Chapter 39: Slice of Heaven“No!” dy shouted, shoving the man with frantic strength.

  He stumbled, heel catg on the edge of aurned chair. Arms pinwheeling, he shouted, “Fug bitch!” recovered and reached for her. dy scrambled away, skirted around a table, keeping it between them.

  “What do you want?” dy screamed at him.

  “For ts like you,” he spat, aopped, breathing heavily. “To know your pce.” With ued speed he grabbed the table and toppled it to the side and jumped frabbing at the young woman. His finger she trailing edge of her billowing dress as she tried to dodge. She found herself suddenly brutally yanked babsp; With a cry she pulled away, the fabric tore, but paihrough her scalp as he caught her by the hair.

  He hauled her back, smming her back up against the wall. His hands were suddenly on her, groping her breasts, grabbihighs. dy screamed. One hand fouhroat—trolling, not choking, not yet—and the other covered her mouth. Using his full body, he trapped her up against the wall.

  “I saw you e in here,” he hissed into her ear as she squirmed beh his hold. “So fug cssy, like you own the pce, think you’re better than us, eh?”

  And he punctuated each word by thrusting up against her.

  “Slut.”

  “Tease.”

  His tongue darted out, trailing across her cheek—and she screamed, muffled by his hand; and bit down, hard, into his finger; and he howled in pain, and she twisted free from his hold.

  “Bitch!” He caught her arm before she could escape. He hauled her back; grabbed her by the shoulders; shook her owid then threw her forward.

  She stumbled, twisting and falling—

  Into his arms and he held me close as he came up for air.

  His breath was hot on my nebsp; “Are you sure you don’t want to e up for that drink?” he whispered.

  No, I desperately wao shout. I don’t! I want—anything but this, because we both know damhe promise a young woman makes entering a man’s home at night after an expee.

  And at the same time, I did want that drink, I wa intensely, I wao drink myself into an oblivion in which shame and disgust simply ceased to be.

  I wao blink and wake up at some ter day without memory of this awful night, without recolle of another man’s touch lingering hotly ay flesh, his lips crushed against mine, his cock—

  Most of all, and with such vivid passion that I trembled with the effort of restraint, I wao smash Dan’s fa. I wao stomp him to the curb and rip him limb from fug limb and scream into his face: I am a man!

  Resting my forehead against his chest, I released a shuddering breath.

  “dy?”

  “One drink,” I murmured.

  He took me by the arm—

  —and hauled her to her feet, shook and shouted in dy’s face, spittle flying.

  “On your knees,” he demanded and shoved her away. She staggered, footing unsteady in wedges; pitched forward; her head struck the side of the ter. Pain fred across her temple and dazed, she sank to her knees—

  —I sank to my knees—

  And I was on my knees with this little bck dress tossed to one side, tits out bra off, waist cher and suspenders, hair pulled to one side over a bare shoulder, gazing up from between the parted legs of a naked man looking down with a grin, with expectation, with lust and craving and his cock was out, thid dark and swaying in anticipation of my delicate fingers curling around its shaft, my tongue dang along its length, wet lips, kisses, mouth and throat, wet holes ready to service his needs….

  And I was on my knees with this dainty peach sundress in tatters, o popped out of its bra, fabric torn to the waist, hair a tangled mess ay eyes as I stared up at the raging man looking down with fury and lust and craving, reag for his belt buckle as he stalked towards me, grinning in anticipation of wet holes servig his needs.

  My fingers came away from my forehead slid red with blood where I’d gnced off the ter’s edge. The man stood over me. His face torted with lust and anger. “You had this ing,” he said. “Bitch.”

  And I looked up at him and my face split in a wide, fierce grin. “Yes,” I hissed.

  He reached for me. My ha his at the wrist and lightly hooked and pulled; kicked his legs out from under him; took him down, hard. He hit the ground with a ch, and I was on him before he knew what was happening.

  A little ter, after I’d had my fun and the screaming stopped, I made my way over to Doreen, absently wiping my hands on my dress. And sure, I felt a little guilt at what I’d done and to whom I’d do – but fuck it, he’d had it ing.

  It was all I could do to keep from whistling a jaunty little tune.

  She whimpered at my approad tried to scramble away. “No, please,” she said.

  Smiling pleasantly, I k o her. “Hey, hey, it’s fine,” I insisted. “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Listen, earlier, you mentioned security cameras,” I said. “Remember? You told him everything was being recorded. I o wipe those , Doreen.”

  “No cameras,” she said, and coughed. “In a shit hole like this?”

  I held her gaze. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Doreen?”

  She shook her head.

  I believed her. “You also said something about pie?”

  She stared at me as you would a lunatic.

  “Would you mind if I took a slice for the road?”

  Ba the car, I examined my hands, and mourhe torn and broken acryliails Julia had gifted me; she’d be pissed. They stung something terrible now, but I’d barely noticed in the moment—curling and uncurling each finger into a tight fist, I sighed with deep satisfa. I devoured the lemon meringue—Doreen was right, it really was a slice of heaven—aled, smiling slightly and fortably and deeply into the seat.

  I dozed.

  A chime woke me, and the car was silent and immobile and it was dark outside. Light poured from an expansive building opposite, and the door slid open.

  An attendant was immediately at my side. “Wele to the Asklepios ic, Ms Belmy.” A young woman, very pretty and precise, and professionally attired, greeted me. “If you would follow me, please?”

  I was swept along, first to reception where I was registered and fitted with a slender ID wristband. Then out the back, along the edges of a lush garden heavy with the st of citrus and vender, buzzing with evening i sounds, to a small cottage, a private apartment in a long row of simir looking aodations.

  “Your room, Ms Belmy,” the pretty young woman stated.

  She gestured for me to touch my wristband to the door; it chimed and opened.

  I grunted aered my new home.

  Subdued lights activated at my approach, and I passed through the entrao the living room beyond. It was all very well appointed; a little bnd, maybe, but fortable enough. I tossed my purse on the sofa and was about to seek out the kit when a voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in too long, called me back.

  “Mr Saunders.”

  Agent K—Katheri in a chair in the er.

  “We o talk,” she said.

  The End of Book Two

  Author's Notes

  I hope you enjoyed Book Two of stant in All Other Things.

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