Page 23 of Peasants and Kings
“Okay,” I said, gripping my thigh to keep myself steady and alert.
“But you will choose the men you sleep with. Every girl does. No man can claim a woman; he can only make her an offer. The choice is always yours. Security does not tolerate any sort of force whatsoever when it comes to our girls. You will be protected by men who are absolute professionals.
“The keys I discussed earlier, the pendants; they are more than symbols. The keys signal to our clients what you’re available for, but they can’t take them from you or claim you. They will have to”—she paused and smiled—“wooyou into choosing them for the evening. Once you choose a client, you give him your key. No money exchanges hands from them to you, and youneverask for, or talk to them about money. All of that is already taken care of, and security knows every client by face and name. They are all vetted and have accounts with us. You and our clients are watched like a hawk from the moment you begin speaking to them to the moment you begin to entertain them.”
I blinked in confusion. “Hold on. I really get to choose?”
“You get to choose,” she repeated.
“But isn’t that—well, doesn’t that seem counterintuitive? If a man wants to pay for sex, why are we giving them hoops to jump through?”
“These men are alpha males. They enjoy the chase; no, theythriveon it. The Rex is not an average hotel and The Fifteenth Floor is not your average brothel. Just like our clients, The Rex is elite. Everyone who works here is elite in some fashion. The bartenders, security, everyone. The Rex stands for the best, and in our world of decadence and sin, our girls are desired worldwide.
“The way we operate means that our clients never grow bored. It’s not just about sex, Sterling. It’s about the art of seduction, and the keys given by our women are like trophies to them. You’re not regular prostitutes,” she emphasized. “You’re courtesans. We use our femininity, our sensuality, and our minds to charm them into wooing us. It’s reverse psychology at its finest, a clever game of cat and mouse where they see a woman they want, and even if they’ve already been chosen by her in return, they have to earn their time with her. After a night with you, they will feel like they have really won something of value that can’t be bought with any amount of money, and they’ll have a key to prove it.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied me. “If it was just about sex, we’d do things like every other high-class escort business. They’d come in, pick a girl on looks alone, have sex with her, and then leave. But that market is saturated, and believe it or not, men grow bored of that. Particularly these men.”
She’d thrown a lot of information at me, but the only thing I focused on was the fact that Rex girls got to choose who they slept with.
“I need to use the restroom,” I murmured, slipping off the stool.
“Other side of the room.” Genevieve pointed.
I grabbed my clutch and almost jogged to the bathroom, but I forced myself to keep my steps steady. I was retreating—and I was sure Genevieve knew it. It was one thing to discuss the idea in the abstract. It was quite another to venture forward with the details.
I quickly found the empty restroom. I took a moment to grip the marble counter. Forcing my gaze into the glass, I studied my reflection.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “Youhaveto do this. Stop looking scared. Stop looking like a wounded bird. She sees it all.”
I opened my clutch and found the mint tin and popped a tiny breath freshener. After the quick reprieve, I headed back to the bar.
Gen impassively watched me stride across the empty room toward her. She was a keen observer and even though I didn’t know her, I found that I admired her shrewd acumen, her discerning eye, her ability to cut through the bullshit and tell me what I needed to know.
I settled on the stool and set my clutch aside.
“Better?” she asked with wry amusement.
I arched a brow. “Better than what?”
She chuckled knowingly and then picked up where we’d left off. “All of The Rex girls go through a six-week training period—”
“I don’t have six weeks. The car accident…I’m on camera...I need a new identity now.”
Genevieve paused for a moment and then said, “Okay. There’s an event three days from now. You will be there.” Her eyes bored into mine. “Due to your circumstances, I’ll skip the formalities and you can train later. If you give your key away to a client at the event, the job is yours and you will become an Elite tier Rex girl. We’ll get you set up with a new identity, a new social, a new name. Your old life will be dead to you. As far as the world will know, you’ll have suffered a terrible car accident and been buried hastily, without family. We’ll publish an obituary in the local paper to confirm your death. The old you simply won’t exist. That’s what we do. You’ll be completely anonymous in your new life, and more importantly, you’ll be safe. Now, pour yourself a second drink and finish it quickly so we can move on to phase two.”
I blinked. “Phase two?”
“Phase two is the physical exam.”
Chapter Six
Hours later I was back in Tiffany’s plush apartment, curled up on the couch with a red and black wool blanket around my shoulders. My mind glided over the events of the afternoon—and I realized I was processing everything with a clear sort of detachment.
I’d seen a doctor who had drawn my blood to test for any abnormalities or blood-borne diseases and to confirm I was actively taking birth control, and then she’d given me a gynecological exam. She’d been gentle and efficient, but I felt violated, nonetheless.
I’d also had to stand naked in front of Genevieve, who’d studied my body like I was a piece of livestock. It was beyond intimate, and there was no part of my being that hadn’t been examined.
Somehow, I’d managed to remain aloof and disconnected, realizing that at some point I’d have to bare all to a man I’d give my key to.
