21
At the end of the workday, Amanda, Eric, and I go out to the waiting limo together, but I don’t give him a chance to humiliate me again—of my own volition, I take a seat up front with the driver.
I can hear them. In fact, I can hear Amanda giggling and laughing up a storm. I keep waiting for the divider to separate us, but this time, Eric doesn’t close off the backseat. He wants me to hear everything they’re saying. He’s speaking in German, and just hearing him sets me off.
When we arrive at the hotel, I open my door and step out. I want more than anything in the world to get away from Eric and his companion, but instead, I wait courteously for them to emerge from the limo. When they do, I say good night and take my leave.
I practically run to the elevator. When the doors close, I let out a long sigh of relief. The day has been horrible, and I want to disappear. As soon as I open the door to my suite, I toss my briefcase on the beautiful couch. I turn on some music. I let my hair down, take off my jacket, and untuck my shirt. I need a shower.
Then I hear a series of knocks on the door. I sense it’s him. I decide to ignore the rapping, but the knocks are insistent. I’m so tired. But I’m stunned when I give in and see it’s Amanda at my door.
“May I come in?” she asks me in German.
“Of course, Miss Fisher,” I say, also in German.
She enters. I close the door and turn to her.
“Are you going to stay the weekend, like you did in Barcelona?” she asks before I have a chance to say anything.
I do what Eric does sometimes. I twist my face in thought.
“Yes,” I finally say.
My answer annoys her. She runs her hand through her hair and puts her hands on her hips.
“If your intention is to be with him, forget it. He will be with me.”
“What are you talking about, Miss Fisher?”
“You and I both know very well what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb. You’re not some poor Spanish girl who thinks she’s hit the mother lode with Eric, are you?”
I’m taken aback by that. I blink, and then I let loose with everything that’s been burning inside me.
“Listen, girlee, you’ve made a big mistake with me. And if you keep it up, you’re going to have a big problem, because I’m not the type who keeps quiet or gets scared away. So be careful what you say, because you don’t want this poor Spanish girl to beat the crap out of you.”
Amanda takes a step back. Apparently, I sound pretty threatening.
“I think the smartest thing you could do is to stay away from him,” she says. “I’ll take care of whatever he needs. I know him, and I know how to quench his desires.”
I clench my fists so hard that my nails puncture skin. But I’m well aware I can’t act out my emotions. I count to twenty, because ten isn’t nearly enough, and walk over to the door and open it.
“Amanda,” I say as courteously as I can, “get out of my room, because if you stay much longer, I fear something very ugly is going to happen.”
When she leaves, I slam the door. I take off my heels and launch them toward the couch. Goddamn it!
Eric has been using me to make that inflatable doll jealous. I curse and slam my foot against one of the expensive chairs in the suite. How could I have been so dumb? Not wanting to think about anything else, I grab my cell just as a text message comes in. Eric: Come to my room.
Just reading that makes me want to explode. He’s always thought of me as just a toy, but in that moment, I realize he’s also thought of me as a stupid toy. Furious, I text, Go fuck yourself.
I don’t expect a response.
In a matter of seconds, I hear a door opening; and suddenly, a shirtless Eric appears before me with a harsh look on his face and a card in his hand. Without a word, he stands in front of me. He tosses on the floor the card he used to open the door, pulls me up by the arm, and kisses me deeply. I try not to respond, but my body betrays me. I want him. My desire is uncontrollable. And an instant later, I’m the one who’s kissing him and craving more.
His hands rush to undo the back buttons on my skirt, and we crash against the wall. Without heels, I’m very small next to him. He uses his leg to pry my legs open, while one hand sneaks under my shirt and snakes around my abdomen. I close my eyes and let go. I let him go too. Without removing my skirt, his hand continues its descent, then slips under my panties and burrows until it hits my clit.
My clit swells and I moan. I rub up against him to bring his fingers deeper; he gives me a little slap with his free hand. I’m in flames. And then he unbuttons his pants, pulls his hand away from me, and tugs me to the center of the room. He stares right at me and whispers to me as his lips graze mine.
