Page 31 of Blue Velvet

I can hear her fidgeting on the other end of the line. She’s already said too much, and she knows it. Nevertheless, she gives me the piece of information that I need.

“Yes,” she says. “She has been booked for the entire month and is currently unavailable.”

It doesn’t sound like there’s anything wrong with Ruby. No missing person report, either at the agency or in the news during the past few days. I don’t know how this is possible, but whoever booked her certainly doesn’t seem to miss her.

“So, she’s definitely with the client now?”

“As I’ve told you already, sir, yes, she is,” she says anew. “It’s an exclusive contract that went into effect a few days ago.”

She coughs slightly.

“Sir, if you are a client with us, I could-”

“Lucky guy,” I say, before hanging up, interrupting her mid-sentence.

I walk away from the phone booth as quickly as possible, my head buzzing with unanswered questions.

How is it possible that no one is looking for her? Is it just a matter of time until I’ll see her face on the news? I’ve done extensive research, even checked out police reports, but there’s nothing about a blonde woman her age missing anywhere. Maybe not enough time has passed yet for her client to report her missing? She said her client had a five-day window during which he could seize her, but I never asked when during that time frame I kidnapped her.

I had to fight a painful surge of jealousy when she talked about him, the man she was supposed to be with right now. There was no real affection in her voice, but a certain fondness for him and the contract between them. I know she didn’t agree to this simply because she felt like she had to. She signed up for this because it’s what she wanted.

A girl like her gets to choose. She’s not an uncommon type for this agency. They claim to deliver nothing but the best of the best, and they really do. All the girls in their files are not only astonishingly pretty and sexy, they also have a mind of their own, they’re smart, and stronger than the prejudice existing about escorts usually dictates.

Nevertheless, they’re all actresses, and that includes her, my Ruby Red. I can’t trust her, and I have to remember that.

But I also can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve been away from the house long enough, longer than I ever have since taking her.

My mind is still racing, matched by the speed of my heart rate, as I walk back to my car. I’ve been away too long.

17

Ruby

I feel lost and scared.I’ve been feeling like this for days, seeking comfort in the lavish bedding he provided me. When he took me upstairs that day, holding me like a baby while I sobbed in his arms, processing the things he had done to me, I honestly believed we’d move on. I thought I had earned myself some kind of promotion. I thought I could be with him, in that bed, in that room, in his arms whenever I needed the comfort and aftercare a submissive needs after a session.

He gave me that comfort, but only that one time. He let me remain there with him merely an hour, and a significant part of that time was spent with me wrapped around his cock, moaning and fighting off a new wave of tears, because it was all too overwhelming.

I’m not one to weep easily, but once those gates are opened, it’s hard for me to stop. I cried when he carried me back downstairs, and I cried when he closed the door, leaving me all by myself. I ran to the door and begged for him to let me out. I was more convinced than ever that what he said was true, and it scared me to death.

He listened to my pleas, and then showed up a few minutes later to provide me with food and a silk robe, so I had something to wrap my naked body in. His face was sinister and he barely spoke, only saying the very minimum.

And it’s all he has done since, providing me with the necessities. My heart skipped a beat every time I heard the door open, hoping to get more answers, hoping to see the man who did these cruel and wonderful things to me, but my hopes never materialized. He only came downstairs to provide for my needs. He gave me clothes, but not the kind I expected. I thought he’d want to see me parading around in sinfully delicious and sexy lingerie for him, but instead he gave me a t-shirt and sweatpants to wear. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about these items, but I still wear them because it beats running around naked.

He also brought a mattress for me to sleep on. He placed it right in front of the St. Andrew’s Cross, because it was the only space where it would fit. He showered me with fluffy pillows and exquisite silk bedding that I actually looked forward to sleeping on, despite being by myself. Every single item he provided me was of the highest quality, even the embellished cotton t-shirts wore a Valentino tag. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I pulled one of them over my head. They don’t look special, but I’ve been surrounded by wealthy men long enough to know that their price might come close to my monthly rent.

I’ve been given gifts by clients before, but never like this. They usually bought lingerie for me, or jewelry, sometimes a dress. Sometimes I was allowed to keep the items, and when I first started this job, I couldn’t think of anything else to do with the gifts except to sell them so I could pay off my student loans faster. The money one can spend on an everyday item such as earrings or a dress still baffles me. It seems ludicrous.

In any case, it didn’t really help ease my suspicions about him. He’s adamant that he’s not my client, but it appears he enjoys a similar level of wealth as the man who bought me. I was promised a generous sum for agreeing to this job, a sum that I’m sure he’d be able to come up with just as easily.

I wish I could believe that I wasn’t truly in trouble, and just fulfilling the job I signed up for. But there was one thing he said that eliminated that hope for me.

He said he hated my hair.

He said he hates blondes.

The client who purchased me specifically said he wanted a blond woman. He was the reason I dyed my hair because he wouldn’t evenlookat my file if I remained a redhead.

And this man, this man who grabbed me off the street and did everything exactly as I expected the client to do, this man now says that he hates my blonde hair color.

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