Three, Two, One (321)

Blue is still sitting on the couch, just as she was instructed, when I walk back in. “Your clothes for tonight,” I say, waving a hand at the garment bags hanging from the suit rack. “Go ahead, take them out.”

I sit on the edge of my desk as she walks over to the rack and begins unzipping the first bag. She turns her back to me and that’s when I see the blood.

“Blue,” I say, walking over to her and taking her by the arm. “You’re bleeding.”

She swallows hard and looks at her feet. “I know. I’m sorry. They’re still fresh.”

I lift up the t-shirt she’s wearing and look at the welts down her side. They aren’t bloody, not really. But they are oozing a clear liquid and that mixes with the little bit of blood to make it seep through her shirt. “Why didn’t I notice they were so bad yesterday?”

“I was naked yesterday,” she says, her eyes darting to mine, then dropping again. “Today I’m wearing clothes. It rubs them and makes them worse.”

I lift the shirt over her head and she ducks out of it. “You can’t go to dinner tonight. I won’t make you uncomfortable just so I can take you out.” I reach for my phone and dial JD. It rings through to voice mail so I end the call and text him instead. I was hoping this dinner would draw him out of whatever it is he’s doing, but it looks like he’s won.

“We’ll eat at home,” I tell her as I finish up the message. “We can look at the clothes when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m fine,” she says, placing her small hand on my arm. “Really.”

I squint my eyes at her. “Fine? Please don’t, OK? Your skin is oozing from being beaten. You have bruises all over your ribs. I found you barefoot and wearing a sundress in the rain yesterday morning. You’re not fine.”

“I know what you guys want and I can’t give it to you. I don’t have the answers JD’s looking for and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because they are bad, bad people, Ark. And I can take what they dish out, but I can’t fight back.”

“Sure you can,” he says in that businesslike tone he’s had all day. Yesterday he seemed like a broody asshole who runs a porn website. Today he seems like a professional who runs a million-dollar corporation.

I don’t get it.

“I get that you’re afraid, but we’re here.”

I just shake my head. “You don’t understand. I don’t know enough to give you the information you need. I only know enough to allow you to alert them to dispose of the evidence before anything can be done.”

“Evidence,” he repeats. “That’s an interesting word.”

I cross my arms over my bare chest. Not out of modesty or embarrassment, but because I have a chill.

Is it sad that I’m more comfortable naked than clothed?

He grabs a blanket off the back of his office couch and drapes it over my shoulders. I wince when the soft fabric touches my welts. “Come here,” he says, taking my arm. He brings me to the couch and sits down, patting his lap. “Lie across my lap, face down.”

I do as I’m told, still hugging the blanket around me. Once I’m settled he gently lifts it off me and places it over my legs.

When his fingertips touch my side, I have to hold in a sob. Not because of my cuts, but because his fingertips are so light and gentle, it’s almost more painful than if he was rough.

“Shhh,” he says. “Try to enjoy it. Try to relax. Close your eyes.”

I take a deep breath and when I let it out, I relax my shoulders and let the weight of my body settle into his lap.

He traces patterns on my skin. Little circles around each of the scars. The stars. And then a long, slow line down my spine that dips below the waistband of the sweats I’m wearing. That sends a chill down my whole body and suddenly, I’m craving more than he’s giving me.

“Mmmm,” I moan. “It feels so good.” He says nothing, but his hand leaves that area and starts playing with my hair. My sex begins to throb as the craving for pleasure takes over. I hate that men can make me feel this way. I hate that even the most vile bastard can stimulate me and make me want more. But I don’t hate that Ark can do this. I don’t hate anything about him. I want more of him.

The front door opens and then closes and a few seconds later JD is standing on the office threshold. “What’s going on in here?” he says, like he hasn’t been missing all day. When I look up at him he smiles. It’s warm and genuine from what I can tell. And then it falters as he notices my back.

“Hand me the camera, JD,” Ark asks, calm as you please. JD takes the few steps over to the desk and unhooks the camera from the computer and brings it back. “Let’s get this on film,” Ark says, turning the camera on so that it makes a whirring sound.

“Why?” I whisper as JD lifts up my legs and takes a seat on the couch. Now I’m lying across both their laps. JD’s fingers immediately wander between my legs, giving me the pleasure Ark denied me a few seconds earlier.

“I want them,” is all Ark says in response.

But I’m gone. I’ve moved past the idea that the images of marks will be sold to sadistic assholes who get off on pain and sex.

People like me.

Because I get off on pain and sex. I crave it. I want it so bad.

JD’s fingers slip inside me as Ark stands up and walks out. Weren’t we going to have a conversation about this… arrangement?