CHAPTER 22
I’m wearing a pink t-shirt and an old pair of denim shorts, and when I enter the hotel room, Michael raises an eyebrow.
“Did you forget the dress code for tonight?” he says in that know-it-all tone of voice that makes me want to strangle him.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” I hold up the overnight bag I’m carrying. “I have everything right here. Did you expect me to walk through the lobby dressed like some slutty dominatrix? Hmmm?” I ask as I head toward the bathroom to change.
“I was teasing you. My, aren’t you a little touchy tonight?”
I stick my tongue out. “There, I’m teasing you.” He laughs, and it is that deep bass sound that seems to rumble up from his chest and directly to my core. How does he do that?
“Suddenly shy? Can’t change in front of me?”
I smile a touch too sweetly at him. “I want you to get the full effect. It’s not the same if you watch me change into my slutty dominatrix outfit.”
“Ah, I see.” His eyes start to burn with a smoldering intensity that does all sorts of things to my heart rate. I even find myself biting my lip before I turn and disappear into the bathroom.
Once safely behind closed doors, I feel like I’ve just entered a Friends episode. The one with Ross and the leather pants. Any Friends fan would know which episode I’m talking about. If not, let me just say that getting into a slutty dominatrix outfit is not in any way, shape, or form easy to accomplish.
I’m panting, for crying out loud.
At least it’s all much easier to take off. If not, it’d be a piss poor show for the voyeur. I find that funny and laugh.
“What are you doing in there?” Michael asks.
“Oh my god, you can hear me?” I laugh harder while making the last adjustments to this medieval torture device. “Never you mind. Get ready. I’m coming out.”
I take a deep breath, or I try to, realizing too late that I can barely breathe at all in this thing, and throw open the bathroom door. I peek out and see Michael sprawled on the chair the voyeur will sit in soon. He’s already stripped down to just his tight boxers. I bite my lip and Michael groans and adjusts his already hardening cock, never taking his eyes from me. He’s got that smoldering thing going again which sets off a fire deep in my belly.
Then I step out of the bathroom and, well…
Stumble, nearly fall, while waving my arms wildly as if that’ll do any good.
I bump my shin on the dresser, but that, at least, helps me regain my balance.
Michael can’t contain his laughter, and I just know my face has turned a bright red.
“New shoes?” he asks much too innocently.
“Yes, damn it, yes!” I reach down to rub my bruised shin and look up at him with an expression that is trying to be angry. It doesn’t work at all. It comes off as more of a pout which draws another groan from him. “I’ve never worn heels this high before. Damn stupid things!”
“Then kick them off and come here. Right now.”
I can’t move fast enough. The shoes go flying, and I go flying across the room to him. He pulls me down on to his lap, I’m splayed out on top of him and his cock is pressing right against my heat. My mouth drops open, and a little “ahhh” escapes.
Michael’s hand tangles in my hair, pulling hard enough to send little shocks of pain through me as he forces my head back, lips and throat exposed to him. He sits up, thrusting his hard cock against the silk of my black thong, and takes possession of my mouth.
He devours me.
I’m taken aback. It’s been awhile since Michael and I have played without an audience, but it feels good. It feels… right, and I push forward, my hips grinding down on his cock to give my clit the friction it needs. His tongue drives into me, and I can’t breathe, my arms wrapping around him, pulling him into me as if trying to blend us into one single sex-maddened creature.
I hold onto him until he finally pulls away just enough to nuzzle against my ear. He bites down on the lobe to give me the shocking sizzle of pain he knows I love. My mouth feels empty, and I whimper both in lust and need.
“My god, Kim,” Michael breathes against my ear. “You are the sexiest fucking thing I have ever known.” He doesn’t give me a second to reply before his tongue is fucking my mouth again. I just shut my eyes and hold on for the ride.
Too soon, oh much too soon, Michael is pulling away again but keeps me on his lap, his hands dropping to my breasts to tease and torment.
“A moment of business, I’m afraid,” he says with a touch of true regret in his voice.
“Mmm…” is all I can manage to say. He’s tweaking my nipples now, and I’m not even sure what the word “business” means.
He laughs and pinches hard, forcing my eyes to pop open. “Good girl. Now, business?”
“You are an evil, evil man,” I say with a pout, and he resumes his torturous attack on my ripe buds.
