Every girl who comes to the Glitter Nightclub to relax is unaware that there’s a pair of eyes watching them from above. The chosen girls will become “dolls” for the rich that very night. And I’m the driver responsible for transporting these beautiful “dolls”. Today is my first time transporting a beautiful “doll”, and Manager Thompson has assigned Old Bill to show me the ropes. In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Old Bill’s hand kneading the woman’s full, perky chest. The woman leans against the car window with her eyes closed, her fair face flushed red, looking completely drunk. This woman is so shameless, I think to myself. Old Bill’s hand has slipped inside her underwear, yet she keeps her eyes closed, seemingly enjoying it without making a sound. I’m both envious of Old Bill’s good fortune and utterly disgusted by these women who sell their bodies for money. A month ago, I was hired as security for the Glitter Nightclub. The probation period salary was $500, with a promise of $1000 after becoming a regular employee. Today, I just became a regular employee. Only then did I realize that the doubled salary was for doing this kind of work. They call these women “dolls”. Rich men wait at hotels, and we’re responsible for transporting the “dolls” to them. Although this job isn’t exactly honorable, it’s easy and pays well. I’m just the driver, not the one selling myself, so it’s none of my business. I graduated high school and went straight into the workforce. I’ve worked in factories and construction sites. All the jobs I’ve done before were more tiring than this one. I still cherish this job quite a bit. Old Bill, that old pervert, is getting more and more out of hand. Not satisfied with just touching, he’s now eagerly sucking away, the sound of his slurping making my mind wander. We hit traffic, and I turn my head to look at the scene of debauchery in the back seat. “Old Bill, how much did this woman drink? She’s still not waking up?” Old Bill chuckles, “Don’t worry, she won’t wake up. Brother, check the GPS, how much longer will we be stuck?” I glance at the navigation, there’s about a three-kilometer red line. “Probably about ten minutes of traffic.” “That’s enough, hehe.” Old Bill stands up, unbuckling his belt and pulling out his thing. Damn, his guts are too big. He’s going to do it right here. “Old Bill, isn’t this going too far? The client wants her, and you’re playing with her first. If we get caught, my job…” “Buddy, I know what I’m doing. I won’t really do it, just letting you feast your eyes.” I want to stop him, but Old Bill has already taken off the woman’s top, put on a condom, and started enjoying himself. The woman still has her eyes closed, her red lips slightly parted, occasionally letting out a faint moan. She really is like a living doll that can be manipulated at will. Old Bill, that quick shooter, finishes in less than two minutes. He tidies up the woman’s clothes, takes out a cigarette, lights it, and hands it to me. “Brother, if you ever need anything at Glitter, just ask me.” Taking Old Bill’s cigarette, I don’t say anything. This world is truly bizarre. We soon arrive at the hotel booked by the client. The three of us get into the elevator together. The woman still appears unconscious, relying entirely on Old Bill’s support to walk. Out of the elevator, Old Bill tells me this is a blind spot for surveillance cameras. In the future, always bring the “dolls” here for instructions. He takes out a small bottle and puts it under the woman’s nose, then tells her, “Walk straight ahead to room 1808, knock three times, and go in when the door opens.” The woman seems to be activated, stumbling forward like a drunk person. We watch her enter the room. Old Bill pats my shoulder, “Brother, mission accomplished. Let me treat you to a late-night snack.” I ask confusedly, “Why did she suddenly respond?” “Brother, don’t ask questions you shouldn’t. We just do our job.” Seeing Old Bill’s suddenly serious face, I shut up.
