Page 4 of The Seller

“Although, we could get you hymen surgery and sell you as virginal, you look innocent enough,” he comments thoughtfully.

Everything he says is terrible, but he delivers it in such a way that it sounds nearly pedestrian.

“I mean, ROI, am I right?” I agree blandly.

It’s his turn to look shocked.

“You do understand that I am serious, Siri. You will be trained and sold.”

“Right. Yes.”

“Your life as you know it is over.”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head at me. “This is usually the part where the begging and the crying starts.”

“Does it work?”

“No.”

“Well, I might skip that part, then.”

Stavros

I do not know what to make of this girl. Her journey began as they all do. An insensate female delivered to my home in the middle of the night, coming to consciousness confused and afraid, realizing her situation is dire, and then… simply accepting it?

Where is the panic? Where is the drama? Where is the fight? This girl does not seem weak or stupid, but I do not understand her reactions. Usually by now there are hands tugging at my pants, tears are falling, there are whimpers and there is begging. Always begging.

Siri is sitting up straighter, resting on one arm, almost looking comfortable, though that isn’t actually possible. Nobody can be comfortable down here.

“I guess you’re going to have sex with me, to you know “train” me,” she says, putting the fingers of her other hand into air quotes.

I compose myself. She’s starting to sound cocky, almost arrogant. I’m wondering if there’s more to her than I suspected. Is she law enforcement? That’s the only reason I can think of for anyone being so utterly unafraid.

In my line of work, there’s one thing to fear: the police. I have local law enforcement paid off, but there’s always international organizations, CIA, Interpol, and others.

“What do you do, Siri?”

“Well,” she says. “Before I was a full time, what is it, captive, I guess? I studied Economics in NYC. I was planning on becoming an investment banker. But, you know, this is good too.”

Teenage girls who find themselves trapped in basements do not have this much composure.

Did my delivery guy fuck up? He’s usually so good, gets background on girls, makes sure they won’t be missed, makes double sure they’re not undercover cops.

This time, information was a little thin on the ground. He told me her ID said she was nineteen. I haven’t checked the rest of her information yet. All I really know is that five hours ago, she was taken from a bar in Athens and delivered to me here, all the way out on the island of Cephalonia.

I need to do some homework. Quickly.

Fortunately, I’ve already re-sedated her. The water I gave her just before will relax her and keep her sleepy. She’s already starting to recline on the thin white mattress beneath her body.

“You drugged me.”

“Nothing too heavy. Just something to help you sleep.”

“Nice,” she says. “I’ve been having the worst insomnia.”

It’s another refusal to give in to what should be natural fear. Girls usually fight the sedatives. Some of them roll around so much they have to be restrained, but Siri just lies down as if she’s found herself in a Greek resort, and she barely stirs as I leave her in darkness. Usually, when I leave this room for the first time, soft sobs follow me. This time, I hear nothing besides a light snore.

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