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Unfortunately, Jack gets to drinking, and before I know it, he’s had far too much alcohol. His voice is a bit inebriated as he stands, wobbling a bit. He yawns and stretches his arms over his head, revealing a swath of pale belly beneath his shirt.
“Well now, pretty baby, why don’t we go upstairs?” comes his slurred voice.
I shake my head.
“Oh no, I’m good,” I murmur. “Besides, you’ve had a lot. Why don’t you call it an early night? You mentioned that you have a sales appointment tomorrow first thing. It’s important to be at your best!”
But to my surprise, Jack takes my elbow in his hand and pinches it so hard that I gasp. Before I can speak, he’s escorted me out of the bar and has me in the elevator going up to his room.
“Sweetheart, you’ll love this,” he slurs, pulling out a keycard to unlock his hotel room door. Then, like the drunk he is, he drops it on the ground. I sense the opportunity to get away, and jerk my body in the other direction, but that sets him off. Enraged, the small man seizes me around the waist, drags me back over to his room, and hurls me inside before slamming the door behind us.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls before I even open my mouth. “I paid for this, and you’re going to fucking deliver, sweetheart.”
Oh my god, this is my worst nightmare come true. I’m stuck in a hotel room, against my will, in a city that I don’t know with an inebriated client. I fumble for my purse, hoping to get to my phone, but he rips the leather clutch out of my hands.
“Like I said,” he leers, his breath stinking of vodka. “I already paid for this, so you might as well spread your legs.”
I scream, but Jack is an animal. He’s lost all ability to think rationally, and he spins me around roughly before pushing me onto the bed. I fall onto the mattress face first and shriek again, but it’s too late. He’s already tying my hands to each bedpost so that I’m bound and stuck.
“Help!” I scream. “Let me go!”
But then, a gag is placed over my mouth, cutting off my plea. My nightmare just took a turn for the worse, and now, I’m only hoping for survival. Why did I ever leave Damon? Why did I ever leave New York, and the comforts of everything I know? After all, I’m a single mom, but there are many single mothers in the world, and they make things work. They don’t become escorts out of desperation.
As tears course down my cheeks, I try to block everything out: the way Jack is ripping my clothes from my body, and the way he runs his drunken paws up and down my curves. There’s the tell-tale buzz of his zipper coming down, and I let out another muffled scream of distress, my body tensing in painful anticipation. I can’t be here. This can’t be happening to me. I’m a pregnant woman about to be assaulted, and in the moment of my greatest need, the man I love is nowhere to be found.
10
Damon
Where the fuck is she? Where is Rose? Oh god, I hope I’m not too late.
My feet pound up the hotel stairs. The elevator is as slow as molasses, and the bartender just told me that Rose went upstairs with a man. Oh god, oh god. Is this really happening?
But unfortunately, it is. Rose left to visit her parents two months ago, and at first, everything was fine. I suspected nothing. She’d mentioned something about her mother being sick, so it was understandable. My girlfriend wanted to be with her family during their time of need.
In the beginning, we texted each other nightly, and even exchanged a few naughty pix. But slowly, communication between us trickled and then dried up altogether. I couldn’t understand it. Weren’t we having a great time together? Sure, she was in Duluth and I was still in New York City, but why wasn’t she answering my texts? Our nightly calls grew more and more infrequent, and last week, she stopped returning my calls altogether. What the hell was going on?
It was then that I decided to investigate for myself. On a whim, I went over to her apartment. She’d given me a key, although I’d never used it. There was no need, seeing that Rose spent most nights ensconced in my arms in the luxury of my penthouse.
But when the front door swung open, my entire world came crashing down because it was clear that Rose didn’t leave for a mere visit. She’d left New York permanently, and the bare apartment was testament to her intentions. There was no furniture; nothing on the walls; and not even any cardboard boxes. The place was empty and it was clear my Rose had no intention of coming back. Ever.
