“So, I am prostitute?” Nikolai asked, putting two and two together.
“No. You are a male…companionwho provides his services to lonely women.” Mikhail continued walking.
The job didn’t seem too bad. He enjoyed having sex. He hadn’t had a lot, but still, he loved fucking pussy. “How much do I get paid?”
“The women pay me, and then I give you money at the end of the week. You get to keep any tips or gifts that the clients give you at the end of the night.”
“The women pay you?” Nikolai asked. It didn’t seem fair that he was doing all the work, yet Mikhail was the one being paid.
Mikhail stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“Yes, the women pay me,” he growled. “I’m the one giving you a free place to live and food in the fridge. Until you pay off your debt, I will be collecting all the money from clients.”
“Money I owe you?” Niko asked, unclear again what money he owed.
“Yes. Coming to America is not cheap. You owe me for the plane ticket, rent, food, electricity, transportation, immigration fees, and many other things,” Mikhail snapped.
Niko felt his stomach drop.
“How much do I owe you?”
An unsettling grin spread across Mikhail’s face.
“I’ll let you know when your debt ispaidand you are free to leave. Until then, you work for me. Oh, and don’t bother going to the police or asking anyone for help. The police around here hate Russian people and will throw you in jail before they send you back home. Do you want to go back home to Russia?”
Nikolai swallowed hard, then shook his head. He had come to America in search of a better life. So what if he had to prostitute himself for a few months? At least he got to fuck rich and beautiful women.
“Oh, and if you don’t follow the rules and do what I say, I will drive you over to the other building, and you can live there and work the streets. There, they service all sorts of people—men, women, grandmas, and grandpas. Anyone with some cash.”
Nikolai didn’t want to live in that other neighborhood; it didn’t look safe or clean. He liked the thought of fucking hot, richwomen who were going to shower him with gifts. It seemed like the better choice.
He was eighteen. Always horny. Always ready to go.
Fucking for money. He was going to make a killing.
1
NIKOLAI
Leaning back, Nikolai spread his arms along the edges of the hot tub, letting the warmth from the bubbly water soothe his aching muscles.
This was his fourth workout this week, and his body was starting to resent his efforts to keep fit and stay sexy. At his age, he needed to work extra hard to maintain his physique.
Plus, he had to keep up with his boss, Marcus.
The fucker.
The man was a beast.
Nikolai was thirty-six, just two years younger than his boss, yet he had to struggle just to stay slightly ahead of the man—even if it was just by a rep or two. He couldn’t let that fucker out-bench him or last longer on bicep curls. That just wasn’t right. Niko was younger; therefore, he should be able to lift more weight than his older boss. Those were just the rules.
But Marcus…fuck.
The man definitely knew how to make them all work hard to keep up with him.
Still, Niko needed to work harder. He could feel his body starting to turn on him. It was the price one paid for the battle against time.
Long gone were the days when he could stay out all night, partying and fucking. Now, he was lucky if he could remain standing after only a few hours of sleep. He was still able to party until the wee hours of the morning, but at some point—preferably before the sun came up—he needed to fall into his bed and wake the dead with his monstrous snoring.
