Learning to Trust: Limits

by B. B. Roman

  "Sure," I said. There were glasses all over the table. It only felt right to fit in. Marcus nodded to one of the guards and he stood up and walked over to the private bar in the room. I guess these guys could do more than just look tough.

  "My, you're such a pretty one," Marcus said. "Roland sure knows how to pick them out, right girls?"

  "Yes," they both said together, probably unsure of whom Roland even was. Once I heard them talk, it was pretty obvious that they were high-class escorts. Imported, probably.

  I blushed. "Thanks," I said quietly. A drink hit the table hard in front of me."Thanks," I mumbled again. The guard walked back to his side of the table and sat down.

  "So what's the occasion?" Marcus said. He sat back and wrapped his arms around the two girls. "What's old Roland looking for this time?" I couldn't believe he was referring to Roland as old.

  "He wants to make peace," I said. Really, I didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

  "Peace, huh?" So he sent you over here to make me a happy man, huh?"

  I sat there silently. Alarms started ringing in my head. Where was this about to go?

  "Marisa, stand up for Marcus, won't you?" Referring to himself in the third-person. A great sign.

  "I beg your pardon?" I asked.

  "Stand up and show me that hot body of yours."

  "No, thanks," I said snidely.

  Marcus cocked his head like a dog that had just heard an unfamiliar sound. "Oh, do I need to get rough? What do you think girls?"

  They both nodded and sipped their drinks without concern. Apparently, they were already used to such crass behavior and questioning.

  In that very short moment, I thought about a lot of things at once. I thought about the gun sitting there on the table, the man directly behind it that probably wasn't afraid to use it. I thought about the fact that I was undercover, in a position that was quickly becoming dangerous. My mom and dad passed through my mind. My old boss, Pat. Frederic and Roland.

  I shot up from my seat and proudly stood there, feigning confidence the best I could. It was confidence rooted in anger and frustration, but I don't think anyone could tell.

  "So nice and cooperative! What a body! I like those tits. Turn around for me."

  Apprehensively at first, I started to turn and provide a three-hundred sixty degree view of my body. Normally, I would have felt entirely exploited—today, however, it was just part of the show. I sucked up my pride and decided I needed to at least give this a shot.

  "Goddamn, what an ass!" Marcus cried. "What do you think, Bruno?"

  "Nice," the man with the gun grunted.

  "Just nice?" Marcus asked again. He slammed his fist down on the table. "That's one of best asses I've ever seen!"

  I was thankful to be facing away from the rest of them. I was blushing from his ecstatic compliments. It was a really goofy, surreal feeling of satisfaction.

  "Keep turning," Marcus said. I finished the rotation until I was facing him again. I picked up my drink and took a big sip. "Thank you," he said. "Very lovely."

  The briefcase with ten million dollars sat unopened on the table. It was the elephant in the room, at least in my opinion. This was a man that was very familiar with money, so maybe it wasn't such a big deal when you already had a lot. One thing was for sure though—he was a scumbag.

  "Is that enough for you?" I asked.

  Marcus seemed to be taken aback by my statement. A mildly sinister look broke out across his face. "No, I think not," he said. "Celia, please go join our guest."

  The blonde stood up and slinked over toward me. Both of the guards eyed her hungrily as she walked. "Okay, so what now?" I asked.

  "Marisa, will you kiss my precious Celia?"

  "What?" I asked. The blonde smiled at me. "I thought I was here for business!"

  "This is business." Marcus said. God, I wanted to punch him so badly.

  I was starting to get pissed off, but I couldn't say that Roland didn't warn me. I was just going to have to play along until I could get the hell out of here. We hadn't even talked about the damn briefcase yet!

  I took a deep breath and then leaned forward and kissed the blonde. She pulled me against her and traced her hands up my body as she tried to force her tongue into my mouth. I could smell—and taste—the whiskey on her breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see Marcus practically drooling on the table. What the hell was this, anyway? Was I suddenly just an irritating college girl, showing off for the guys because I was too drunk? It felt that way, anyhow.