“Pay attention,” he says as he tries not to laugh. He knows what he’s doing to me, and I just throw my head back, a victim to his ministrations. “Are you at least listening?” he asks, and this time he does laugh.
“Mmm… yes.”
“Good. The performance will start soon, and I want you to keep something in mind.” He pauses to fully lift one breast from its strict confinement and swirl his tongue around my swollen peak.
I’m pressing down hard onto his cock. I need him inside me. It’s a desperate, urgent need, and I think I’ll die if he’s not soon hammering into me. “Whoa, Kim, whoa. Not yet.”
I whine again in frustration. “Then stop touching me!” I cry, and a deep rumbling guffaw rises from Michael’s throat and sends corresponding shock waves to my sex. I shiver, and he envelops me in his warm, safe grip.
Against my ear, he breathes, “It’s alright to look foolish tonight, Kim. The voyeur doesn’t want a professional stripper. He wants the husband and wife experience, so tripping, laughing, wardrobe malfunctions are all okay. Understand?”
Huh?
Wait.
What?
Earth calling Kim, come in, Kim. Okay, okay, I’m trying really hard to concentrate. Did he just say what I think he said?
“Are you giving me permission to be a klutz?”
“Yes, you can put it that way.”
I laugh. “Okay, maybe you’re not quite as evil as I thought.”
In reply, he slaps my ass and tosses me from his lap. “Go put those shoes back on. The voyeur’ll love it.”
I don’t know if he’s joking or not but have no time to ask because someone knocks on the hotel room door.
Show time.
I heave in a breath, stick my breast back into my bustier, grab my fuck-me high heels, and scurry to the bathroom in preparation to make my grand entrance.
I wait in the bathroom with my ear to the door like a… well, like a true voyeur. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing and continue to listen as Michael greets the real voyeur and reiterates the rules. There aren’t many. It’s mostly just sit there, be quiet, and don’t touch.
When there’s been no talking for about five minutes, I take a deep breath, throw open the door, and take a step into the room. I allow myself a quick glance at the voyeur and have to keep myself from making a face, a very negative, oh that’s not pretty face.
The voyeur is disgusting. It’s not just that he’s morbidly obese, he’s wearing clothes so tight that his fat hangs out in places. They’re actually busting at the seams, and I can see every bump, ripple, and small bulge at his crotch. His black hair is long and stringy, clearly unwashed and greasy. His eyes are small and beady, and so lust filled that they remind me more of a stalker than a normal guy who just wants to watch.
He leans forward in his chair and his tongue darts out to lick his puffy, red lips.
My skin crawls, and when I take another couple of steps into the room, I trip over my stupid shoes and flounder around like a blind, flightless bird.
The voyeur laughs, his expansive belly shaking with a personal earthquake. He slaps his thigh with one beefy hand and points at me with the other. “Yeah, yeah, clumsy oaf! Yeah, yeah!”
I know my face has reddened, but the show must go on. I’m a professional. Hell, I’ve been doing this for months now. Mentally bracing myself against the unpleasantness, I know that Michael will intercede if things get too out of hand. Like before, I kick off my shoes and start a long, slow strut to the bed. Remembering at the last minute that this is a striptease show, I stop a couple of steps from the bed, somewhere midpoint between Michael and El Disgusto, and slowly, seductively run my hands down my body.
Michael nods almost imperceptibly and I’m grateful for his encouragement. Still moving slowly, I begin to strip for the beautiful man in front of me. I unbutton, unzip, untie, and unsnap while keeping my eyes focused on his.
He nods again and breaks into a grin. I start to relax and forget about El Disgusto. He’s not there. It’s just a chair.
With a flourish, I reveal my breasts to Michael, and I can see his appreciation grow, big and hard. It always thrills me how I can have such an effect on him with just my tits.
“You are so fucking sexy, babe,” he says in a throaty growl, and I smile, bending to roll my stockings off.
They get caught on something dangling from my unhooked bustier. I fumble and try to keep from falling while the voyeur laughs, probably pointing that beefy finger again. I’m embarrassed. No, I’m mortified. Michael clears his throat to get my attention, to settle me. I meet his gaze and his eyes are telling me that I can do this.
