Page 37 of Sicko


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“Tonight, you will all have the privilege to watch me, but none of you will touch.” He pauses, and I still haven’t raised my head up to see the other four older men. After a series of grunts and approvals, he releases my head. “Very good. First, we will handle business.”

Finally, I look out the corner of my eye when movement catches my attention. Another room adjacent to this one is in view, hidden behind a curtain. There was a girl curled up in the corner, afraid. Where she is is obviously the main area and we’re in a private room.

There were a sea of bodies inside. Young girls, old men. The nature was obvious. As quickly as I stole a peek, my eyes snapped back to the ground and I followed the pattern of the carpet.

Just who the hell is James?

They spoke back and forth with one another, with each passing minute indenting carpet patterns into my knees. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, James shook the collar, bringing me back to my feet. My long brown hair fell over my slender shoulders. My collarbones were too sharp, my skin a shade too pale. My tummy rumbled as I thought about the food I haven’t had in three days. I was midway through punishment for attending a party with Sloane, at which James assumed I had slept with someone else. If I didn’t tell him the name of this mystery man I had supposedly slept with, I had to go seven days without food. I was allowed water, but only by his control. Some days I would barely get a drip. Today was one of those days. I barely had the strength to stand on my own feet, so for once, I was thankful for the collar.

I followed behind him into the room. The scent of sweat and a sweet-scented oil drowns my senses. I almost trembled right there when James led me through the sea of bodies and to the other side of the room. Dark walls bleed with the blue LED lighting. There’s a circle bar in the middle, multiple stools tucked beneath it, and lounges and sofas lined out through the room. In every corner, someone was having sex.

I wanted to know why I was here and what this place was. I raised my head and caught that same young girl curled up in the corner, sweat matting her blonde strands to her forehead. Instantly, she found me. Pain flashed over her doe eyes as her lip trembled. My mouth fell open, willing words to come out for her. Needing them to come out for her. Even if it was just a small reassuring smile. You’re not alone, I wanted to say. Her forehead dropped to her knees as she turned her head side to side. She was in a bad way, even I could see.

“Come forward, Jade. Don’t be afraid.” But I was. His words meant nothing to me. Every flick of lighting, rhythm of whatever song that was playing, and breath I took, I feared him and what he was capable of. Pushing open a door, painted in the darkest black, he gestured inside, dropping the leash. “Enter. I will be back in a second.”

I did as I was told, falling forward and dropping to my knees in the center of the room. Dark-colored dots flashed around the area, my breathing labored.

The lighting here is soft, translucent enough to ease the nerves of anyone that may be anxious. I wonder if they created it this way. To make people feel warm and welcome. As soon as we enter, James directs us down a long corridor until we’re met with a glass door, frosted over the base so we can’t see through.

“Is this like The Complex?” I ask absently, studying the door like it’s the hardest test in history. After my first night working with James, I learned what he did and where he did it. It was called The Complex.

“No,” James murmurs. “This is different. You won’t need your collar, and you are free to roam.” There was only one other time I was free to roam. “They’re not in my line of business.”

The doors split open and I’m instantly sucked into a dark vortex of sin.

Bodies move around the room as soft music plays softly, each beat and note grazes down my arm in warning. It feels sexy and dark, not somewhere I particularly want to be a part of with James. People are having sex on couches, others are drinking at the bar, and some are right in the middle of the room in a damp tangle of sweaty limbs, rubbing each other all over.

My thighs clench. Before I can cement my feet to the ground, James is whipping me into the room with his hand securely at my lower back. “No one knows who runs this. They never show their face or mingle with their guests.” The collar he uses with me for work is dangling in front of my body, unlatched from his grip. If you didn’t know what it was, you would assume it’s an accessory. For a split second, all I can hear is the deep gasps of me reaching for air. The atmosphere is intense.

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