Good Little Girl...1

My screams pierced the still air and startled the cleaning lady two floors beneath us....

I could not breathe
I welcomed my Sweet Death
But just as quickly as it came it was over,
and I was alive again.

The room itself was alive with the sounds of heavy breathing and the scent of our almost violent struggle. As I wiggled from underneath his crushing weight, I thought to myself that everyone who had called him an animal was not mistaken, but it was not because he was a ruthless businessman. He grunted in protest and tried out to hold on to me as I slithered away on the crumpled satin sheets out of his reach. Still, I could not hide my satisfied smile as I recalled the things he had done all night with his hands, his mouth, his lithe athletic body. Delicious things; some magical, some savage. He was gentle and rough and soulful and wicked.

Like Father,

Like Son.

Yes, definitely just like his son.

After my breathing returned to normal, I got up from the massive bed and as I pranced around the room proudly, I could feel him watching me from under carefully hooded eyes as I flaunted my lush, naked body. My body is another weapon in my carefully crafted arsenal, and even now that I have my prey I can't help myself. I picked up my skirt from where someone - I don't remember who - had tossed it on the floor and idly dropped it somewhere else. I found my ripped stockings and carefully hid them in the trash, it is not yet time for him to get caught. I liked to set the timing for these things. Timing was the difference between hurt, and crushing pain. Everything I did was slow, deliberate; prolonging the silence as I waited for him to break that silence that always descended when we came back to earth...

And I remembered...

I have always hated silence.
When HE started coming to me, I would pray to die
as the silence closed in on me while I laid there
afraid to move, even afraid to breathe.
HE told me that first day that if I made a sound he would kill me.
When I thought of death, I thought of my mother
and I knew I never wanted to die.
So I lay there unmoving until HE thundered up the stairs demanding his breakfast.
But his son, he was not usually silent.
His son liked to talk, mostly about high school, upcoming football games
College scholarships, tailgate parties 
sometimes his son would ask me questions 
"are you hurt? did you like it? are you crying?"
His son would sometimes apologize. 
But just like his father it always ended in silence 
as he awkwardly dressed himself and left me to my helpless tears. 
I was only a little girl...

I was so far away in my memories that I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I don't remember walking to the large windows of the penthouse suite that overlooked the rainy city and I certainly did not hear him calling my name. Meena. Princess. But as soon as I turned around the shadows were gone from my face and I was a playful seductress again, teasing him and playing the part of the helpless victim of his seasoned charm. I smiled inwardly as I allowed myself to be coaxed back to his bed. Eight minutes later, the guests next door called the concierge for the sixth time and requested to be moved to another room, on another floor.

"Good little girl"

I woke up again at noon.
Finally it was time to leave.
I never stay past daybreak, but I have been breaking many of my own rules lately. I enjoyed being here. This man did not scare me, he worshipped me, almost like a dying man rescued at sea by a mysterious siren. Inexplicably, I was drawn to him too. Some times, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to be with this wonderful, powerful man instead of his insecure spineless son. But I always crushed those wayward thoughts,
before I was punished for being disobedient.

My thoughts always made me feel guilty and suddenly I could not wait to be away from him. I dressed up hurriedly and made arrangements to return home before he roused from sleep. I said my goodbyes quickly, promised to do meet him at the next rendezvous and rushed downstairs to meet the car that was to take to the airport. I barely made it on time, and as the plane taxied off the runway to take me back home, I congratulated myself on our third successful getaway.

"Good little girl"

Those who have known me say I am the devil's own, and maybe they are not wrong.

Beautiful, mysterious, orphaned. And very sick.
There was only one rule I never broke:
Like Father, Like Son.
Just the way I was raised...

to be continued