I closed my eyes like he'd asked me to, and then his hand was between my legs. My eyes shot open. "What are you doing?"
"Shh," he said. "Trust me."
I nodded once more and closed my eyes again. He didn't start to move. Instead, he used his fingers to rub me. I knew what he was doing as I'd recalled the romance books I'd read, and I had to admit that it was starting to feel good.
"Do you like that?" Frankie asked.
"Yes," I breathed because I did like it. It felt a lot different from when he was inside of me.
"Good."
He rubbed me for a while, and I thought I was going to have my first orgasm, but it didn't happen. I didn't feel pleasure race through me like I'd read or my body convulse, and I thought Frankie knew that too because he stopped using his hand and entered me again and started to move inside of me.
"I need to stop," he said after several long moments of him thrusting, my legs around his hips.
"Oh, okay."
"I mean, I'm going to come."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. I was making him feel good like the girls said to do, and that made me happy that he was enjoying himself even if I wasn't that much.
"Do you have a tissue?" he asked as he rolled off of me. "I'll finish on my own."
I shook my head. "I can go get some from the bathroom."
"Yeah, do that."
"Okay." I got out of the bed, slipped the black dress on, and hurried out of my room, closing the door behind me so no one saw Frankie. When I returned, he was on his back, naked, white stuff on his stomach. "Here," I held out my hand with toilet paper.
"Thanks." He took it and started to wipe the stuff off. It was then that I realized it was his semen. "This is definitely not how I thought tonight would go."
"Me either," I admitted.
Frankie got out of the bed and put his boxers on. "Next time will be better."
"Next time?"
"Yes. I can't let you think this is how sex is. I didn't even do my best moves." He grabbed his sweater from the floor.
"So, you're coming back?"
"As soon as I can. Remember to call me if Madam wants you to be with a client." He pulled the sweater over his head.
"I will." At least, I hoped I could. I would call him if Madam told me to clean up and get dressed like she had the night Frankie first showed up. That would be my first clue, and I'd hoped it would be enough time for him to save me.
After he got dressed, he left my room, and I went to the bathroom. When I wiped, I realized I was bleeding a little. Was this really what sex was like?
The next day, Madam didn't wish me a happy birthday, and it was the first time the girls didn't celebrate my birthday. They still wished me one, but there was no cake. We didn't want to remind Madam if she had forgotten, and it was apparent she had.
The girls took care of me after I'd told them that Frankie and I had sex. They gave me an aspirin and asked me how it was. I told them the truth about it hurting, and that I didn't enjoy it. Apparently, that was normal for the first time. I didn't tell them about the cell phone, though. That was my and Frankie's secret. It wasn't because I didn't trust them to know, but I couldn't chance Madam ever finding out.
At bedtime, I pulled the pho
ne out from between the mattresses, and to my surprise, I had a text from Frankie: Happy birthday, princess. I've been thinking about you all day.
I smiled as I read his message and then texted him back as I hid under my covers in the dark: Thank you. I've been thinking about you too. Wish you were here.
I started to put the phone back in its hiding place, but it buzzed in my hand.
Frankie: How was today?
As I read his text, I thought that maybe he was asking me what Madam had done since we were scared she would make me a working woman now.
Me: We think Madam forgot that it was my birthday. I haven't seen her all day.
Frankie: Good. Don't fucking tell her. That gives me more time.
Me: I hope it's soon.
Frankie: Me too, princess. The next time my father goes out of town, I'm coming for you.
Me: When will that be?
Frankie: I don't know.
I frowned as I read those words. Even though I didn't know where Frankie would take me, I just wanted out, especially now that I didn't know what Madam would do once she remembered I was eighteen.
Frankie: I have to go. Get some rest, and I'll text you tomorrow.
Me: Okay. Goodnight.
Frankie: Night, princess.
That week, I was excited to go to bed every night because that’s when Frankie and I would text. I loved being able to talk to him each night. I finally had a friend my own age. A friend who made me feel special.
Frankie: I'm sorry I can't come tonight. My father has me working to get ready for our next auction, but you call me if Madam even hints that you'll be with someone tonight, and I WILL be there.
That night was the monthly party that Madam held for clients. She hadn't told me that I would be in the lineup. She also hadn't mentioned my birthday, but I was still on edge because, with a snap of her fingers, I would have to do whatever she wanted.
Me: I'm in my room waiting for one of the girls to be done so I can clean it. I think I'll be okay.
Frankie didn't text me back, and I started to read the book I had recently borrowed from Leanne. I didn't get far before I was called down to clean a room, and then I spent the next few hours cleaning all the rooms and serving drinks until the party was over.
When I was done with the rooms, I wasn't done cleaning because it was a party night. I had to clean the sitting room and anywhere else people left drinks or food or drugs. Party nights were full of alcohol and cocaine. By the time I started to mop the floors, I was exhausted. My back hurt, my neck hurt, and my feet hurt.
I smiled at Marcus as he stood next to the elevator. "Having a good night tonight?"
He nodded. "Not too bad. You?"
I continued to mop. "Same."
It was late, so I left the conversation at that. Even though the guards kept me and the girls in, I still liked them. They were nice to me.
I was almost finished for the night when I heard my name. "Zell."
I looked up and toward the elevator to see Marcus grabbing his chest. "What's wrong?" I rushed to him, the wood handle of the mop crashing to the ground.
"My chest," he groaned and fell to the floor.
I crouched beside him. "Your chest? What's wrong?"
"I think I'm having a heart attack. Get help!"
I stood to reach for the phone that was on the wall but stopped. This was my chance. I hated to treat Marcus this way or to think about what would happen if no one knew he was lying on the floor, but I had to take it.
I had to leave.
Instead of grabbing the phone, I pressed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened. As I took a step to get inside, Marcus wrapped his hand around my ankle, trying to hold me back. I wiggled free and got into the car, pressing the bottom button that I remembered pressing years ago when I'd gone to feed the ducks.