LEATHER AND LACE--WIP

THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF AN EROTIC STORY I'M WORKING ON. THIS IS ROUGH AT IT'S ROUGHEST FORM. ANY AND ALL CRITIQUING IS GRATEFUL WELCOMED.


Premise: Sara McCrery is a long way from Scotland. No home and a no job have left Sara with only one option. The Scottish beauty will sell her self for one night to the highest bidder at the ‘Leather and Lace’ bordello.

A night out with the boys proves to be exactly what Jared Morgan needs. Fearless and reckless is his life’s creed. One wild night of uninhibited sex is all Jared needs. Moreover, where better than at the ‘Leather and Lace’ is he to find exactly what he’s looking for.


Her hair wild and spiraling like a red flame down her back and over her shoulders, Sara stares at herself and wonders if this is the right thing to do. The crystal blue eyes staring back can hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. Sara was never one for make-up; she is startled at what the right touch of rouge and lip balm can hide.

“Sara, you’re absolutely stunning.” She heard Nessa prattling behind her as she twirled and waved peach and coral colored scarves around. “See, I told you that peach is your color.” She draped the silks over Sara’s shoulders, and she had to admit that the colors were fascinating

Sara worried her bottom lip and looked down at her lap where she was strangling her hands. She could hear the rambunctious crowd from the open room and squeezed her hands even tighter. “I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

“You have to.” Nessa taken a back rushed to Sara’s side. “Oh Sara, please I beg of you. Do this for me.” Her friend pleaded, kneeling at her side and unclasping Sara’s hands. “I know this isn’t what you dreamed your life would be, but I beg you just this one time and then we will be free.”

Sara couldn’t refuse her true friend. The last three months had been horrible. Sara had met Nessa one night when she was scrounging through dumpsters for food. Filthy and starving, Nessa had shone Sara how to survive the streets of New York with out ending up on her back. Sara owed Nessa more than she could ever repay. Two days later as they were out peddling for food Madame Rachelle approached her.


“You’re quite beautiful, even underneath all that filth.” With her left hand Madame Rachelle had tipped her face side to side as if appraising a horse. “Yes, very rare gem, indeed.” She stared into Sara’s eyes and added. “You’d be a splendid addition to my family.” She had walked around Sara, eyeing the dirty and ragged cloths. “Of course you’ll need a good scrubbing.” Madame Rochelle snapped her fingers and extended her calling card. “You’ll need to be properly attired and checked out by a doctor before I’ll admit you. What do you say?”

What could Sara say? She was too shocked to utter a word. Sara’s stomach began to grumble.

The woman laughed, it was an interesting laugh. It had the tone of one holding their breath and exhaling quickly. She was pleasant to look at. Madame Rachelle had been a rare beauty in her day. Now the golden tresses were graying at the temple. She covered the dark circles underlying her eyes with make-up, not completely covered. Her form had seen better days as her clothing was to tight on a too plump body.

“Here, take it.” She shoved the card under Sara’s nose. “Trust me, by the sound of your stomach you and your friend.” She gestured to where Nessa stood ringing her hands with her head bowed. “will be asking for my help, sooner or later.”

Sara wanted to grab that obstinate card and tear it up in her face. Instead she glared at the older woman and with nimble fingers took the card.

“Here, write this down.” She handed Sara a pen from her purse and eyed her. “You do know how to read and write, don’t you?”

If Sara had the energy she would have smacked the smug bitch. Instead she smiled sweetly showing Madame Rochelle a set of perfectly straight white teeth.

“Of course I do.” Sara let her Scottish brogue come through this time.

That seemed to set the old Madame on edge. “You’re Scottish.” She accused as if being Scottish was a decaying disease. As if even being near the Scottish girl she would some how catch it.

