Story of a Secret Heart by Cassi Ellen - HTML preview

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Money and more

Two weeks later, we all headed to the casino for a night out. At first, it was just Ben, Sammy, Jack and myself, but we were quickly joined by a number of high rollers who knew Ben. I’d never really been exposed to that sort of gambling before, so when one of the high rollers seemed to be on a winning streak, I was in total awe.

As he played poker, I watched every move he made and could not believe how relaxed he was; chatting and flirting with me as he bet thousands of dollars at a time. I knew if it had been the other way around and I was betting thousands of dollars, I would have been snapping at people left, right and centre. As Ben, Jack and Sammy headed to the sports bar to watch the horse racing, I stayed behind to watch the poker continue. There were three other men at the table and they were all just as relaxed as each other. Ben’s friend was the only one that spoke to me however, I assume just in case I was some sort of undercover poker player trying to glance at the cards or distract the dealer. Of course, in reality I had no idea what was going on.

After what seemed like hours, the man stopped the game, collected his winning chips and headed to the cashier to exchange them. I walked over to the cashier with him and when the lady handed over $40,000 in cash (it took some time!), I almost fell over. I had never seen that much money before, so when he handed it to me and said, ‘I need a smoke. Can you please put this in your handbag?’ I was gobsmacked. Now, I could totally see where he was coming from; he had nowhere to put that amount of cash, and barring putting it down his trousers, my handbag really was the safest place, but at the time I wasn’t really sure what to say or do. I half-jokingly asked him if he wasn’t scared I was going to run off with the money and when he responded with, ‘No way. The boys say you are the nicest girl they have ever met,’ my heart melted. But before I got a big head, I had to remind myself of the types of girls they normally hung around with; they would more than likely steal $40 let alone $40,000.

As he went outside for a cigarette, I headed over to the sports bar to find Ben, obviously clutching my bag very tightly. Of course, $40,000 would have solved so many of my problems at that point in time; I could have easily returned to the UK and set up a new life there, but after what those boys had done for me, it didn’t even cross my mind. Of course, I showed Ben as soon as I found him, but he didn’t even bat an eyelid at that amount of money. Unlike myself, of course, who was like a kid in a candy store and even went to the toilet to take pictures for Facebook! Nonetheless, when the high roller left at the end of the night, after shouting us all drinks and dinner, he took the money with him and went on his way.

Ben, Sammy, Jack and I continued our night and headed back to Ben’s apartment for some more drinks. As the drinks flowed, my memory once again became faded, but when I was awakened the next morning by the sun, I was, as always, alone in the spare room. Having known those men for some time, I was now comfortable enough to not just get up and leave in the mornings, so after brushing my teeth (with my very own toothbrush that I now kept in the apartment!), I headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As I entered the kitchen, I heard a sound coming from the master bedroom. It almost sounded like a slapping noise, and as I listened carefully, I could hear it over and over again, in constant rhythm. Being a little intrigued, I moved closer to the master bedroom door, which was ajar, and listened closer. The sound was still in a constant rhythm, but concerned that it was definitely skin slapping on skin, I peered through the door to see if I could see anything.

What I saw made my stomach do a backflip. It was a naked girl on all fours bent over on the bed, with a naked man stood f**king her from behind. If it wasn’t for the weird British girl (me) watching them, you would probably think that was quite normal, but the thing was they weren’t making a sound! Not a sound between the two of them, except for the constant rhythm of skin slapping on skin. I couldn’t see the man’s face, only his body, but I could see the girls face, and to be perfectly honest, she looked a little bored. It was actually quite freaky to watch as she slightly and impassively crouched on all fours while the man pounded her in constant rhythm from behind. Obviously, at the time, 100% of me thought it was Ben and I wanted to burst in the door and catch him in the act, but for some reason I kind of just edged in the doorway a little bit, stunned at the lack of noise or emotion, and as always, a little shy.

When the emotionless pair saw me, they both looked up and as I realised it was in fact not Ben but Sammy, my cheeks heated up and I began my apologies with a horrified looked on my face. I obviously immediately turned to leave, trying only to stare at the floor, but to my astonishment they both started chatting to me like they were just sitting down having a cup of tea together. Sammy, the whole time continuing the constant slapping rhythm, asked me if I had slept well and if I needed anything.

When I didn’t answer, because I was in stunned silence, the girl he was f**king asked me to get her a glass of water! I said nothing, and just about to leave thought the situation couldn’t get any weirder if it tried, but I was wrong. As I stood there, I spied Jack lying in the bed next to them with one eye open obviously pretending to be asleep. He gave me a sly sleepy smile and a wink; I didn’t know whether to run for the hills or burst out laughing. Untimely, I hurried out of the room in complete embarrassment and stunned disbelief, heading for the spare room to gather my things and leave, hoping I would never have to face those people again. After all, to them, I was just spying on them having sex, why else would I have walked straight into the room without knocking!

