Page 11 of Virginity Sold

“Miss. Miss.” The driver finally gets my attention.

“Yes.”

“We’re here.” He laughs and I glance around, not realizing we had already made it to my stop. He continues to watch me through the mirror with a wide smile. I must have zoned out.

“Oh, thank you.” I stand up and look toward the back of the bus, but the boys are long gone. When did they get off? Making my way to the exit, I flash a smile at the driver before stepping off onto the sidewalk.

These buildings look the same and I can’t remember the name of the place. I pull out my phone and open the email to look for the name and exact address.

Well, shit! That’s why I can’t remember. I didn’t get a name, just an address: 2436 Mormont Circle, Suite 202. Tell them your name and they’ll know what you need to have done.

How ominous.

This is to keep a roof over my head and get help for Mama. I keep reminding myself as I head down the sidewalk to the two buildings ahead. They are massive.

Come on, Elena, you can do this.

Each step closer becomes heavier, like I’m dragging a concrete boulder behind me. They’re doing an STD check. Will they also do a pelvic examination? Can they tell if I’m a virgin or not? I still haven’t decided if I’ll slip that piece of information to Edward or not. I don’t want it to hinder my chance to make this money I desperately need.

I stop in front of the buildings, checking to see which one I’m supposed to go to. A quick glance tells me it’s the one on the right.

As I walk up to the doors, they slide open for me and I step inside the cool lobby. I look around at the wall, there’s no directory. What kind of building doesn’t have a directory of the businesses inside? My heart begins to race and my breathing quickens. This doesn’t feel right. Have I walked right into a murderer’s trap? Edward was so charismatic, but so was Ted Bundy, and look at the monster he was.

“Can I help you, Miss?” A security guard stands behind the desk that I totally overlooked.

“Uh… yeah… I’m looking for Suite 202.” Smooth, Elena, real smooth. I’m sure he thinks I’m a blubbering idiot.

His eyes widen, and I swear he glances up and down my body, which has me cringing inwardly.

“Take the elevator to the second floor. It’s the only suite on the floor. You can’t miss it.” With that, he sits back down and glances at something I can’t see.

“Thank you.” Pushing the button, I sway back and forth on my feet as I wait for the doors to slide open.

It doesn’t take long before they do and an older, well-dressed woman steps off, her nose stuck in the air when she sees me in my waitress uniform. Guess she’s never had to work a day in her life.

Before I can step on, the doors slide shut in my face and I have to push the button again, thanking god that it didn’t leave the floor.

A guard, an uppity woman, a suite that takes up a whole floor, and now a square metal box with mirrors all around it on the inside. All this tells me this place is out of my price bracket. How much is Edward paying for me to be seen? Will it come out of the money I make?

I press floor two, and my stomach drops as it moves. I’ve never been in an elevator that rides as smoothly as this one.

When the doors open, I step out and pull my shoulders back. I can do this.

There’s a door directly in front of me, made out of some kind of marble-looking glass that you can’t see through with the number 202 in large fancy script. I grip the handle and push it down, stepping inside.

A woman of my mother’s age sits at a desk, but she doesn’t show any signs of alcohol-related aging like she does. A television on the far wall has a news channel playing with no sound but subtitles flash across the bottom of the screen, and large pillowy couches are spread throughout the lobby.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, my name is Elena Hastings. I was told I had an appointment.” I step up to her desk, an awkward smile on my face.

“Ahh, yes. Here you are. Just have a seat and someone will be right with you.” She’s pleasant, but never looks up at me while marking my name off in her schedule. Does she know why I’m here? What the real reason for this appointment is?

“Do you need anything else?” I’m still unsure if I need to pay for this appointment.

“No, everything is covered. Just take a seat and relax.” That’s easy for her to say.

I turn and take the closest seat. The only sounds in the room are her fingers hitting the keyboard and the soft jazz music coming through the speakers. And not another soul is here. Am I the only patient? Where is anyone else? How can they afford a place like this if they don’t have clientele?

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