Chapter One: Gone With The Wind~ Stranger
The whistling wind is oozing around the front porch owned by an elderly woman, who is sat on a rocky chair. She is blonde and possess pale brown eyes.
Victoria has a cat on her laps and the back and forth movement of the chair gives out that she is having peaceful thoughts.
She pets her animal with a gentle rub but eyes are very far away from the pet. Victoria is just full of dreams as she knows she will soon die. From old age.
~•~‡~•~
It was in the early 1950's when the popular musician/actress and model was in every corner of the country. Vicki Balet, the talk of the Town. She had every girls dream body and was every man and boy's crush.
She was the dream.
•••
Victoria Ballet
Remembers Back In The Time Of Her Youths.
I am waiting on top a soft white bed with my legs curved in a seductive manner. My sleeves are thin and I have light attractive makeup on. I had just finished my usual nightly musical show.
Here I am, in a classy hotel room.
The door opens and my lips curve for a leer.
"Come in," I say, dressing the sheets. The gentleman who walks in is a nice looking man with costly clothes; letting out his high ranked status.
I must be mistaken, but I think I see a frown on the gentleman's face.
'Did I offend him?'
I clear my throat in slight discomfort.
"So it is true?" The man utters.
"That what?"
The man's eyes scan me. "I am embarrassed to see how you're dressed. I mean you are no man's dream at all."
My face crumples.
"You are a disgrace to the entire society and a lady like you should not even indulge in such doings. You are—"
"—Wait, wait, wait, wait," I command. "You will not insult me—"
"—You insulted yourself already by doing this." He doesn't let me speak further.
I don't know when I throw a pillow at him. "You are mad!" I speak in an aggressive manner. "Why would you come to me like this if you aren't interested?" I am already walking up to him angrily with the sheets covering the down part of my body.
His face is stiffened. I twist my body, about storming away when he grabs my hand then delivers a hard feel kiss on my lips, before grabbing my hair and continues the delightful action.
I too jump on him and let on that kiss, having him carry me to our comfortable destination; at this moment my garment has already fled my waist revealing my glory.
•••
Currently
I am at home with a letter in my hands.
"What are you doing there?" Comes in the voice of my husband. My abusive husband. He takes steps closer. "You are with a love letter, aren't you?"
I close my eyes as it is far from that. A firm smacking on the face occurs and I let out a sharp yelp. I cry, whimpering as he pulls my hair.
"Jeff, please..! I-it's just. " He holds my head up high from my blonde hair. I would've lied it is a letter from one of my fans but.. well a surprise far from that.
Jeffery holds the squeezed paper about reading the surprise when the ringing of the bell deviates him. He glares at me, then takes off to the door with a feigned smile.
I let out a sigh of breath out my lips as I take the paper; the paper that could take me straight to hell if my husband Zukerberg Jeffery ever gets hold of it.
Back to three months ago..
"I'm sorry.." Says the gentleman after making love to me.
"Wait" The classy man in the hotel room leaves me as though he has made a mistake. My laps are visble through the sheets but I am too overwhelmed by the past experience to even move.
Just like that, this superhero of this night left without saying another word.
Yes the man from this night is the father of the child I am currently carrying. The paper in my hands is the confirmation results from the doctor that I am pregnant.
I squeez the paper and hide it from my husband.
Why should I feel guilty? How can I feel guilty for making love with other men when my husband abuses me? We got married because of status. I'm a popular singer and actress while he is a rich well known businessman. Jeffery wasn't this arrogant at first. He use to treat me like a flower until the marriage went over a year.
His overy jealous attitude restricts me from socializing too much, including with women. He is a maniac so scared of loosing me. He is influential and locks me up when he has guest like his friends come ovee— that is after he has shown me off to them.
I sleep with high gentlemen for money and joy, why? Because my husband is trash; that's to start with and he takes all the money I earn from working to his personal account.
Pleasuring men like that 3 months ago super hero is how I earn now. Nobody knows my pain as a celebrity. Any word of this gets out to my husband and I am dead.
"Victoria!" the sound of my best friend sheers my mind from my thoughts. "Baby!" Rosie is putting on a golden dress with high heel shoes clanking against the ground. She raises her hands to give me a hug.
I smile as I accept her hug.
Rosie's face is full of makeup and her shawl shows of class.
"Rosie," I call but my voice cracks. I take a glance at my husband and we excuse ourselves. My best friend notices something's wrong with me and closes the door as soon as we get to my bedroom.
"What is this Vickie?" Rosie asks, as she holds my shoulder out of care. "Speak to me."
"I'm pregnant." I see the stunned look on her face.