“Sweetness, you have no idea how much I want you.”
He lowers the waistband, and my skirt falls to the floor. He squats, brings his nose to my panties, and inhales. He takes a gentle bite of my labia, and I moan. His greedy hands touch and caress me. They climb my legs and grab the elastic on my panties. He slips them off me. One more time I find myself naked from the waist down in front of him, but I don’t say a word. I let myself surrender to however he wants to animate me and unhinge me and make me his.
He rises from the floor. He pushes me back on the couch, turns me around, and has me lean over the back. My head and arms drop while my butt rises, exposed, on a platter for him. For just a few seconds, I delight in his nibbling my cheeks and notice his arms coming toward me. Another slap. Harder this time. It stings. But the sting eases when I feel his penis pushing against me.
He opens my legs and uses one of his hands to trap me against the back of the couch. I can’t move. With the other hand, he aims his hard penis against my sex and rubs it back and forth, making me wetter and wetter.
“I’m going to fuck you, Jude. You’ve driven me crazy today, and I’m going to fuck you exactly as I’ve been thinking of doing all day long.”
I can barely breathe.
I arch my body to receive him. I feel like a bitch in heat yearning for release. Eric drops his body on top of me. He bites my shoulder, then my ribs, and I twist and turn. I’m drenched, so ready for him. He penetrates me with one explosive stroke.
“I need to hear you scream, now!”
I can’t help it, and a riot of noise escapes from my throat.
He pulls me to him until I’m completely impaled. I’m going to shatter. He pulls out a bit, then drives back in, hitting me with hard, potent thrusts that make me cry out over and over. I feel his testicles crash against me with each movement, and when his finger pulls on my inflamed clit, I explode into a million pieces.
With every lunge, I open more and more so he can make me completely his. We’re fucking without protection, and to feel the sweet ruggedness of his skin feeds my hunger. The harshness of his words and the force of his fucking make me feel bestial.
My sex tightens with each plunge and consumes him. I hear his panting in my ear and the hot slap of our bodies coming together, over and over. He keeps pumping into me while I hit another devastating orgasm.
My body, riven with pleasure, bends and stretches; and after a powerful thrust that embeds me farther into the back of the couch, Eric extracts himself from inside me, lets his head drop on my back, and, following a loud grunt, comes on my ass.
For a few seconds, we both stay like that. Our hearts need to slow down, to return to normal before we can talk.
When Eric straightens up, I do the same.
Dressed only in my shirt, I look over at him; he smiles with satisfaction as he zips up his pants. This is what he likes: hard, demanding sex. I know. My blood is boiling. I’m indignant again. Unable to control myself, I give him a mighty slap across the face.
“Get out of here,” I hiss. “This is my room.”
He doesn’t say a word.
His eyes, all sparkly moments before, are cold now. The Iceman has returned, his worst incarnation. But I can’t keep quiet.
“Who do you think you are to treat me like this?” I yell. “I think . . . I think you’ve made a mistake with me. I’m not your whore—”
“What? What are you saying?”
“You heard me, Eric,” I say, seeing how upset he is. “I’m not your whore. You can’t just come in and fuck me whenever you feel like it. You already have Amanda for that. The marvelous Miss Fisher, who’s willing to do for you whatever your heart desires. When were you going to tell me you were hooking up with her, huh? Were you already planning a trio without consulting me?”
No response.
I can see fury, fire, and bewilderment in his eyes.
I want him to go. I want him to get out of my room before the viper in me resurfaces and ends up saying even more hateful things. But Eric doesn’t move. He simply stares at me until he snaps and walks away. When the door closes, my hand goes to my mouth and I burst into tears.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the shower.
I need to get his smell off my skin.
When I step out, my mind is very clear about one thing. I have to get out of here. I pick up my cell and reserve a return ticket to Madrid. At eleven that night, I’m sitting on a plane and mentally reviewing the note I left on my bed that I’m sure he’ll find and read.
Mr. Zimmerman,
I’ll be back on Sunday evening to continue our work. If you’ve dismissed me, let me know so I can spare myself the return trip.
Regards,
Judith Flores