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I get dried properly and into a pair of boxers before sliding between the sheets. I rest on my back, one arm above my head and the other over my body. I think about her, and those butterflies are back in my stomach. I fight against the images of her doing things to me and of me doing things to her.
We can never do it. She’s my sister's stepdaughter, and in some warped way, that turns me on more.
I sigh and roll onto my stomach, burying my head into my pillow.
I can’t afford to be distracted right now. Maybe after the job, I’ll drag her out for some drinks and hit up some of her friends.
Chapter 7 - Anastasia
I’m trying my best to look like I’m having fun. Because of all the bodies and the lack of ventilation, the heat inside is insane. I've worked up a decent sweat between dancing, shouting, and hanging on each other.
It’s made harder by the fact I’m not a rave person. I mean, people would say there’s no difference, but there is definitely a difference.
Everyone around me looks high on something or is seriously drunk, and I realize I’m starting to feel a little tipsy.
The girls are laughing when I disconnect from their group and slowly squeeze my way from the VIP dance floor back to the bar. It’s hot. I feel like I’m swaying a little and unsteady on my feet.
I lean on the bar and wait to get the bartender's attention. I definitely feel like I’m getting out of control which will ruin my plan.
The bartender comes over, and I have to yell to be heard, “Two bottles of water and one glass with lots of ice, please.”
He nods and goes, and I casually lean against the bar, watching the girls dancing energetically, not so far away.
I need to sober up. I glance around as though I’m just admiring the crowd. Who was I looking for? Mateo!
I look around for any sign of him or people that would be near him, but I don’t see anything that gives him away.
I jump slightly when the bartender taps me on the right shoulder. I turn around and pay him for the water, adding a generous tip. I turn back to the dance floor and gulp down the water as though I’ve been parched for hours.
Juanita sees me and waves, beckoning me back onto the dance floor. I wave at her, motioning that I am staying by the bar. I see her talking to the girls, and they all frown. I drink more water as they maneuver their way back to me.
“What’s wrong?” Juanita yells near my ear, leaning close.
I wave a hand at my face. “I’m just feeling a bit hot and uneasy on my feet. I needed to take a moment to catch my breath. I’ll be fine now.”
I have no idea how much of that she caught or if I was loud enough, but she seems to have gotten the idea because she smiles.
“Oh! Is that all?” she yells, and I nod. She continues, “I could also take a moment. Why don’t we go outside and get some nice, cool, fresh air?”
The thought sounds absolutely amazing, so I down the rest of my water. I leave the glass on the bar and adjust my handbag. Juanita leads the way, with me second and our little gaggle of girls following behind.
We get out of the VIP section, and it’s just bodies pushing bodies in an acid-and-ecstasy-induced hype. I’m pushed back and forth and feel nauseous as a result. I try to call Juanita, but my head spins. I stumble and quickly catch myself. Luckily I’m near a wall, so I have one hand against it and the other on my spinning head, as though holding my brains from falling out of my forehead.
It sounds like the music of the rave is fading in and out, in and out. I am so dizzy. I feel like the world is moving back and forth underneath me, and Juanita comes to help me stay balanced.
“I’m not drunk that…” I slur, trying to tell her I’m not that drunk. My apparent friend and the other girls help as I stumble toward the front door. We go through the entrance to the outside, where the fresh air hits me hard, and I put a hand over my mouth.
I stand still and close my eyes for a moment to take a breath when suddenly the girls let me go, and a set of strong hands grab me. I blink open my eyes, but my vision is swimming.
A Mexican man is standing in front of me. I try to extract myself from his grasp, but he holds tight. I try to shake my head, but it makes me feel worse. I open my mouth to shout to the girls to help, but when I turn, I vaguely see them walking away, laughing and talking in Spanish as they return to the party.
Another set of hands is on me, and I hardly have any strength to attempt to pull away. I’m lifted, which worsens the motion sickness, and I realize I’ve been drugged.
I’m put in the back of a van that is completely blacked out, and I close my eyes, unable to fight the forced sleepiness.
The cold water that is thrown over me shocks me so much that I gasp, almost scream. I shiver uncontrollably in the icy room that I’m in. There are other women here, also drenched in water. Also shivering. I look down and realize I’m only in my underwear, and I immediately wrap my arms around my body, trying to shield myself. My arms are dragged apart, and I’m pulled over to a nearby wall where my hands are tied so I can’t escape. I’m on my tiptoes, dangling from the air. Goosebumps have erupted on my chilled body, and I can see my breath rise in front of me when I exhale. I yelp and squirm when an older woman starts to scrub me.
“Please! Please! Let me go! I’ll pay you handsomely. My father is rich.” I’m pleading with the woman, but she doesn’t respond.
