His Desires

Chapter 6: No Touching

My skin burns. Not a painful type of burn but more like a stinging tingle from freshly raw skin which has been scrubbed vigorously. After this is over the police probably won't be able to identify me if there is no skin left – that is if they find my body of course.  I'm not terrified by the particular thought. In fact, all I can think about is Victor as I watch the women in the mirror behind me. Her eyes completely trained on the lion mane that is my hair. The bangles on her wrists jingle and resonate within the walls of her large expanse of a bathroom. Each stroke is more painful than the last from the tug of the brush. I'm fully aware that most of the pain is inflicted on purpose since her lips quirk up - like those evil witch type of grins every time I wince. As much as I don't want to give her the satisfaction, my hair is a complicated enigma unfortunately transmitted from my mother.

I've been in this bathroom for three hours now; freshly showered, waxed, manicured and in the process of hairstyling. If I wasn't locked in here against my will I actually would have enjoyed being pampered. It reminds me of the sleepovers I used to have with my only girlfriend and best friend; Kara Mathews. Except this bitch is remotely far from being my friend and I think the feeling is mutual. Those steely blue eyes squint at me for a second and as if she could read my thoughts, she tugs the brush. Hard. My head jolts back and I nearly fall out of the chair.

"What the fuck was that for?" I practically shriek in disbelief. My scalp feels like it has been set alight.

"You think I'm doing this because I want to? Ha! Honey if I could I would shave your hair off and glue it to your eyelids."

Well . . . that was brutally honest and not to mention really fucking creeping. Who in their right mind says that? Someone who isn't in their right mind, obviously.

"And you think I want you to do this? I have no idea what's going on! One minute I'm in a room by myself, the next I'm passed on and placed in a stranger's bathroom." I try and keep my voice levelled, careful not to encourage her deranged fantasy of hair and eyelids. Either way, we both look like our sanity has shipped off and sailed.

She sighs, her hands turning gentle as she twirls a strand and pins it to the side of my head. "As much as I don't like you, I do feel a little sorry for you." Her eyes catch mine in the mirror telling me to shut up and listen. "You're currently residing in a brothel, "I'm about to protest when she grips my hair tightly. "Listen to me," she warns. "This isn't an average brothel that you see in movies or read about in books. It's not an old western hick fuck show, okay? Half the time I don't even consider the term 'brothel' until I'm reminded again." Her voice sounds breathless. My skin prickles; she can't stop now, that's not enough I need more information. She walks around me and opens a bathroom draw, pulling out a curling iron. She plugs it in and sits in front of me waiting for the device to gather heat.

"This isn't just some place, alright? It is an organisation that has been operating for generations. I can't say prostitution or human trafficking because girls are not taken against their will they-" I raise my eyebrow at her. "Well in your case yeah, but it's something bigger than you Amalia." It's the first time she has addressed me by my name and I feel my eyes widen in surprise.

"Women from all ages, ethnics and backgrounds come here to escape their old lives. They want to become different people, to change who they are - where they came from. I hear stories from domestic abuse to bored house wives. As much as I want to disclose this information I can't because it's not my place to. Anyway, they come in here as full consenting adults willingly signing a contract that grants them the right to live here."

"The right to live here? I suppose their right constitutes as sleeping with men for money?" I say incredulously.

She narrows her eyes at me clearly annoyed at my outburst. "No. It's not that they have to sleep with men, it's because they want to."