by Bennett, Liv
“I heard Monika is sick…again,” he says after examining the bathroom, as he levels a cold and sinister stare at me. The dark skin of his face looks freshly shaved; his brown suit, old, but crisp and clean. He walks toward me, each step filling me with fear for some reason.
“Yeah, some kind of stomach flu,” I explain with a nonchalant voice and bring my hands together before my torso.
“Stomach flu?” His eyebrows lift in fake curiosity and he nods his head. One last step and he stops right before me, our bodies so close I can feel his garlic breath against my face.
My stomach flips in disgust, not because of his bad breath, but the way he fixes his eyes on me in a heavy stare. Panic shoots up my heart rate. Nodding, I take a step and walk around him to reach for my backpack.
“Hasn’t she told you I won’t allow her to send her friends to do her job anymore?” Although his words are soft-spoken, my body shivers at the intensity of his voice.
I swallow, unsure of what to do and afraid to turn around to face him. His black lacquered shoes walking toward me are all I can see from the corner of my eyes. Slowly, I lift my backpack off the floor, not daring to face him. Fear fills my chest as I feel him stop right behind me.
Run! Now!
An alarm sets off in my head, but before I can follow it, his large hands grab me from behind and shove me hard against the bed.
I shriek in terror, knowing exactly what he has in mind. His fingers quickly reach down to the waistband of my jeans while his other hand is pressed against my back between my shoulder blades to keep me plastered against the bed. My body reacts to the increased pressure, and a fresh pump of adrenaline rushes through my veins. I turn around and immediately he grabs my hands and pins them above my head.
His eyes are fireballs, dark with lust and anger. His thin lips twitch when he yells, “Don’t fight. You can’t win.” His hands work with ease on the button of my jeans as he presses his crotch between my legs. The feel of his hard bulge has my stomach revolting in disgust and bile builds up in my throat.
I resist. I shout. My hands move left and right in an attempt to break free of his tight hold. But he’s stronger, rougher, and he unbuttons my jeans. I feel the sweaty skin of his hand against my stomach on my mound.
His lips curl up in a sinister smile and his eyes narrow at the sight of my naked stomach. “Soft pubic hair. Not like the hard bush of Monika’s pussy.”
My body freezes in shock. Did he try to force himself on Monika as well? My fragile friend, who was abandoned and shoved aside…who has seen the ugliest faces of life, also got raped?
My chest tightens with pain as the images of Monika fighting Azzam unsuccessfully flood my mind. A jolt of anger fills my body with newly found strength, more so at the revolting smirk on his face. I relax my hands to give him a false sense of security and turn my head to the side, crying real tears and sobbing.
Just when he loosens the grip around my hands, I lift my legs and kick hard against his chest, breaking the hold of his hand around my wrists. He stumbles backwards and nearly falls on his butt. Taking advantage of his momentary immobility, I grab my backpack and run for my life.
I don’t stop until I leave the hotel and arrive at the bus stop half a mile away. My arms and legs shake. My cheeks burn; my breathing is short and irregular. My mind is still trying to register what’s just happened. I’ve narrowly escaped being raped. Then, sadness sneaks back into my heart, slowing down my frantic heartbeats. Monika. Could she escape Azzam’s abuse? I can’t imagine how. She was always very weak physically and emotionally as a child and has gotten worse throughout the years.
And now she’s been raped…and sick with an undiagnosable illness. Suddenly something jolts in my mind. At the same time, the bus arrives. As soon as I pay my ticket, I fish out my phone in my backpack and dial Monika.
“Monika,” I yell at the phone, ignoring the curious eyes of the passengers turning to me. “Don’t take the antibiotics.”
CH 4
~
“Did Azzam force himself on you?” I slam the front door shut and drop my backpack to the floor beside my bed.
Monika’s body shifts slowly under the covers as she opens her eyes and looks up at me.
