Buy Me

By: Cassandra Dee

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” she asked. “Another drink perhaps?”

I looked at the table. Harris hadn’t even bothered to order a drink for me, his pink cocktail sat on his side of the table, a wet ring of water staining the wood.

“No thanks,” he said frigidly, still not meeting my eyes, that pointed nose turned away. “I’m afraid this young lady and I aren’t a match,” he said frigidly. “I’ll need a new girl.”

I flushed then, cheeks going hot. I shouldn’t have cared what this guy thought, it shouldn’t have mattered, he was such a foppish, frippery prick. But at the same time, I’d done my best to be nice, to be mild and accommodating and yet here he was, acting like the Queen of England.

“But- but,” I stuttered.

It was too late. The woman fixed me with a frigid glance, directing me to get up before turning back to Harris subserviently.

“Of course, sir,” she murmured dulcetly, bowing her head and nodding once more. “Of course, we’ll find someone new for you. Product is always renewable at the Club.”

And I goggled at her. Product? Renewable? What the hell, was she referring to me? It was so degrading and debasing, like I was a commodity, something that was easily replaceable, just another girl to be traded.

But it was too late because with an icy glare, the woman nodded for me to follow her, Harris waving a slight bye-bye with his hand.

“See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya,” he whined musically, voice trailing as I headed back out into the maze of topiaries. And I wanted to ask the woman what was going on, why this was happening, but no answer was forthcoming. So as I trailed behind, I actually grabbed a skinny elbow, sharp and pointy.

“What was that?” I demanded. “I mean, I know I’m here to make conversation with customers, but they can’t all be like that. That dude was so strange, did you see? Did you hear him talk?”

The woman glared at me then, expression forbidding.

“We are here to serve the clients,” she bit out. “Stay here, and I’ll ask management what’s next for you.”

Because we were now in a sitting room, the walls velvet, equipped with a huge TV and a mini-bar on one side. And seeing no other option, I sat gingerly on a plush purple ottoman, shaking my head.

“Fine, but I want out,” I said sharply. “And I want to find Jennelle, where’s my friend? We both want to leave.”

The woman didn’t even answer, spinning on her heel and shutting the door, the unmistakable snick of a lock sounding behind her. I gasped, shaking my head. What the hell was going on? Why in the world was I locked in a room, god knows where, separated from my friend? Why in the world had I just spent fifteen minutes talking to a complete loser, a total weirdo of a guy? All that was certain was that I wanted to get out of the Club, bad. And yet … I had no idea how to make it happen, locked in a room with no place to go.



I sat in the booth, idly swirling the drink in my hand. The setting was decent. Nothing compared to the actual Billionaires Club, but then, what can you expect from an offshoot?

Because the actual club is an elite establishment with a massive underground complex in Nevada. It a place for filthy rich dudes to relax, socialize, and do whatever the fuck they want in relative privacy, without the prying eyes of the media, friends, family, acquaintances, all the hangers-on that accompany power and money.

But the Billionaires Club doesn’t run itself. Sure, we have top-notch staff, paying a pretty penny to various minions to keep the place humming. But every ship needs a pilot, so sometimes a few of us dudes pitch in to make sure this place stays in tip top shape.

And I admit, I fuckin’ love this part of the job. It sounds like a stupid chore, but to me, it rocks. Because the dirtiest part of the Club is that we source girls. There are auctions every now and then, where members buy virgins on the block, the sweetest, most beautiful things, and someone’s gotta find the girls right? Sure, we’ve got recruiters out everywhere, scouts roaming globe, sussing out the most nubile, innocent things. But still, it helps sometimes to look yourself, and that’s what I was doing tonight.

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