Indebted to the Mafia King

l

ly want to wear my birthday dress. It stops at my knees, so I might be able to hide it under a long coat, but I picked out the yellow polka-dotted dress because it looked so cheerful, and I don’t want to think of this virginity auction every time we go out to dinner for Mama’s, Baba’s, or my birthday. That leaves me with my

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probably want innocent girls. I swipe on a soft gold eyeshadow over my blue eyes, then apply one of my darker pink lipsticks. Good. The dusty lip really brings out my cupid’s bow…I think. I

d another day watching my parents endure Frank Lombardi torture. I grab the kitten heels I usually pair with this dress, shove my phone and wallet into a small purse, yank on a jacket, and crawl out onto the fire escape. The night air is brisk, but it’s

lly believe he is dead. Not totally. And I wouldn’t leave New

ub with the name Piacere written in twinkling lights on top. There’s a line out the door, but almost everyone in the line is a man. At the very front stands a muscular male in

hless to my own ears. “I’m

n case it’ll sell my story, I open

inside. Ask for Carla.” He unclips a velv

oles. A few beautiful women in little more than their underwear spin and twist on the poles, to the cheers and dollar bills of the men in the low tables around the stage. To one sid

y to the first bartender wh

ay I don’t have to answer any more qu

is easy to pick out from her crisp suit, clipboard, and the way nearly a doz

name is El—” I stop. I’m in a sex club.

sses a finger to her ear. “Last minute entry, looks to be

. “I’m

e minutes. Drop your coat, and I’ll send you out with everyone else. You’ll

he ushers most of the girls back out to the front of the house,

the men around me grow almost deafening. Several of them chant for her to take it off, while others holler that she couldn’t possibly be a virgin, dressed like that. The g

highlights her curves just a little, goes for nearly

“El? I’m gonna need

o my feet. “Am I

I don’t even know what I did wrong, but I’ve

t even look where we’re going. I just stare at her face, trying to figure out what’s going on. She smiles apologeti

ays, “What’s a girl like you