“I am Scottish and I’m proud of it.” She began to tremble. Sara was so angry that it was raging like a fire bursting to explode. “What of it?” She demanded, advancing on the startled woman before her.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t have your like in my establishment.” Madame Rachelle was snapping her purse close and about to turn and leave. There goes there warm bed and hot dinner for the night and it was all because she was Scottish. Why? Why couldn’t she keep that Scottish temper under control? Hadn’t her mum warned her enough times that her temper would lead her down a road of destruction? Well, didn’t she?

Three thousand miles and a stretch of ocean is where she was now. If she let this opportunity pass her by she would never return home. Sara had to think quickly. The cogs in her mind went round and round.

“Madame Rachelle, stop, please.” She ran after her. She knew one thing that meant more to a woman like Madame Rachelle than anything in the world. Money. Just from their short conversation she knew that Madame Rachelle wasn’t a fool. Neither was Sara, and when she saw an opportunity she took it. Sara only had one thing to bargain with and she was willing to gamble it.

The woman stopped and turned a capricious snare at her. Sara gulped as the uneasiness ripped through her. “What do you want?” She glared at the young girl. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“I’ll make it worth your time.” Sara said stopping in front of her but far enough that the other woman had to turn to clearly see her.

She cocked a graying blonde brow in a well-get-on –with-it gesture.

“I have a proposition for you.” She said, keeping her hands at her side. She straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. If anything her mother had taught her to respect herself. Sara felt her knees knocking, and felt like throwing up, but she held her ground. “All I ask is that Nessa is taken care of and can stay at..” She pulled the card Madame Rachelle had given her from her pocket and read, “ the ‘Leather And Lace’ bordello.” She gulped as she replaced the card into her pocket and gazed up at the waiting woman.


**
Until two days ago Sara and Nessa had been living on the street. Now she sat in a warm room, lavished in soft pinks and yellows adorning the bedroom. It was a very inviting room, something quite extraordinary for it being a bordello. For the past two days, she had woken to the warmth of the sun across her face. At times she could almost believe that she was back on the glen. The table in the corner was covered with fruits, cheese and wine Madame Rachelle had ‘rescued’ them from their ‘unfortunate’ circumstances.

For some unknown reason to Sara, Madame Rachelle had been severely harsh with Nessa. Something wasn’t quite right but Sara just couldn’t place her finger on it. The oddness continued from the moment they walked into the lush and expensively lavished mansion. The compound was set outside of the city limits on sprawling-acreage that homed thousands upon thousands of trees and a lake in the center that was surrounded by minuets replicas of the mansion for elicited use, privately Sara assumed.

Sara longed to be home in Scotland. She missed her family desperately. She wondered if her own mother would recognize her if she saw her. God if only her mum could see her. No take that back. Thank God, her mum doesn’t know what has brought her daughter to this bordello in the middle of no where.







Just three months ago she had followed Matthew Brennamen to New York. He wanted to follow his dream of becoming an actor. Sara just wanted to follow him. At twenty-five she thought she was in love. Only to find out that she had been completely clueless. Matthew had promised her everything under the stars. And like all love struck idiots right there under a starry night on the glen she gave Matthew every part of herself. After they finished he dropped her off home. She had felt…well that was the problem…she hadn’t felt anything. She didn’t see shooting stars and there was no explosion from her body.

Now here she was sitting in the back room waiting for the auction to begin. Where had her life turned so terribly wrong?

A knock on the door shocked her out of her revere. “Yes.’ She heard Nessa call as she put the final touches to her hair, spraying her wrist, neck and between the valleys of her breast. She felt so sick inside. There was no turning back.

The door creaked open and a young blond shaggy haired man stepped into the room. He tried not to stare at Sara, twisting his hands nervously as he spoke. “The auction is beginning.” He said, taking a step closer and stared at the floor. “Madame Rachelle told me to come and fetch you.”

Sara’s heart jumped. Oh God this was really it. Tonight she would never be the same again. She could never live with this shame. How could she ever face her family knowing what she had done? Or knowing how low their daughter had sunk.