“Answer me?” I hover above her, feeling angry at her for not sharing the traumatic experience with me. We’re closer than best friends. I consider her my sister…my family. It hurts me to think she tried to hide an important fact from me, no matter what her reason was. “Did he try to rape you?”
She sits up slowly. It’s evident how much effort it’s taking her to move. “Lisa.” I hear the hurt and embarrassment in her voice, when Azzam is the only one who should be embarrassed because of his violence. “I was going to tell you, but…” A tear rolls down her cheek and her gaze moves to her hands fidgeting over the covers.
I sit at the corner of the bed and wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her head down to my chest. “When did that happen?”
“The first time was three months ago.”
Jesus, he raped her more than once? Although my hands tighten as I imagine myself slashing his throat with the kitchen knife, I work hard not to show my anger and listen to her when she says, “The second time at the beginning of last month. The last one, two weeks ago.”
I let out a long sigh, barely containing my anger. “Did he…come inside you?”
She doesn’t answer and only nods her head, then whispers, “I know what you’re thinking, but they did a urine test in the clinic. If I was pregnant, the doctor would have told me.”
“Yeah, only if the test results show it. Perhaps it’s too early for the test to detect anything.”
She straightens up and looks at my face, her expression turning from sad to horrified as the realization hits. “I can’t be pregnant! I can’t have a child. I can barely take care of myself. How will I look after someone else? I’m ruined.” She bursts into tears and covers her face with both hands.
“Let’s not panic yet.” I rub her back in gentle strokes to calm her. “When was the last time you had your period?”
“I don’t remember. You know how irregular my periods are. Maybe three months ago?”
We should have her hormones checked. We should have enough food on the table to keep our bodies healthy. We should have enough courage to go to the police and stand up for our basic human rights. “Don’t cry. You have me. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
My mind instantly goes to Loraine Carter’s offer of $200,000. Jesus, just counting the digits in my mind makes me feel dizzy. How much better I’d feel if I actually had the money!
We can get Monika on MediCal for free health care coverage during her pregnancy, but she’ll need money for everything else. We’ll have to figure something out about the baby before the birth. With that much money, there would be enough money left for both Monika and I to study. We could have a chance at a decent life without riding busses or doing without proper medical care. Sucking off one man’s dick for that amount of money is better than $20 blow jobs off the street, which we’re heading for if we lose our current jobs.
I can’t let my friend suffer more than she already has. I can’t allow us to lose the little we have. We deserve better and now that I’ve been given a chance to make money, I can’t afford to turn it down.
My stomach growls in hunger, making me wonder about the last time Monika ate something. She’ll need to eat healthy food rather than ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches, which are the only food we can afford right now. If I accept Loraine’s offer, we can eat whatever we want for the first time in our lives.
We won’t have to count pennies to be able to come up with the rent. Even if I don’t manage to get down and dirty with Loraine’s husband—which is highly likely from whatever way I look at it—Monika and I can still take classes at a community college with the $20,000 I should earn from the nanny job. And if I indeed can trick him into flashing his penis at me, I will have enough money to do whatev
er I want. Hell, maybe we can even start up our own coffee shop.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and call Loraine to tell her I accept her offer. She doesn’t answer her phone and I hesitate to leave a message on her voice mail in case her husband might hear it. So I just end the call with the intention of calling her back later, while at the same time cursing my bad luck. I can’t even reach her to tell her I’m all hers no matter what. How much more pathetic can my life get?
CH 5
~
When I come out of the bathroom, I find Monika already tucked under the covers and sleeping. It’s seven-thirty, although it feels like half a lifetime has passed. Even though I’m bone-tired, the shock of the day won’t let me blink an eye. So, I grab my worn-out denim jacket that was once black and walk to the public library down the street to use the internet and search for information on Loraine Carter and her multimillionaire husband. Kenneth D. Carter.
My hunger this morning when I served Kenneth his coffee wasn’t interfering with my perception of his attractiveness. He’s really ridiculously hot. At least, I won’t feel disgusted about my target if I turn out to be good enough to seduce him.
