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I barely notice the food as Tommy sets it down on the table, then immediately slips out of his suit jacket. He’s wearing a shirt underneath that clings to his body, following the bulging lines of his chest down over what I can only imagine must be six-pack abs. His arms and shoulders look massive, and before he sits down I find myself staring and force myself to look away.
“So, what do you need?” Tommy asks.
“A laptop,” I tell him. “I know you won’t let me use the internet, but I can at least use some programs. I’m bored. I need something to do.”
“Alright,” Tommy says. “I’ll bring you one this afternoon.”
I can’t help it, I love the way he takes care of me. In spite of the way I’ve protested out loud, inside I feel something entirely different. The way he gives me literally anything I ask for and comes to eat with me when he certainly doesn’t need to, asks constantly after my welfare. I feel more like a princess than a prisoner. But I can’t forget why I’m here.
“And a notebook and pen,” I say quickly before he can object. “And some music. I’d like to be able to play some music.”
Tommy nods. “I have some business early this evening that can’t be avoided. But afterward, I’ll bring you what you’ve asked for.”
“You could send one of your men,” I suggest. I don’t want to wait to have something to entertain myself with. If I’m left to my own devices, the only option remaining might be daydreaming about him, and that isn’t something I can do. As much as I like the prospect of a guaranteed visit from him this afternoon, I also want something I can bury myself in so that I no longer have to think.
“Alright,” Tommy says. “I’ll have John Twice come by.”
“John Twice?” I lift an eyebrow, sure I must have misheard.
“It’s not his real name,” Tommy says as if that must be obvious. “He’ll bring you what you need while I’m out.”
We finish lunch and Tommy gathers himself, putting on his suit jacket – a movement that gives me a chance to ogle his body under the shirt some more while he stretches up – and straightening it out. He leaves the food cart and plates. I suppose he thinks John Twice will remove them, and besides, I can’t do much damage with just a fork.
I could certainly try, though.
I’m alone again until the door opens forcefully, sometime later, without a knock this time. Standing in the doorway is a man I recognize, he’s been around and about the house since I was brought here. I suppose he must be the infamous John Twice.
“Gifts from the boss,” he grunts, shoving a boxed-up laptop and pencil case along with a notebook onto the table next to the dirty plates. “You must really be something special.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, scrambling to my feet and moving towards the laptop. I stop just short, there’s something about John Twice that frightens me. He’s wearing a sneer that seems perpetual, given by the fact that he’s been wearing it every time I’ve seen him. I don’t want to get too close for some reason.
“All this cash he’s throwing at you,” John sneers. “Well, I guess you’re not bad on the eyes.”
I feel myself blush deeply. “So, this isn’t… normal?” I ask hesitantly. The truth is, I have no barometer for Tommy’s behavior. I don’t know if he treats every woman he comes across this way – or if I’m the only one.
John laughs, but it isn’t a kind sound. It sounds like he’s angry about it. “He’s distracted,” he says. “You must be giving it to him.”
“Giving…?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” John steps closer, and I feel myself tense up. I want to step away, but I also don’t want him to know that I’m afraid. “Go on, then. Let’s have some.”
“What are you talking about?” I stutter, leaning back a little in spite of myself.
“I know I’m not quite as smooth as the boss, but come on, I’m a red-blooded man,” John says, sneering at me. “I’ll give you a good time. Let’s get a look at you, go on.”
As he talks his hands move toward me, hovering near my chest, and now I do step back, crossing my arms over myself protectively. “I’m not interested,” I say, trying to make my voice as firm as possible. This can’t be happening – not like this. I won’t let him touch me. I won’t have it.
“What is it, you only like a pretty face?” John’s sneer deepens and he lunges toward me, forcing me to step back. My legs hit the bed and I topple back onto it, unbalanced. “Is that it, you fat bitch? Beggars can’t be choosers. You should be thanking me for the interest.”
