Chapter 13



Finally Camille was nearing the end of the out of control roller coaster ride that had become her life. For the last few months, for a few hours everyday, she could count on working with the children at Frazier High as a respite from the stress and the fear of the ever watchful eyes around her. But she should have known that any place of peace was just the calm before the storm. At least she could feel reasonably confident that her association with Lucien would end this weekend. That was the only thing that allowed her the ability to get on the Red Eye and jet to this Circus of the Simple and the Indolent.

Actually, it was lucky that she was able to get there early and try to curtail some of the more creative aspects of the party’s festive design. After what felt like the longest ride from the airport, she barely registered the tropical atmosphere as her thoughts meandered among the events of the night before. She was pretty much on autopilot when she left the car and climbed the steps of the ocean side mansion. What she saw when she entered the structure almost took her breath away-and not in a good way.

The house seemed to have been through a Rococo war, imitation Rococo at that. Unfortunately, the decor seemed to have lost every battle along the way. It seemed like some designer tried to take a good shot at class and elegance. Too bad he or she was missing three important qualities in interior design; taste, skill and a basic understanding of a color palate. Camille immediately set to work trying to wrestle a few of the most obviously ugly pieces from the areas that Lucien was entertaining in, but after an hour the room still looked a little too cheap chic.

A billion dollar budget with bordello taste, Camille thought to herself as she looked around the room and shook her head in defeat. Her efforts were futile, what the house needed couldn’t be provided in the hours before the party.

Where the hell is everybody? She could not help but think. Since she had been there she hadn’t seen but a handful of the help, those she enlisted to help her remove and/or reposition furniture.

“Camille, you have finally arrived,” a voice called out to her from the side of the room framed by glass.

Speaking of the devil, apparently when you called up evil it answers on cue. Camille gave a slight shudder at the thought. I will look for his Ouija board, the devil’s portal to the physical world, and destroy it later. Camille smirked to herself as she straightened to greet her employer for the weekend.

Lucien Michele was an outwardly handsome man. He had all the classic European looks, dark, tall, to some-delicious. But that all went to show that a little drywall can hide all manner of ugly. Along with many of his legitimate endeavors, only a precious few knew that he was one of the principals of the largest growing European crime cartels and the business was seeking to expand.

Camille took a moment to school her features. Unlike most men of her acquaintance, Lucien Michel scared her and his little mini sidekick made her stomach turn. Yes, Lucien’s right hand man had a real name, but for the life of her she could never remember what it was. Lucien called him Benny, but in her mind she called him “Little Man” because he is a man, and he is peculiarly little. No, he wasn’t Little Person, little. More like, everything about him seemed in deference to a larger, stronger personality. He was Lucian’s supplicant. He bowed to the throne of Lucien Michel. He also had the disconcerting trait of his eyes being everywhere at once. She had often caught him with his eyes on her. Something about him made her feel unclean. He was a little, weasel man and that made him equally as dangerous as the man he served.

“Yes Lucien, I arrived about an hour ago. I just saw a few things to straighten up around here.”

“Leave it, that's why I hired for a decorator.” He added with his smooth French accent.

Well, you need to ask for your money back. But instead of adding that tidbit she said instead, “It looks like everything is ready. Do you require anything else of me before the party?”

“Ah, ma Cherie, you ask a loaded question.” Lucien murmured as he stepped closer to Camille leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Too bad you and I do not share the same tastes in the bedroom.”

His very proximity to her and the thoughts his voice brought to her mind made hives break out along Camille’s arms. Camille had a number of clients who enjoyed a certain amount of rigor in the bedroom, for it they paid extra. But Lucien was one of the few who married passion with pain-the kind that was evidenced by a show of blood. Luckily, in the sex trade there was a sex worker for all type of tastes, his tastes was the type of work that Camille usually contracted out. Lucien and she had a clear understanding for his U.S. based events; her job was to provide a little elegance to what was looking like a pig’s ear of an evening. Any additional intimate responsibilities on his behalf, she had managed to avoid and she was determined to continue this feat.

Camille endeavored to swallow the bile that was slowly moving up her throat. “Lucien, though I am sure you have so much you could show me, I have brought a treat for you. She could not take the same flight, but I am sure that once you are ready to retire to your room, before the festivities, she will be there and would be so willing to help you… relax. Camille added a knowing, seductive smile to her offer.

