I wake up feeling overwhelmed. A sort of morning-after feeling.
My throat is dry like a desert, I have a terrible headache, and thoughts flow from one thing to another, but cannot focus on one thing. I feel giddy.
I haven't had a drink in months, avoided College parties. Guess it was a mistake. They say alcohol helps to lose all sense of self. Maybe so, but it wouldn't solve my problem. It would neither save Adam's life nor throw fifteen thousand pounds at his feet.
Adam...
I have no time for self-chastising. It is necessary to act, and that promptly. At least I have to get up from the sofa and call a taxi. Damn, my phone is dead! And I have no recharging lead. What if Alice called and I missed her call? I need to get home as soon as possible. Guys are unlikely to find a recharging lead for my played-out Apple iPhone 4.
'Are you already up?' Alex's sleepy voice comes from the right. 'Mind some breakfast?'
'No, thanks, I go home. My phone is dead,' I show him the black screen.
'I'll call you a taxi, or Andrew will kill me,' he says with a charming smile.
If he wasn't gay and my best friend's boyfriend, I'd take him in hand. Just think of it: blue eyes, blond hair, a tiny ring in his pierced lobe and a well-muscled body. He is a heartthrob for girls! But he has a crush on my a bit crazy friend.
Great, at least Andrew is happy. And I am happy for him.
I take off my friend's t-shirt and put on yesterday's dress instead, high heels, grab my purse with the dead phone and money envelope, and leave the apartment. At least I was about to.
'Hey, Lo,' Alex calls me as I go downstairs. 'Take care.'
His voice sounds nurturing. A nice, charming guy suddenly turns into a caring older brother. He turns into Adam. But I mumble half-heartedly in response:
'Okay.'
The thing is that being careful and I don't go together.
When I get home, the first thing I do is put the phone on charging and wait for a while to turn it on. Meanwhile, I start making an omelette with bacon. For some reason, I thought that after yesterday's meal I would never feel hungry again. Nothing of the kind! Before turning on the phone, I gobble my breakfast.
There are no missed calls or incoming messages. Alice hasn't been online, and the subscriber is still 'temporarily unavailable.' I wonder where she's gone. She probably got away with William and didn't bother to tell me. Well, she doesn't have to. We are not best friends, we're just girls plunged into a difficulty. Anyway, I still have to decide
what to do with the money.
It's not about the thousand pounds that is still in my purse, but with the amount I have to pay for my brother's surgery. I have to get the money somewhere. Fortunately, I have a day-off today. I didn't have time to quit, although Alice insisted on the idea. I hesitate to call Mel and tell her about it.
Why the hell is it so hard? Why did it happen to us? Why does Adam have to fight for his life? Who decided that he has to undertake the challenge?
Fuck!
A wave of tears washes over me again when I think of what we went through during the months of treatment, how we fought, and what we planned to do after his recovery. We were going to France, we were going to visit Disneyland, ride the roller coaster as we used to do when we were kids, gorge ourselves with ice cream, bask in the sunshine, and enjoy our lives.
We believed in a better outcome, at least I believed in it, and now the hope has gone, just like our parents.
Why?
Should I really sell my kidney? Why not? It's not cheap, and I'm willing to share it, and Adam will stay alive. He won't leave me alone, he'll always be there for me. We will celebrate the next birthday together, as before. I should call Dr. Connor and check whether we can arrange this as soon as possible.
I type my password, and the first thing I see is the incoming message alert from the escort website. A message. Really? Someone has taken my bait! Is it true? Is he willing to pay a lot of money to enjoy my body? Unbelievable!
Anonymous: 'It looks like you need money. We can help each other, but I have a condition,' I read the message on my profile, wiping away unbidden tears with a napkin. Heck!
I can't stop thinking about Dr. Connor's call. Salty drops are flowing down my cheeks. I don't have time to wipe them off. My room suddenly becomes cramped. Everything around changes, the space shrinks to a small, 3 feet by 3 feet square with no windows or doors. The utter darkness grips me again, the darkness that has been embracing me since last night.
A tiny ray of hope suddenly pierces the darkness. This is my last chance.
I: 'What condition?'
Anonymous: 'You must follow all my instructions, obey me despite your wishes. No complaints or protests are allowed.'
If I were able to think clearly, this 'condition' would make me mad.
'Should I lick your boots as well?' I tell to myself, but my response has nothing to do with my thoughts:
I: 'What if I don't accept your offer?'
I ask the question out of curiosity. I have nothing to lose. Everything has been taken away, or is being taken away.
But...
I immediately receive notification 'Add funds to your account! The requested amount twice exceeds the limit. How could he know my credit card number? Oh, sure, I gave my payment details on the website. It must have slipped my mind. Why is he willing to pay so much? He doesn't grudge it, really? What if I get the money and delete my account?
Damn it, I've got thirty thousand pounds on my card! It would be enough not only to pay for the surgery and subsequent rehabilitation, but also to recoup for non-pecuniary damages due to the fall.
Anonymous: 'What would you say?'
Another message arrives, and my response is predictable. I don't want to do it, but I have to.
I: 'When?'
Anonymous: 'Wait a sec. Give me your phone number and I'll send you instructions.'
My number? What for? Alice told me to avoid giving my phone number. Texting is more than enough to settle the issues. I wonder who is this Anonymous. What an odd user name. But all my thoughts fade into the background, giving way to excitement. There are no photos, and his profile is not filled. He didn't even give his name. But it doesn't really matter since he gave my brother and me a chance to have a normal life. At least it's a great chance for Adam. As for me...
