh hon, not again!” Chloe whispered. He doesn’t have a
condom this time! She thought desperately to herself.
“What now little one,” he whispered,
hugging her to him.
“How dare you!” Chloe sobbed. “Never
ever ever have I ever enjoyed this.....
NEVER! And now you make me come and... GODAMMIT how can you do this to me? Make
me just like the other girls, force me to feel like a
human!”
“Go to sleep,” he whispered over and
over. And then he began to whisper in French, and Chloe couldn’t understand or
fight it, but sniffling shivering against him, she fell asleep again.
It wasn’t until past morning when
Chloe woke up, she smelled food. Her stomach roared and when she opened her
eyes the first thing she saw was a food cart next to her bed full of covered
trays.
“Mr?” she
said loudly, but she didn’t see or hear him, or even sense his presence.. A white note card lay on the tray and Chloe picked it up.
“Eat up, it’s been paid for” scrawled on it in ornate, black inked cursive.
Chloe shrugged and lifted the silver lid off one of the plates. Ham and eggs, oatmeal, pancakes, croissants, pastries, and juice,
all of it arranged in plates on the cart.
When Chloe finished eating and had
found her clothes and shoes to put on, she noticed another envelope sitting on
the silver tray. She picked it up, and as she read it she began to smile, and
her smile trembled, and then she could only think to laugh. She thought of that
lady writer, the one who wanted justice, and of the priests, and of anyone else
who ever gave her a kind word or sympathy. Fools, the lot of them, when a demon
could teach them better.