  I closed my eyes after catching that glance of Marcus and just pretended she was someone else. The kiss broke shortly after and then I stood there, feeling dumb. "Okay, is that enough, Mr. Pervert?" I asked, my tone bitchy and demanding.

  Marcus started laughing like a hyena. "Oh my," he cried out. "What a delight you are, Marisa! Come over and sit on Mr. Pervert's lap." The blonde walked back to her seat. I didn't follow her.

  "No way," I said. Sit on his lap?

  "It won't be long, I promise," he said. "I might have to get rough if you resist."

  Again, I thought about that gun and my feet started moving on their own, a threat that was probably empty, but motivated me nevertheless. The situation could actually get worse than it already was, as impossible as that might have seemed. I rolled my eyes and sat down after he slid out from the table to make room. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me there like a prized object.

  "God, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice growing huskier.

  "Thanks," I whispered.

  His hand found my ass and squeezed. I really hated the way his hand felt on me, but I swallowed hard and tried to zone out. "This ass," he said. "It's just something else."

  Marcus pulled me toward him and nuzzled the tops of my breasts, his stubble burning against my skin. I could feel the hardness growing between his legs and pressing against my own. I fought to ignore the sensation. He was peppering my chest with kisses, still caressing my ass with his other hand. No, I wasn't enjoying it. It was like he was just gorging on my body, a body that I really didn't want him to have.

  "Roland's so lucky, Marisa," Marcus said. His hand started to slide up my inner thigh, the calluses rubbing against the soft skin. "I'll bet that cunt of yours tastes so sweet too." Okay, that's enough!

  My hand dropped down and stopped his before it went any further up my legs. When he battled me for territory, I pulled away and stood up. "Please, I'm not some cheap whore," I said. "You got your free sample. Let's talk business now."

  I walked back to the other side of the table and sat down. "Shit," he murmured. "She's even hotter when she's mad!" He began laughing again, that maniacal cackle that I was going to have a hard time forgetting. The guards laughed as well, probably just out of obligation. "Maybe we will have to rough her up a little bit."

  A feeling of impending doom swept over me. I started to think about what had just happened. My response was just reflexive; I didn't want his dirty hands all over my crotch and thighs. Should I have just sucked it up and let him have his way? No, I was sure I had done the right thing. I wasn't going to just give in like that—even if he was a billionaire.

  "Ha-ha," I said. "But seriously, can we please get on with this?"

  The gears appeared to be cranking in Marcus's perverted mind. What would he do next? "All right, fine," he said. "You'll leave me your number, right?" He winked.

  "In your dreams!" I said. This prompted even more laughter. I had never thought of myself as being funny, but I guess things could change.

  His hand shot across the table and grabbed the briefcase. Even though it was intended for him, I couldn't help feeling like I was witnessing an act of theft. Marcus opened the lock and looked inside.

  "Looks pretty good, huh girls? Is this enough for a week with you both?"

  They were stunned by the amount of money inside and said nothing.

  "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "So Roland wants to make peace, huh?"

/>   "Yes," I said.

  "I'm okay with this. I never expected the bastard to come around. Oh well, sometimes people grow up—even if it takes them ten years." I nodded.

  I nursed my drink until it was gone. The room sat in near silence for a minute as Marcus shifted some of the top stacks of money around. "Tell Roland I'll be in contact with him very soon, okay?"

  My whole body relaxed from top to bottom. I felt like the tension was rushing out of me like the air out of an untied balloon. Success! "R-r-really?" I asked. "Yes, of course. I will."

  "Yeah, yeah," Marcus said. He finished his drink and then kissed each of the girls on the cheek. "Come over here once more and then you can leave."

  I shrugged and reluctantly walked toward him "No lap dances this time," I said sarcastically.

  Marcus stood up. He was even taller than I had thought. "Just a hug." He smiled and wrapped his arms around me. I pressed up against him, but left my arms at my sides. "So glad I got to meet a pretty thing like yourself." His hands went down and grabbed my ass again.

