Emery

Chapter 2: White knight in shining armour

12 YEARS LATER

The usual--a short lingerie dress, and high heels. But the way I carried myself, you'd think I was wearing a crown. The girls in the brothel called me Queen Emmy. I liked it. I owned the room. I was the belle of the ball, the star of the show.

We made so much money In the past 11 years that we moved the entire brothel to Ireland and bought a mansion. Why Ireland? Well I mean who doesn't love their sexy, bogus ginger headed men. Their accent is just the icing on top!

I recruited new young girls. Girls younger than me because I cannot deal with a scent of disrespect.  Aunt Jasmine still stuck around. She promised my mother before she died that she'd take care of me till her last breath. She wasn't joking.

"Don't forget ladies, we're here to take their money, not fall in love. And we always get paid." I said counting a stack of money in my hand.

I paused, looking around the room.
"Tonight is a very important night. Senator's, Government officials, Even pastors will be here tonight. No one, and I mean Nobody can fuck this up!"

I pack the money into a duffel bag. "Joe!" I call.
Joe is my friend. Also my personal bodyguard. I mention friend  before bodyguard  because he is more of a friend to me. He's aunt Jasmine's son, and he doesn't play when it comes to me.
One time, back when we were still kids, my mom's client touched merely my cheek. JUST MY CHEEK! And Joe punched all the tires of his wheels. They were some expensive tires.

"Yes?" He responds.
"Please cash this into the account, but before then settle the girls and get them any and everything they need. Including toiletries."

"Done."
Just before I step out the room I pause and look back at the girls.

"DO NOT FUCK THIS UP!"
Walking through the hallways of this mansion built from the sweat of  both my mother and myself, I feel a rush of pride.
We did this.  A notification sounds from my phone.

Aunt J❤️: Trust everything is in order?

I respond with a thumbs up emoji. I told aunty never to stress about the business that I'd had it under control, which I do.

As the sun begins to set, the evening hustle and bustle at the brothel intensifies. Chatter fills the air as the girls prepare themselves, smoothing their hair, touching up their makeup, and slipping into the provocative outfits that are guaranteed to entice the night's high-profile clients. The low hum of music pulsates from the lounge area, adding to the excitement.

I observe the organized chaos from the sidelines with a keen eye, ensuring everything is going according to plan. As I watch the girls prepare, I can't help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It seems like just yesterday I was a young girl, thrust into this world, Now I'm the leader, the queen, and it is my responsibility to ensure these girls are taken care of.

The senator's motorcade rolled up, and my pulse quickened. These men have power, influence, secrets and loads of money.  I adjust my posture, feeling the fire burning inside me, ready to take on the night.
Their expensive suits and polished shoes clicked on the hardwood floors, their colognes mingling with the scent of money and privilege. My gaze fall's on the minister himself, a man in his late 50s, his face etched with years of political maneuvering. His eyes roamed the room, appraising each of us with the same dismissive scrutiny he likely applied to policy decisions and backroom deals.

I approached him, forcing a smile that barely hid the disdain I felt for this man and all he represented. "Senator," I said, extending my hand with a practiced ease. "Welcome to our humble abode."

He took my hand, his grip firm and confident, but not quite strong enough to hide the tremors of excitement he felt. "Queen Emmy, a pleasure to finally meet you. My friends have spoken so highly of this place."

I led him towards the lounge, his entourage following like well-trained hounds. "We're honored to have such distinguished guests. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

The air was thick with anticipation and the heady scent of expensive cigars. My girls, dressed in their finest lingerie, lounged seductively on chaises and sofas, each one a vision of youthful beauty and sensuality. The Minister's eyes gleamed with interest, his gaze sweeping over them like a predator evaluating prey.

I poured him a glass of scotch, the ice clinking as I stirred the liquid with a practiced hand. "I trust you'll find everything to your liking, Sir's."  "Oh we like what I see already! Don't we gentleman?" The deep murmur of men nodding in agreement.

I smiled, the curve of my lips hinting at the devilry that lay beneath. "Now then," I said, gesturing towards the girls who are now standing in a line. "Allow me to introduce my... Sweethearts."

I proceeded to introduce each girl by name, noting their specialties and talents.  The minister, his eyes never leaving my face, nodding and smiling.

"Impressive," he murmured. "You have an enviable collection, Queen Emmy."

I inclined my head. "Thank you, Sir...Pick your poison."

"I want you." He say's causing whispers to run around the room.

"Oh Sir,I'm not a cheap woman, my price is quite....high."

The senator nodded, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve a wad of cash. "Of course. Name your price, Ms. Emmy. I can assure you, I'll find it more than reasonable."

A voice behind the minister spoke up. "The queen shouldn't be bought, minister. Especially not at a cheap price."

I turn to face the source of the comment, my gaze settling on a white man with piercing blue eyes and a handsome, yet unassuming, demeanor. He is a striking contrast to his companions. I mean he's white and they're black.
His hair is a sandy blonde, meticulously styled. His suit, while expensive, was worn with an effortless grace, as if he didn't need to flaunt his wealth.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Senator," I replied, my tone cool and composed. "But in my line of work, it's the men who pay for the privilege of my company. And I have no qualms about that." The white senator's gaze lingered on me for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "I apologize if my comments were out of line, but I find it hard to imagine that a woman of your intelligence and charm needs to be bought."

His words, while delivered with sincerity, brought a sudden flush to my cheeks. For a brief moment, I saw myself through his eyes, not as a commodity, but as a human being. It was a disarming sensation, one that I hadn't felt in my life.

I regained my composure, giving him a small smile barely reaching my eyes.
The tension in the room is crackling with the electricity of competition. The two men squared off, their eyes locked in a silent battle for dominance.

"Ten thousand," the Minister said,  his voice as cool and calculating as his gaze.

The white senator raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Twenty-five thousand."
Gasps spread around the room. Even I am shocked.

The minister bristles, his nostrils flaring with indignation. "Fifty thousand."

The white senator smiled, his expression calm and collected. "One... hundred... thousand."

A hush fell over the room, broken only by the clink of glasses and the hushed murmurings of the girls. The minister's jaws clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He knew when he was beaten. With a curt nod, he acknowledged his defeat.

I turned to face the white senator, my expression a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. The senator smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine amusement. 

As the girls looked on in a mix of curiosity and confusion, the white senator stretched out his hand to hold mine, leading me away from the others.

My heart raced as I followed him to a quiet, opulent sitting room away from prying eyes.