He even has a fan page on Facebook with twenty-five thousand active female members, all posting detailed information about how horny he makes them feel. I can, sort of, understand Loraine’s fears and her reluctance to remain married to him. The competition among these women is discouraging, to say the least.
According to the fan page, Kenneth is six feet four inches tall, a full foot taller than me, twenty-eight years old, nine years older than me, with a net worth of two-billion dollars from his medical device manufacturing business. I may not have an MBA, but even I know that’s a goldmine as businesses go. Now I see why Loraine would call anything less than half of his assets as measly in case of a divorce.
The longer I wade through Kenneth’s pictures on Google, the warmer I feel about the idea of trying to seduce him. The idea of ending up being number one enemy of the women in his fan club is amusing, and $200,000 cash seems to be too good to pass on. I’ll be ruining a marriage and a family, but Loraine seems to be set on doing that, with or without my help.
There’s not much to think about the offer actually. The only thing I should figure out is if Loraine is indeed being honest with me and really wants to use me to get her husband to cheat on her. She’s surely out of her mind for dismissing a husband like Kenneth. Perhaps it’s the millions that have corrupted her mind, or she’s hiding important information about Kenneth from me.
Can I do this? Seduce a man. Not just any man, but a gorgeous and powerful man like Kenneth? The answer is clearly no, even if I happened to be the prettiest girl in town. I lack the basics regarding the male race. Except for the couple of times I was forced to see penises, I’m basically clueless about how male sexuality works. Thankfully, there’s Google, and I can search for almost anything, including ways to seduce a man, within the confined walls of the library.
By the end of my computer session, I have a long list of tips from a variety of resources, from Cosmopolitan to random bloggers on the internet. It all basically comes down to being yourself, showing skin, being sweet, bating eyelashes, and lots of touching.
It doesn’t sound hard at all on paper; however, when I actually start to visualize myself trying to touch a guy while displaying half my body, my hands start sweating, and my heartbeat shoots up. I’m not the kind of girl who puts on a show to attract attention. I hate attention to begin with. How am I supposed to draw attention from a man like Kenneth?
I should have flirted with boys while I had the chance, and it’d have given me some kind of practice in the seduction field. It would be naïve of me to expect to become a high class whore from basically nothing. Loraine has a right to know what kind of person she’s hiring for the job she has in mind. It’ll be only fair for me to come clean about my almost nonexistent experience in terms of sex and men.
I can practically see her enthusiasm diminishing the second she finds out I’m not qualified to be a whore to her husband. Never in a million years would I have thought lack of knowledge of male anatomy, or the penis to be specific, would cause me to lose a chance at a dignified life.
Now I feel guilty for spending a whopping six dollars just for lunch. With that money, I could have bought enough for two meals and still have money left over for the laundry. Tears sting my eyes at the thought of feeling so guilty over spending a few dollars on a hamburger. People throw away food that costs dozens of dollars; why do I feel like I’m the only one struggling in the whole wide world?
If seducing a man is all I have to do to leave my crappy life behind, I should do it without over-thinking it to death. Kenneth had, indeed, gazed at me with a different look from the usual ones I get from other customers. Even his wife noticed it. And I shouldn’t care about getting him to cheat in the least. If his wife is okay with it, who am I to judge the appropriateness of the situation?
Instead of doubting myself, I should grab this once-in-a-life-time, game-changer opportunity with both hands and do whatever it takes to deliver the desired result.
With renewed confidence, I print out the webpages about seduction advice and call Loraine to let her know I’m up for whatever she has in mind, be it tending her kids or her husband’s penis.
CH 6
~
“We’ll have to get you a whole new wardrobe.” Loraine’s professionally shaped, thin eyebrows pull together on her makeup-free face to accentuate the subtle disgust on her pursed lips as she assesses my clothes. “With these clothes, you couldn’t seduce a sex-crazed guy from a cheap bar, much less my husband. Kenneth has an impeccable taste when it comes to style, and yours is just…” An apologetic smile is all she can give me to prepare me for her appraisal. “…Just cheap.”
