Page 46 of Inferno

Every touch lingers.

I barely know the man, yet, when he looks into my eyes, it’s almost as if he knows me.

He brings outCharlotte.

The carefree one. The one who laughs and jokes. The girl I used to be once upon a time.

Once dry, I shimmy on my skirt and head to the bar. I better check in with Misha soon.

As I approach, the blonde lady smiles at me and waves.

“Hi.” I plonk my butt down on the stool.

She slides a chocolate milkshake in front of me, and I frown.

“How did you know that was just what I needed?” I laugh, taking a sip.

It’s delicious.

Sweet, yet not too much. I don’t indulge often, but I am on vacation after all.

“The drink comes with a message. Jimmy says to enjoy and think of him while you suck on that straw.”

As I choke on a cough, I nearly spit out my drink all over her.

My cheeks are burning from embarrassment. The bar lady joins me in amusement.

“He seems smitten with you. Very kind.”

She offers me a nod and goes back to serving the next customer.

I stare at the thick brown liquid and swirl it around with my straw, imagining all the things Jimmy said he would do with this on me.

The ice would cool my hot skin.

His tongue would burn at my core. I almost let out a moan. What is happening to me?

I only live romance and sex through literature. It blocks out the nightmare I have to endure in my own bedroom. Drago manages to smuggle them in for me occasionally. Much to his displeasure.

It helps me create a fantasy in my head, almost to get me through it.

I wonder what it would be like if I had my own memories to go off of. Just for once feel pleasure, not pain, embarrassment, or like a piece of property.

What if I felt like a woman?

I shake my head. It’s too dangerous. If I get caught, or if Misha sees, so many things could go wrong, and everything seems to in my life.

I rest my head on my hand and finish my drink, watching the world go by around me.

“Another?” the bartender asks.

“I shouldn’t have even had that one,” I reply, not being able to hide the sadness as I hand her the empty glass.

Sighing, I slip off the stool. Maybe I am just not meant to have nice things.

My heart flipsas there’s a knock at my room.

Is it him?

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