Twisted (22 page)

My Michel decided to surprise me and without saying a word showed up in our cabaret
! OMF! We opened six bottles of Dom Perignon and got wasted together with Natalia
. Obviously he drank most of it, and even needed assistance
to get into a cab!

We had so much fun
. It was a really great surprise …

What’s more, our boss agreed to give me a day off today! I never thought that this short-sighted bumpkin was capable of humane actions like

this
!

So we took the opportunity in full and went to some fancy place by the sea.

What’s on your side? Don’t forget to write back to me …

Love you my little sister

xxx

He is in his mid-30s, well-built and very polite. So polite that it’s creepy. My intuition is definitely trying to tell me something, but I don’t listen. My brains are busy enjoying a deep dive in the warm river of the memories of the last night I spent with Ali.

Okay, it was not even a night … When he called me it was already 3 a.m. He asked me to bring some coke. I got to his place at four. He fucked me crazily, as always, and then didn’t let me stay there, because his parents were visiting him for breakfast. They wanted to check how he was doing with his ‘independent life’, for which they are still paying.

‘Would you like some of this?’ The man shows me a sealed little bag of coke, after bringing us two glasses of whisky. He is just friendly; nothing wrong with that. But when I look at his smiling face my heart sinks – there is something
very
not right in his eyes.

I try to calm myself down. Alexandra told me that even though I’d never worked with him before he is an old client she’d known for ages.

He sets up a few lines and watches me doing them, still wearing his creepy smile. I rub my nose, but instead of my usual feeling, my hunch gets obsessively bigger. He is weird, fucking weird …
Why doesn’t he sniff himself? Or if he doesn’t do drugs why would he have them on him in the first place?

But I stop myself, trying not to overthink the situation, keeping in mind that Alexandra knows the man, so he should be safe.

The creep is quite generous and asks if I would like another hit before we go to his bedroom. I don’t say no and get loaded pretty well, ignoring my anxiety and diluting my consciousness in the mist I try to stay in.

We go to the bedroom and the fucking, for the most part, turns to harsh but standard. He bangs me with a condom, then some time later persuades me to take it off, promising another hit. I don’t really know how much time has passed but it seems he’s been perforating me for an extensive period already.

He is getting tired and frustrated.

‘I want to fuck your ass, Sweetie,’ he exclaims without stopping the digging.

‘I don’t do ass-fucking, sorry.’ My answer is broken up by my breathing. ‘Oh, come on. I’ll give you a nice take-away.’ He obviously means more drugs for me in exchange.

‘Do you think I am a crack whore, or what?’ I lose it and almost shout. ‘Get off me!’

He doesn’t move, his body weight pressing me even harder into the mattress. He smiles viciously. ‘Hmm … you refuse, and resist me? That’s even better!’

I try to push him off me as hard as I can, threatening to go to the police if he does not stop, but I can’t do anything. He is at least twice as heavy as me, and we both know I can’t go to the police.

He laughs back, throws me face-down on the pillow, locks my neck firmly with one hand and tries to hold me still while grabbing my ass with the other. After a short battle, he forces his hard cock into my anus.

I scream from a strike of burning pain.

This only encourages him to brutalise his assault, thrusting faster and harder.

I want to move away to escape the agony, but all I can do is keep screaming, while choking on my tears. When I lose my voice, I just continue to whisper like I’m casting a spell: ‘Please stop, you’re hurting me, please stop.’

But he smirks in response and continues piercing my asshole until he comes.

He rolls off my back, wiping the sweat off his smug phiz with the sheet. ‘She was right. You are a lot of fun, Victoria.’

I get off the bed, still feeling the sharp pain, and quickly pick my clothes up off the floor.

‘What do you mean? Who was right?’ My voice is quiet and hoarse from screaming.

He gives me a wide smile back, gets up to reach the cigarettes, ‘Your pimp. What’s her name? Alexandra.’ He takes a deep drag. ‘She told me you would do anything for a hit.’

The blood floods my head and I feel like I am going to pass out, but I manage to take a few steps and get to the bathroom. I notice a few red drops running down my legs. No kidding. The fucker ruptured me.

It’s okay, Jul. It hurts, but will not kill. Calm down and let’s get out of here first … you can cry about it later.

I dress while suffocating from tremendous humiliation and pain. When I walk back out to the bedroom I do my best to pretend that nothing happened: I don’t want to show the bastard that I am afraid of him – or, worse, make him angry. When he sees me all dressed, he lifts his eyebrows.

‘I assume you are not staying overnight, Sweetie? I hope you don’t expect me to pay you the full amount.’ He enjoys every word with that damn smirk and pushes a hundred bucks into my hand. Then, he heads to the front door and opens it wide. ‘I hope you enjoyed it too, Victoria, and that I will see you again.’

Sick motherfucker! I wish I could smash that arrogant smile off your face right now!

But instead I take the money and leave without saying a word.

I quickly walk down the stairs. As soon as I am on the street I start weeping: the fear and humiliation, mixed with the rage of knowing that Alexandra just set me up, make it unbearable for me. I don’t know how to handle it.

What a bitch! I am going to trash her …

I jump into the cab and dial Alexandra.

‘The fucker raped me!’ I scream hoarsely at the cellphone as soon as I hear her sugary ‘hello’. ‘Is that what you meant when you told him I would do anything for a hit?’

The driver jerks in fright, now checking on me in the rearview mirror. Luckily, we’re speaking Russian.

‘What are you talking about, Victoria? What happened?’

‘He raped my ass, and it’s all your fault, you fucking bitch!’ I utter, barely audibly, but I don’t care – she knows what I am talking about.