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Her lips parted and it took her a moment to answer. “In about an hour’s time. After I’ve cleared the table.”
“Meet me out the front by the labyrinth.”
Her face twisted into a confused frown, bordering on baffled. I sensed a question shining in her wide eyes, but she simply nodded slowly and then hurried off.
Was this her? She didn’t seem to recognise me.
Maybe she had a twin.
Taking a deep breath, I soaked up the dewy salt air and walked to the hedged labyrinth where we played as children. The centre proved a perfect spot for secret meetings. It was also there that, as a fifteen-year-old, I lost my virginity to an older, more experienced, girl.
Theadora sat on a filigree iron seat. She’d undone her plait, and her long dark hair blew around her face in the gentle breeze. She was so beautiful she made my pulse race.
I sat next to her. “Theadora.”
“Please call me Thea.”
I smiled at how her face contorted with aversion. “I love your name. It suits you.”
She looked down at her feet, something she did a lot. “Mm…if I had the time and money, I’d change it.”
“That would be a shame.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Most of the women around me, including my sister, had this unhealthy obsession with wearing lots of makeup. Whereas Theadora didn’t wear anything but her natural beauty.
Recalling her mascara-streaked face the night I rescued her, I kept asking myself: Was this really the same girl that did drugs and was potentially selling herself?
“So, you wanted to speak to me about something?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers.
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?” She looked up at me with wide questioning eyes.
“I saved you from those pimps.” I took a breath.
“Pimps?” Her brows knitted.
“You were drugged to eyeballs,” I said. “So, I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh… shit.” Her face lit up with shock. “That was you?” A line formed between her brows. “They weren’t pimps. Or mine…” She cupped her mouth with her hand. “You think I was selling myself?”
I took a moment to choose my words carefully. “Well, seeing you half-naked in a corset and drugged... I naturally assumed…”
“You thought I was a drugged-out prostitute?” Her face filled with horror. So much so, that guilt slithered through me for jumping to conclusions.
She bit into her lower swollen lip that I’d already been eyeing off all night.
“Thank you.” She shook her head as though trying to make sense of something shocking. “God knows what they would have done to me.”
I rubbed my jaw. “You weren’t selling yourself, then? What about the drugs? I mean, you fell asleep as soon as you got into the car. I carried you inside.”
“Oh, my god, that was you,” she said, as though it had only just dawned on her. She looked away into the distance. “I was working in costume as a waitress. I only agreed to dress like that because I needed the money.” She glanced at me briefly as though seeking my forgiveness. “Girls wearing very little paraded on stage in front of a room of men. Greasy, sleazy men.”
The hatred in her voice was visceral, and disgust coated her eyes. “It was an auction. They were selling their virginity.”
“Right? So they tried to auction you?” I asked.
Was this stunning woman still a virgin? Impossible.
She bit into her lip again and for some reason, that one action drew my attention away from the gravity of her story to her lips again. I hated myself for feeling this overwhelming urge to ogle her. To touch her. To take her into my arms.