I take a deep breath and remember what this show is supposed to be all about. “Oh, fuck this, baby. You know I’m no good at this,” I say, and with a good hard tug I rip off the nylons and fling them to the “empty” chair.
Michael laughs, and it’s just the two of us again.
Until I hear loud snorting sniffs.
Oh god, he’s smelling my stockings.
Mortification reasserts itself.
I need this show to be over as quickly as possible.
Struggling out of my bustier, I realize I’m grunting and groaning with the effort. Do I care? No, not at this point. I just want to be naked and throw myself at Michael so he can take control and make this all better.
I dearly hope Michael charged this guy a king’s fortune.
I’m naked now, finally, and I take a deep cleansing breath and shake my head, allowing the curling hair at the nape of my neck to sway in a becoming, sexy way.
My eyes want to stray to El Disgusto as if they have a mind of their own, and Michael knows this. “You’re fucking gorgeous, lover,” he says to keep my attention on him, only him.
Lover. For a second that word gives me pause, makes me think of Jay, my alcoholic ex. He always called me that. With a start, I realize that I am finally and truly over him. I’ve moved on. Life is good and getting better all the time. Warmth rushes through me and I smile at the man in front of me.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say in a teasing tone and cup my breasts with my hands, lifting them up, offering them to him. He groans and his cock twitches. “You want these, don’t you, baby?” I’m still teasing him, keeping the show going, a striptease of the flesh now. Tap dancing my fingertips over my left breast, they find my hardened and erect nipple and linger there, pinching, pulling, rubbing. My other hand starts to explore the rest of my body, moving excruciatingly slowly down the curve of my right breast to the swell of my hip and to my thigh, stopping there as I readjust my stance, spreading my legs in anticipation of my hand moving to my pussy.
“You’re a tease, such a tease,” Michael breathes, and I smile and start to stroke myself with my index finger. I’m surprised to find that I’m wet. I thought El Disgusto would have left me high and dry, but no, performing for Michael is more than enough to arouse me. I throw my head back and gasp as I flick my clit with practiced precision.
As Michael’s nostrils flair, I bring my index finger to my lips and suck it slowly into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it, tasting myself, fucking my mouth with my finger.
“Yeah, yeah, fucking slut, yeah yeah,” El Disgusto grunts. Apparently, he likes what I’m doing. He’s so gross. I can’t help it, I glance at him and pinch my nipple hard, taunting him. Foolish of me, I know, but I also know he’ll love it. “Slut!” he cries out in agonized joy.
My smile is knowing now as I throw my left foot up onto the bed to give Michael a perfect view of my pussy. I’m spread wide for him, beautifully pink and engorged, and dripping wet. My fingers find my clit again and resume their steady, familiar stroking as my breathing becomes more rapid. I’m panting, eyes glazed. My fingers know the territory, and in mere minutes I’ll come. I have to force myself to slow the action, to move my fingers to my slick lips, to tease and torture myself.
I whimper, and Michael leaps forward and attacks my right breast, clamping his lips down on my sensitive nipple, biting and sucking. I need him inside me, and my finger is a poor substitute as I plunge it deep within me, desperate to hit my walls but stopping just short.
Torturing my nipple the way he knows I love it, he places his hand over mine, guiding my finger in and out, fucking me with my own finger. I’m on fire. This is a new move, and I add a second and a third finger while Michael thrusts them harder and faster into me.
His other hand moves to my ass, slapping a hard, stinging blow across my cheeks as he thrusts my fingers into me in tandem, again and again. I feel the heat on my cheeks, the fire in my pussy, and I cry out my need.
I’m not coming yet, and the sound is one of pure lust filled desperation.
In the background, El Disgusto chants, “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…”
Until I want to kill him.
Michael spanks me once more, the hardest yet, then drives his finger into my asshole. In shock, I scream in pain-pleasure. He gives me no time to adjust to the intrusion and fucks my ass hard with his finger while continuing to guide my fingers into my core.
I’m filled to bursting, and he doesn’t relent, driving his finger, my fingers into me harder and faster. I can’t breathe. I’m panting and crying, and Michael bites down hard on my nipple at just the right moment. I cry out, coming harder than I’ve ever come, shuddering and shaking.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…”
Thrashing and trembling, my legs won’t hold me upright for another second. Michael grabs me by the waist and throws me to the bed. On my back, I’m still wracked by my orgasm when Michael shoves my legs apart and rams his enormous cock into me. I scream myself hoarse as he fucks me. It’s his turn, and he is ruthless in his thrusts.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…”
Michael’s lips find my earlobe and sucks.
