I've spent most of the afternoon smiling and shaking hands, but not speaking. So my throat feels very dry, and there's a dull ache in my cheeks, which I don’t think will go away for days yet.

It's almost dark out now, the last of the glorious blue and purple sunset coloring the distant ocean, the first stars already twinkling in the sky, the evening star brightest of them all.

"I have one last thing to discuss with someone and then we'll go," Eric says to me. "Wait here."

He leaves me by one of the hors d'oeuvres laden tables and the voices, laughter and screeches of the other attendees grow louder the second he's no longer by my side like someone turned up the volume. They all sound drunk, remind me of my uncle who I haven't thought of in years, and panic is growing in my chest, getting worse and more unbearable with each passing second.

"Whatever he's paying you isn't enough," Terry's voice says into my ear and I actually yelp softly, because I didn't see him approach. "You should run while you still can."

My heart's thumping so fast my whole body's vibrating. I've never been more frightened, not even of my uncle.

"Why?" I manage to choke out of my constricted throat.

"Because Eric isn't the nice guy he pretends to be," Terry answers, alcohol so thick on his breath it makes me sick.

"He's not paying me," I counter, saying what I should’ve from the start. Eric doesn't frighten me, he makes me feel safe. And I'll hold onto that feeling, because it's the only thing I really know.

"Just be careful," Terry whispers and leaves.

When I turn, Eric is striding towards me.

"What did he want?" he asks, glaring at Terry's back.

"Just saying goodnight," I lie. "Can we leave now?"

"Yes," Eric says and grabs my arm, walking towards the house so fast I have to practically jog to keep up.

He finally slows down once we're in the driveway, but doesn't release me as he leads me to his car.

What we did last night starts coming back to me in images and sensations as soon as we're alone. I'm looking forward to getting back to his apartment, my bedroom there, letting him undress me and take me again, like he did last night. I've never yearned for a man like this, never thought it was possible. And maybe it's the champagne I drank making me think these thoughts, making my pussy wet, but I don't think so, because my mind is clear. And even Terry's weird warnings are fading fast, becoming nothing more than a distant blur like clouds on the horizon heralding rain, which won’t come for hours yet.

Eric makes me feel alive, wanted, desired, safe. He doesn't frighten me. And I feel like I've known him for a very long time, even though it's only been a day. It's what I know, deep inside my heart. And I should trust that over malicious words of a stranger. Shouldn't I?

He drives right past the entry to the highway, and the very dark and narrow stretch of road we're on now once again wakes the flutters of fear in my chest.

The road is winding upwards and it's bordered on both sides by trees growing close together. If I didn't know we were near the ocean, I'd be sure we were in the middle of some vast, dense forest that no one’s set foot in for a long time. A place where people get lost, never to be found again. The pleasant anticipation of lovemaking I felt before feels more like a threat now. Maybe Terry was right.

Why can't I just make up my ever-loving mind?

"Aren't we going back to your apartment?" I finally ask after we reach the summit of the hill and begin the descent.

"We'll spend the night at my house here," he says just as the ocean comes into view, bathed in moonlight, so it appears to be covered by a soft sheen of white lace.

"And tomorrow I'll fly you back home," he adds after a few more moments of silence during which I tried to figure out if his answer is satisfactory.

The panic gripping me now is completely different than the fear I felt before. It's burning, more urgent, making my breaths fast and shallow.

"What? Why?" The questions come out in the form exhales.

"Because I said so," he snaps, the words cutting through me like a very sharp sword might. "Our deal is off."

The very air in the car changes, becomes thicker, weighed down with danger, with warning, things best left in darkness. So I don't say anything more. Because I have no idea what to say, what to do, how to change his mind.

I should be happy that I'm going home, that this weird deal Dad made is off. So why do I so desperately want to stay?