out of my panties and stood in front of them totally nude.
The fact that four men were staring didn’t bother me. After all, I was a model, used to being gawked at. I tried on a playful smile and held out my hand for the bikini.
After a lengthy pause, the man in charge handed me a scrap of a swimsuit.
I pulled it on, keeping my voice steady. “Let me know when you’re ready for me,” I breathed, then wiggled across the patio and took the chair beside the blonde.
“I’m Claire.”
“Julianne.”
I peered into her sunglasses, but only my reflection stared back.
“Are you going to be part of the shoot?”
A slow shake of her head.
“They say I’m going to Paris.” She didn’t seem convinced, and the syllables took too long to roll off her tongue. From all appearances she was under the influence of something beyond the lust for modeling stardom.
“Really?” I forced awe into my voice. “To model? When?”
“They said soon.”
Jacob might not have a lot of information about this operation, but what he did have was correct as usual. Now I only had to figure out how to get her out of here before “soon” rolled around.
“Have you signed a contract?”
Another head shake. For someone who’d been told she was about to go to Paris to model, Julianne was acting incredibly detached.
“I know an attorney. He told me what to look for. You know, just to make sure you’re getting what you’re worth.”
I didn’t know if an eighteen year old would care about something as practical as contract negotiation, especially when she was sailing on whatever drug they had given her. But I needed to lure her away from the pool and the men watching us, and beyond physically dragging her, I had few options. “If we could go somewhere private for just a few seconds, I’ll fill you in.”
“No, thanks.”
“It’ll just take—”
She lowered her voice. “They aren’t going to like you talking to me.”
Then I understood. I wasn’t hearing disinterest in her voice. I was hearing worry.
“Why not?” I asked.
She leaned in closer. “They haven’t taken any pictures of me. They won’t let me leave. I can’t even make outside phone calls.”
“You’re the only girl here?”
“No. There are others. But they’re doing X-rated stuff.”
“Have they made you do any?” I asked, feeling myself grow cold.
“They haven’t even asked. No one has tried anything.” She shook her head, like she was denying an accusation. “Men have always liked me. I’ve never been around guys who didn’t try to hit on me.”
My first thought was surprise that these men hadn’t tasted the goods.
My second was that maybe there was a reason.
“Julianne, are you a virgin?”
Virgins fetched top dollar on the slave market.
A crease dug between her eyebrows. “What?”
“Are you?”
“Not since I was fourteen.” She lowered her sunglasses, staring into my eyes. They were glassy, but there was panic dancing beneath the dope haze.
“Have they hurt you? Threatened you?”
“They mostly ignore me. I thought maybe they were gay, but I saw two of them messing around with the other girls.”
I considered repeating what Jacob had told me, that she was going to be sold. But I didn’t see how scaring her even more would improve the situation. Besides, something wasn’t adding up.
“I don’t think they’re taking me to Paris,” she said.
“So why are you here?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes focused on me, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m scared.”
“I can get you out of here,” I said. “Do you want me to?”
She nodded. “Will you? Please?”
“Leave it to me, okay? Just be ready when I tell you.”
“Thanks.” She reached over, squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back.
Movement, in my peripheral vision. Hawaiian Shirt had left the other men and was now circling the pool to where we sat, an expensive-looking digital camera around his neck. He motioned to me, the tip of his tongue flicking out and running across his bottom lip.
“Okay, you. Miss Hot to Trot. Come on.”
I didn’t want to let Julianne out of my sight, but I couldn’t exactly refuse my chance to become a big star. A few bikini shots in the sand would still give me a chance to keep an eye on her. I scrambled to my feet, doing my best to look excited.
He turned in the direction of the house.
“I thought we were going to shoot on the beach, since I’m wearing a swim suit and all.”
He opened the patio door and ushered me inside. “Trust me, honey. This will be better.”
Inside he made for the staircase to the second floor.
I could guess what kind of pictures he was planning to take. A guess that was confirmed as we went deeper into the mansion. A long hallway opened at the top of the stairs, doors flanking both sides, most standing open. I peeked into the first, hearing moaning.
The lighting—a simple klieg on a tripod—was strictly amateur hour. And so was the talent. But what she lacked in professionalism she made up for with enthusiasm. I guessed this shoot could have been called,
“Now the Bartlett, babe,” the cameraman cooed as he snapped away. “And put the strawberry up to your lips. No, your other lips.”
The next door down was a video production of the more vanilla variety. Guy on girl, pretty standard stuff.
Scratch that. An animal musk odor made me look closer, and I noticed a miniature donkey next to the bed.
I’d call that production,
“You like to watch?” Hawaiian Shirt asked, leering over his shoulder.
“I’m more of a doer than a watcher,” I answered, hoping my grin looked real.
We passed another door, saw another video shoot.
I’m pretty shock-proof, but my cover persona, Claire Thomas, wouldn’t be.
“Yuck.” I gave a shudder. “That’s gross.”
“Gotta keep upping the ante,” Hawaiian Shirt said. “We’re calling it
“No, thanks. I already ate. And I don’t want to eat
We were almost to the end of the hall when a sound caught my attention. More a beat in my chest than a noise, but I recognized it immediately.
A helicopter.
Many millionaires had vacation homes in the area and few suffered the inconvenience of traffic snarls on their way back and forth to Manhattan. Around here, helipads were as common as tennis courts. But as much as I told myself all these facts, my gut said the arrival of this particular aircraft was no coincidence. It was here for Julianne, and I was stuck modeling for nudie shots with this chubby Seymore Butts wannabe.
He chose the last bedroom on the left.