After successfully completing my first “doll” delivery, the manager lets me officially start work. From now on, I can deliver “dolls” independently. The nightclub’s pimping business is very good. I have to deliver at least three “dolls” to hotels every day. The manager repeatedly reminds me that when I let the girls smell the gas from the bottle and tell them the room number, I must avoid the surveillance cameras. Strangely, every girl is in a completely drunk state, supported by me into the car, unconscious the whole way. After I tell them the room number in the hotel corner, they walk into the room like puppets on strings. Even stranger, once when I was patrolling the nightclub, there was a stunning girl in the dance floor, radiating beauty. She was the most beautiful girl in the entire club, and I couldn’t help but keep an eye on her. That night, one of the “dolls” I delivered was that very girl. But just ten minutes before I took her, she was still dancing energetically with her friends in the club. Ten minutes later, when the manager handed her to me to take to the hotel, the girl was completely drunk, needing my support to walk. I felt something was off, but I didn’t investigate further. I figured girls who come to nightclubs late at night aren’t good girls anyway. They’re either there to let loose or to hook up with men. The only difference is that escorts get paid, while these girls willingly sleep with men. And for the sake of my monthly $1000 salary, I didn’t want to get involved. I stuck to the principle of seeing less, saying nothing, and just doing my job, which the manager appreciated. In the third month, besides my salary, the manager gave me a $500 bonus. Today, as usual, the manager handed me a “doll”, and I routinely put her in the car. I despise these women who sell their bodies, so I never bother with them. But today’s “doll”, the more I looked at her in the rearview mirror, the more familiar she seemed. She turned out to be Emily Parker, my high school classmate and the class beauty. In high school, although my grades weren’t great, I was good-looking and could sing well, so quite a few girls sent me love letters. I always liked Emily Parker, the class beauty. Although we didn’t date back then, I knew she had feelings for me. At graduation, when she was drunk, she hugged me and cried, saying she liked me. But after graduation, she went to college in the big city, while I didn’t get into university and entered the workforce early. I later worked as a construction worker in the city and once went to her university to find her. I bought new clothes and excitedly went to see her, coincidentally meeting her and her roommates going to the cafeteria. I invited them all to eat together. At first, everyone was happy, but when they heard I worked at a construction site, their expressions changed. They all made excuses and left, pulling Emily along. Emily looked at me hesitantly, seeming troubled, but in the end, she left with them. That day, I drank a bottle of liquor alone in the restaurant. She looked down on me. I hadn’t seen Emily Parker since then, almost ten years now. Snapping back to the present, Emily is still beautiful, with fair skin and a slender yet curvy figure. Compared to her pure look in high school, she’s added some mature feminine charm, making her even more alluring. I just never imagined she’d end up in this line of work. Her family was well-off when we were in school. Is she so desperate for money now? I kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror, hoping she’d notice me, yet afraid she’d recognize me and make things awkward. Now she’s out selling herself, and I’m the driver taking her to meet a client. Time really is a butcher’s knife, slaughtering people beyond recognition. Feigning calmness, I asked, “Miss, would you like some water?” As the car turned a corner, her head tilted to one side, her long hair covering her face, making it impossible to see her expression. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me. These women who sell their bodies for money only have eyes for rich men, they never pay attention to someone like me. It’s just that seeing the girl I once liked fall so low makes me feel awful. I gathered my courage and said, “Emily Parker, it’s me, Jack Wilson. Do you remember me? We were classmates in high school.” “You went to college in the city, and I even came to find you once.” “How have you been all these years? If you’re in any trouble, I can help you. Can’t you stop doing this work?” I said a lot, but she still didn’t respond. I started to feel angry. She still looks down on me, doesn’t she? I’ve heard that women of her caliber are called high-class escorts. They charge at least a few hundred dollars for one night, sometimes even thousands. We were almost at the hotel when the manager suddenly called. “Jack, don’t you dare try anything funny. This ‘doll’ must be delivered properly.” “If anything goes wrong, you’ll face serious consequences.” I hurriedly replied, “Manager, don’t worry. I guarantee I’ll deliver her safely.” I didn’t want to lose my job over a woman like this, but how did the manager know to call and scold me at such a convenient time? Could it be that we’re monitored every time we deliver a “doll”? The thought made me break out in a cold sweat. Despite the mixed emotions of delivering the girl I liked to another man’s bed, I still successfully sent Emily Parker into the room. After watching her walk in, I quickly fled the scene and returned to the nightclub.