She’s absolutely correct. Cheap are my clothes. Cheap is me, my entire life. The will to change that is exactly why I’m here and ready to take her up on her temporary job offer as the potential seducer of her husband. That’s why I don’t and won’t mind the long and torturous ride from my home to the mansion where she lives in North Hollywood so early in the morning. Three busses and two miles of walking, to be exact. She and I live in different worlds. Literally.
“I can’t afford to buy anything new with my budget,” I say, feeling uncomfortable at having to stand while she’s comfortably settled on a leather couch, sipping coffee from an expensive-looking porcelain cup. Of course, the living room is larger than the studio apartment I share with Monika in Korea Town and decorated with luxurious furniture, worth more, I’d bet, than the total income I’ll get from my nanny job. The fact that there must be at least ten more rooms the size of the living room or bigger for the whole family of only four just boggles my mind.
“That’s not an issue at all.” She waves her hand in the air, drawing my attention back to her. “I’ll give you my credit card and the names of the shops I want you to visit. You can shop to your heart’s content, but when picking a piece of clothing, always have your mission in mind.”
“Of course, ma’am.” I nod in compliance and glimpse at my watch. It’s only seven o’clock. It was a miracle that I could get out of my warm bed at four o’clock to get here in time for the appointment with her.
“That doesn’t mean you should buy clothes made for whores,” she continues while I have to bite my bottom lip so I won’t respond to her with a loud yawn. “The clothes you will pick should be body-fitting, but not too revealing. If you buy something to show legs, make sure the top you buy to wear with it is conservative, and vice-versa. There’s nothing more alarming than displaying both your cleavage and your legs. You might as well confess to him everything about our plans.”
“Draw attention to only one part of the body. Got it.” I try to make a mental note of her suggestions, while keeping my ears open for the more pearls of wisdom she might have in store for me, while trying to shut down the part of my brain that’s shouting to me how ridicul
ous this talk is.
“You can’t go wrong with skirts. Buy at least a dozen mid-thigh skirts. My husband is a leg-man. He adores long, beautiful legs. That’s why you should be displaying yours generously, but not distastefully.”
“Skirts, right.”
I hear the front door open and close, and Loraine straightens up at her seat and curls her lips into a warm smile.
Then he walks in. Kenneth. Sweaty, breathless, his hair disheveled from the wind. And fully naked above the waist. My brain is suddenly sidetracked and the world stops spinning. My worries, the soul-crushing moments I’ll have to endure, all vanish as I lay eyes on him.
Everything in the luxurious room fades into the background while Kenneth stands tall and powerful at the center of my world. A jolt of electricity courses through my body as my gaze roams over the sizzling curves and crevices of his chest down to the mind-blowing V of his abdomen. I feel envious of the droplets of sweat dripping down that smooth, sun-kissed skin.
He’s all I can see and sense and I gape at him like a hungry animal, my mouth watering, breath locked up in my chest. A wave of his manly scent wafts toward me, swirling all around me. His smells so intoxicatingly good, I forget the existence of his wife in the same room.
His eyes find mine, but rather than returning the passion that must be burning in my blue irises, he gazes at me with confusion, even frowning. His tongue slides out and licks his bottom lip, making me gulp at the otherworldly sexiness of that brief gesture. I haven’t eaten anything since the oversized hamburger for lunch yesterday and some saltines last night; but right now, he’s all I want to taste…his lips, his pecs, and the droplets of sweat on his chest.
“Am I interrupting you?” he asks and instantly rivets his eyes on his wife.
Before I know it, Loraine stands and hurries to throw herself into his arms, pressing her body against his. His regard for her, so passionate and penetrating as he gazes at her, speaks volumes of the deep love he must feel for her.
