The man, he said his name was Tom and he was a neurosurgeon from Cleveland, Tennessee, had been as hard to get off as she’d predicted. But he still wanted sex most of the time and she’d given it to him. And he must have slept in, because he hadn’t passed out until after three. It hadn’t advanced the mission much, but it gave her some leeway. She had her money for the day, at least.
“You’re late,” the guard on the door growled. She was using the front entrance, which she’d never been through, because it was clear the others were closed.
“I have to make money, yes?” she asked.
“Get in,” he said, irritably. “You’re the last one.”
Boris, unbelievably, was still awake, the bastard.
“Where the fuck have you been, bitch!” he stormed, walking up to her and smashing her to the floor with a hard slap.
“I have your money!” she whimpered, reaching under the dress and pulling out money. “Six hundred euros!”
“Let me see that,” Boris said, snatching the money out of her hand and then reaching into her dress and fumbling around. “More, bitch? You have more!”
“I found a rich American,” Katya said, stopping the dissembling and standing up. “He thinks I’m fourteen and just broken in. My amazing skills at sucking him off being natural, I suppose. Six hundred for my debt, thirty for room I’m only going to use for a few hours and food I didn’t eat, yes?” She reached out and calmly plucked a hundred euro note out of his hand. “This is for me, yes? If you hit again, American might not like my face. He wants me and sometimes other girl. Let me pick and he stays happy, yes? And you make your money. Is another hundred there is yours. Or… you can hit and tell me I’m stupid bitch and beat me up so I not look good… and tomorrow maybe I have six, maybe not.” She shrugged and dared to look him in the eye.
“You’ve been around,” Boris said.
“I said, I am whore in Ukraine,” Katya said, shrugging. “Have been a whore for… five year. I know how to work men, how to suck them dry of money. I speak English, I speak Russian, I even speak fucking Georgian. No Albanian. But I spend some time here, suck my American dry, send him home happy to his fat wife and then you send me to Italy where I make you real money.”
“Bring him to the club, tomorrow,” Boris said, his eyes narrow.
“He doesn’t like those shitty rooms upstairs,” Katya said. “I will, but…”
“There are other rooms,” Boris said. “Ten euros to rent. Clean sheets, red light, very nice. You didn’t know?”
“No,” Katya said, trying not to sigh again because then he would hit her. “You only told me to get out on the street and make you your money, yes? I have made you your money. I’ll bring him to the club. But… he likes me. He likes girls like me. Let me find another for part of the time. There will be at least one here that will do. I’ll bring him, introduce him, get him to buy pay-me drinks, yes?”
“You know the routine,” Boris said. “But I think you’re a little too smart for your own good.”
“I bring you money,” Katya said, shrugging. “Why you care?”
“Because you better understand that I own you, bitch,” Boris snarled, grabbing her by the arm. “And I can teach you that without ever leaving a mark. Come with me.”
He dragged her to the back of the club and into the men’s restroom. It still hadn’t been cleaned from the night and smelled of shit, piss and puke.
He kicked open one of the stalls and shoved her head into the fetid bowl of the toilet.
“Lick it clean, bitch,” Boris snarled, shoving her head down. “You’re no more than a fucking whore. And whores do what they’re told. So lick that shit out of the bowl, bitch!”
Katya gagged but did what she was told, licking at the shit besmeared bowl. She tried to tell herself that she’d done worse, but when didn’t come to mind. Yes, it did. There was a Japanese tourist in the Ukraine that had paid her to eat his shit. But she’d at least been paid. And that was a long time ago.
When Boris jerked her head up she was careful to look as meek as possible. He wanted her humiliated so she brought up some more tears and quivered in fear.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I bring you money! I will!”
“You’re damned right you will,” Boris said, reaching into her dress again and pulling out her remaining hundred euro note. “And this is a fine for thinking you’re smart! Now get your ass up to the room, bitch. And your rich American had better be in my club tomorrow!”
Katya kept her head down on the way up to her room. Light was apparently optional above the main club level and she kept stumbling over bumps and cracks in the floor with her heels as she made her way.
When she got there she saw that her stuff had been picked through but they hadn’t taken her toothbrush at least. But she didn’t have any toothpaste left.
She made her way back to the only bathroom she had found, other than the one on the ground floor and she wasn’t going there any time soon. She brushed her teeth with the horrible soap that was on the sink and managed to get the last of the shit taste out then took a sketchy shower. The hot water had apparently been turned off as well.
That done she went back to her semen- and blood-stained bed, set her dress against the wall to avoid having it stolen and linked her fingers behind her head, staring at the ceiling.
So far, the mission was going better than she’d expected.
“Mikhail, do you have any idea what time it is?” Vanner asked grumpily.
“Yes,” the team leader said. “I have problem.”
“Come on in,” Vanner said, waving the way into his bedroom. The intel team had set up in the main room and he’d taken one of the two bedrooms. He’d just gotten off of monitoring duty and had looked forward to a few hours of rest before Katya woke up. One of the girls was on duty to monitor when she was asleep, in case a serious security issue came up. But Vanda would get to sleep during the day. He wasn’t going to get the chance.
“The girl I pick up… ” Mikhail said as the intel specialist closed the door.
“Oh, crap,” Vanner said, collapsing on the bed. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a hooker.”
“She not want to be whore,” Mikhail insisted.
“Mikhail,” Vanner said, frowning. “We’re on a mission here. We can’t afford for you to go all John Wayne on us.”
“What?” Mikhail asked, confused.
“You were supposed to just go out and get laid,” Vanner replied, sighing. “Not fall in love with the girl. Look, most of the hookers in town aren’t here because they grew up wanting to be hookers. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find one that had that on her list of intended vocations. But that’s what they are, now. What do you want to do about it? Where is she, by the way?”
“In my room,” Mikhail said, worrying his lip.
“Damnit, they have a curfew,” Vanner snapped. “Her pimp is going to come looking for her.”
“She called,” Mikhail said. “She tell them she is staying with her… trick and will bring money in morning.”
“She needs at least…”
“Six hundred and thirty euros,” Mikhail said, miserably.
“And I suppose you want me to cough it up,” Vanner said. “The Kildar to pay for it.”
“I will pay back,” Mikhail said. “I not want her to get hurt. She is from Club Aldaris. That is target, yes?”
“Christ,” Vanner said, sliding up the bed and leaning on the headboard. “Mikhail, you’re supposed to be security for the suite. You think she can come in here with you?”
“No,” the trooper admitted. “But…”