What will happen to me after this 'date'? Should it be only one date?
Number unknown: 'You have half an hour to get to this place.'
That's the answer to everything.
The first message arrives five minutes after I agreed to this madness. But I was ready, I anticipated it. I had a feeling. He is unlikely to put off our meeting. That was to be expected, but...
It's too soon.
I put on a pencil skirt that I haven't taken out of the wardrobe for years, and an ivory blouse. I can't force myself to take Alice's dress after the slobbering kisses. What if the client is picky? He can reject me and grab the money back.
By the way,
since there's time, and Adam still has a chance to survive, I should text Dr. Connor to ask the hospital payment details and transfer the money. He confirms the payment and promises that Adam will have the surgery tomorrow. Done. My soul is now at peace. Now I can take all sorts of risks and put myself in the hands of a man who does not mind paying a stranger thirty thousand.
I put on Alice's boots. No makeup, no perfume. At the last second before leaving, I glance at myself in the mirror. I look at the dark circles under my eyes, at my nose swollen from crying. Maybe I shouldn't. What if I don't get out alive?
I must do it. Think about him.
Fear. Uncertainty. Hope. Determination. A drop of curiosity. All these feelings are overwhelming me when I go to one of the high-rises of the City. The concierge gave me a key card to the apartment without asking a single question and gestured at the elevators.
I take the lift to the thirtieth floor in silence, and cross the threshold of the elegantly furnished studio in silence. The interior is empty and dark, and the panoramic windows are covered with curtains, making it impossible to enjoy the beautiful view of the River Thames...
Before the absolute darkness swallows me...
Number unknown: 'There is a pillow on the sofa next to a blindfold. Put the pillow on the floor, get on your knees, and put on a blindfold. And don't you dare bluff.'
I am not going to rebel. I have no choice. Either I follow the rules, or I die with my brother.
I take off my boots, step on the soft carpet, carefully following all the instructions. I am scared. Why does he need these requirements? Why are we texting? I don't understand it, but I'm not going to ask.
Who cares? Instead, I follow the instructions carefully: I take the black silk ribbon, get down on the floor, put my knees on the soft pillow, and deny myself the opportunity to see what is happening around me. Voluntarily. No cheating. I blindfold myself well enough to prevent the small rays of light from the sconce from getting into my field of view.
The loss even of one sense frightens me. My imagination immediately starts conjuring up visions of unpleasant things that may happen to me. It's probably the aftertaste from yesterday's dinner, or maybe the fear that things might end up much worse tonight.
This can be worse than sex. I can die.
But I transferred the money to the hospital, and Adam is being prepared for surgery. Nothing else matters. If I survive this day, there will be nothing left to fear. I hope so.
The sound of footsteps behind my back brings me back to reality He walks silently, like a tiger, making me feel like a game. Fear creeps up my spine, a light breeze touches my body and quickly disappears, but goosebumps manage to scatter over my skin, and a mysterious stranger gives a laugh.
'Hello, Donatella,' the man says in a low voice. He sounds nice but I hardly care about it at this very moment. 'I hope your brother feels better.'
I don't even ask how he managed to know about Adam. It doesn't really matter, even if it makes me feel bewildered.
'You are more beautiful than the photos,' the same soft footsteps are heard around me. He sounds like a predator. 'We'll give a lot of pleasure to each other.'
These words spoken with a tone of hoarseness make me shudder, and images of this pleasure immediately pop up in my mind. Unpleasant kisses, sticky touches of the man's hands make me feel dirty. And then... There will be an inevitable intimacy. I'm shivering again, but not because of the chill, and I don't feel as excited as romantic characters.
Nasty memories of yesterday arouse a desire to give up the dangerous venture, return the money and run as far away as possible from the cursed place. From the man, who stopped in front of me and is probably inspecting my body now from top to bottom, while I am sitting in a typical submissive pose. Hopefully, Christian Grey is not his real name.
But common sense prevails, reminding me why I'm here.
'What should I do?' I ask in a trembling voice, touching the blindfold.
My fingers are abruptly removed from my face, and a rough hand is stroking my cheek instead. I feel like a toy that has been praised for obedience. His thumb circles my cheekbone, falls down to my chin, touches my lower lip, gliding along its line. This gesture does not comfort me at all, it only makes me shudder once again.
'Spend a few nights with me.'
'But...'
'Believe me, you will enjoy it.'
His hand touches my face for the last time, and then sharply tears off the folds of my shirt. I can hear the buttons scattering away, rolling up and down, and then the fabric ripping sound reaches my ears.
His fingers lower the bra cups down, exposing my breast. Coolness envelops my body, causes unbidden goosebumps, and tremendous fear denies to leave my mind. But it fades into the background, giving way to humility.
That's it. The game has begun. There's no going back.
I lower my head, finally exhaling the carbon dioxide accumulated in my lungs and try to inhale a portion of oxygen. I want to see. I need to see him and things that are about to happen. The blindfold just increases my fear. It prevents me from forecasting the next move of the man.
'I don't want to see a sad face,' his rough fingers touch my chin, forcing me to lift my head up. We are probably face to face now. 'I like to watch when a woman is soaking up sensual pleasures, not suffering a martyr's trial.'
Minty breath falls like a light veil on my face. On my lips. It penetrates into my lungs along with the oxygen. Keep breathing, Lo.
'Why?'
'Don't ask too many questions.'
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