We pass one on the right with two women inside, a gray-haired man grunting and thrusting into one while the other plunges a thick dildo into his ass.
I put my hand to my mouth and speed up, almost stepping on Chastity’s heels. But she’s slowing down. I peek around her and see a man in a suit standing in the aisle, watching three women in one cube lick and grind on one another. He’s in the middle of taking off his tie as we try to pass.
He holds out his arm, blocking us in next to the narrow stairs leading to the upper level. Mid-thirties, blond, handsome—but nothing warm lives in his light blue eyes. “Are you two on the menu?”
“No, sir.” Chastity shakes her head, eyes downcast.
“I think you should be.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward him.
I dig my heels into the purple carpet. “No.”
“No?” He laughs and yanks me close. “You’re going to say no to a U.S. Senator?”
All the blood drains from my face, and I can’t seem to breathe. He leans close, as if he’s going to kiss me.
I shove away from him and try to retreat down the aisle, but his grip on my wrist is like a vise.
“Look who’s back.” A woman in a black bustier and stiletto heels walks down the rough wooden steps from the top catwalk. “I’m sorry Senator Roberts, but these two belong to the Prophet. If you’d like more company—” She snaps her fingers, and three more women exit their rooms and hurry toward us. “I’ve got you covered.”
He finally loosens his grip enough for me to wrench my wrist away. I wonder if he’s re-aggravated the healing skin, but everything seems fine.
He smirks. “A Maiden, eh?”
I try to shrink, hunching my shoulders forward and clutching my elbows.
“I’ll be seeing you.” He winks and returns to the debauchery in front of him.
“Come.” The tall woman in the bustier walks ahead of us, her hips swinging and her hair falling behind her in a straight, dark slash.
She passes through a door and up a few shallow stairs to the old church’s altar. It’s been converted to a lounge area, couches and a desk filling the space. An area to the right is walled off with a door leading to a separate bedroom. The baptismal is filled in with dirt, exotic plants with deep green leaves unfurling in the colored sunlight streaming through the stained glass. Two bronze birdcages hang on the branches of a lemon tree, the birds inside oddly silent and watchful.
Sinking onto an ornate wooden chair with gold cushions, which could have been original to the church, she crosses her legs at the knee. “Take a seat.”
“We have work to do.” Chastity pulls her backpack off and sets it on the desk.
“Can’t spare me a moment?”
At first I thought she was older, but looking at her in the light filtering through the stained glass, I can tell she’s maybe late twenties. Beautiful, her bare breasts don’t need the bustier’s help to sit up and demand attention. I study my fingers, but glance up at her when I think she’s not looking.
“I’m just here for the swabs, Jez, nothing else.” Chastity’s voice turns harder than I’ve ever heard it.
Jez reaches out and touches Chastity’s skirt. “How’s the scar?” Something in her face seems to crack, the overdone makeup unable to hide her sorrow.
“It doesn’t hurt.” Chastity pulls out an array of long swabs, like extra-large Q-tips, each enclosed in a sterile blister pack. “Can you call the girls?”
“Can we please talk? Just for a minute?” Jez’s eyes water, the deep brown glistening like melted chocolate.
Chastity shoots a glance to the upper front corner of the sanctuary. I follow her gaze and see a camera, the red light flashing, pointing right at us.
“We can’t.”
Jez lets her hand drop and retreats into the golden chair, but she never takes her eyes from Chastity. I appreciate being ignored as I try to take it all in. A whorehouse on the Compound. Then again, what is the Cloister but a whorehouse-in-training?
“What’s wrong with you?” Jez glances at me.
“The Maidens. We come here? This is where we end up?”
Jez grins, the warmth she’d shown to Chastity draining away as she looks me up and down. “You too good to spend some time at the Chapel?”
The word “yes” lights up in my mind and pops like old-timey flashbulbs. “I-I—”
“We’re ready.” Chastity hands me a pair of medical gloves, then frowns at the broken finger. “Just be careful not to touch anything with your bare hand. I’ll hand you the sample. Each one goes inside one of these.” She sets an array of long glass vials onto the counter. “Before you place it inside, you’ll need to write down the girl’s name. I’ll either say it or ask her when she comes in.” Pulling a Sharpie from her bag, she gives it to me without looking at me.