White Horses Ch. 02

Maggie found herself unceremoniously deposited on what she assumed to be Doctor Ruben Portnoy's bed. An in-house doc, then – and why not? The Voice wouldn't want word of his white slavery resort to spread; nor could he simply call any arbitrary physician if one of his girls was, say, knocked around a bit too much by an overly enthusiastic patron. There certainly were worse places for a handsome young doctor to live, Maggie supposed, her eyes roaming the neatly furnished suite. The fringe benefits were probably excellent.

But The Voice said that Portnoy had never asked for a woman before.

Feeling more at ease, Maggie sat up and scooted back against the bank of pillows, crossing her legs Indian Style and placing her hands modestly in her lap. Her breasts were still exposed, but an undressed young woman was nothing a physician hadn't seen before. Maggie opened her mouth to thank Portnoy for offering the sanctuary of his room.

And stared as the good doctor stripped off his white linen shirt.

Perhaps he wanted to get more comfortable. It was his own bedroom, after all. Maggie politely averted her eyes from his toned chest and slim waist.

And flicked her gaze back to the doctor at the sound of a leather belt being drawn through the loops of his khaki slacks.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting undressed. I cannot very well make love to you while fully clothed."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Maggie sputtered. "You said we had to make this look good. Aren't you just letting me... hang out?"

"For what, a day? And then Ignacio helps himself to a piece of you and discovers that you are still a virgin?"

"Ignacio?"

"Ignacio Pena – your owner."

So now The Voice had a name.

"You are a virgin."

It was more statement than question. Maggie nodded.

Portnoy picked his words carefully. "It seemed, when you first looked at me, that there could be some... attraction. That you might not be... so adverse... to taking me as your first lover."

"I thought you were saving me." Maggie's voice was dry.

"I am."

"By fucking me?" Maggie shouted, flinging her hands in the air.

"What, you would rather it be him? Do you think he would be gentle with you?"

"I would rather you get me the hell out of here!"

"Perhaps you have noticed the security cameras and high walls." Portnoy placed his hands on his hips and regarded her with a raised brow.

"But you're not a prisoner, right? You have to leave to get medical supplies sometime, right? So smuggle me out with you, in – I don't know – in a crate, somethi--"

"Oh, yes. Brilliant."

"There must be some way!" Maggie yelled.

Now it was Portnoy's turn to lose his temper. He gestured wildly with one hand, raking the other through his perfect curls. "If I can't get myself out of here, how the hell-"

He bit off the words with a curse and dragged his hand over his face, leaving his hair in utter disarray. When he spoke again, it was with a sigh. "You are wrong, Maggie. I do not leave this place. I am as much prisoner as you."

Momentarily at a loss for words, Maggie stared at the doctor. Kicking off his shoes, Ruben Portnoy sat on the bed with another deep sigh. As the silence stretched uncomfortably between them, Maggie looked down at her hands and absently rubbed her index finger over her thumbnail.

"How did you end up here?" she asked quietly.

Without answering, Portnoy swung his bare feet onto the mattress and stretched out, placing his hands behind his head. His right elbow was mere inches from Maggie's left knee. It was all Maggie could do not to flinch from his close proximity and scoot toward the edge of the bed – and not, she admitted to herself, because she thought he was going to force himself on her.

When next he spoke, Portnoy addressed the ceiling: "I am not keeping you in my room against your will. You are welcome to go – or stay."

Maggie envisioned the cold obsidian eyes of Ignacio Pena, remembered the lewd catcalls of the other kept women, and remained on the bed.

"Of course, come morning..."

She nodded. Ignacio would expect her at the breakfast table.

"I am sorry that I alarmed you, Maggie. I would not force you. But you will be – used. I thought myself the lesser of two evils."

Maggie cleared her throat and looked down at her linked fingers. She was not trying to make the conversation more difficult by keeping silent; a lump seemed to be lodged in her throat. She swore she could feel the heat radiating from his elbow to her knee.

The reality of her situation was clear. Ignacio Pena would have his taste, and then he would rent her out to doctors, lawyers, businessmen. Her only choice was not whether she would lose her virginity, but how. From the corner of her eye, she regarded the sad, handsome man beside her and recalled Pena's taunt: There could be worse things, eh?

With a sigh, Maggie uncrossed her legs – one of them had fallen asleep – and eased herself down onto the bed. "Alright."

Portnoy looked over at her. "Alright?"

"Let's do this."

The doctor rolled off the bed and extended his hand. "First – a shower."

Maggie blinked. This was not going to be a typical experience.