Page 119 of Líadan's Code

Lía nods, her chest rising as she inhales to speak. “Now, I have a place for you to rest your heads in the form of apartments that you can start at until you want to move,” she says. “The apartments are offered rent free. I also have jobs to offer you as well at a club I’m opening. There are different positions, and they are paid.”

“So we are moving from one noose to another?” a man asks with blue eyes and long black hair. His arms cross over his chest, suspicious, and I don’t blame him. However, we’ve been trying to gain their trust.

Líadan ensured they would have clothing, shoes, essentials for today, because most of them were kept practically naked for their owners’ pleasures.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Lía snaps, eyes widening. “Work at my club or not, the apartments are still available to you. However, some of you will find yourselves with nightmares or flashbacks, and not everyone will understand when you need a day off or a place to breathe. Others will find there are urges you need to pursue to stay sane. I am offering you a place to do that. I also believe in consent. Everyone who enters the club will have a mile long contract to sign, blood work done, and a psychiatric evaluation before they are accepted for a membership.”

Lía spent a lot of time working through what the parameters for our club membership would be, and decided this was a need. Not only would the people working for us need someone to work through their trauma, but it would be important to know the inner workings of everyone’s mental health who walk through our doors.

Líadan O’Brien isn’t fucking around. My girl has already found a psychiatrist with experience in trauma willing to work with us, not discuss a word of what she may be told by those that she sees, and seems to be a perfect fit for us.

Dr. Kaliope Mathers looks as if she’s searching to catch a break from her life, and trauma and sex club counseling is as good of an escape as any.

“What kind of club is this?” someone else yells, and everyone else begins to murmur to themselves. The issue is that there are sixty people in this room, so it’s more of a dull roar when everyone is talking.

“Líadan will answer if you remain calm and allow her to,” Jordan roars, making everyone shut up. Damn, this man knows how to use his voice as well as his mouth.

Nudging Lía with my hip, I notice her blush as she glances at me beneath her lashes. Inappropriate? Yes. But absolutely worth it.

“I know I’m throwing a lot at you all,” Lía continues quietly, forcing the room into silence. It’s a good crowd control method: the louder they get, the quieter you go. If they want to hear what you have to say, they’ll shut the fuck up.

“I want to ensure you all have the basics to build a life. It may not have been the one you dreamed of before you were taken, sold, and kept. However, it’ll be a life where you can hold your head up and know that it’s one where you can love whoever you want, and heal from your traumas. The psychiatric services will be available to anyone who wants to speak to her. She’s a wonderful woman who listens very well and has experience speaking to people who have been hurt the way you all have.”

Dr. Mathers specializes in trauma counseling because of her work in the military. Her time served ended three months ago, and we were lucky to have a chance to meet and hire her before she took another position.

She understands the need for non-disclosure contracts. She also doesn’t give a shit about Lía’s criminal background since the club is a legitimate business.

It’s a match made in heaven.

“I don’t want anyone to fall through the cracks,” she continues. “Club Fallen Stars will be a members only sex club. No one will engage in sexual activities unless they choose to. There are plenty of positions that I’ll need to fill, and because of the security of this place, you’re the first people I’m offering them to. Nothing nefarious about it. Any other questions?”

“Uh-uh!” Jordan calls out, silencing the collective inhalation of breath. “Let’s keep this conversation moving smoothly by asking in an orderly fashion.”

Lía nods and then answers questions for the next two hours. Everyone will be issued metro passes so they can get around, the pay is much higher than they’d receive anywhere else, and the apartments she bought are in a fancy high rise with very good security.

There are restaurants, grocery stores, and easy access to transportation. We’ve all been very busy making all of this happen. These apartments are also move-in ready, thanks to being able to reach out to trusted family members that have never liked the practice of keeping people as property.

We are changing the way the family does things, and so far the response has been positive. We aren’t asking them to stop selling drugs, guns, or anything else that’s illegal. We simply don’t want to be involved in human trafficking any longer. I think that’s fair.

“I have a concern,” a woman in her mid-thirties says, raising her hand tentatively. She has long red hair, light skin, and is curvy. Lía nods, despite the fact that she had to take a seat an hour ago to be able to continue answering questions.

This baby is going to kick her ass, I can see it already.

“If we work for you… everyone will know who we are. Some of us are marked permanently by our ex-masters.”

Lía purses her lips, because there’s a large tattoo covering the woman’s throat. It’s the name of her master, Gabán. She’s right, it’s very apparent something happened to her, but Lía has a response for her ready.

“Unless the member is someone with ties to my family, they won’t know,” Lía says. “Everyone who enters our club will know to be respectful of everyone inside of it, especially those who work there. There will not be awkward stares or pity…”

“I was called Inara,” the woman says. “I don’t remember any other name at this point.”

I expect that’s the case for many people here. Starved of the name tied to their previous life, until it was all but forgotten.

“May I call you Inara?” Lía asks carefully. At Inara’s nod, she continues, “Thank you. We have a few possibilities for the tattoo marking as well. Tattoo removal, tattoo cover up, or you can wear something high necked at the club without an issue. Even if you choose to work in a sex positive position, you can cover your neck, with the understanding that removal of it would be a hard limit.”

“What’s a hard limit?” Inara asks, eyes wide.

“A hard limit is something that makes you uncomfortable and would trigger a negative response from you,” Lía explains. “Naming it as such means that the person you are engaging in sex with agrees not to cross that line. You have choices now, boundaries that won’t be broken or crossed. I do not take lightly to people’s choices being taken away, which is why your owners and handlers are no longer alive.”

---