Sadly, it’s not always easy for a victim to leave, even if they had the chance. The traffickers keep them compliant with threats, blackmail, drugs, material things, or pretty much anything they can use as leverage. One recent study said that girls in foster care are particularly vulnerable. Is that how my mom got sucked in? Is this what she was subjected to?
Ainsley’s right—a lot of these women are in their late teens, maybe early twenties. Kingston once told me that you can usually spot an interested buyer by watching how closely they observe others. Pay attention to their body language as they track a young woman or, even more disturbing, little girls. As I attempt to do that, I think I spot one.
The man isn’t even that old—maybe thirty at best—but he’s giving off strange vibes. The redhead he’s talking to flattens her palm over his chest, before lifting up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. When he pulls back, he nods and watches her walk away. Another woman—this one blonde and closer to his age than mine—comes up to him with fire in her eyes.
I’m guessing this may be his wife or girlfriend who just happened to witness his interaction with the other woman. The man’s face flushes as she presumably rips him a new asshole before stomping off. With slight hesitation, looking down the hall the younger woman walked down just moments ago, he chases after the blonde. I look down the hallway and spot the redhead disappear behind some French doors. My gut’s telling me something’s not right. I need to make an excuse to step away so I can follow her.
“I need to pee real quick.”
“Okay,” Ainsley says.
“Hold on a sec,” Reed adds.
The man from the ballet school approaches us. “Miss Davenport, may I have another word? It’ll be brief; I promise.”
Reed looks back and forth between Ainsley and me.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, hitching a thumb over my shoulder. “I think the powder room is right there. I’ll only be gone a minute or two.”
Reed reluctantly allows Ainsley to pull him aside while talking to the man. I see him running his thumbs over his phone screen, probably texting Kingston, but I don’t waste any time hanging around. I head down the hallway and find the doorway the mysterious woman walked through. It leads to a small brick patio right off of a beautiful courtyard. I get a quick flash of her coppery hair as she disappears into what appears to be a large hedge maze.
I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but that doesn’t stop me from going in after her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAZZ
Well, one thing’s for sure, this is definitely a maze. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve rounded a corner, and there’s no end in sight. I’m trailing behind the woman just enough to avoid being seen, but not too far where I could lose her. The outdoor lighting barely reaches this area, so the darkness helps conceal me, but I still need to move cautiously. Thankfully, whoever designed this thing thought to pave the path, so it’s easier to navigate in these damn heels I’m wearing.
My phone is vibrating like crazy in my purse, but I’m not going to risk pulling it out and scaring this chick off. I may have no clue where we’re heading, but she certainly does, and I intend to find out what’s at the end of this labyrinth. Just when I think this will go on forever, the hedges open up to a patio, like the one at the other end. Behind this one, though, is a small cottage. It seems rather odd to have your guests go through all that to get here, but what do I know? I suppose it would afford them privacy.
The woman walks through the front door without knocking, so I’m guessing she’s the person staying in the house. I turn around to begin the long trek back when a familiar voice catches my attention.
What the hell?
I whip my head around and see the redhead had left the door slightly ajar. I slowly creep closer, my eyes darting back and forth to ensure the area is clear. I plaster my back against the stucco siding just to the right of the door and listen carefully. The unmistakable sounds of sex are echoing throughout, and if I had to guess, I’d say there’s more than a few bodies inside. It sounds exactly like what I heard outside of the boathouse by the lake.
What is it with these rich people and their orgies?
My ears perk up when I hear the voice that drew me here.
“What took you so long?” the woman asks.
I quickly peek through the crack, and sure enough, Madeline is standing right inside the door, talking to the auburn-haired girl. She’s wearing a short, bright red dress that hugs all her curves with a pair of skyscraper heels. I can’t hear the other woman’s reply over the grunts and groans behind her because she’s talking too quietly, but I do hear what my stepmother says next.
“If you want more, you know what you need to do to earn it.” Oh shit, she’s walking this way. “Were you raised in a fucking barn, Nadia? Close the damn door when you come in.”
I press a hand to my chest as Madeline slams the door shut, willing my racing heart to calm down. Fuck, that was too close. I stay crouched down and duck walk to the other side of the house. There’s a sliding glass door back here that allows me to see inside. I know it’s risky as fuck, but I need to know what the hell is going on in there. Group sex, obviously, but why is Madeline just standing there fully clothed? Staying as close to the exterior wall as possible, I approach the glass to get a better look.
I stifle a gasp when I catch my first glimpse. There aren’t many people inside, but it’s obvious why they’re there. I expected to see comfy furnishings, maybe a small kitchen like in Kingston’s house, but none of that is here. No, this place has one purpose and one purpose only, and I doubt there’s any sleeping or lounging around going on. Ever. The lighting is subdued, but still bright enough where I have a clear view of everything.
There are three different contraptions spread out through the open space. The first one is a weird kind of bench off to the right. It almost looks like a neck massage chair, but instead of a set lower seat, the middle section is raised higher with bondage straps attached to each end. A gorgeous naked woman is strapped to the bench, ass high in the air, while a much older—also nude—man ruts into her from behind. I’m pretty sure his dick is up her ass, but I can’t quite tell because his rather large, jiggly belly is getting in the way. I wouldn’t exactly say the woman is unwilling, but I also wouldn’t say she’s an active participant. She’s just lying there, taking it, occasionally opening her mouth to scream. Whether it’s in pleasure or pain, I don’t know.
The second setup is a sex swing hanging from exposed rafters on the left side of the room. It’s occupied by a young woman with two men about the same age as her sandwiching her in. Her top half is inverted, probably to better accommodate the dick in her mouth. One guy is pounding her from the front, while the one fucking her face is tweaking the nipples on her giant breasts. Just like the first girl, she doesn’t seem like she’s resisting, and she’s definitely awake, but she doesn’t seem to be enjoying it either.
In the center of the room, there’s a massive four-poster bed. A man with a slightly graying beard is on his back, pumping a hand over his erection. The redhead I followed here approaches him, and they exchange a few words. In the next moment, she lowers the straps of her dress and shimmies out of it, leaving her naked as the day she was born. She then crawls onto the mattress beside him and lowers her head over his cock. He fists her long hair to watch as she Hoovers his dick for a few moments, before slapping her ass, prompting her to climb onto his lap where she rides him, reverse cowgirl style. Without a condom, mind you, which totally ups the ick factor. My eyes widen in panic when her eyes flicker to me, but I don’t think she actually sees me. She’s kind of just staring out into space, going through the motions.