Cat Haus - The Complete Story (8 page)

He didn't understand. It wasn't about the money. It was about Gus making decisions for me. I didn't like it. Yes, I chose to sell my body on a daily basis, but it had always been my choice. I said what I did. I said who I did. But here Gus had taken that power away from me.

“Will you do it?” Gus asked, looking genuinely concerned I’d say no.

I clenched my jaw. “Yes, but don’t you ever pull this shit on me again.”

“I won’t. I swear. I owe you one, Cate.”

Whether Gus
owed me one
or not, my loss of control had the panic rising in me as the Texan grabbed my hand, pulled me off Gus's lap and reeled me in. He spun me away from him and with one shove of his beefy hand on the back of my head, had me bent over the table.

"Mmm, mmm, I do like this thing you're wearing." He ran his hands down my sides, landing on my hips and the side strings of my bottoms. "Of course, this part needs to come off."

I heard him flip open what must have been a pocketknife because the next thing I felt was his cutting off the bottom half of my outfit. First one side, and then the other. After pulling them off me, he tossed my ruined bottoms onto the table where they landed as a pile of satin scraps in front of my face. He kicked my feet farther apart and stepped between my legs.

The blunt head of his cock pushed against me, but I wasn't nearly wet enough for him to get inside without a struggle. I took pleasure knowing my body was working against this guy. He didn't deserve for this to be easy on him, because it sure as fuck wasn't easy for me.

I had done many things with many people, but never in my life had I felt as violated as I did now, by both the man trying to force his dick inside me, and Gus, who'd given him permission to do it.

Not to be deterred, the Texan spit in his hand and shoved a few fingers inside me. "Nice and tight. Just how I like 'em."

The saliva provided enough lubrication for him to work his cock inside, and once there, for him to start fucking me until the force of his thrusts moved the piece of furniture beneath me.

As I gripped the edge of the table, I made the mistake of glancing up. Gus was to my left and shy guy to my right, but John was directly opposite, his hands now braced against the table moving toward him and encroaching on his space each time the Texan pounded into me.

John's eyes met mine, before he turned his head. I couldn't blame him for looking away.

I squeezed my eyelids tight and blocked out everything except my hatred for Gus and the odor of the Texan's cigar burning in the ashtray near my face. The only sound in the room was the groaning of the table, the slapping of his flesh against mine, and the grunting of the man plowing into me. I held my breath and vowed not to make a sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction of thinking that this—that he—pleased me in any way.

He pounded into me harder, faster, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough he'd probably leave bruises. Just when I'd thought it was impossible he could fuck me any harder, the intensity of his stroke forced the breath out of me. But that was okay, because he held deep, groaned loud and came inside me.

"Woo wee, that was some kinda ride." He slapped my bare ass hard, leaving a sting that remained long afterward. "Thank you, little lady."

The bastard hadn't even asked about a condom. It was the fucking state law that licensed working girls had to use them, but he hadn't even asked or offered and Gus hadn't said a word as he watched. Then again since this was a freebie thanks to Gus and the asshole Texan wasn't paying me I guess, technically, I wasn't a paid whore tonight. Just the unpaid kind.

I couldn't wait to get to my room and wash away all remnants and memories of this man from my body.

The moment he pulled his slack cock out of me I pushed off the table and straightened. I grabbed the ruined pieces of my panties and turned to leave. Gus caught my gaze. My eyes narrowed with hatred I couldn't contain as I crossed the room, flung open the door and sped out into the hall. I kept going, walking fast but not running. I refused to look as if I was fleeing.

Lucky for me this was a brothel and I hardly got a second glance as I strode through the parlor, bared to every eye from the waist down while my panties were wadded up in one fist.

I got to the privacy of my room, threw the underwear into the trash and headed directly for my bathroom, but the water could never be hot enough to wash away the feeling of what had just happened. In the logical part of my brain I knew I was a whore in a whorehouse doing what I was expected to do—fuck the customers. But I'd never felt like a whore, until today. Worse than that, in my heart, deep down to my soul, I felt violated.

It was a sensation that made me want to crawl out of my own skin, something that was obviously impossible. But I could get rid of these clothes. I tore at the closures on my corset. My hands shook and it took me twice as long as it should have to release the hooks. When I was finally free I threw the garment on the floor. It had cost a good bit of money to order the steel-boned, waist-reducing corset and have it shipped from England. The way I felt now, I'd be happy to never see it again, never mind lace myself into it.

After I kicked off my shoes, I attacked the garters and stockings next. The stockings I did toss right in the garbage pail. The fucking Texan's cum had run down the inside of my thighs as I'd fled to my room. The memory of the feel of it sent a cold chill down my spine and the sensation of being dirty hit me again.

I twisted the hot water control in the shower and waited until the steam filled the room. I stepped beneath the spray and felt the heat burn the skin of my back. Grabbing the bar of soap, I scrubbed between my thighs. I shoved two fingers inside me and plunged my pussy.
 

I washed myself over and over, until the hot water started to run out and turn cold. Only then did I flip off the stream. I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel, but it wasn't big enough to block out the world or make me feel safe again.

It was still early. I should have put on something sexy and gone back out to the parlor to get some more business. On a normal night, I would have. I didn't have it in me tonight. Fuck Gus and his fucking business. I pulled a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt out of my drawer. Normal clothes like normal people wore. Women who weren't dressing to make a sale. The commodity for purchase by the highest bidder—herself.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of white socks and wondering in which drawer I might have stashed a sweatshirt because I couldn’t seem to shake the chill that had settled bone deep inside me, when there was a knock on my door.

