"Who do you want me to be?"

It was late afternoon when ‘My caller’ arrived. Viktor and Athena were still out, leaving Cyrus to manage me and Stella on his own. These times were better, with only one of them here to watch over us, they could only risk so many men coming to the flat at one time. But I felt guilty, knowing that Athena was out doing whatever horrible task Viktor had planned to inflict on me instead.

Normally we service the men in any order that they come, we are re used based on what’s most convenient. Maybe one in a hundred times a man complains that he isn’t visiting the whore he thinks he has paid for, but never has a man cared enough to not use us anyway. Not until things started with ‘my caller’ did it start to matter.

Felix Gladstone was in his sixties, but the way he talked and behaved wasn’t just old, it was ancient. No part of him seemed to make sense in a place like this, he was like a relic of the Victorian era. Always immaculately dressed, clean, well groomed and polite. Seeing Felix was the one time in my life where I actually wore clothes.

Felix loathes the gaudy lingerie we wear, so when Cyrus brought me my outfit to put on, I knew it was time. I put on a cream coloured shirt, a medium length grey skirt and black tights. Felix still wasn’t happy that I walked around with no shoes, but that was the one item of clothing that Viktor and Cyrus wouldn’t allow.

“He brought you a picnic basket. You’re getting well fed today it seems. You better not get fat.”

Cyrus scoffed as he brought me from the living room to the bedroom. It wasn’t unusual for them to laugh at the men they sold us too, but Cyrus found Felix particularly amusing. He waited by the door to make sure he was out of sight when I entered, putting two fingers up to signal that I was to be with Felix for two hours. I had the horrible feeling that Cyrus was going to listen in through the door the entire time.

“My darling.”

Felix was dressed in his navy suit, his smile wide, accentuating the deep wrinkles on his face, standing up off the bed to give me a kiss on either cheek. I spotted that he had indeed brought a picnic basket this time, and I did my best to smile back.

“I’ve missed you so much, Mr. Gladstone.”

Mr. Gladstone. That’s what I called him. Felix expected young women to be polite. He often talked about how unpleasant he found society, especially younger people. Though not enough it seemed to stop him paying good money to fuck them. I knew a lot about him, and how he felt about the world – because that’s what we did together. We talked. Or more accurately, he talked and I listened.

Felix was a widower. The reason he first booked me was because I reminded him of his late wife. He showed me a picture before and he wasn’t wrong, the resemblance was uncanny. Except his wife of course had that big, permed-up hairstyle that was so common in the 80s. It was blind luck that the first time he came here, he actually got the girl he expected to meet, but Viktor quickly discovered afterwards that he would continue to require only me. This was one particular man who could not be satisfied with an alternative whore.

Felix loathed that word too. He didn’t like the concept of ‘what I do’ but he had the good grace to accept that ‘it’s what some young ladies need to do to make ends meet’. He often spoke as if prostitution was some sort of modern phenomenon, a consequence of society’s recent decline. If I told him it was the oldest profession in the world, he would laugh and the conversation would move on as he was excited for me showing interest in history. He also did not seem to observe the contradiction of his apparent distaste for the profession and his regular consumption of it.

While I would never say that being with Felix was worse than what I usually had to do for men, it was in its own way a different kind of suffering. Talking to Felix was a complicated, exhausting and humiliating exercise. Viktor made it clear that this old man was paying a disproportionately large sum to visit me, so I had to be careful to keep him interested.

I soon learned that Felix could afford this extravagant ritual of booking a prostitute to ‘date’ because of an inheritance left in his late wife’s will. I wonder how she would feel knowing that this is what her money was being used for. I was never sure if Felix understood that I was not here by choice. Sometimes he would say things like “when you can get away from here” which made me suspect he understood why he always paid Viktor or Cyrus and not me. He also complained that we couldn’t meet outside of the brothel, but went quiet and nodded in agreement when I offered little detail as to why.

I regularly have to catch myself from saying things like “I am their slave. I am trapped here. Please help me.” There were times with Felix where I thought he genuinely might care. I know he wouldn’t. Doing something like that would be stupid. At best, he would dismiss it, and at worst he might confront Viktor about it.

Viktor too obviously suspected I might try something like that, because Felix was the only customer he went out of his way to talk to. His questions seemed innocent, but I could tell they were probing and curious as to what I had shared. So I shared as little as possible.

“I thought since we couldn’t go out for dinner, I’d bring it for us this time. You do look awfully thin, my darling. I wish you would eat some more.”

Felix opened his small hamper, and started serving us from neatly organised containers. He had brought fruits, cheese, sweets and even a small bottle of wine. We sat and ate, he talked about the weather, how he had been spending his last weeks, sharing his disappointment that his children did not visit as often as he’d like. I feigned interest when it was necessary for me to speak, I gave oblique answers when he asked me how I’d been spending my time since the last we saw each other. I had to stifle a laugh as I thought about the look on his face if I had said the truth.

“Oh darling I’ve been rushed off my feet. I’ve been raped in my mouth, my vagina and my asshole for days and days now by more men than I can count. We’ve had such a frightful time with Athena, the poor girl was punched in the face by one of her callers. Oh and then just this morning our pimps nearly killed each other, and us too. Oh yum, are those raspberries? Please pass them this way.”

