Page 36 of Volatile Waters

In front of the door where Crash’s prize was being kept, unbeknownst to him, I stopped and faced him. “How would you know? Ever been inside anyone?”

He tried to lift his chin again, but his eyes couldn’t meet mine. Crash was a virgin.

I nodded toward a closed door. “One I think you will want to claim is in there.”

“Claim? Jesus, Yury.”

After pulling a blue-jeweled collar and leash form my other pocket, I dangled them from my finger, hoping to tempt the saint. “Claimed ones are not permitted to be touched by anyone other than their owner. Up to you. Kirill has been eyeing her. Maybe she likes older men.” It was a lie. She was far too old for Kirill’s true likings.

Crash’s whole body flinched. “How young is she?”

Acting bored instead of showing a pained reaction to his disappointment, I repeated, “A hole is a hole. What does it matter?”

Crash shoved me backward. “I fucking hate you!”

Stumbling back a couple of steps, I laughed while tossing him the leash and collar. “Go walk your straight and narrow path, Savior.”

He gawked at the items in his hand before turning toward the closed door. Then he stood there staring at the bland, dark grey door while stuffing the jeweled restraints in his back jeans pocket. His eyes slid shut in surrender as a new abductee, down the cold hallway, cried out through training she was yet accustomed to. I had instructed for rooms to remain quiet to not spook Crash before we began, but it seemed to be perfect timing. His forehead fell forward and rested on the cold door, as if he might pass out at any moment, again aging before my eyes. Mother Nature was calling on all powers to toss him deeper into manhood so he could possibly save an innocent. But not even Mother Nature was that powerful.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After locking Crash in the room, I raced to the viewing room. TV monitors were all over the walls, showing us the inside of each captive’s quarters. Kirill and Adrian were already watching the one where Crash was slowly approaching a terrified girl, huddled on the floor in the corner. In Russian, I said, “Turn it up.” The room was barely lit, but I could hear Crash gasp at her torn clothes. “Nice touch,” I told Kirill.

On the monitor, Crash held up his hands. “I won’t hurt you.”

I asked Adrian, “She’s Russian?” I wanted an American for Crash, as that was what a waiting client had requested. Normally, Father left the children training to other organizations, but we’d acquired a client who refused to work with any other business due to a “friend” highly recommending us. I was about to start yelling at my stupid minions but then heard the girl cry, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, shit. You’re American,” said a startled Crash.

As she sat up, long blonde hair fell from her hidden face. Her left cheek had a cut from a firm smack, but, other than that, she was absolutely stunning. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of the magazine titled, Every Young Man’s Wet Dream.

Crash’s step faltered.

My eyes widened at the screen, and then I gawked at Kirill. He gestured to Adrian at my other side. “He is the one who picked her out.”

I clamped Adrian’s shoulder and shook it. “My God, man! She is perfection. I will own Crash with this girl.”

Father entered the viewing room. “And our client will devour her. He has requested Tanner stage four.”

Some would say our client had a mental disorder, due to his craving of children on the older side. We claimed he simply had a sexual preference. It just so happened his preference was to witness the completion of puberty, and possibly grope and have sex with them along the way.

Adrian bobbed his head left to right, appearing somewhat proud of this rare find, as her smooth voice echoed over the monitor. “You’re American, too?”

Crash covered his mouth, I think still in awe of the gorgeous creature in front of him, but he asked, “How old are you?” She searched behind Crash as if doubting whether or not she could trust him. He assured her, “I’m alone.”

“I’m fourteen.” Her eyes were huge, crystal blue doe circles of innocence. “How old are you?”

Crash ripped a piece of his shirt free and went to her sink. “I’m fourteen, too.”

She studied him. “Your voice… You sound older.”

“I feel like an old man after being here for so long.” He wet the cloth then faced her, holding it up in an offering. “Can I come near you?”

After a long pause, and observing Crash top to bottom, she nodded.

Slowly, he approached, then squatted in front of her. They both winced as he dabbed her bloody cheek, but she was the one to speak. “I don’t know why he hit me. I wasn’t fighting back or anything. He just came in and hit me a couple of minutes ago.”

Crash practically growled, “What did this asshole look like?”