Page 12 of The Billionaire

Death

“Death?”

“Oh, they have to put that in there. There was this one case.”

“One case?”

The woman sucked in fresh air and nodded rhythmically with the pointing of her toe as if she were answering a boring question of something in the manner of, “Do you cook the chicken at 450 or at 475”. But this was no chicken, this was someone’s life. Possibly mine!

“Uh, hm.”

That didn’t sound right. Who dies from having sex? From mere games?

Not giving me a chance to ask any further questions she continued. “Just follow the rules and you’ll be fine. But once you sign your name on this dotted line, you are at their disposal until it’s time for you to leave at 5:30am. No ifs and buts.”

I thought about the man who bid for me, who caused me to believe in things that I never knew existed—that intoxicating electrifying pull to someone. I had never experienced that in my life with a mere stranger. Surely he couldn’t be dangerous? Surely he could never bring me to death?

That really baffled me.

“I just don’t understand how someone has died here.”

“It’s best not to know. These nights happen all the time and only once out of hundreds, thousands, of women, has that ever happened. It won’t happen again. But our attorneys have warned us. I’m sure you’ve considered your options. This isn’t your KK club where women lead. This is the elusive and exclusive BC. Women are paid well for a reason.” Her eyes grew very dark. “And once the games begin, there is no safe word.”

Safe word. My head spun with more questions. “What is the KK club?”

“You’ve never heard of Killing Kittens? A sex club where women call the shots?”

I shook my head grimly, feeling suddenly sick.

There is no safe wordbounced off the walls of my mind, echoing like a racket ball in a lonely gym hall.

That man who made love to me made me feel oddly safe. He was worth seeing again.

Shakily I asked, “Who was the gentlemen who . . . won me?”

My voice sounded foreign opposed to my confident front I normally presented.

“No names are exchanged here.”

“Will I see him again? I mean, since he won me.”

She let out a sigh.

“You’re new.”

I nodded.

“He won first bidding. An initiation I guess you can say, into the club. Some women choose to accept the invitations to come here because they are sexually adventurous and they like the surroundings of luxury. I’m sure some toy with the grandiose fantasy that a billionaire will come whisk them away after they’ve fancied their pickle.”

She eyed me curiously as if to say I was one of those women with such grand fantasies.

“But these are men with means, and men of taste. What they want, they always get. Men always conquer and move on to the next conquest. Just like they always have since the beginning of time.” She said slowly as if trying to engrain in my brain this lesson.

“And then there are others that are here that accept the invitation on the account of needing money. They have the looks that open the door.”

She stared at me, examining my motives and I felt uncomfortable.

I lifted my chin taller and lifted my chest, proud of their size at the moment. I was here to pay for medical school and I was going to save thousands of lives in third world countries. A night of games, whatever the hell they were, was nothing compared to saving a life on stretcher. I could handle anything. I could handle the games.

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