He stared at her for a full minute as if he couldn't see through the dust that drifted in the air. His good eye was dark brown, the eyelids almond-shaped in a way that looked almost Asian. "What magic is this that all that I want suddenly lives and breathes? Do I dream? Ah, if I do, I wish to die before I wake."
He still had his right hand up the shirt of the girl mannequin, the buttons straining.
She reached out and cautiously unbuttoned the brightly flowered blouse, exposing the large brown hand against the white plastic skin. The dark eyebrows rose in surprise.
She wet her mouth against her nervousness. He was just another male, like any other john. Normally she wouldn't allow a free touch but there were language barriers to cross. Elves normally didn't have to pay for sex with humans; there were too many elf-obsessed women willing to give it away. And Olivia wanted something more than just money.
His good eye went wide as she guided his right hand to her hip. She had on low-rider jeans and a midriff; his hand rested on bare skin. He breathed out shakily, his gaze riveted on where they touch skin to skin. His large hand made her look like she wasn't much bigger than the mannequin he'd been molesting. He swallowed and put his other hand on her and watched vividly as he ran both hands over her stomach. The half-naked girl mannequin teetered from its sudden abandonment and then toppled over.
With a low moan, Forest Moss dropped to his knees in front of Olivia. He pulled Olivia close so he could mouth her belly as her pushed up her shirt.
Weeks of selling her body and Olivia still wasn't used to that moment of when the protection of clothes was pushed aside, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. She swallowed hard on the fear that surged through her, as if it was a wild beast that wanted to scramble up her throat and come howling out her mouth. She locked down on whimpers.
She had learned the hard way that it was dangerous to close her eyes. She forced herself to watch him carefully, watch him for the start of an attack. He cupped her bared breasts reverently, tears streaming from his one good eye.
After several heart-stopping minutes of worship, he murmured, "Water to a male dying of thirst. Nay, heavenly cream. Once you start to lap it up, will I be able to stop? Do I dare? If the thirst is not quenched, then does the tentative sip make the need all the more torturous?"
It seemed the best time to open up negotiations. Normally she wouldn't let a guy get this far without talking price, but this time, she was asking more than twenty bucks. "I'm not just for the taking. I need something in return. Make me your domi."
He leaned forward, his lips nearly touching her. It made her wince despite the fact she should be well used to this by now. "But I have suffered this thirst so long, I think if I do not drink deep and long, I will die."
"Make me your domi." She hated every word coming out her mouth. It was ironic she'd fled to Pittsburgh to get out of the mockery of marriage that she'd been forced into. "Promise me that you'll make me your domi and you can do what you want."
He looked up at her, his one eye searching her face. "This sweetness could be for one as wretched as me?"
"Only if you take me as your domi."
Fear filled his face. "I—I am not prepared for pavuanai wuan huliroulae. I have nothing to give you."
She didn't know the phrase but she was afraid it meant he was broke. "You don't have money?"
"Money?" With shaking hands, he pulled out a small beautiful silk pouch. Undoing the drawstrings, he poured several large coins into his hand. Elf bullion. Her heart leapt at the coins. According to yesterday's newspaper, they were trading for five thousand American dollars per coin. She expected him to give her just one but he spilled all the glittering gold into her palm.
She gasped, instantly torn. This was much more than she expected but with it, she wouldn't have to fear winter. As long as there was food to be bought, she could afford it. Did she take it? Did she give some back? Did he even know the value of what he just handed to her? Was it spare pocket change to him? Or was it all that he had?
When she considered the condition of Ginger Wine's, it might be all that he had.
"Do you accept?" he asked breathlessly.
Did she? Her breath caught as she realized that she was on that verge of no return. Like when she went to her mother and told her that she'd marry Troy. When she walked down the aisle of the Zion church to where Troy waited with his other wives. When she looked at the pregnancy test that she'd bought at the drug store with horded cash and realized that she needed to flee Kansas or doom her baby to a life at the ranch.
And that worked out so well.
Was she about to make another horrible mistake?
But really, could she truly continue to run all the risks of being a streetwalker through Pittsburgh winter as she got bigger and bigger with child?