Becoming a Jett Girl (The Bourbon Series) (7 page)

BOOK: Becoming a Jett Girl (The Bourbon Series)

Kace’s bravado instantly deflated from my words. That was much better.

“I told her she had until midnight to make up her mind.”

“Get Reggie on her.”


I held up my hand to stop him. “Get Reggie to take care of it, Kace.”

“That will crush her.”

“She needs a little crushing in order to see that we really are her only choice. Make the call.”

Kace blew out a frustrated breath. “Where do you want it?”

“She’ll be at the cemetery now; make sure it’s after she’s done there.”

“How do you know she’ll be there?”

I picked up my pen and started signing documents for some real estate I just purchased around the city.

“You’re excused.”

I didn’t look back up at him because I knew what I would see, a very seething Kace and I wasn’t in the mood to look at his defiance. He was already grating on my nerves.

My office door shut, letting me know that he was no longer in my presence. I leaned back in my chair and thought about the club. We were due for a new girl, especially since Babs was on her way out, which she told me the other night after a very rousing sexual experience.

Babs was always able to get me off without any trouble. Sometimes Pepper could be a stubborn little bitch when it came to submitting to me. She preferred to have a more equal hand in the play room, a struggle I had experienced with her ever since she became a Jett Girl. She really liked to push my buttons and if I were honest, when I wanted a little push back, if I wanted to slap some ass, I always called on Pepper because I could really plow myself into her and punish her with my dick and she didn’t have a problem taking every last inch of my pounding.

The thought of Pepper pushing back against me aroused my cock. I looked down at the clock and saw that I would have plenty of time to play before Goldie entered the club.

I sent Kace a quick text.

Jett: Send Pepper to the Bourbon Room.

I grabbed one of my signature play cards, wrote out exactly how I wanted her and walked it over to the Bourbon Room, which was on the same floor as my office and bedroom. The Bourbon Room was the only room the girls were allowed to be in on my floor and only when invited. Other than that, they were not allowed anywhere near the third floor. It was my sanctuary, my place to look over my club and the place where I conducted all of my business.

Once I set the card on the table in the middle of the room, I turned to my bedroom to undress. I planned on fucking Pepper raw and then getting ready for Goldie’s welcoming, even though I would be watching from afar.

Chapter Eight



I sat in front of my family’s mausoleum in the Lafayette Cemetery as I sketched the front of it for the hundredth time. It was the one thing I could sketch with my charcoals without having to look at my inspiration. The image was permanently ingrained in my head. Coming here was my one escape; it was my getaway and my sanctuary.

Pink blared through my ear buds as I tried to pick myself up from the disappointing meeting I had with the crazy at Café Pontalba. When I first saw him, I actually thought that there might be a change in my life, but after he told me all about submitting to a freak, I wanted nothing to do with it. I wasn’t into bondage and all that…well, maybe that was a lie. I was into kink; I was pretty much into anything sexual because I couldn’t deny the fact that I loved having orgasms. God, I loved them.

What creeped me out was that I was supposed to submit to someone I’d never even met before. I was all about mystery, but when you have to send someone to do your dirty work, it just told me there was something wrong…something they’re hiding.

Still, the idea that I would be taken care of kept ringing through my head, as well as a feeling in the back of my mind that I was telling me that I was making a huge mistake by turning him down.

My hand ran across the lettering of my parent’s names as I tried to connect with them.

“I’m so tired,” I said, as I spoke out loud to them. “I’m tired and I don’t know how much more of this life I can take. I have no more hope and I feel like I keep getting beat down when I feel like life is picking back up.”

Tears brimmed at the back of my eyes as I wished in my heart that my parents were both still alive.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve probably disappointed you. I know you see what I do every day, but you guys left me with nothing else. I had no choice. I had no other outlet to turn to.”

I swiped a tear away before it could catch on my drawing and ruin the charcoal imprint.

“There is this new opportunity for me to become a Jett Girl. It sounds really sketchy, almost too good to be true. I love New Orleans, but it’s hard to trust anyone around here when it comes to selling your body, but I guess it’s like that in all cities, right? Selling your body isn’t the most reliable source of income either, so I guess any offer would be skeezy.”

“I wish you guys were here so you could tell me what to do. I really need your guidance. In my heart, I know you guys wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing and you definitely wouldn’t approve of me submitting my body to a man to get rid of my debt, not your little Goldie.”

I placed my head in my hands as I said, “I just don’t know what to fucking do.” Pink continued to run through my ears, telling me to not give up, but in my heart I was. At that moment, I wished Hurricane Katrina took me with my parents because it would be so much easier than my life right now.

Knowing it was getting late and I still had to take the trolley back to the French Quarter, I took a look at the time and realized that if I wanted to drop my cash off at the bank, I had to get going or else I was going to be late for work.

I placed my hand on the cold slate of their memorial while silently apologizing for disappointing them. I gathered my art supplies, stuffed them in my bag and walked toward the trolley stop on St. Charles Avenue. I held my phone as I continued to play music to try to brighten my spirits and distract me from the disturbing and disappointing day I was having, but nothing was working. My life was a pile of shit…no, a fly that ate the pile of shit…no, the puke the fly threw up after eating the pile of shit…that was my life.

