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Now, I lie in bed as I blink awake, recalling the events of the night before. It had been good–sogood that it scares me more than a little. I enjoyed myself more than I have in a long time, and I can’t pretend that I don’t want to do it again, see him again. Even, maybe–
I sit upright in bed suddenly, rememberingallof it. What he did at the end–
“Fuck,” I whisper aloud to the empty room, my mind racing.
What am I going to do? I haven’t been on birth control in a long time, far too long to let a man put his cum-covered fingers inside of me. I’d been too lost in a daze to entirely process what was happening, and it hadn’t seemed like Mikhail was going to take no for an answer anyway, but now–
The worst part of it is that I fuckinglikedit.I feel my face flame hot at the memory of how hard I’d come, the way my body had responded to his filthy words in my ear, telling me to come for him while he fucked his cum inside of me. I’ve never done anything that reckless or lewd. Still, even now, it’s all I can do to ignore how my body tightens with arousal at the memory of it.
I could get plan B.I bite my lower lip, considering. It’s not difficult to get, but the thought of spending any of the money I’ve carefully tucked away on anything except my escape makes me feel faintly sick.
It was just one time.
What if he does it again?
After last night, I feel convinced of what Ruby’s been trying to tell me all along, that he’s just a sugar daddy, someone I can use as a means of getting out of here. He wants me; that much is clear, and if I can string things out a bit longer, I’ll be able to do just that.
It’s for money, that’s all–but after last night, it’s clear that I can enjoy it, too. So why not?
Just don’t let him do that again.
I go back and forth, trying to decide if I should go to the pharmacy. I know Ruby would say it’s better to be safe than sorry, if I have the money for it, but what if I don’t really need it, and it’s all a waste?
It was just one time. You’re not even near the part of your cycle where you’re really risking anything. Just stop him if he tries it again. He clearly has some kind of kink, so find some other way to satisfy it. Especially if–
Am I going to fuck him, if he wants it?
I want to, I can’t deny that. Seeing him last night sealed that. I wanted to find out what that cock would feel like inside of me–but I’m going to make him pay for it,I remind myself. And if I play my cards right, he’ll want me badly enough that he’ll pay handsomely for it.
I just have to not let myself lose sight of the reason I’m doing this. I made that mistake with Adrian, letting myself be overwhelmed by how good the sex was, how romantic and exciting it was to be having a fling with a gorgeous man on a Greek island. I got caught up in the fantasy. There, it was just a mistake, a whirlwind relationship that ended in yelling and anger when I realized he wanted me to rely on him more than I was willing to, that he wanted control I wasn’t willing to cede.
Here, it’s dangerous. I don’t know who Mikhail is, not really. I feel confident that he’s not someone trying to entrap me, but that doesn’t mean that couldn’t change if he ever discovered who I really was. I don’t know what contacts he has or what connections.
I have to keep him at arm’s length, enjoy this for what it is, and then get out as soon as I have enough to escape.
Slowly, I get out of bed, making my way to the shower to clean up, something I hadn’t had enough energy to do last night before falling into bed. The hot water helps loosen my muscles and clear my head. I reason away any thoughts of going to the pharmacy, telling myself that it’s not enough of a risk to be worth it.
It’s not like he came inside of me. It won’t matter.
I have to work tonight, and Mikhail didn’t say anything about meeting tonight, so I expect I’ll have to go. It feels like not enough, after what I’ve been able to make with him, but every little bit counts–and besides, I want to see Ruby. I haven’t decided how much I’m going to tell her, but I know I’m going to have to tell hersomething.
And then I step into my kitchen.
There’s a piece of paper under my door. I feel my pulse spike, the world slowing around me as I stare down at it.It can’t be Mikhail. When would he have done it?But still, I hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, beating wildly as I reach for the piece of paper.
We see you, malen'kaya shlyukha. We are coming for you.
I crumple it in my fist, sinking into one of my unsteady chairs as I struggle not to be sick.We? Who iswe?I feel dizzy and faint, and I grab the edge of the table, struggling not to collapse into tears.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I have to get out.
Mikhail is your way out. Whatever he wants, do it, and make sure he pays you for it.
I stand up abruptly, stalking to my garbage can and shoving the letter elbow-deep into it, my entire body shaking. I feel cold, shivery, and I close my eyes as I wash my hands and arm at the sink, feeling as if I might fold into myself, curl up into a ball, and never come out.
It’s not so much that I want my old life back, exactly. I don’t want my fake friends, my brutal and unfeeling father, or the promiseof an unwanted marriage hanging over my head. But I don’t wantthis, either.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life afraid, looking over my shoulder, waiting for the blow to come. I want to befree.
