Page 3 of Toy No More

The air is thick; not uncomfortably, but it has a sort of dense quality to it. It must be the mixture of pheromones, various other scents, and expensive alcohol. A lot of it. Sensual, calming music plays faintly over our heads, serving as the background to the moans and grunts.

A brothel. Charming.

“Course…you can only look. No touchin’,” Trey clarifies as we make our way through. It’s quite busy for such an early hour of the night. There are private booths and rooms to the sides, with more voyeurism-friendly little cubicles of pleasure in the middle.

Beautiful, scantily clad women walk around with trays of champagne, coming from the bar across the room.

“Seems like a lucrative venture,” I note quietly as we go.

Trey chuckles. “Sure is. All sorts of important n’ influential people come to see his dolls. Everyone likes to fuck, right? I mean, shit, it’s so simple it’s genius! Builds good faith to give a man a nice hole. And these ain’t no ordinary whores. Only the best of the best.”

I suppress a disgruntled grimace, thankful I’m a step behind Trey. I guess that’s a way to look at things.

In front of the bar, in the near center of the room, is a stage with a large suspended bed. Trey slows down as we are about to pass, almost like he wants to let me witness what’s happening. Among all the debauchery and soulless lust, I see a man being held by another, and the entire scene stirs something inside of me.

Up there on his knees, he’s taken from the back by some sweaty client of the age way past his prime, who grunts as he wraps his hand around his throat. The man flexes his stomach muscles as he tries to hold himself up, eyes closed and mouth open wide. Longer black hair waves softly and falls into his radiant, youthful face and over his neck, sticking to it with glistening sweat.

He’s an omega. I can sense it. Just like most of the dolls here are, I suspect.

His frame is slender and his skin as white as milk. Smooth looking, spotless—that is besides the piercings in his nipples and a couple of small moles scattered here and there.

Something about him is…striking. Or rather, everything about him is? He stands out. He looks like one of those dramatic ancient paintings. The ones with people positioned in the most perfect way. Meticulously crafted. Just as he is, aesthetically pleasing and proportionate, with his long pink cock bouncing up and down as the man behind takes him. The overhead light shines down on him, making him the center of attention, and it suits him. Like he was made for this moment.

“Told ya,” Trey quips over my shoulder.

I blink, realizing I’ve stopped for far too long. I quickly collect myself and turn to him. He has a knowing grimace on his face. I want to tell him I’m not like that; that I don’t lust for that person like some animal, but I can’t really explain why I got mesmerized by him either, so I keep quiet and follow.

Not that he would care, anyway.

Once we leave that place, it’s like returning to the real world. From the warm room pounding with scents, music and passion, we’re back in one of the cold, gray hallways that exist only to be cold and gray.

“The warehouse where we do most of the business is at the back here.” I let Trey lead and explain, sinking into a feeling of familiarity again. The dark, unremarkable corners like this are where I belong. My calling is to be in the background, not the limelight. That’s how I like it.

After that, Trey shows me the rec rooms and the main office at the very top of the building. And that is where I finally meet him.The boss.

Jasper Zane’s office is much simpler and more contemporary compared to his father’s. It shows the modern meaning of money with abstract paintings that probably cost a fortune hanging on the walls, several large monitors on his desk, gadgets, and a gold pistol sitting on a display by his phone. The tall, tinted windows with sleek, adjustable metal blinds allow a look at the city but let no one have a glimpse inside.

Jasper meets me with a fiery gaze. He’s at least 6'2", with broad shoulders and sharp features, especially the strong nose with an arch near the top. He lowers his thick brows slowly while shaking my hand. Right away, I’m hit with the scent of his pheromones, rich and powerful with intention. Unlike his father, he smells of crisp ocean air.

“You’re the driver my old man promised…” he notes drily while looking me over. With no shame, he flares his nostrils and homes in on my scent.

I push aside the wave of discomfort and straighten my back. “I am your man now, from what I understand. Sir.”

He smirks. Stepping away, he rubs his short, full beard and walks around me in a circle. “We’ll see if you’re as capable as they say. Either way, I need a new driver, so I guess we’ll give you a shot.” Making his way in front of me again, his striking blue gaze bores into me. I don’t let him shake me and nod with a faint, respectful smile. “Won’t go easy on you, just so you know.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” I say firmly.

Jasper leans against his table and crosses his arms. “Let us get started, then.”

I come home in the early hours of the morning, exhausted and longing for nothing more than to turn off my brain. After following Jasper and his entourage of men who seemed more like some fraternity than anything, and driving him around the city, I was told to go and to return the next day.

My nightmares of being hazed or just flat-out refused for being an omega didn’t come true. I’ve been lucky enough in the past, but I heard the horror stories. Seen the videos… Still, the uneasy sensation at the bottom of my stomach remains.

When I quietly unlock the door to the apartment, I can’t shake the feeling of disappointment, even though I should be happy. I didn’t have the courage to leave when Mr. Wilson told me about his retirement, so I’m trapped living this life on the fringes of society.

I should’ve jumped at the opportunity.

He would’ve let me go—I know he would, because he did others—but I was too afraid. Afraid of the change, of the problems it could bring, and of how unstable my place in the world would be after.I’ve kept myself stuck. Again.