Lucien answered her with a predatory grin, “Camille that is why I don’t mind paying you so much for your services. You think of everything. But one day you will name your price and I will have the intense joy of showing you how to pleasure me.” Lucien gazed at her with his Preying Mantis eyes, while capturing her hand and bringing it up to his lips.

That was it. There was no holding back the urge to vomit. She had to get out of there and she had to get out of there quick. She didn’t want to offer any discounts, or worse, because she projectile vomited all over her employer.

While still fighting the knot of repulsion making its way up her throat, she managed to croak out. “I want to make sure that I am perfect for your evening. Is my room upstairs?”

“Of course, I have a few things to check on and then I will go to my room to enjoy my treat. Benny will show you to your room.” With that, Lucien dismissed her and walked away.

Oh sweet Jesus-Benny. Camille cast a look at the cretin in question. As always, Benny was looking at her like she was nude, had a price tag above her head and he was simply counting his pennies to see if he had enough to make his purchase. She knew what Lucien craved in the bedroom and she didn’t want to even consider how “Little Man’s” taste ran. Somehow she knew it would shock even her world weary soul.

“Benny, I know you probably have a million things to do. Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way to the room.” She sighed with a poor imitation of a smile.

Benny eyes narrowed in response, “I do exactly as Mr. Michele asks. I will show you to your room.” He gestured, indicating that he wished Camille to walk in front of him.

Camille paused for a moment and walked ahead, all the while knowing that Benny was silently inventorying every curve and crevice of her body. Silently she recited to herself all the reasons that she was working this particular weekend and for this particular employer. At the stairs she abruptly turned and caught Benny with his eyes almost attached to her ass. Silently, she waited until his eyes leisurely made their way up her body to meet her own. She made clear through her countenance that he either would have to take a picture, or pay like everyone else. There were no free peeks here.

With a greedy little grin, Benny walked uncomfortably close, passing her on the step and continued up the steep slope to show her to her room. Camille knew she had won that little test of wills, but she was also equally aware that she didn’t want to push it. Somehow her intuition told her that Lucien held the reins on that sick little puppy, and it wouldn’t be to her advantage to test how tight those reins really were. As Camille climbed the stairs to her room, and hoped that some fairy god mother would spread a little fairy dust on the catastrophe that was sure to be her evening.
 
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A couple of hours into the evening, Camille were pretty clear that her fairy godmother was on a permanent lunch break. Lucien seemed displeased by something, and he was constantly looking at the entrance like he was waiting for someone to arrive. A jumpy Lucien was an unnerved and unbalanced one. Call her silly, but Camille liked her “crazy” quantifiable and right now Lucien, and his “Little Man” by extension, were strung a little too tight to be predictable. Camille’s game plan was to keep her distance from them while doing her duty in making sure that the guests had all their needs met and attended to. Hopefully, when all hell broke loose, that would keep her out of the line of fire.

Later in the evening, by the time Lucien’s little man tapped her on the shoulder she was truly desperate for the evening to end. Yet as she turned at his direction to greet some new arrivals, she almost swallowed her tongue. She swore to herself silently, if she didn’t have bad luck she wouldn’t have any luck at all. Before her stood two of the most beautiful men she had hoped to never see again. To allow these two specimens of manliness to wear tuxedos and set them loose on the world seemed like a gross infractions of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Lust. Correction: maybe two, because it had to be Gluttony that made her want to just look, and look, and look… Too bad they were both on her shit list.

The next few moments passed in a heartbeat. She knew she picked up two glasses of champagne, she remembered passing Carrick a glass. Did he really call her a venereal disease? Yea, that was kind of funny and appealed to her dark humorous side. Touché. She really hadn’t spit in the Champagne, yet it was fun telling him that she did. For a moment she lost herself-playing toe to toe with Carrick was at least stimulating.

Then that icy feeling crept up her spine. She trusted that feeling. It was that feeling that helped her know which potential clients could be trouble and which ones were relatively safe. That feeling was her self preservation meter, too bad it didn’t do her any damn good in this situation. The choice of whether to take Lucien as a client was taken out of her hands a long time ago. Now all she could do was follow through and hope she could make it through this mine field with as few casualties as possible. Before she could turn her attention to Malcolm, she felt Lucien press himself against her side, while sliding his arm around her waist. The effect was like having Hannibal Lector looking at her with a sexual interest; the feeling again triggered her gag reflex while also terrifying her. But she was a professional and damn if she wasn’t going to play her role to the “T”.