I’m a wild beast with no coherent thought as I come again, crying and arching my back while grinding against him as he fucks me even harder. I’m writhing uncontrollably, my nails digging into his back, begging for more abuse but unable to take another second.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah…”
Then, suddenly, Michael stops, becomes motionless. He hasn’t come yet, I know this, and I look at him, begging with my eyes for more, but he just bares his teeth in a semblance of a smile.
“Don’t stop, baby, god, don’t stop,” I pant, but he just shakes his head. I don’t understand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he grunts with effort. “I was about to come, but you’re going to come for me one more time before I do.” He gives me another primal baring of teeth before he starts to slowly rock inside me again, building the motion until he’s pounding with crazed, wild abandon.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH YEAH YEAH!”
I stare at Michael wide-eyed. “Please, no, I… can’t… no more… please…” He doesn’t listen, and I’m soon lost, coherent thought flying from me, our sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the exhausted pain pleasure of a third orgasm builds in me. I’m crying out again, tears flowing from my eyes, my nails digging into his flesh, and I come, even harder than before. I’m faint, dizzy, pain pleasure wracked, my world growing dark.
Michael collapses beside me, panting, swirling his fingers playfully over my overly sensitive nipples.
“My god,” I say.
“Yeah,” Michael replies, causing me to laugh.
He realizes and laughs with me.
“The chair is creepy,” I whisper softly into his ear.
“Yes, but it’s still just a chair.”
From the corner of my eye, I see El Disgusto laboriously stroking his small limp dick. I wonder if he was ever hard at all.
Soon enough, Michael is up, pulling on his jeans, and walking El Disgusto to the door. A little obligatory business is conducted, and he’s gone, but not before looking back at me with a sick leer upon his bloated face.
I suppress a shudder.
I just had the fucking experience of a lifetime, but I didn’t like who was watching. Not one little bit.
Michael returns to the bed, stripping off his jeans and lying beside me, skin to skin.
“I’m sorry about that one, Kim. My kink got the better of me. I should have said no.”
“It’s alright,” I say as I cuddle up against him, my fingers tracing the dips and curves of his perfect chest. I lean forward and kiss his shoulder then trail a few more kisses up to the crook of his neck. He doesn’t pull away, and I’m emboldened. “Do you have any more surprise moves in your repertoire?”
He chuckles. “Maybe.”
“Tease.” I slap his arm.
He nuzzles my neck. “What fun would it be if I told you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something to look forward to?”
He puts an exaggerated expression of mock disappointment on his face. “Ah, you wound me to the core, Kim, to tell me that you don’t already look forward to our sessions just for what they are.”
I pick up a pillow and whack him in the face with it. Or at least, I try. He’s fast and with a little sexual growl, he grabs my wrist, pins it to the mattress, and climbs on top of me. “Tell me,” he says in a rumble that makes me want him again. “Tell me you look forward to me fucking you. Tell me you crave it.”
Against my mound, his cock is already semi-hard — he is an amazing man — and I struggle against the weight of his body on me. I struggle partly to arouse him even more, but also because I just love the feel of him against me.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll purposely look for a voyeur who wants to see how long I can play with you without letting you orgasm.”
“Oh my god!” I gasp. “You wouldn’t!”
He smiles that devil’s smile of his. “Try me.”
For emphasis, he presses his hardening cock between my legs, the friction setting a fire blazing there. “It would go like this, Kim. I bring you right to the point of orgasm.” He speeds the friction of his cock against me, stoking the fire and sending waves of heat through me. “And when you’re crying, begging for it, I stop and maybe suck on a nipple for a while. Then, just when you’ve relaxed enough to simply enjoy the sensations, I take your clit in my mouth and suck hard to bring you right to the point of orgasm again.” He stops and reaches between my legs and spreads my lips, giving him better access to my throbbing mound. “I can do that all night long, Kim, especially when we’re being paid for it.”
I’m whimpering now, and he smiles that devilish smile again and stops rubbing against me. “Tell me you crave it.”
