I look between them, wondering, “What does that mean?”
Verity is the one to speak up, shifting uncomfortably. “The alumni are important, so sometimes… some of us will… I mean, not all of us, obviously–”
“We fuck them for money,” Haley says, eyes full of challenge.
I’m caught, tangled between abject horror and absolute fury that she has the guts to talk to me like that. I focus on the first emotion, eyes roving around the table. “Wait. You’re telling me Saul whores you out?”
Wilting, Verity says, “It’s not like that. We’re asked to serve, and when the alumni get a little handsy… some of the girls don’t mind making a little extra cash.”
For a long moment, I’m stunned speechless. This is some South Side nonsense, through and through. If my time at the Crane Motel and the Velvet Hideaway has taught me anything, it’s that the kind of men who’d buy a warm hole to satisfy themselves aren’t always in the habit of treating women kindly. That’s one reason I quietly ask, “Do they… hurt you?”
But the other reason is purely selfish.
Are they going to hurt me?
It’s a ridiculous thought, anyway. The Dukes will be my security, and Nick alone would sooner die himself than watch someone hurt me.
This much, I have complete confidence in.
“They’re married dudes, trapped in sexless marriages, who are willing to pay for some young college pussy,” another girl says. “It’s not like they’re whipping us.”
Kathleen mutters, “Spanking sometimes,” and looks distinctly unhappy about it.
Laura, who has always seemed pretty nice, is suddenly glaring at me. “Is that a problem? I thought if anyone could understand, it’d be you. Didn’t you spend a lot of time at that brothel in South Side?”
“Yeah,” another girl adds, looking offended. “What’s it to you, anyway? This pays a whole semester of tuition for some of us, you know.Wearen’t Royal heirs.”
Haley snorts a laugh, looking so infuriatingly satisfied that I have to stop myself from flying over the table and bashing her head against it. I hold my hands up instead. “Look, if you want to make some extra money riding their dicks, then that’s not my business. I’m not judging.” Several expressions around the table show how unconvincing that statement is. Yet again, Haley’s eyes roll. “I just want to make sure it’s something you’re choosing and not something you’re forced to do. So.” I square my shoulders, raising my voice. “How many of youdon'twant to be put in that situation?”
Slowly, hands begin rising up, beginning with Verity. One by one, at least half the girls follow, some looking guiltily at the girls who don’t. Briefly, I wonder if the cutsluts were ever asked.
I nod, meeting each of their gazes. “You’re all off the hook. Don’t come.”
“But,” Katheleen says, looking worried, “it’s required. If we don’t attend, then we could lose our position. We earned these spots. Someone else will happily replace us.”
More calmly than I feel, I say, “Not anymore. That’s your Duchess’ order, Kathleen. Any consequences arise, and I’ll answer to Saul myself. Understood?” At their reluctant agreement, I look right at Laura. “And as you so kindly pointed out? Yes, I am familiar with the workings of a brothel. So I can tell you right now that less girls flouncing around half-naked means anyone interested in making this a business pursuit can raise their worth.”
“Really?” Laura asks, shooting an eager look at the girl beside her. “Uh… by how much, you think?”
I falter for a moment, not expecting to be asked such a question. As if my time spent locked inside a whorehouse grants me some supreme wisdom on the matter of selling one’s body. Shrugging, I answer, “Honestly? At least twice. If these guys are really as loaded as you say, then they can afford it.”
Laura’s face spreads into an excited grin. “Hell yeah!”
Verity gives me an impressed nod. “Nice thinking, Duchess.”
Still tense, but relieved both halves of the group seem satisfied, I go on. “I’ll be honest, though. I’m going to have to rely on your expertise on how to pull this off, because I have no fucking clue what to do.”
That gets a few laughs and my shoulders ease. Verity catches my eye and I gesture for her to stand. “There’s a notebook in Mama B’s office that should be helpful,” she says. “It’ll have information about where to rent everything, from the tables and chairs to the poker table tops. The girls who have worked the event before will know the drill.”
“What’s the drill exactly?” I already know the worst part of my role, but I can’t just spend all night topless for these guys.
God, I hope I don’t have to.
“It varies,” she says. “Girls will have different assignments, like serving drinks and getting them liquored up to bid higher, or drink more. We’re just there to get them to spend more money, which is the goal since it all goes to charity.”
“Oh!” a girl breaks in, “Remember how that one year the girls all dressed up like devils? They looked so sexy.”
“I saw pictures where everyone wore showgirl outfits,” Laura adds. “They had these huge feather headdresses. Last year, we were nurses.” The face she pulls tells me her opinion on that particular theme. “So many testicular exam jokes.”