When we are finished eating, I help pack away the basket. He stands, moving it to the floor, then removes his tie, untucking his shirt from his trousers. We never speak about this part. Felix prefers not to acknowledge it directly. I remove my tights, and lift my skirt around my waist. Sometimes if Felix is having problems with his knees, he lies back on the bed and I mount him, but most of the time he prefers me to be underneath him. He can’t get a full erection, which he blames on the wine. But for a few minutes he puts his weight on top of me, rubbing himself against me slowly, kissing my neck and face until he is satisfied.

This is when I know that it would be foolish to tell Felix anything. He is the same. He might need a date, a dress up show, a conversation where he can lie to himself, but otherwise – he is like any man who comes here. A small whimper escapes his lips, and he coughs, forcing me to turn my head further to avoid having to feel his hot rasping wheezes all over my mouth. He quickly picks himself up, leaving a sticky trail down my thighs as his penis drags against my leg.

He politely picks up a wipe from beside the bed, handing it to me to clean myself up. We get dressed again, though I know when he is gone I will have to remove these clothes.

“I really ought to get going, I thought I could stay longer but I should be heading back actually.” he makes his strange excuse, anticipating that I’ll be disappointed.

He walks to the door, checking the corridor, but Cyrus isn’t there. I tell him that Viktor is out too.

“Is there something you want me to tell them?” I offer quietly.

“No, and ah… actually, this might be a stroke of luck. I was hoping not to speak to them about this in particular.”

I sit up on the bed, looking quizzically at him. He seems more nervous than usual. For a second I panic, thinking he might use this rare opportunity where my minders are nowhere to be found to tell me to come with him. It’s a tempting thought, but I can’t. The front door can be opened from this side, but it is still locked, heavy and noisy. Cyrus would catch us in an instant, and even if he somehow didn’t – I would still need to get to a phone, call home and warn them before Viktor had a chance to make good on his threat.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Felix takes another look outside the bedroom door first. He turns back to me, fiddling with his pocket, before producing a small, glossy leatherette box. My heart pounds in my chest, my eyes wide. No part of me can believe what is happening.

“I know I’m old, and this isn’t what you were probably expecting. But, my love... I am more sure of this than anything. I am as sure I love you today, as I was with Jane 46 years ago. 46 years ago exactly, as it happens. So… I ask you…”

Felix opens the box, revealing the ring on a bed of white satin. Even in this dim place, the rock at its heart glistens like a shooting star. It’s the biggest diamond I have ever seen. My eyes are drawn to its size and shape. I am certainly no expert, but it’s so plainly real. It’s exquisite.

“Will you marry me?”

I don’t know what to say, I can only gawk at Felix. He is anxious, clearly aware that there is precious little time for us to have this exchange before Cyrus reveals himself from another part of the flat. His voice is hushed as he draws closer to me, picking up my hands to forcibly put the ring in my palm.

“This was Jane’s ring. It’s old. Very old. I really mean it my darling, I want to marry you. To take you away from here and to live with me. I haven’t said a word to Viktor, obviously! I know what he’d do if he found a thing like this. But here, you don’t need to answer me right now, I know it’s a lot to think about it. But take it, and do think about it… I….”

He stops short as noise comes from outside, another bedroom door opening and Cyrus’ footsteps approaching. Felix is quicker than I have ever seen him, putting the ring box in his pocket and picking up the basket, intercepting Cyrus in the hallway to say goodbye.

I have seconds at most. I stare at the ring in my hand, turning it over, noticing that the central diamond is surrounded by ornate decoration housing a circlet of smaller ones, each stone catching the light as I spin it around. My eyes dart around the room, there’s nowhere I could possibly hide it, the only thing I can think to do is to lift the corner of the mattress, jamming the object as deep as I can on top one of slats as I push the mattress back into place.

“Leaving so soon!” Cyrus is cheerful as he grabs Felix by the arm. The two of them exchange brief words, with Cyrus checking everything was good, and Felix awkwardly making more excuses to leave quickly. Another thing he has in common with every man who comes here.

I wait on the bed as Cyrus goes down to release poor Felix from his embarrassment, a part of me tempted to go back and look at the ring, but I know it’s too risky. I need to work out a plan for it. I know I can’t use it. But Athena isn’t stuck like I am, she could sell it, she could sell it and use the money to get far, far away.

I stand up as Cyrus returns to the bedroom. His face is still messed up from the fight earlier, his bruises turning into darker blotches, and his expression is dark. The fallout is still so raw, I know this is no time to act out, and my nerves are heightened knowing what I’ve just hidden in the room.

“I don’t like you with this man.” he comments, as if I had any say in the matter. Still, I take the hint and begin stripping down, removing my clothes so that I can return to the proper state for a whore in Cyrus’ world.

“No.” he stops me from removing the underwear “Keep them.”

“Y-you don’t want me to shower?” I pause, confused. Normally we would take a shower quickly. Kill of the scent of another man and make ready for the next.

“You won’t have time.” Cyrus steps forward, and I backward. He raises his hand and I flinch, but he is gentle, curling around my cheek to the back of my neck, bringing our mouths close to each other.

“This Felix always make you forget. And I don't like that. He makes you forget what you are. You don’t have time for a shower now. It's a good night, and I've arranged something to make sure you remember.”

My heart beats in my chest, stuck in this moment of terror, and I jolt as the door to the flat starts knocking loudly. Cyrus’ split lip curls into a broad smile.