  "Hey!" I whined as I pulled away.

  "Sorry," he said. "I just couldn't resist!"

  "Damnit, Marcus!" I said.

  "Have a nice day," he whispered.

  "Ditto." I turned around and walked out of the room, ignoring his cat calling as I departed the room. Little did I know, it was the last time anyone would ever use that room again.

  I gave myself a bit of a fright when I realized I was no longer carrying the briefcase. Oh yeah, it was for him. After finding the bathroom—I wasn't sure if I was allowed to use it or not; I did anyway—I looked at myself in the mirror after the drop-off. My outfit was ruffled from Marcus's aggressive attention, so I righted it.

  Despite the way he had more or less humiliated me, I didn't feel that bad. I had found a suitable personality for that moment, embraced my inner bitch, and kept the situation under control. No, that didn't mean I liked it at all. Hell, at first, I had been close to tears when he started making his demands. However, I felt like I did a good job—and that Roland would be proud of me. Ramón would be pleased as well.

  Marcus had really pissed me off, and I couldn't deny that. It was hard to believe that he'd lived his entire life without anyone telling him that his behavior was way out of line. Roland didn't even act like this guy. I half-heartedly fantasized about kissing him and biting his lip until I could taste blood—and then grossed myself out by the idea. Who knew what that diseases that guy might be carrying? I just wanted one of those girls to kick him in the balls so I could watch him curl up into the fetal position. Special delivery, Marcus!

  I walked through the long, empty dining area, approaching the brightness of the outside like it was the light at the end of a tunnel. Would Roland be sitting there waiting for me? At the very least, I needed to get out of here before Marcus got any more ideas.

  The light totally enveloped me as I stepped outside. To my right was that same guard.

  "Everything set?" he asked.

  "Of course. Everything is set. Thank you for your courtesy," I said. I didn't really know what I was saying, but it felt right anyhow.

  "Have a nice day," he said

  "What's this place called, anyway?" I asked.

  "The Provence."

  "The Provence." I said it to myself. "Does he own it or something?"

  The guard grunted. "He owns most of the city."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  I turned around and walked back toward the area where Roland had dropped me off. There was no limo. For a moment, my mind flashed through a dark possibility—what if Roland had intended to let this guy keep me? What if I really was the offering and he had no intent of me ever returning to the mansion? Sure, Roland had a dungeon. Marcus was the type that had a real torture chamber and a place to get rid of bodies. Oh, shut up, Marisa. One way or another, I survived the encounter with Marcus Von Williams, certainly no small feat.

  When I got to the end of the block—walking down this very rich section of town was entertaining at the very least—I spotted the limo sprawling down the intersecting street, a huge black smudge that was longer than any other vehicle there. "Ah!" I said aloud. I hadn't been left to die on the Isle of Marcus! The rescue team had arrived.

  I walked toward the back and the door swung open. Roland's voice spilled out onto the sidewalk. "Pet! You're here! Congratulations!"

  I shrugged. "It was nothing."

  "Do get inside. A celebration is in order!"

  I climbed inside and sat down next to Roland. He pulled the door shut and signaled to the driver. "That guy is a pervert," I said.

  Roland's laugh was loud enough to hurt my ears. "Oh god, that guy," he said. "We've just never gotten along. He's not very cooperative." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. He seemed to be unusually happy about this transaction. "But that won't be a problem any longer. You did good."

  "Thanks," I said.

  "Champagne is in order!"

  "It's the middle of the day, Roland!" I whined.

  "I'm going to be very unhappy if you waste it." He successfully opened the bottle and poured me a glass. I took it from him, trying my hardest not to spill it as the limo made a sharp turn.

  I took a bigger gulp than I had intended and belched, playfully covering my mouth as it happened. "Sorry."

  "You're crasser than Marcus!" Roland said.

  "Shut up! That guy was such an asshole, Roland. He made me kiss one of his broads and then forced me to sit on his lap." I expected Roland to laugh, but he didn't.