A waiter said the manager was waiting for me on the second floor. He led me to the elevator. The second floor was the VIP area of the nightclub, never accessible to ordinary people, and the entrance was very discreet, requiring a guide. The waiter winked at me, “You’re in for a treat tonight.” I didn’t understand what he meant and walked through the long, dark corridor in confusion. The manager was waiting for me in front of a glass wall. From here, you could overlook the entire nightclub, with an excellent view. Besides the manager, there was another man on the second floor, in his forties, pot-bellied, wearing prayer beads on his hand. He looked like a wealthy businessman. The manager raised his hand to stop me from speaking, “Watch carefully, and don’t say anything.” I nodded and stood to the side. The manager smiled obsequiously, “Mr. Blackwell, how do you like today’s dolls? You can pick any doll from the floor, and we’ll send her directly to your room.” Mr. Blackwell stared intently at the floor below, “There’s no risk, right?” “Rest assured, we guarantee zero risk. We’ll handle everything from start to finish cleanly. Just tell me if there are any you like down there?” “There are a few that look quite nice.” The manager handed a remote control to Mr. Blackwell, “This handle controls the direction. When you’ve chosen a doll, just press the confirm button.” Mr. Blackwell chuckled, “You guys really know how to play. This is just like the claw machine my daughter loves.” The manager gave a thumbs up, “Mr. Blackwell, you’re so insightful. This is indeed our version of a claw machine.” Mr. Blackwell laughed heartily. As Mr. Blackwell moved the handle, a beam of light moved across the nightclub floor. No one below paid attention, thinking it was just part of the club’s lighting effects. Those caught in the light became even more excited in their dancing. Little did they know, this was a remote control in the hands of a devil, capable of arbitrarily deciding a girl’s fate for the night. As the light beam settled on a short-haired girl, Mr. Blackwell had chosen today’s “doll”. The girl was completely unaware that her nightmare was about to begin. A beautiful woman approached her, led her to sit at the bar, and chatted with her amiably. The woman handed the girl a drink. After a couple of sips, the girl slumped over the bar counter, as if drunk. These rich people treat ordinary people like playthings, and I had become an accomplice. Realizing this, a chill ran from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Mr. Blackwell left, satisfied with his new toy. He was eager to go enjoy today’s “doll”.
I don’t want to earn this dirty money anymore. The manager seemed to see through my thoughts. He sneered, “You know how many women you’ve delivered over these three months. We’re all in the same boat now. You want to walk away clean? Don’t dream.” The manager looked down at the floor and gestured to me, “Pick a doll. This is a benefit for new employees. Go enjoy yourself tonight.” I pleaded, “Manager, you know I can keep my mouth shut. Please let me leave. I promise I’ll keep everything here buried in my gut.” “Refusing the carrot and asking for the stick, huh?” The manager picked up the walkie-talkie and said, “Old Bill, call a few guys up here. Teach this kid a lesson.” Soon, three burly men came up. They were all security guards who usually patrolled with me. Damn, they didn’t show any courtesy to a colleague. They beat me up badly. I suspect they’ve always disliked me and were taking this chance for revenge. They were all ruthless guys. It seemed I couldn’t escape this black nightclub. Not wanting to be beaten to death, I quickly begged the manager for mercy. The manager handed me the remote control with a smile, “If you had agreed earlier, you wouldn’t have had to take a beating. It’s good you’ve come around now.” Holding the remote, I figured if I had to sleep with someone, I might as well choose a pretty one. I selected a young, beautiful long-haired girl. The manager told me to go to the hotel and wait. About half an hour later, the girl knocked on my door. The girl stumbled into the room, collapsing directly onto the bed, falling into a deep sleep. This girl wore a black V-neck bodycon dress, her chest white and full, with a deep cleavage inviting imagination. The skirt barely reached her thighs, her long black hair cascading down. She had on exquisite makeup, now looking like a lifeless doll. The manager made a video call, which I quickly answered. “Position your phone at a good angle. I want to watch you do it.” “Manager, this isn’t right. I’m not comfortable doing this with someone watching.” “Cut the crap. If you want to live, do as I say.” I quickly positioned the phone and resigned myself to completing the task. Having been at the nightclub for so long, I’d learned quite a bit. I’d heard of a “compliance drug” that, once consumed, makes a person completely obedient, following any instruction without resistance. And after a night, they remember nothing. I suspected they gave the girls this “compliance drug”. This girl’s body was completely limp. A drunk person would still move, but she had no reaction at all. “Now go kiss her, undress her. Any male dog knows what to do after that, so I don’t need to teach you, right?” The manager instructed through the video call. Resigned to my fate, I crawled on top of the girl, kissing and touching her. The girl’s perfume smelled very nice. Her young, full body and elastic skin… I hadn’t been with a woman for a long time. The fire of desire quickly burned away my rationality.
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