I take his face in my hands. “I crave it, Michael. You know I do. I don’t just crave it. I love it. I love sex with you.”
“You love it?”
“Yes, oh god, yes! You don’t believe me?”
He chuckles. “I believe you. I’m a damned good fuck.”
I buck my hips up to get contact with him again. “And conceited too.” I laugh. “But you love it too. You love having sex with me,” I say, teasing him, mimicking what he just did to me. “Tell me!”
His eyes cloud over, and his smile disappears. “Careful, Kim,” he says in a quiet voice. “How you toss around the ‘L’ word with your boss.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “We’re just having fun. I know you don’t believe in love, but—”
He rolls away from me and sits up, his muscles taut, his mouth set in a grim line. “Don’t do this. Don’t start this conversation.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to me. “We’re having fun, aren’t we? And making money? Good money?”
“But…” All other words fail.
He sighs. “I’d much rather discuss something innocuous like our favorite colors.”
“Mine is orange,” I offer weakly.
He looks back at me with a half smile. “Really? So is mine. I love the vibrancy, the notes of Fall.”
I stare at him open-mouthed. He’s sharing with me. This is unprecedented. “Autumn is my favorite season too.”
He’s still looking at me and nods. “Summer’s ending soon. Fall is approaching.”
I feel so close to him in this moment, and it becomes imperative that I understand his aversion to love. “Please tell me, Michael, please.”
Another sigh escapes him, and he stands, starts gathering his clothing, gets dressed. “Leave it alone.” He walks to the door. “You don’t need to know this about your boss.” His hand on the doorknob, he pulls it open and looks at me for a long, lingering moment. “You were fantastic tonight. I’ll call you soon.”
He leaves, and I’m alone, left once again to do a walk of shame by myself.
I start to cry, not great heaving sobs, but tears fall from my eyes and turn the hotel suite into a watery shimmering landscape.
***
It’s midnight inky blackness as I walk to my car. The overhead parking lot lights are out. I can’t see a damned thing, and I have to squint into the darkness to see where I’m going. It doesn’t help much, and I realize I’m going in the wrong direction much too late.
I sigh and strike off in the opposite direction. When did this parking lot become so damned big? I’m thankful that I put my sneakers back on rather than those ridiculous high heels. There aren’t many cars left in the lot, and I think I spy mine all the way off in the distance, sitting its little lonely self at the far end of the vast expanse. I trudge in that direction.
What feels like hours later, I arrive at my car and reach into my bag for my keys. I don’t find them. Instead, I find myself thrown up against the hood of the Hyundai, a huge weight pressed against me. I struggle, try to scream, but a beefy hand is clamped over my mouth. I can’t breathe, can’t move.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah, you little fucking slut. Think I can’t get it up for you?” He rubs himself against me, and I’m sickened. “You’re like all the fucking rest, bitch slut fucking superior cunt.” His hand is underneath my shirt now, squeezing my breast until tears burn my eyes. He cackles and removes his hand from my mouth to wipe them away. He brings his fingers to his lips and tastes my tears.
“Please don’t,” I manage to say in a broken whisper. My reward is a swift backhand across the face, and my world explodes in starry shocked agony. If my car wasn’t holding me up, I’d have fallen.
“Yeah yeah yeah, you fucking slut. You’ll keep your trap shut now, won’t you?” He squeezes my breast again, and tears fall, stinging my cheek where he struck me.
Terrified is too mild a word to describe what I’m feeling. I wish I could go numb and that minutes would pass into hours, and then I would just have the aftermath to deal with. I start to sob, and he laughs and unzips his pants. The sound, usually the precursor of delight is swiftly turned into a nightmare.
“Yeah yeah yeah, I’m going to fuck your sweet little cunt.” He grunts and slobbers over me as he pulls out his flaccid penis. “Don’t you fucking think I won’t!”
He starts to yank down my pants, and I struggle like a wildcat possessed. But it is to no avail; he’s simply too strong, too heavy, and he’s forced me off balance, stripping away my leverage. My sobs increase as his hand reaches between my legs, and he shoves his disgusting fingers into me. “No… please…”
I hear a savage roar, and I flinch in anticipation of another blow, but it never lands. Instead, my attacker is ripped away from me, and I can breathe again. I look up to see Michael holding El Disgusto by his shirt, punching him in the face until his fist comes away bloody.