“Harry, tell Madame Rachelle we will be there in just a moment.” Nessa shooed the young man.

“But, I was told to bring…”

“Tell her we will be there in a minute.” Through gritted teeth she glared at Harry as if he was a complete idiot.

“She’s not going to be happy.” He returned, scuffing his leather work boots on the hard wood floor. “Not one bit.” He dared to look up and caught Sara’s eyes. Just like that, he turned on his heels and walked out the door slamming it behind him.

“I tell you; the people that Madame Rachelle has working for her are useless.” Nessa came to stand behind Sara. The younger woman places her fragile hands on Sara’s shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. “Sara,” she started, twirling a spiral around her finger. “It really won’t be so bad. I hear there are rich and exciting men out there all waiting for you.”



Sara didn’t want a man. She longed for the one that would capture her heart and love her unconditionally. She didn’t want some random man plowing through her like a field of Heather just because he needed to get his rocks off. Some where deep inside, Sara believes in the romantic notion of true love.

“Sara,” Nessa tugs on her hair, brining her out of her musing. “Stop living in that dream world of yours. Sometimes you just have to do what you need to do to survive.” Sara saw the hurt and loneliness in her friends face. She knew what she had to do.

With resolve she heaved a sigh and stood. Turning toward her friend she said. “I’m ready.” She grabbed the peach rob and shoved one arm in and then the other, tying it around her tiny waist. She fixed the red spirals so that they cascaded loosely around her shoulders. Sara knew she was beautiful. She knew she would get a heft price. She also knew she would be paying the ultimate price tonight. Her soul.

She held her head high and walked to the door. She looked over her shoulder at her friend and there and then decided that tonight would be the last night she depended on anyone. Sara McCrery was truly alone.

As she walked down the corridor to the entrance hall she heard the raucous laughter coming through. She was not going to faint, she kept telling herself. She wasn’t the shy little Scottish girl who came to America three months ago. No longer was she blind to the world’s immoral and degenerate class. She no longer cared. Tonight would be her one chance and one chance only.

“I can do this.” She kept chanting as she walked into the room.

A hush fell over the room as she entered. She tried ignoring all the lecherous glares aimed at her. Keep your head high, she told herself as she climbed up the wooden stares of the platform.

“Ain’t, she a beauty.” She heard one of the drunks say as she passed by. She had to block them out, everybody out or she’d never be able to get through this.

She felt like she was walking in a fog, not really there but not really gone. She stepped up to the wooden auction block. The block made it essential in showing her assests to the room.

People whistled, made obscene gestures and called out for her to bare her tits. Sara gagged. She knew at any moment she was about to vomit. God, how degrading.

Sara lifted her head and a whosh was felt through the room.

“Sweet Jesu, she is incredible.”

“I bet she is wild in bed.” She heard a harsh voice say. “Just take a look at those tits. I would love to dive in there and live for days.

Sara was dead inside. She held the tears back. The lump in her throat was chocking her. She wanted to die. She lifted her head higher.

“Look at her.” She heard one of the other sluts call out. “Miss high and Mighty thinks she’s better than us.” She spat out as the man’s lap she was sitting on squeezed her breast.

“Oh Darla, don’t worry over that piece of scrape.” He drew the whore closer and took her breast in his mouth. The black haired whore shrieked in delight as her lover sucked and probed under her skirt. “She can’t hold a candle to you.

“Oh..oh..jesu..” Darla whimpered as Justin Smith made her come.

When Darla could focus she glared up at Sara. Sara still stood frozen.

Just then Madame Rachelle came out onto the stage. Walking up to the podium she yanked on Sara’s robe. The silk slithered down her statuesque for and landed in a pool around her feet.

Madame Rachelle walked to the podium and the gavel hit the wood admitting a riveting bang through the room.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Her tone was very welcome and inviting as she turned to the crowd. An actress born to entertain she smiles out at the crowd as she calls, “the auction will start at $5000. Who will start the bidding?”