Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
My two companions on the other hand, chatted animatedly about snatching up a sponsor. “What’s a sponsor?” I eventually asked.
The storefronts glowed in reds and orange, and half naked women sat on barstools behind the shop windows, selling the only ware they had: their bodies. It reminded me of photos I’d seen of the red-light district in Amsterdam. I had never left Ireland before my trip to New York, so my knowledge about other cities came from TV or the internet.
They exchanged another look that made it clear they thought I was as stupid as bread. “Someone who provides you with a nice standard of living in exchange for sex and company.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m not looking for a sponsor. I don’t have much time.”
“If you only offer business on an hourly basis, you have to head down there.” They pointed to the worst part of the Doom Loop. “We’re going to the night clubs where rich men look for an affair or a girlfriend.”
I followed the direction they indicated. It was a huge building which used to be a slaughterhouse, if half the peeled off letters could be trusted. I swallowed but before I could ask them if they were sure, they stalked off on their pointy heels.
As I approached the slaughterhouse, an elderly man leaned against the front of the building. I stopped beside him. “I’m looking for a place where I can get money.” I refused to believe that Imogen would have set foot inside this place to borrow money.
“The Cunt Yard is over there,” he grunted, motioning at the slaughterhouse.
I blinked at him, sure I hadn’t heard him right, but he flashed me a dirty grin full of missing teeth. “Anything else you need from me, sugar?”
I vehemently shook my head and backed away.
Taking a deep breath, I headed toward the wide, steel double doors that marked the entrance to said Cunt Yard.
A huge man with slicked back blond hair guarded the doors. His eyes roamed over me. “What are you selling?”
“I’m not selling anything. I’m here to look for information.”
“If you’re not selling anything, then you can’t go in. Either you’re here for business or you can carry that pretty ass elsewhere.”
I gritted my teeth. “Then I’m here for business.” I could pretend to offer something for way too steep a price and not accept any lower offers, right?
“Then, in you go.” He opened one of the doors and I stepped inside. It was a huge building with steel pillars and a ceiling several stories high. The walls and floor were stone. Hooks hung from the ceiling close to the walls. I assumed they had once been used to bleed animal carcasses. In the very back, I could see a stage with round tables set up in front of it. Men sat around them, and even if I hadn’t been in the Doom Loop, I would have known these were gangsters. They looked shady.
A crowd of women had gathered around me, waiting for two men to write down their names on iPads. Most of these women were dressed in a very sexy way, but a few surprised me with school uniforms or latex outfits. One even wore a cat costume with a collar.
When it was my turn to give my name to one of the guys, I was still so stunned by my surroundings and the people that I hadn’t made up my mind on what fake name to use to register. “My name’s…—”
“No names,” mustache-guy sneered.
“Okay.—”
“One night or more?”
“Uhhh .., one,” I said. I had no intention of returning to the Doom Loop, so access for one night was enough. Would I have to pay for access?
“Works better with the virgin role, right?”
I didn’t say anything. A drag queen got up on the stage and began to perform “The Best” by Tina Turner. More and more men were taking their seats around the tables close to the stage.
“What are your specialties and talents?”
I blinked, completely taken aback by the question.
“What’s taking so long?” a woman called from down the line.
“Uhh, well, I can carry six pints of ale at the same time and I can turn wheels,” I blurted. The look of the guy told me that wasn’t what he’d expected or asked. Snickers sounded behind me. I flushed, realizing my mistake and what he’d really asked. I tried to come up with something that would entice men, but my mind was blank. I’d never been adventurous.
“The Irish maiden, pure as the first snow,” the man snickered. “That’s going to drive the bids up.” He shoved me forward.
“What? I’m not—” I paused. “Bids? I have a fixed price.” Fifty million dollars at least, so nobody would buy —me, my body. Obviously, there was only one thing women sold in this place. Cunt yard, indeed.
While that man ignored me, another man grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the line of women waiting to be led on stage once the drag queen was done with her performance. With a bow and a wave, she took her leave and the first auction began. The starting bid for the woman was twenty dollars for a night.