Page 4 of The Dollhouse

My eyes were a light blue. I always thought they were pretty. Hell, I always thought all of me was pretty. I had the long legs that went on for days, the flat stomach a lot of girls dreamed about, the perfect round tits that were big enough a man could hold them in his hands but not big enough to spill out. My lips were full, my nose small and dainty.

Even with the pink hair and tattoos, I looked like an imposter. A girl trying to be someone she wasn’t, a stranger to herself.

But what good was the old me? What good did the old Zoey do for me? All she had was money and a boyfriend who fucked her baby sister behind her back. She had nothing. The old Zoey, I decided, was dead. This job, this place, it was me starting new. A rebirth, me being someone else.

I could do this. I could live on my own and be alone, hook up with anyone I wanted. Go home with anyone I wanted.

It was sad, but I had a really terrible thought then: so what if I ended up dead by going home with a stranger? So what? The world would still turn, and the people in it would still be fuck-ups. I didn’t have a death wish, but I could see how it might be enticing to some, the finality of it all, the warm blackness of the end.

I couldn’t say how long I stood there, losing myself in my thoughts, but it was a while. Longer than a pee break should be. I needed to pull myself together, act normal, not let the dark thoughts in my head ruin this job for me; I needed the money too much. So, eventually I did the only thing I could: I pushed off the sink and went to the toilet, taking care of business.

Once my hands were washed and I wiped them off, I stepped out, into the dark, sexy world that was the Dollhouse.

Still didn’t know why it was called that. Maybe whoever named it expected its workers to be like dolls for the male patrons? Who the hell knew.

I headed to the bar, searching for Crystal. I saw a blonde head here or there, but not hers, not with her long, thick hair. I’d seen Crystal so much since I moved into my new place, I could pick her out of a crowd anywhere. Nope. A lot of scantily-clad and half-naked women, but no Crystal. The short-haired girl who’d asked me to refill table three was now dancing on the pole, very limber. Ruby, Jamie said her name was.

My eyes spotted the black, windowless door around the stage, and I felt my stomach harden.No way…Was she back there with that Roman guy? I mean, what the hell were the odds of that? And, more importantly, was it wrong to be curious?

No. You know what? I didn’t care if it was wrong. Cheating was wrong, and Bryan went ahead and did it anyways. Being here, working here, I’d let my inner freak flag fly and enjoy the hell out of the ride.

I leaned against the bar counter, catching Jamie’s attention. “Where’s Crystal? I don’t see her out here.”

Jamie didn’t look too pleased to tell me what she said next. “She went in the back with our star customer.” She rolled her eyes. “The things you can get away with if you have money… don’t get me wrong, I ain’t blaming any of the girls that go back there, but that man radiates danger to me, and I swear, sometimes he comes in with blood on his suit.”

Okay, now I was intrigued. Who the hell was this Roman guy? A hitman? Someone in the mob or mafia?

Were those things even real, or were they just in the movies?

I let my gaze travel to the black door in the back of the Dollhouse, past the strobing lights and drooling men. “I’m supposed to be shadowing her,” I said, my curiosity slowly getting the better of me.

I wanted to go back there and see it for myself.

“Well, it’s up to you, hun, if you want to see what happens in the back. I’m sure you’d be fine shadowing one of the other girls, too.”

That much was true, but I didn’t want to shadow anyone else. I wanted to see this Roman guy, see what the big deal was. Anyone with that much money, who may or may not come here with a bit of blood on his clothes, couldn’t be the drop-dead gorgeous type.

Pushing off the counter, I wove through the tables, ignoring any patrons who tried to get me to refill their drinks. I stopped before the black, padded door, my hand on the knob. What if it was locked? What if I couldn’t get in? As the metal knob’s coldness seeped into my hand, I leaned in, trying to hear what was going on in the room.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t, either because the room was soundproofed, or because the rest of the Dollhouse was so freaking loud.

Walking in this room might be a mistake, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know what the hell was going on with this Roman guy, and why Crystal told me to be wary of the customers but she could go and disappear with him. All patrons of the Dollhouse weren’t the same, clearly.

No, you know what? Whatever I was about to step into, I didn’t care.

The hard truth was… I didn’t care about anything anymore.

Chapter Two – Roman

I was not a man who appreciated being late. Of course, there were always situations that were out of my control, and I did my best to handle it. Oftentimes, when things escalated, it got bloody, but luckily enough for everyone else, I was never turned off by blood.

Blood, the way it glimmered under the light, how it could ooze out or squirt out like certain other liquids from a body… it was something I could never get enough of.

That said, it tended to stain my suits like a bitch.

Carter accompanied me to the Dollhouse, as he usually did. He drove us there, as he always did. He was my right-hand man, the one who would do anything I told him to, no matter what that something was. I’d had his undying loyalty since he was fifteen, and it was nights like these that I treated both him and I to something we each enjoyed.

He liked to fuck, and I liked to watch.

---