“Yes, what?” he asks, stroking my hair. “Sasha?”
“Yes, I’m coming back.”
And there it is.
* * *
A dull ringingsettles in my ears as I tune out everyone in the dining area, weaving in and out through the tables like a madwoman. Nearly stumbling on my heels, finally, I reach the secluded restroom area. The lights are dim hanging against the walls, and I enter the woman’s bathroom struggling to catch my breath.
“Shit,” I gasp, running my fingers through my bouncy waves, trying desperately to calm myself. “Fuck. Fuck!”
The sound of a toilet flushing sounds, and an elderly woman appears from behind the door of a stall, staring at me in horror.
“Sorry,” I quietly say, as she washes her hands at the sink beside me. “I am so sorry.”
Completely avoiding eye contact, she exits the restroom at once.
Taking in the sight of my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly find myself questioning everything. It feels as if the wind has been knocked out of me. My palms are clammy, and my legs feel like pudding.
I’m simply terrified.
Taking in slow, deep breaths, I somehow manage to calm myself down. The truth of the matter is, I cannot let my guard down again. I cannot allow myself to feel. I cannot back down.
Gaining back control over this situation, I leave the ladies room with determination.
Hiding in the shadows of the hallway, I catch a glimpse of a figure from the corner of my eye.
Suddenly, something firmly grasps my wrist, and I’m pushed up against the wall.
There’s a man standing before me, in a suit and tie, and he’s tall. Good looking. The main thing that catches my attention, is the way he’s looking down at me as if he’s just won the lottery.
“Well,” he finally speaks, while his gaze roams over what seems like every inch of my body. “You are a beauty.”
“And, you are?”
He smiles, amusingly, making the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask again, demanding.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, doll.”
Glaring at him, an unsettled feeling creeps up on me. “Excuse me?”
“What really matters, kitten, is how drop-dead gorgeous you are.” He becomes quiet, undressing me with his eyes. “You have the most perfect legs. Beautiful, long legs.”
“I’m leaving.”
Turning away, he grabs me once more, pressing me into the wall with his body. He’s strong, poised. A threat.
I now understand the gravity of what is happening, and my fight or flight mode kicks in.
I struggle against him. “Get your hands off me,” I hiss.
“Sorry?”
“Let me go.”
“Oh, you’re a feisty one,” he groans, smiling.
