AllFreeNovel
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Goosebumps race up my spine as I step into the hotel room, my eyes immediately locking onto the bed.
I sweep my gaze around the dimly lit space. Instinctively, I try to find the light switch by the front wall but can’t. It’s a standard room, as far as I can make out. Not exceptional. The orange-hued lamps create spotlighting around the space. A glow by the bedside table. A glow to the left of the flat-screen television.
“You didn’t come alone.”
My mouth becomes arid as a voice slithers around the room, my insides flipping under the dark notes in his deep tone. I jolt to the side, chasing the sound.
There.
In a corner, a large figure is cast in shadow by the slowly swaying curtains. I can’t make him out. The breeze enters through an open window, the slip of light creating his silhouette from the moon outside.
Swallowing, I find my voice in my throat. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time—”
“Anyone’s?”
“Your.” I struggle around the possessive determiner, finding the ambiguity ofanyoneeasier to digest. An impersonal word.God, voice, work for me.“Yourtime.”
Keep going, Kaya.
I continue hesitantly. “I don’t have what you bought from me anymore, but I have the bitcoins, so I’ll just give them back right—”
“Don’t have what?”
I quiver. “Now…”He wants me to say it aloud, hear the product of this exchange spoken through my unwitting lips, like I stole something from him. I need to apologise. Beg. “My virginit—"
“Stop.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. In my mind, the picture of a rambunctious, middle-aged tycoon wanting to relive his youth by fucking a young girl came to mind. He was rich—harmless. He would give me champagne, maybe a meal—treat it like a date…
God. I’m so dumb.
“How do I know it’s you?” he asks his tone a deep and detached rumble that comes from the back of his throat and not through a relaxed jaw. It’s forced. Not his own.
I haven’t moved further into the space, stalling at the entrance. And he hasn’t advanced towards me to get a better look, to offer me that damn champagne of my reverie.
Squinting at his frame, I try to gauge his age or height or anything that will bring him humanity. I can fight a boy or man, but not a dark outline projecting an unnatural voice. “What do you mean? I knew the name of the booking.”
“You could be a fill-in.”
“I’m not. I’m her. GirlX.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
I follow his line of sight to the bed, my eyes catching on a balaclava lying on the red sheets. Red. That’s not a good colour for a hotel room, stripping the classy atmosphere, bleeding it to a trashy hue.
Slowly, I shake my head. “No.”
“Yes,” he hisses. “Now!”
My stomach caves in, but I can’t let him see the sensation in my response. So, I steel.
“Fine.” I stride over to the mattress with a stomp, frustration hiding my fear. Irritability plays well with nonchalance, and anger is stronger than terror, so I choose those. I pull the balaclava over my head, flattening my hair within. The cave in my stomach aches at what else he might ask me to do.
Though, I know.
Deadly still, the orb of his dark expression tilts; he could be a mannequin in the corner of the room. And when he says, “Take off your clothes, GirlX,” the sensation that grasps my spine is paralysing. He sees it. And I think he smiles.