  "He's such a pig. No manners at all. I told you that you'd have to be brave." He seemed to be seriously considering something based on his frozen expression.

  "And then he tried to slide his fingers up my leg and I told him off."

  I saw disgust on Roland's face, disgust that quickly transformed into approval. "You did well. He won't be a problem anymore. I promise."

  "What a creep!" I let out a groan and decided I should probably just drop it. The endeavor was over. I could relax now. Well, except that now I was hoping he'd give me the information I needed to actually bring him down. Yeah, I gave ten-million dollars to some guy that owned half the city. But it was vague. That was all I had—and it still wasn't enough.

  I noticed that the trip back was taking longer than usual. "Are we going somewhere?" I asked.

  "A special place. Just for the day." He smiled. "The lake."

  We had never been to the lake before, but at face value, it sounded pretty nice. "Why haven't you taken me here before?"

  "Just never got around to it. You'll love it. Secluded and free from all of the distractions of society." Actually, that did sound kind of nice.

  The trip took about a half hour—since I wasn't from the area, I didn't know how far away the lake was—and took us through some of the most beautiful forests I'd ever seen in real life. When we arrived, I was once again speechless about something associated with Roland Starland. I never seemed to get used to such things.

  Sprawled out in front of me was a beautiful cabin, a one-story structure that covered the land like a wooden blanket. "Roland, oh my god!" I said. The house was surrounded by white sand and gorgeous blue water that went out further than I could see.

  "Just for my pet," he whispered. "There's no cell phone reception out here. No TV or internet. This is my only truly secluded place in the world."

  Overcome with excitement, I kissed him. I felt like a girl in high school that had just been called to the front office to receive a dozen roses, roses that she'd have to carry back to class—and everyone would see. For that single moment, I forgot about everything negative associated with my life, all of the tension and uncertainty disappearing into the air like vapors. Undercover or not, this was a beautiful gesture that just floored me.

  I was in such a good mood that I didn't even notice when Roland's phone beeped to signify an incoming text. After glancing at it, he powered off the phone, his smile larger than I'd ever seen
before. "Jacuzzi time, pet?"

  "Absolutely!" I said.

  I grabbed my purse and took his hand as he helped me to my feet. We leisurely strolled toward the house as the limo made a wide circle in the giant driveway and left us there, secluded and alone. The walk was composed of giant, fragmented pieces of rock, eloquently arranged, so smooth and level to step on. It was a sophisticated sidewalk.

  We arrived at the front door and Roland pressed a code into a digital lock. By this point, I'd seen a lot of these locks lately. I guess rich folks just weren't into carrying around physical keys anymore.

  The front door opened to a giant living room, the walls sparsely decorated with pieces of abstract art. There was a giant, wall-hugging couch and a number of leather chairs scattered about in a socially-optimized fashion. In the center was a gigantic blood-red area rug, one that seemed to make a single point of contact with every piece of furniture in the room.

  Roland led me forward until we had passed through the kitchen and dining room on our way to the outside, both rooms lavish and furnished with modern appliances and beautiful tables and chairs. The deck was not unlike the deck at his mansion. It was just as long as the house—and with a stunning view of the natural surroundings. And just as he said, there was a jacuzzi. It was elevated enough that we'd be able to see deep into the lake while enjoying all of the warm, vibrating bubbles.

  "Come on in," Roland said. He abruptly stripped down to nothing, his bare, toned body out there for the world to see, his clothes wadded up in a pile on the deck.

  "Roland!" I said. "What are you doing?"

  "There's no one out here for miles." He smiled and squinted as the sun shone right into his face, a small cloud covering continuing on its journey and freeing up additional beams of light.

  "Yeah, unless they have a telescope," I said.

  "Pet, you're just no fun. Learn to live a little." Roland tweaked some settings on a control panel and then pressed a button that lifted the top up and over the side. It already looked like a cauldron, and we were about to be cooked in the best possible way. He climbed the ladder and then his legs vanished, leaving only his torso and smiling head in my view.