Page 26 of Mr. Match

I took her to my bedroom—which was nothing more than a mattress on the second-floor loft where tires were still being stored, and reachable only by a moving set of stairs on wheels.

I undressed her in the fading light. Just enough light to make her fair skin glow and look beautifully surreal. Her gun came off first. Put safely aside on an overturned crate acting as a bedside table. Then the blue blazer. The shirt was untucked next and I started unfastening the little clear buttons denying me a view of her breasts spilling out of that innocent white bra. I kissed her shoulder as I slipped the shirt down her arm and let it drop to the floor.

I left the skirt on and started eating her pussy while she was standing up. Her legs spread open just enough to give me access, my fingers pulling aside her already wet panties.

I didn’t let her come that time. Just played with her until her knees got weak and her thighs began to tremble. Then I took her hand and led her to the bed. Pushed her back against the pillows, opened her legs, and positioned myself between them.

“Take off my skirt. My underwear.”

“No,” I remember saying as I entered her. “I like the school-girl look.”

Her back bucked, arched. She grabbed her breasts, pushing them together still inside her bra.

We fucked slowly that time. It stands out in my mind that way. Slowly. Everything was slow that night. Time disappeared along with all my expectations.

I don’t know why, exactly. I don’t know what made me do it that way. I’m not one of those careful lovers. But there was something about her. Something damaged or maybe even broken.

And I remember wanting to kiss her neck after we came—moaning and breathing hard. I slumped off to the side, pulled her in to my chest, and my lips were already there, searching for that soft skin under the ear, when I realized she still had her scarf on.

When I started taking it off I felt her breath hitch. It almost made me stop. Almost. But then she relaxed and I untied the knot holding the silk to her neck. Pulled it free and tossed it aside.

My mouth was there on her skin. My tongue dancing along her earlobe, then down to that little hidden cleft on the side of her throat.

I pulled back, intending on kissing her lips next—and that’s when I saw the scar.

A raised silver-white line that started just below her ear and traveled down across her throat. When I placed my thumb on her chin to make her turn towards me so I could see where it ended, I understood what I was looking at.

I traced it with my fingers over and over again, searching for the right words to say. I leaned over her to pick up the gun off the bedside crate and looked her in the eyes as my hands automatically popped out the magazine, checked the gun for ammo. “Who did this to you?” I asked, clicking it back in place and pulling on the mechanism that loaded a bullet into the chamber. “Because I need to have a little talk with him.”

Chapter Twelve - KATYA

There was murder in Oliver’s eyes that night. Every word that came after he removed my scarf was deliberate and calculated.

I never told him who did it or how it really happened. The last thing I wanted was attention from that family. No. They took enough from me. They took everything from me and I started over. Made a brand-new life. And no, it was not a perfect life back then. Hell, it’s still very far from perfect right now. I’m not a perfect person. But it’s my life. It’s what I have and it could be worse.

I glance at my laptop, still waiting for some kind of acknowledgment or reply about the last video I uploaded, when my phone buzzes on the desk next to me. I read the text.

Unknown Number: Come back to me.

I stare at the message until my phone screen goes dark and it disappears. The invitation lingering in my thoughts.

Unknown Number: You wanted me to find you. And I have. Don’t play games, Kat. Just meet me. One hour. You know where.

Again I stare at his message until the phone goes dark.

I know where.

After that first night we were inseparable. Not true, we were separated a lot. I didn’t want a boyfriend and he didn’t want a girlfriend. So we never used those terms. And even though we spent the first two nights together, after that it was back to business for me and back to the shell of a life he was leading for him.

I needed that client he chased away. I didn’t get him, but I got another one. This guy was weird. He made me nervous. But he didn’t want to meet me in person. And he didn’t want to fuck me. He just wanted to watch me on cam. That’s how the whole thing started. Voyeurism was my saving grace back then. A way to be part of that moneymaking world and not have to actually interact with the men.

I bought better camera equipment and every morning, after Lily left for school, I turned it on and went about my day. The Hook-Me-Up site offered lots of opportunities if you knew how to log in to the right part of the website.

I knew how. My parents left me a care package before they died. New identities for both Lily and me. Complete with school records, birth certificates, and social security numbers. Just enough cash to get out of town and pay tuition at a new school. Disposable phones. A pre-paid credit card. And directions on how to find help on Hook-Me-Up.

But it all came with a warning.

Do not be obvious. Two teenagers on their own can’t live an easy life and stay under the radar. You must work for it. You must know struggle. You must fight your way back to the top.