Sicko(56)

“I need to ask you both a question and I need you to answer it truthfully.”

Orson sighs, flopping onto the L-shaped couch that overlooks the ocean. “You couldn’t ask this question through FaceTime? Like damn, I missed you too, but it’s off season and me and the family are gearing up to go to Aspen.”

I ignore him, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace.

“Have either of you veered off track?”

They all pause, their eyes coming to mine.

Storm is the first to answer. “I haven’t needed to. He never asked me to do anything more than leave town.”

“Same here.” Orson lifts his glass, swallowing the expensive whiskey in one swig.

“You?” they both ask, brows raised.

“I wasn’t asked to do anything either.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Any of you been sent a video?”

They both answer in unison. “No.”

I pull out my phone and flick through my photos until I find it, tossing my phone onto the sofa beside Orson.

He picks it up and I watch as his face contorts into confusion. His lips pinch, his eyes narrow, and his head tilts. “Who is she?”

I shrug. “Don’t fucking know.”

Storm refuses to look, his eyes remaining fixed on the wall in front of him. “Maybe he’s testing us by using bait this time instead of each other.”

My mouth snaps closed. I don’t want to reopen that wound and double the healing time.

I glare at him. “I’m pretty sure he made it clear the first time.” Shaking my head, I take a seat on the sofa in front of me, running my hands through my hair. “Nah, this is something else. We’re missing something.”

Silence wraps around our memories as I’m sure all of us block them out. Memories are the stain that either good or evil leave on your soul well after departure.

This one is evil. So very fucking evil.

“What about Wicked?” Orson asks, his eyes on mine. “Asked him anything?”

So fucking Wicked.





Twisting my hair onto the side of my neck, I ignore the music playing in the background and the heavy stench of sex. Fingers stretch out over my belly, covering the black tight dress that I’m wearing. It’s long in the back while cutting short at the front. I paired it with black thigh-high boots and braided my hair into a messy French braid. I don’t know why we’re here again so early.

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.