Probably one of the girls checking on me, though what if it was Gus? I didn't have heels on so I couldn't kick him in the balls, which is what he deserved. A knee to the groin would have to do. I hated him now more than ever. He would never ever touch me again. After what he'd done tonight, he owed me that much. That knowledge was the only thing that gave me the courage to open the door.

John stood in the hall, his fist raised to knock again since I'd taken so long mustering my courage. He lowered his hand and looked me over. His gaze swept from the white T-shirt with no bra beneath it, over my grey sweatpants, all the way down to the thick white socks covering my bare feet.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right."

His concern and the fact he'd taken the time to check on me was more than I could take right now. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes and blinked it away. "I'm fine. Thanks."

He glanced over my shoulder at my room. His gaze moved back to me. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, come on in." I took a step back, betting this was the first hooker's bedroom he'd ever been inside. The question remained was he here to fuck or talk? I wasn't sure I was up for either at the moment.

As he stepped inside, I closed the door and swiped at the corner of my eyes where some moisture had snuck out. He turned back toward me and caught the motion.

I crossed my arms, wrapping them around my body, and dropped my gaze away from his. "So, the game over?"

"Yes." He reached up and raised my chin with one hand until I was forced to look at him, then he dropped his hand away from me, as if he knew I couldn't stand him touching me, showing me compassion, or the thin hold I had on my composure would break. "Cate, I want you to know that what Gus did to you tonight was wrong."

I shrugged. "Just part of my job."

"No, it most certainly was not part of your job. And equally as wrong as Gus offering you up as a sex toy to a room of men as if he owned you, was that fucking asshole who took him up on the offer."

The corners of my mouth twitched with a smile I didn't know I had in me right now. "I like hearing you cuss."

"Do you?" He returned my smile, running his hand up my one arm. "Then I'll have to be sure to do it more often when I'm around you."

Nice thought but doubtful. He was a rich and powerful businessman. I was a whore in a brothel. The only scenario I could come up with for us to be hanging around with each other was if he came to the Cat Haus and booked an hour or two with me. I somehow couldn't imagine him doing that.

"I don't think our paths will cross all that much."
 

"Eh, you might be surprised." He smiled and made me want to believe him.

"I guess." I shrugged. John could be right. If Gus continued to gamble away the profits in games against him, there was a chance I'd be spending a lot more time with John.

"Anyway, I just wanted to check on you." He tipped his dark head toward the door. "I'll let you get some rest."

Now that I'd calmed down a little bit, I wouldn’t mind the feel of this man inside me. It might be the only way to erase the memory of the Texan.

I took a step closer, suddenly dreading being alone. "You're leaving?"

"Yes."

Of course John didn’t want me now. My showing up at his door weeks ago had been exciting. Room service sex. What man wouldn't like that? But tonight, he'd seen me for what I was. A whore, and one he'd just watched being roughly used right in front of his face. John wasn't the type to take anyone's sloppy seconds and I couldn't say I blamed him.

As he opened the door, I said, "Okay. Well, thanks for stopping by. It was really nice getting to know you and good luck in . . . whatever you do."
 

He turned back to face me, his brows drawn low. "Cate, this isn't goodbye. We'll see each other again."

"Oh? You have another game with Gus planned?"

"No." He let out a snort. "I definitely will not be playing cards with him again, and I'm happy to say you won't be seeing him anymore either."

"What? I don't understand." What had happened after I'd left that room?

Had fucking Gus bet and lost me to John for more than a night? As pleasant as the fantasy of a life away from Gus and spent with John would be, Gus couldn't do that. I wasn't his property to lose.

John paused with the door open and his hand on the knob. "Gus bet the business and lost. He's no longer the owner of the Cat Haus."

This business had been in Gus's family for three generations, and he'd lost it on a hand of poker? I swallowed hard, hoping to God it wasn't the Texan who'd won the deed to the brothel. I'd quit tonight if that were the case. Pack my bag, walk out and never look back.

I finally worked up my nerve to ask, "Who is the owner?"

"I am."

Two words. That was all I got before the door clicked shut and John left me and my hundred or so questions behind him.
 

The only thought I could muster after that revelation was, now what?

PART II

CHAPTER 7

I stayed in my room for the rest of last night—the night that so many things changed. Gus losing the Cat Haus. John informing me he was the new owner, right before he left my room without another word. Not to mention without anything else being exchanged between us either. I guess
that
part of our relationship—if you could call it that—was over. No more nights spent in the splendor of his hotel suite having hot sex for me.

But if I was truthful with myself, I would have admitted the reason I'd hidden in my bedroom on a Saturday night instead of making money entertaining gentleman callers was because what happened at the poker game had freaked me out. Enough so that if Gus had still been my boss, I probably would have quit rather than continue to work for a man who treated me like I was his property. Like something he could give away to other men to use or abuse at will.

Even now that I knew Gus was no longer in charge, and even with the morning sun rising higher over the horizon after chasing away the night and all the fears darkness brings, I still stayed in my bed. Not moving. Not wanting to.

I heard the front bell ring. The first customer of the new day had arrived. I was supposed to be dressed and ready so I could run down that long hall and stand in the lineup of girls the client would choose from.

The reality was I was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt I'd slept in. I had no make-up on and my hair probably looked like hell. I'd gone to sleep with it damp after taking a marathon shower to rid myself of all remnants of Gus's little poker party. The one where I'd been served up on the table as the main course to the players.