“Very well.” She unclips my bra and takes it off. If you’re done talking, I can think of a few other things we can do.”
7
I think she’s under the shower. She didn’t say anything before she went into the bathroom, but now I can hear the water running. Assuming she expects me to leave, I get out of bed. My legs feel like jelly after she fucked me for hours with her strap-on and with her extremely skilled fingers and tongue. I can feel where she’s been as I walk and the worst thing is, I don’t even feel used. In fact, I’m on a high and smiling as I finger comb my long, blonde hair that’s turned into a knotted mess.
There’s something protective about her, and I feel safe in her presence. Deep down, I know that idea is ridiculous and based on nothing, because I still don’t even know her name but the mystery that surrounds her intrigues me rather than worries me. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to see each other again after I leave so why do I care who or what she is? The thought of not seeing her again makes me a little sad. I’ll never be able to find her and, although I have no doubt that she could easily find me, I know she’s not going to do that.
As I pick up my torn panties that she ripped off me right before we fell into bed, my eyes gravitate toward the leather duffel bag again. ‘Don’t do it.’ I’m sure there’s a reason why she’s so guarded, although her profound need for privacy seems to come with such secrecy, I find it hard to come up with a reason that doesn’t involve criminal activities.
Intrigued to the point where I have to know now, I start analyzing the situation. I can’t help it; I’m too curious by nature to let things slide. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be on the ninth floor of a four-star hotel. Instead, she seems like a penthouse kind of woman, who would normally stay in a place much nicer than this. The Champagne she paid for in cash and the Scotch she drank earlier at the bar, not to mention her expensive shirt, tell me she can easily afford better accommodation than this. ‘Is she trying to blend in? Why is she here? And why does she want to remain anonymous?’ I haven’t seen her talk to anyone else at the bar, but then I’ve only seen her there twice and she was focused on me on both occasions.
I bite my lip, then glance over at the bathroom again before I tiptoe over to the bag and quietly unzip it. I find clothes, some toiletries and a notebook with some scribbles I don’t understand. I check the inner side compartments but there is no wallet, and I can’t find any travel documents either. My hand hits something hard as I reach underneath a pair of jeans and without seeing it, I instantly know what it is. Maybe I know because it makes sense. The way she behaves and never gives anything away… As I pull the gun out to take a closer look, the bathroom door swings open. She stands there and watches me, dressed in the hotel robe.
“What are you doing, Emily?” Her voice isn’t accusing, simply curious.
“Ehm, nothing,” I stammer, and throw the gun back in the bag, immediately regretting doing so, because it might have been safer if I’d held onto it.
“Were you playing with my gun?” She locks her eyes with mine but looks calm and collected as she approaches me. There’s not a single sign of panic in her expression and I wonder why.
“I was curious,” I say, taking a step back as she comes closer. My heel hits the cold glass behind me, and I’m now backed up against the window. “About you. Why do you have a gun?”
“Why were you going through my bag?” She steadies the palm of one hand against the glass and leans in close until her mouth is almost on mine.
“Don’t answer a question with a question.” I hold my breath, thinking I should be afraid right now but strangely, I feel turned on instead. “It doesn’t work like that. If you want me, you don’t get to pull all the strings. You have to give me something in return, especially now that I know what’s in your bag.” My lips brush against hers as I whisper, and I can tell by the fire that flares up in her eyes that she likes that I’m not afraid.
She leans in with her body now, looking a little sad as she shrugs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you. It is what it is.”
“What’s your name?” I try to distract her with a different line of questioning, then kiss her softly. Of course, she doesn’t answer, so I continue with the next question that’s been burning on my mind. “Who the fuck travels with a gun and a strap-on? That seems like an odd combination to me.”
She chuckles, clearly amused by that. “I like to be prepared,” she simply answers.
“Prepared for what? To fuck a different woman every night?”
“Not every night. You’re here again, aren’t you?” She tilts her head and looks at me intently. “I don’t usually go back to the same woman twice, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
I manage to suppress an eye roll. “Why me?” I ask. “Seriously, why me? Am I supposed to be your alibi or something? Are you using me to get away with some hideous crime you’ve committed?”
“No.” She takes a moment before she continues. “You had a certain sadness about you when I saw you at the bar last night. Not a deep sadness, just some kind of blankness to everything around you. I wanted to take it away, to make you feel something. That and…” She runs a hand through my hair. “I found you very attractive. I loved your voluminous hair and your lips looked like they were begging to be kissed so I couldn’t resist.”
“I don’t believe you.” I’m aware that I’m leaning back against the window with my full bodyweight, and that she’s now leaning into me too. Her robe has fallen open and her breasts are warm and tight against me while the window is cold on my behind. Shifting nervously, I’m not sure if the intense tingle in my lower abdomen is caused by a fear of heights or a fear of giving into her again, because when she moves her thigh between my legs, that’s exactly what I’m about to do. Her body feels so incredibly perfect against mine and I slide my hands into her robe and around her back, needing to feel her closer.
“Then don’t believe me. Just enjoy the rest of the evening with me.” She takes my hand and asks: “Are you joining me in the shower?”
Swallowing hard, I look at the door. Leaving now would be the wise thing to do, but I don’t want to. If this is our last night together then I’ll take whatever time she’s willing to give me, gun or no gun. Knowing I’m probably making a huge mistake, I nod and let her lead me toward the bathroom.
8
“I’m looking for my friend May in room 935,” I say to the receptionist. “I was supposed to meet her, but she never showed up. Could you please tell me how long she’ll be staying for?” I leave it at that. It’s two am and I’m pretty sure the hotel staff don’t care what people are up to, and at what time of the night, as long as they pay and tip. I waited for an hour until I came down here and I’m pretty sure she’s sleeping now.
“May Ferguson. Yes, I have her here.” The man picks up the phone and dials the room number.