“Michael!” I scream, and I don’t know whether I want him to stop or keep going. All I know is the incredible feeling of relief that rushes through me like a drug. Michael has saved me.
I’m safe, oh thank god, I’m safe.
Michael is my savior.
The incessant whoop-whoop of an approaching police cruiser interrupts the blood splattering carnage. We’re bathed in a blinding white light, and Michael hurls El Disgusto to the ground where he lands in a broken, slobbering heap.
“You don’t know us. Do you fucking hear me? You say one fucking word about our arrangement, and your miserable life will become unbearable. Fucking unbearable. Got me?” There’s nothing but blood constricted heavy breathing, and between clenched teeth, Michael reiterates. “Do you fucking understand?!”
El Disgusto nods, staring at the ground, maybe watching his blood drip onto the black tarmac.
I’m staring. I can’t stop staring. Suddenly, Michael’s snapping fingers are in my face, and I realize he’s trying to get my attention. I look up at him. Do I see a halo surrounding his head? No, it couldn’t be. I’m in shock.
“Listen to me, baby. You don’t know me, right? I just happened along at the right time, good Samaritan stuff, right?” My expression must be blank because he tries again. “Baby, you’ve got to get this right, or we could both go to jail. Understand? You don’t know me.”
I blink and nod. “I don’t know you. H-how did you…?”
Michael’s expression softens, and he smiles. “I always watch you.”
“I… what? You always watch me…? But you left before me.”
“I always, always make sure you get to your car safely. I always watch.”
The cruiser is getting closer, and even as a voice demands that we raise our hands above our heads, I start to smile. Michael watches me.
The police are rough with Michael, slamming him against the hood of my car, frisking him, cuffing him, until I’m able to convince the cop that he is my savior, that he came to my rescue. That the creep on the ground is the culprit.
They don’t take the cuffs off him, but they’re a little less rough as they shove him into the back of the cruiser. He manages to look back at me with a slight reassuring nod before he disappears, and I just want to run into his arms and stay there forever.
Two more police cruisers pull up, and my handcuffed attacker and I are put into the back seat of each of them. I hope never to see that monster again, but Michael broke him, and he can’t even manage a leer as he glances my way.
At the police station, they offer me an ice pack, and I wince as a female officer places it firmly but gently against my cheek. She takes my statement and is a sympathetic ear to my story of attempted rape. They don’t bother with a rape kit, she tells me because there was no penetration other than his fingers.
She questions me ten different ways from Sunday about my relationship with Michael. Either she doesn’t believe that I don’t know him and his being there was a happy accident, or she’s just doing her job and trying to catch me in a lie. Either way, it’s tough, and I’m on the verge of tears before she relents.
I sign my name to the document with a shaking hand, and she escorts me from the room and into the main area of the precinct. It’s loud. So many voices competing with each other. So much activity, people coming and going.
When I see Michael at the end of the hall, I start to run to him, but someone calls my name, and I’m caught up in a huge bear hug. I can’t breathe, and everything is happening so fast.
“Kim, are you okay?” Scott asks in a voice filled with concern. “As soon as I heard, I got my ass here to meet you.”
I’m crushed into Scott’s beautiful body, but I can see Michael. I can see how his face falls, seems to crumble, but he shakes it off and offers me a warm smile.
I try to push away. “I’m okay. That’s the guy who saved me. I want to thank him.”
Scott releases me, brushes his lips gently against mine, and lets me go.
I want to cry.
My head is so messed up.
I walk with slow, deliberate steps to Michael and fall into his waiting arms. “Thank you,” I breathe against his ear. “Just… oh, god, thank you.”
Michael nods and pulls away. “You’re dating him?”
“Yes.” I nod and feel the need to apologize but resist the urge. Michael has made himself nothing but unavailable to me. I have nothing to apologize for.
He takes my hands in his and shakes them like he’s trying to determine if I’m really there, whole, and in one piece. “As long as you’re alright?” I nod again, and he lets go of my hands. “Then go to him.” His voice is rough, his face a mask, but I think I saw a glimpse of pain in his eyes. Then he bends to my ear. “I’ll call you.”
As he walks away, I walk back to Scott, tears rolling down my cheeks.