“Ah Lucien, I was greeting our new guests. I am sure you know Mr. Carrick Caudwell and Mr. Malcolm Chambers.” Camille handed Malcolm the other flute of champagne, which she was still holding. As she leaned close to Mal, she looked at them both with eyes that begged the both, especially Carrick, for once, to play along and shut his mouth.

Carrick was placed in an interesting position. The diabolical part of him wanted to do exactly the opposite of Camille’s silent request. After all, she has been pushing his buttons from the moment he set eyes on her. This could be some very deserving pay back, but then he felt Mal subtly step closer to him. He immediately knew what that meant. Mal had also caught the look in her eyes and he knew what Carrick was contemplating. Carrick did not have to turn around to hear Mal’s message loud and clear, if he ever wanted any more than a self-administered, five finger massage action for the foreseeable future, he better show some restraint and get with the program. Although, it seemed, he didn’t have to do anything to add to the drama of the moment.

“Actually, I don’t think we have been formally introduced. Camille, thank you for doing the honors, but I can take over now, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were asking after you.” Neither Mal nor Carr missed that as Michele talked he seemed to tighten his grip on Camille’s arm so that she took a few steps away from them to avoid his increased pressure.

God knows he had no love lost regarding Camille and every time he was in her presence he seemed to always lose his notoriously iron clad control. But he generally did not have anything but contempt for any man who put his hands on a woman. He knew Camille tried to hide it, but he saw her wince and by the way he felt Malcolm tense he knew that his lover saw it too. What was more curious to him was Camille’s reaction to the Lucien’s grip on her.

Carr was waiting for her to give Michele hell. But maybe this is the new and improved Camille, or the one that is on the job, because it sort of shocked him that she didn’t tell Michele to kiss her ass and then force him to watch it as she walked away, all the while shaking her “money maker” in abject defiance. That Camille, if he was forced to admit it, he admired, but this one he had never met before. Somewhere lurking in her eyes was feigned confidence with a heavy edge of fear. Carrick cut his eyes to Malcolm. He knew that Malcolm saw it too, and when Carr looked down he saw that Mal had his hands tightly clenched into fists.

It was then that Carr realized that their host was still talking to them, totally oblivious that there was about to be an international incident in the middle of his party.

“Camille, go along and let the others know that Mr. Caudwell and Mr. Chambers have arrived. Gentlemen, I am sure you wouldn’t mind getting some business out of the way first, before we enjoy the weekend- I think we will be much more comfortable in the library.” Their host offered both men an ingratiating grin.

Camille also saw Mal’s reaction to Lucien’s rough handling of her and knew she had to diffuse the situation quickly. Funny enough, she also saw a flash of something in Carrick’s eyes, something….protective? The stress of the evening must have been getting to her, because when she next glanced in his direction she could see his smart ass, privileged, veneer was firmly in place. Back to damage control.

Casually, crossing her arms across her chest, while surreptitiously rubbing the area that Lucien has bruised, “I will see to the Wesley’s’ and make sure your other associates meet you in the library.” Camille added with seductive smile aimed directly at the Lucien, “I will also be sure that a bottle of that special port you like is sent to the room, I am sure you would like to share it.”

“Lucien barely spared her a glance as he began to walk his guests down the hall toward the side of the house, “Sure, please do so quickly,” dismissing Camille with every step.

Malcolm and Carrick took a moment to look at her, as if to await her direction regarding the evening’s curious direction. Camille had begun to walk toward the other guests and spared a glance over her shoulder and realized that they were still looking at her. She turned and made a small waving motion, in effect trying to persuade them to follow their host. Slowly both men turned with puzzled frowns on their faces as they followed in Lucien’s wake.

As they walked away, Camille could hear Carrick offering his apologies that they were so late, they had some issues to attend to with one of their overseas affiliates and their lateness could not be helped. All she could remember thinking, as she watched them stride away with their host was, Why are they here, and how can I make them leave?

Suddenly a waiter came out of nowhere and jostled her out of her reverie. For a split second they exchanged an intense gaze. Then Camille remembered she had a job to do. It was time to earn her keep. Unfortunately, she could not spare any more moments thinking about Carrick and Malcolm. They had no idea the size of the crap pile they had just stepped into; but when in Hell, it’s every man, or woman, for themselves.
Camille moved on to her duties-keeping the natives happy.