Stained Dignity

Audrey stared directly into Gideon’s furious amber eyes, delivering her final, crushing blow. "Do not worry. Even if I die in the gutters of this club, you and your sister are banned from my funeral. I never want to see either of you again in my life."

She tugged her pale lips into a cynical smirk. The expression etched a faint hint of dark mockery across her otherwise indifferent features, sealing the finality of her words.

Gideon’s face turned grim. The muscles in his square jaw ticked. He clenched the rejected tube of expensive ointment so hard his knuckles turned stark white.

"You are the one at fault here! Not me, and not Chloe!" Gideon shouted, his voice echoing down the opulent corridor. "Why did I even bother coming to check on you? If you insist on clinging to your past mistakes, it serves you right to kneel on this floor. Forget two hours. You deserve to kneel here for two years."

He hurled the tube of ointment into a nearby metal trash can. The plastic struck the bottom with a hollow, resonant thud that magnified the heavy tension in the hall. He turned on his heel and stormed toward the VIP elevator without a single backward glance.

Supervisor Bronson marched forward, his face flushed red with rage. Before the man could descend upon Audrey to punish her for offending a VIP guest, a heavy wooden door to a private room cracked open.

"Hey! Get a cleaner in here now. Someone puked a massive mess all over the place," a wealthy patron demanded loudly, poking his head out into the hall.

Audrey grabbed her heavy bucket and cleaning supplies. She slipped past Bronson's looming figure, escaping his wrath, and stepped into the dim room.

A suffocating cloud of cheap cigarette smoke, expensive alcohol, and acidic stomach bile assaulted her senses the moment she crossed the threshold.

"Sorry for disturbing." Audrey dropped straight to her bruised knees beside the filthy glass coffee table and pressed her rag to the mess.

Her crisp, clear voice cut through the thumping bass of the club music, instantly drawing the predatory attention of the wealthy men lounging on the leather sofas.

"Look at this gorgeous thing. I thought they only hired old hags to scrub the floors in this place."

"Take that ugly uniform off and let us see your body. You strip naked right now, and I will make you my chick for the night. What do you say?"

"Are you blind? Look at that face. Be my chick, sweetheart. I guarantee you will earn stacks of cash doing that instead of cleaning up puke."

Audrey locked her jaw. She tuned out their aggressive harassment, acting deaf to the vile obscenities, and kept her eyes glued to the glass surface. Her empty stomach churned as the gooey, foul-smelling liquid soaked into her washcloth. She fought the rising nausea and forced herself to keep scrubbing the disgusting mess.

"My shoe got hit too. Come wipe it clean, gorgeous." A man sitting nearby locked his blazing, lustful gaze onto her face.

Audrey stood up quickly. She took a cautious step back and clutched the soiled rag in her hands. "The washcloth is dirty. I will go fetch a clean one."

"Do not bother. With a face like yours, nothing is disgusting." The man dragged his eyes up and down her frame like a starving predator sizing up a helpless meal.

Audrey kept her head lowered, making the mistake of standing still. Rancid vomit dripped slowly from the saturated cloth, splattering directly onto her cheap shoes. The wealthy elites surrounding them wrinkled their noses in visible disgust, pulling their legs away from her. The man leaning back in the chair, however, did not look away. He continued to leer at her scarred beauty hidden beneath the uniform.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, walked over to his side, and squatted back down beside his chair.

Before she could locate the stain on his leather shoe, he lunged forward.

His thick fingers twisted into a fistful of her choppy hair. He yanked her forward with brute force.

The intense momentum sent Audrey crashing down onto her already battered knees. She landed hard on the sticky floor, trapped in a deeply degrading, compromising position right between his spread legs.

Uproarious, vulgar laughter erupted through the private room. Piercing whistles bounced off the walls as the men cheered the sudden assault.

Audrey shuddered. She knelt on the floor like a broken, helpless toy. She pressed her bare hands firmly against the vomit-filled washcloth. Her jagged hair fell forward, shielding the fierce, murderous forbearance burning in her eyes.

Her trembling fingers traced the floor blindly and bumped into the lower shelf of the coffee table. She felt the heavy, solid edge of a thick glass ashtray.

Her mind raced. It was the perfect weapon. She could grab the heavy glass and smash it directly against his skull to end this.

Her fingers twitched around the edge. Then, the crushing reality set in. Attacking this elite patron would invite Dominic's wrath. It would bring unimaginable hell down upon her family. Her survival instinct slammed into the suffocating terror of Dominic's retaliation, forcing her to endure the abuse.

She pulled her shaking hand away from the glass.

"Sweetheart." The man sneered. He yanked her hair backward like a scoundrel, forcing her chin up to expose her face.

He tossed a thick wad of cash onto the filthy coffee table. He stared down at her with a malicious, expectant glare.

"Here is one hundred dollars. Do me a favor right now."

Forced to look up at his repulsive face, Audrey fought the urge to gag. She swallowed down her rising nausea, staring at the money meant to buy a sexual act.

Cruel jeers echoed endlessly around the enclosed room.

"Hurry up and take it! You will earn way more on your knees doing that than you ever will as a cleaner."

"Yeah, right. She cleans filth all day. You should at least force her to take a shower before she touches you!"