“Let daddy take a whiff.”
As I squirmed uncomfortably in his hands, my mind shot back to the exact sequence of events that led to this moment.
I don’t have parents. I’ve only ever known Brandi. She took me in when I was a baby. She fed and bathed me. There were several others like me. Young. Abandoned. Very loud in our unbelonging. She took us all in and made sure we never felt unwanted.
There was a time when I considered her my mother. I loved her. I looked up to her.
I should have known this feeling wouldn’t last forever.
The change was not sudden in any way. There were whispers of things happening to the other girls. Friends of Brandi’s stopping by the house and picking one of them up. The chosen girl would be gone for a day or two, sometimes weeks on the end. Some would come back looking normal, others would come back looking changed.
And then my day came.
My first was a guy named Caleb. Brandi was temping for a week at this company and that’s where she met Caleb. She brought him home one day for drinks because he’d given her a ride home. The others were in their rooms, but I was lounging on the sofa.
“Ooh la la, this one’s small,” he exclaimed. “And exactly my type.”
“Take her if you want. But I want her back,” said Brandi.
That’s all? That’s how you pass me around?
I’d never been more heartbroken in my life. Caleb took me back to his place and had me for an entire week.
After Caleb, there was Dale. Levi. Greg. Ursula. Dan. Melissa. Caleb again. Xavier.
And then I stopped counting.
It’s been 10 years, and Brandi has only gotten more adept. She now has a store in this shady little neighborhood in Brooklyn. It’s just a front. She says the “real treasure is you guys.”
Which brings me back to the guy I’m with right now.
He’s one of Brandi’s regular customers.
He’s this short, gawky looking guy who comes in every Friday night. Fridays are Brandi’s best days. The shop sees a lot of footfalls on Fridays from creeps.
This guy walked in at around 9 and started browsing through the store. Brandi’s “treasures” were all spread out on futons and coffee tables in strategic locations around the store.
He ambled down the aisle I was in, with Brandi by his side, and I started praying fiercely.
I kept repeating my mantra in head. “Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, don’t pi–”
I looked up. He was pointing at me.
I could hear the others’ sighs of relief. It wasn’t them this time.
“Awesome! The usual period? Just the weekend?” Brandi asked.
He reached out and stroked my back.
“With this one? Make it a week.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run away. But I docilely let him lift me up, off the futon, and we left the store.
“You better pay me next Friday!” yelled Brandi at our retreating backs.
Which brings me back to now.
As soon as we entered his apartment, he threw his keys on to a side table, and led me to his bedroom.
I steeled myself for what was about to happen to me.
He sat me down on the bed, and looked at me, his fingertips whispering across my spine.
As I struggled to lean away, he jumped on to the bed, his long body stretching out beside mine. I tried to move out of the way, but he expertly caught hold of me and drew me flush against his chest.
He sat me up and slowly took my jacket off my shoulders. I could see the surprise in his eyes, when he realized I was bare underneath. No marks on me, siree.
His fingertips whispered across my bare skin as I squirmed uncomfortably. He slowly spread me apart, and whispered, “let daddy take a whiff”.
His nose brushed against my center, making me a little ticklish and a lot uncomfortable. I wanted to jump out of his hands and run back home, but home meant Brandi. And I have no idea how I’ll manage to run away.
He settled back against the pillows, dragging me along with him, with his nose still against my center.
“Oh what I’d give to bottle this up and keep smelling it everyday,” he moaned.
Ew. This guy really is a creep.
The bedroom door banged open and a guy with greasy, long hair walked in.
The creep snapped out of his haze with a start.
“Jesus Christ, ever heard of knocking, Eddie?” he snapped, looking furiously at the Eddie guy.
“HA. It’s not like you’re getting laid. It’s a book, man. Why don’t you hang a bookmark from the door the next time?”, he asked and then started chortling at his own joke.
“Brandi’s Vintage Library again?” he continued.
“Yes,” snapped this guy.
“Cool. Do you wanna grab dinner?” asked Eddie.
“Dude, just leave. I’ll have the book for just a week. And this tome is actually vintage. Brandi will rip me off with her huge late fees for first editions.”
“Your loss, man. I’m heading out now. Remember to put a bookmark up next time,” snorted Eddie as he walked away.
“Jerk. Now, where were we?” asked the creep, as he cracked me open one again. This time, it was my first page and not the center that he sniffed at.
I really liked it better when Brandi was just lending me to her friends. But now, we’re all old and she’s slapped the title “vintage” on us. Random people pick us up and pay Brandi a fee when they return us. How messed up is that?
The creep turns a page over and I sniffle.
Can we get this over with fast?
This was inspired by something a friend mentioned she wrote a few years back. Was this even remotely good? Let me know in the comments!