As I turned out of the cemetery, I tripped over a tree root from one of the giant medusa-like trees that were a staple in the Garden District. I caught my balance right before my face ate cement. I nervously laughed, as I hoped no one saw my failed attempt of running out my obvious trip.

Out of nowhere, I was slammed up against the outer wall of the cemetery by what I could only think was a steroid mammoth of a man. One minute I was giggling to myself at what a klutz I was and the next minute I was being breathed on by a man twice my size.

He breathed in my ear, “Give me your purse and we will have no problems.”

The enormous deposit from the last couple of days of work that was sitting in my purse ran through my head. There was no way I could give him my purse; I would never make up that money. Trying to think of any way out of this, I rubbed my ass up against his crotch.

“I’ll give you something else. Anything you want, you name it. I’m yours.”

The thought of practically being raped in order to save my money made bile rise to my throat, but I didn’t have any other choice.

“I don’t want your pussy. I want your bag.”

Holding on tight to my bag, I breathed into the wall as my cheek pressed against the old rock and said, “I know how to suck a cock that will make you come for days. Just give me a chance and I will make you a very happy man.”

“I’m not a dumbass, lady. I know the minute you get your mouth around my cock you’re going to bite the shit out of it. Give me your fucking purse or I am going to have to take care of matters with my little friend here…the switch blade.”

He pressed a cold blade against the back of my neck, making me freeze in place. Alright, so my cock sucking abilities were not going to save me right now. I really didn’t have a choice…besides begging.

“Please, don’t do this.” Fear crept into my voice, waving off all the confidence I once had.

He pressed the blade into my skin a little more and I swore he must have punctured the skin on the back of my neck.

“Alright,” I cried, as I handed over my purse, well handed it behind me.

He grabbed my purse, pressed me further into the wall and then took off. I didn’t even bother to turn around. I just fell to the ground, buried my head in my hands and knees and cried. I was completely done for. There’s feeling low and then there was the level I was at…hopeless. I was barely going to be able pay my bills this month and now, with my stash gone, I was…fucked.

I didn’t know how long I sat on the ground as I cried to myself, but the sun started to drop behind the trees, giving them an eerie look.

At that moment, my phone beeped from a blocked number. I looked down at my phone and read the message.

Have you made your decision yet?

I stared at the message for a while, as I tried to figure out my next step. I hit the reply button and sent a text back.

Goldie: I’m in.

I hoped to God I was making the right decision, but then again, I didn’t have any other options. Even if this was one of the worst decisions of my life, I had to do something, it couldn’t be worse than getting my asshole plucked at every night by strangers and getting screwed out of tips by a heinous human being.

Brushing off my shorts, I got up and started toward the trolley station, but then realized I didn’t have any money to pay for my ride. It was going to be a nice long walk back to my apartment.

As I started walking, my phone beeped again.

Don’t move, there will be a car to pick you up and bring you to the club. Your employer has been notified of your resignation. You will be staying at the Lafayette Club from now on.

I stared down at my phone and wondered what the hell I had just gotten myself into.

Chapter Nine

“Best Day of My Life”


Never did I think my life would make such a dramatic turn in matter of hours. One minute I was sitting on the cold cement outside the Lafayette Cemetery, crying to myself because I just lost a week’s worth of earnings and then the next minute, I am sitting in the back of a Rolls Royce, being driven around New Orleans with only my few precious belongings.

When I grabbed my personal items, the driver, whose name I didn’t catch, told me to leave all clothes and only pack any sentimental objects.

After I looked around my shitty room, I knew there wasn’t much for me to take, so I filled a pillowcase, since I didn’t have any real luggage, with some picture frames, my mother’s jewelry that wasn’t completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina and my art.

I sat in the buttery soft leather of the car and looked over at my sad pathetic pillowcase…that was my life. My entire life fit into a faded red pillowcase.

My fingers ran along the raised stitching of the back seat as I thought about how I had never in my life been in such a nice piece of machinery. The driver wore a suit, for fuck’s sake, and there was ice water readily available in the back of the car in case I was parched. This was a kind of living I was not used to. I was more used to drinking piss water from the crusty tap and riding around on the trolley or some paying man’s dick.

We drove down St. Charles Avenue, right in the heart of the Garden District. I watched beautiful pastel-colored houses pass by as I looked out the window. I knew the area by heart because it was where I came to get away from my life, to reconnect with my parents. Never did I think that I would be living here.

Before I left the apartment, I ran into Lyla, who could not have been happier for me. It seemed all so weird to me, that my friend was excited that I had an opportunity to be a part of some strange high class brothel, or at least that’s what I thought it was. I was nervous about her paying rent by herself, but she assured me Crystal was going to move in because she was evicted today; it seemed a little too coincidental, but I didn’t look too much into it because I had other things to worry about.

We turned down Jackson Street and I took in the trees that hung over the streets. They were my favorite part of the Garden District. The trees were rebels at heart because they all grew in their own way, their own direction. I couldn’t help but feel like the trees were my kindred spirit. I paused as I thought about it. Holy hell, I was losing it if I was feeling some kind of relation to some fucking trees.

The car slowed down as we pulled up to a grandiose white…mansion that was surrounded by what must be a seven-foot wrought iron and stone fence. White Pillars scattered the façade and each floor-to-ceiling window was framed by black shutters and had an oil lantern hanging in front it, giving the house an old New Orleans feel.

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