However, just as I got into the kitchen to leave, the girl strolled in with just a small towel wrapped around her and announced, completely impassively, like they were just mowing the backyard, that they were taking a break and that she would get her own water. She opened a few kitchen cupboards, obviously looking for a glass, and even though I knew where they were I just continued to stare at her in amazement without offering assistance. She was an attractive, young girl in her late teens or early twenties, with dark short hair and quite harsh features to her face which I just couldn’t help and stare at. I silently wondered what her story could be, and how she might have got into prostitution, but I didn’t want to bring up such a topic over breakfast.

When she eventually found the correct cupboard, she filled the glass up from the tap and immediately turned to me. She then started talking to me like she knew me. Not wanting to be rude, but also wanting to get the hell out of there, I hung around in the doorway, waiting for a good opportunity to make my excuses and leave. But as she started talking, I considered that in fact I had met her the night before and the vague memory of me asking Ben, Jack and Sammy whether they could really order prostitutes to the house came back to me with a big hard thump.

I chatted to her a little bit, again not wanting to be rude, but when she told me how much Sammy was paying her and asked whether ‘I wanted in on the action,’ I realised she thought I was also a prostitute. How many times would I get mistaken for a prostitute I thought to myself. Not really knowing what to say, I finally made my excuses and left. As the girl shouted out to me, ‘Text me later, babes. I can get some work for you,’ I realised I must have swapped numbers.

A week went by and, thankfully, no one mentioned the incident to me at all. Everyone else seemed to think it was quite normal to have emotionless sex with a prostitute while your friend was in the bed next to you asleep, and while a quiet little English girl was watching you. However, when Ben rang me and asked if I wanted to have dinner with Sammy and his new girlfriend I had a very uneasy feeling in my stomach. Sure enough when we turned up at the somewhat high class restaurant that night Sammy was sitting at the table with Becky, the prostitute he had been having emotionless sex with a week before. 

Now, to say I was embarrassed was an understatement, I was dreading the conversation and jokes about why I was watching them have sex and why I found it acceptable to enter the room when it was obvious what they were doing. But they honestly did not say one word about it. Sammy was as charming as ever, and Becky was truly a very lovely, friendly girl who, although she was being paid to be there, was really nice and strangely we got on very well.

Becky told me she had left home at a young age with a dream of travelling the world. This I could obviously really relate to and she listened in owe as I told her my travelling stories. She obviously hadn’t yet fulfilled her own dream to travel the world, but instead had spent years partying and drinking way too much, always waking up in strangers’ beds. It was then she decided to try prostitution; as she put it ‘get paid to have sex with strangers, instead of doing it for free’. She intended to save up $10,000 and go backpacking around Europe. With somewhat sad eyes she said it obviously was not easy, although she reassured Sammy that she loved spending time with him, and really not what she wanted to be doing, but it was a means to an end. I didn’t feel sorry for her, like I maybe should of, but instead I respected her a lot more. She had a dream and was trying to follow through on that dream, and I of all people knew how much travel could change a person. As Sammy listened to our conversation I think he felt a twinge of guilt as I know he had just assumed, like a lot of men, that ‘she liked sex’.

After we had finished our main course, both Sammy and Becky got up to go to the bathroom. As Ben smirked at me and said ‘that wasn’t so bad was it’ I instantly felt bad for judging her. Nonetheless, after fifteen minutes the pair had still not returned from the bathroom and the head waiter, who both Ben and I knew very well by that stage as it was one of our favourite restaurants, came over to our table and announced in a very frustrated, louder than necessary voice, that our dinner guests were having sex in the toilet and as much as the staff had banged on the door they would not come out. Now Ben, not surprised in the slightest, burst out laughing and so the waiter turned to me for some answers. Completely embarrassed and unsure what to say or even where to look I muttered under my breath that we would go and sort it out. As Ben was consumed in laughter, I took it upon myself to get up from the table and walk silently, while the entire restaurant, both staff and customers, stared at me, to the bathroom.

As I approached the area, it was very obvious from the very familiar slapping sound which bathroom they were in, and I politely knocked on the door hoping for a response. But my polite knock was to no avail. So the next time I knocked a little harder, but again I got no response. As I turned around to head back to the table, and hopefully make Ben just leave, with a plan to say ‘o I tried’ I was faced with a very angry head waiter. He gestured me to try again and when I knocked very politely on the door once more he lost patience and screamed ‘That’s it I’m phoning the police.’ With a lot more urgency, I banged on the door and shouted for Sammy. All of a sudden, the slapping noise stopped and I heard Becky say ‘babes you will have to wait a moment, nearly finished, but he is paying by the hour.’ I was absolutely horrified as I know all the staff in one of my favourite restaurants just heard that and now no doubt thinks that I’m also being paid by the hour. With nothing else to loose I responded very loudly with ‘well can you do it before the police turn up babes’ and turned on my heels to go back to the table and gather Ben to make a rapid exit.‘Go ahead and judge me but just remember to be perfect the rest of your life.’ — Unknown.