Page 66 of Swerve
Anger again burns through the humiliation, but there is no place for it to go. One misstep on her part will bring that monster of a man into the room, and so she is left with the choice of the lesser evil. But she doesn’t bother to hold back the tears now. They stream down her face, mixing with the soap and antiseptic.
When the woman has finished cleaning her with the washcloth, she picks up the spray nozzle and blasts the soap away. She looks up at Mia’s face, notices the tears there and then raises the spray to wash those away also.
When she’s done, she hands Mia an enormous white towel and says, “Dry yourself, please, and then return to the table.”
Mia takes her time, somehow knowing she does not want to go back to that table.
Noticing her reluctance, the woman reaches in her pocket and pulls out the remote, her finger resting on the button. Mia instantly drops the towel and goes to the table, refusing to meet the woman’s eyes.
Once she lies back down, the woman places her wrists and ankles back in the restraints. She opens a cabinet, removes something and places it in the nearby microwave. A beep sounds and then the microwave turns on. The woman pulls a phone from her pocket, taps the screen, and then studies it for the sixty seconds until the machine beeps and stops.
She pulls a bowl from inside and takes a wooden spreader from a drawer. She dips it in the bowl and stirs. Mia realizes it is a bowl of wax. The woman tests its heat with her finger, and apparently satisfied, begins spreading it on Mia’s leg. “You have been waxed before?” she asks.
Mia shakes her head, refusing to look at her.
“I will do your legs and a Brazilian. You know what this is?”
Mia turns her head to the wall, a fresh wave of humiliation hitting her. How can this really be happening to her?
“I see that you do know. I won’t lie. It’s unpleasant. But it will be over quickly. And I have a special cream that will take away the sting.”
She rips the first strip of wax from Mia’s leg, and Mia bites her lip to keep from crying out.
For the rest of the time during which the woman spreads more wax, waits for it to cool, and then rips it away, Mia keeps her eyes closed. She tries to make herself believe that she is somewhere else, that she issomeoneelse, that she will wake up and find this is all a nightmare. That none of it ever happened.
But the woman unhooks the ankle restraints and says, “Spread your legs, please.”
Mia refuses to do so.
“Shall I call Hugo and ask him to spread them for you?”
Pure rage burns in the back of Mia’s throat as she does as she’s been asked.
The woman laughs a short laugh. “I suggest you get used to the idea. The doctor will come in to fit you with an IUD once I’m done. All guests are asked to wear protection, but accidents do happen.”
At that moment, if she could have gotten her hands on a knife, a cyanide pill, a gun, she would have killed herself.
No question at all.
The Proprietor
“Know your enemy and know yourself and you can fight a hundred battles without disaster.”
—Sun Tzu
THE TEXT SIMPLY read:
Please schedule a meeting for account 98. Would like to bring guest.
The message had arrived on the phone she used for her most exclusive accounts—98 was Senator Hagan. Odd that he was asking to bring someone with him. Discreet was Hagan’s middle name, and he’d never made such a request before.
She types a reply.
Will need more info on guest.
The reply is nearly immediate.
100% reliable.
