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“What happened?” Jordan asks.
“My daughter’s an addict,” the man with the beard says. “When she became eighteen, and nobody propositioned her, I kicked her out. My object’s heart broke. She hasn’t forgiven me. It was my worst mistake. Aram was still king, and I got caught up… My daughter ended up on the streets. There’s a hierarchy of sex work, and she was at the bottom of it. She took drugs to get through her life, and Kamila befriended her. If it weren’t for Kamila and her help, I would’ve never reunited with my daughter.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?” I ask. Unfortunately, this type of story isn’t rare on Katantia. It breaks my heart, but Katantia has historically been a shitty place for women.
“Mary Velasquez.” Mary’s image flickers in my thoughts. She’s one of my better patients, willing to make progress.
“She comes to my office every other week,” I tell the man, and his eyes widen. I’m not like the other doctors of Katantia. People don’t like admitting that I help them. There’s a stigma in seeking help from the likes of me.
“Thank you for your service. Then, you must be… My daughter says your name is Ms. Lin? You are Ms. Lin? I’m sorry that I didn’t recognize you….”
I grab Jordan’s hand, and I let Mr. Velasquez lead us toward his VIP section.
Mr. Velasquez introduces us to his friends, his wife. She’s shy, blushing at the sight of me in embarrassment. Mrs. Velasquez knows who I am without an introduction.Moms.
How does it feel, baby girl? You like Daddy’s big fat cock in your tiny pussy?
“Ivy?” Jordan’s voice removes me from my trance. I stand there like a deer in headlights. With my eyes wide open, I glance up at Jordan. “What happened? Is something wrong?”
“What would you like to drink—” one of Velasquez’s friends starts.
“Shut up,” Jordan interrupts him.
I can’t move. It’s part of my trauma, the sudden flush of paralysis. The only thing that’s giving away a sign of life in my body is my heart. It pounds heavily, reminding me of a time I’m most ashamed of.
Jordan says something to Mr. Velasquez, but I don’t hear what he says. There is a gesture of hands, here and there. My vision goes blurry, and I feel like emptying my stomach all over the nasty floor I stand on.
“Come back to me, Ivy. Come on, now….” I’m lost in my thoughts, endless rambling about sweet nothings that turned bitter. I can taste it on my tongue. My entire life… a lie. I’m a fraud. Jordan shouldn’t be taking care of me. “Ivy, please. Don’t make me shut these bitches down. I will. If you say nothing, I’ll assume they put something in that lotion that drugged you. I don’t stand for date rape. Kamila doesn’t stand for it. If there’s non-consent, it’s consensual non-consent. What the fuck is going on? Talk to me, little doe.”
I hiccup, and the tears spill out of my eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”
“What?” The surprise in his tone catches me off guard.
Jordan lets me cry against his chest while the party goes on around us. Insignificant music plays, a bass thumping loudly in my ears. I can barely hear it. My heart steals the show. With every beat, I’m reminded of everything I left behind five years ago.
I sought refuge on Katantia back when the old king was still head of state. I would’ve done right about anything to escape. It was just my luck that at my one chance of escape, Kamila had taken over the throne, and she welcomed me with open arms. Doctors like me were needed back then…
“Ivy, speak.” The demand is urgent, but I’m too fussy. My arms are wrapped around Jordan’s torso because I know he won’t look at me the same way if he finds out what I’ve done. He doesn’t have a lot of values, but the ones he has, I’ve crushed.
“I didn’t have a good relationship with mymom,” I reveal, finally. For an anal sex club, this place smells like peaches and Tom Ford cologne. I wish I could say I was disgusted by it, but I’m not. I’ve been on Katantia for five years now, and nothing these people do surprises me anymore—not even a dad that abandons his daughter because she didn’t bag a husband at eighteen.
“Welcome to the club, little doe. Is that what had you riled up? You lost it at the sight of Mrs. Velasquez,” he says. Jordan’s voice sounds great in anger. His heavy baritone initiates an indescribable thrill when he’s furious. However, when he’s soft and caring, I want to cry at how soothing he sounds.
“Mrs. Velasquez reminded me of somebody I thought I had forgotten.”
Jordan brings the top of my hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. “I know the feeling very well. Elaborate.”
“There’s nothing to say….” Oh, there is. “I haven’t spoken to mymomin over ten years. Fifteen maybe.”
“Why do you say it like that?Mom? Did she hurt you?” Jordan gives me what I crave, a sense of safety and longing. Money doesn’t break this man, and that’s exactly what I need.
But I don’t deserve it.
“She’s not my real mom, as we have established. I never knew my real mom. I was adopted before I turned one, shipped off to London,” I tell. I don’t want to sob. Please, don’t let me sob. I’m too old to break down like this. Right? We play our little games, but I can’t go sobbing like that in public. I’ll embarrass him. Why is the cream not making me horny anymore? Fuck! “Mymomnever once hurt me.”
“Oh,” Jordan responds. His shoulders relax, and he sits back. I look around, and I notice that I sit across Jordan’s lap in the VIP section. We’re secluded from the Velasquez family and their friends, but I catch their curious eyes on us. Jordan’s arm holds me steady around my waist. His other arm lazily traces my kneecaps. He’s all man, and he’s big. People don’t dare look him in the eye. He could be doing more serious things right this moment, but we’re in an anal sex club because we wanted a spontaneous date.I don’t deserve him.“Good for her. I like hearing that.”
“You—” You don’t know the least of it, I want to say. But he doesn’t let me.
