Page 100 of Embriagado

The elevator only had buttons up to the thirteenth floor. To access the fourteenth floor, where the action took place, one had to enter a combination of floor numbers that changed daily and served as a password.

What I love most about you is how officious you are, Ariyan. Nothing goes past you, not even a little country mouse.

I grimaced, remembering his words, before the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. With red walls and dimmed light, this floor looked nothing like the rest of the hotel. So much so that you’d think you’d waltzed into another universe. You did, in a way, as this place had rules of its own. Here, you could do anything your heart desired, from wanting to be spanked and breastfed like a baby, up to the most vile cravings one could imagine. And we, the hotel staff, had to ensure those needs were met and supply our clients with what they came here for. Why? Because they had money. Filthy money. The kind that ran this corrupted world.

Walking down the long hall, I passed by a katana, a single-edged longsword I’d imported all the way from Japan that now hung on the wall for decor. It was beautiful, from the ornate details to the blade that could slice through flesh as if it were butter. I wished I had the time of day to stand and admire it, but unfortunately, I didn’t, as I had a job to do.

I walked toward the last room in the hall and stopped in front of it, first pulling out a pair of gloves from my slacks pocket and putting them on before knocking. The door was soon opened by one of the guards working on the floor, and I walked in.

“What seems to be the problem?” I asked him, but before the man could answer, the client stormed out of the bedroom.

With his silk robe open, I could see his flaccid cock dangling around underneath his big belly like loose skin, reminding me of the comb of an old rooster.

“Fucking finally,” he rasped, spit flying out of his mouth, some of it left to hang on his beard. “I’ve been asking for you for hours.”

Despite my immense repulsion, I kept my expression composed.

“Ambassador, you know how happy I am to have you here⁠—”

“So why aren’t you here to welcome me when I arrive?” he barked, waving his hand in the air as if to flash the golden watch adorning his wrist.

“As much as I appreciate you taking a liking to me, I have other clients to take care of.”

Crossing the room, he stopped before me, and the reek of sweat coming off his body made my eyes teary. For crying out loud, with such a sour body odor, I’d suggest he change his diet.

“And yet I’m sure no one is paying as much as I am.”

Funny how you all think the same.

“Ambassador, it is my job to make sure you’re satisfied⁠—”

“If you want me satisfied, then stop sending me stupid bitches who don’t know how to suck a cock like the one lying in my bed!” he hissed before his eyes locked with mine. “Instead, why don’t you get in there?”

I held still for a moment before my lips curved into a thin smile.

“Unfortunately, that’s impossible. But if you will, I’d like to arrange for you to meet up with a different siren that perhaps could be a better match. In fact, we have a new professional that I’m sure would be just to your taste⁠—”

“You’re my taste,” he said, and before I knew it, he reached down and grabbed my ass.

I froze, body going cold as the same images replayed in my mind like a rolling film, showing me rivers of blood.

Just give me a break and fucking die, you piece of shit, the voices in the back of my head screamed. But not before I gouge out your eyes and slit your throat, you fucking whore.

“Yeah, you’re just my taste,” he murmured, his reeking breath fanning over my cheek. “Such a sexy man you are… I’m sure my cock would never go down with you. What do you say, how much will it cost?”

Biting my tongue until I tasted blood, I relaxed my jaw and forced a smile.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador, I’m not up for sale.”

He squeezed my ass in his dirty palm. “Come on, sweet boy. How much for a ride?”

I lifted my stare to meet his ugly eyes. Grabbing his hand, I removed it from my body, then cleared my throat. “Gentlemen,” I told the two guards standing by the door. “It appears the ambassador has exhausted his time with us for tonight. Please escort him out.”

The ambassador’s eyes widened with rage a second before he raised his hand and slapped me, hard enough for the sound to echo around the room long after the hit.

“My time here will end when I say it does,” he hissed.

A metallic taste filled my mouth as I pulled out a handkerchief to clean the blood from my face. Slowly tapping the expensive cloth that smelled of fabric softener to the corner of my lip, I then moved it to my nose. Once done, I looked down at the handkerchief, which was now stained with blood.