“What does it say?”
“It reads , Is she okay? Would you like me to answer him, sir?”
“Reply, yes, and then turn the fucking phone off,” I tell him, seething with anger. Peter clearly knew she was here, and he should’ve fucking come himself instead of sending a virtual stranger. It’s only by some miracle that Lily hasn’t been harmed or traumatized more than she already is. He should have dropped everything, instead of sending me under false pretenses. And without fucking telling me what I was getting into. Nothing seems to add up, and I fucking hate when things don’t balance out.
“Who does he mean, sir?” Trevor asks guardedly, ever the protective assistant and bodyguard. “What has he gotten you into?”
“Peter’s cousin, Lily MacKay, is here and not of her own choosing,” I growl
tersely. “I have no fucking clue what’s going on, but I mean to find out and make them pay.”
“Fuck!” comes Trevor’s clipped reply. “I’ll call Daniels and have him make
some discreet inquiries about Miss MacKay, but I don’t think we should let anyone know where she is until we get a clearer picture of the situation.”
“I agree. Peter knew where she was and didn’t come himself, so there must
be something we’re clueless about. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“I know, sir,” Trevor mutters somewhat distractedly, I know he’s already working on getting me some answers. It is what makes him such a valued employee and why I don’t mind paying him his exorbitant salary. “Will there be anything else?”
“No. Just have everything packed up and be ready to leave when I’m dropped back off at the hotel tomorrow morning.” I’m still uncertain what my game plan is, aside from spending the evening exploring Lily’s gorgeous and responsive body; making her forget everything that’s happened to her. Heaven.
Lily obviously doesn’t have a passport or other clothes. She wouldn’t be allowed through customs without the former. It’s times like these that I kick myself for not splurging and purchasing my own private jet. Then I could’ve easily fabricated the manifest and smuggled her out of the country.
I’ll have to come up with a plan for getting her out of Hong Kong, one that
doesn’t involve smuggling ourselves onto one of my container ships. One thing I know for sure is that when I leave tomorrow, I will be taking Lily with me. No matter what I have to do, or how much I have to spend . I’d have Trevor pick us up, but the truth is I don’t know where the fuck we are.
“I think it’s best, safer, to keep your identity a secret until you’re back here,”
Trevor tells me, cutting through my busy mind. “Hopefully by then I’ll have some more information about what’s going on.”
I hang up the phone just as Lily slowly makes her way out of the bathroom
and resumes her seat at the table. The fact that she came out on her own volition tells me she’s not as afraid or repulsed by me as she’s trying to seem.
I’ll have to see what I can do to get her to relax more.
Another orgasm would probably help.
6
LILY
The floor is freezing on my bare feet as I make my way into the cold
ultra-modern tiled bathroom. I am more than happy to wash the gunk off my face as the man ordered. The caked on makeup feels dirty and
gross, and I’m always happy when I can finally remove it. The door closes with a soft click and I move to turn the lock on the door handle—but there isn’t one. I only have the illusion of privacy; the man could come in at any time.
Through the door, I can hear him on the phone speaking English— a language I actually understand. I can’t make out the words, only the man’s angry tone.
Stepping onto the plush bathmat in front of the vanity, I don’t recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. The bright red lipstick, liberal use of mascara, heavy dark eyeliner, and sparkling blush has me looking
unrecognizable. Usually, I’m a chapstick and natural-colored eye shadow kind of girl. My perfectly manicured nails are the only things I would’ve chosen to do myself.
I unbutton the shirt, pull it off my neck and chest, and push the sleeves up my arms, not wanting to get them wet. I then turn on the sink, drowning out the little I can hear of the man’s conversation, and splash the warm water on my face. Reaching out, I unwrap a small bar of floral smelling hotel soap that is sitting on the counter. Working the soap into a lather, I begin to scrub my face.
As I begin the process of wash, rinse, repeat, my thoughts are on the man in the
other room.
None of what this man does or says makes sense. He acts nothing like I expect and I find myself perversely intrigued by him.
There is nothing about this man, who pays for women at a Hong Kong brothel, that I should find attractive. Yet, I find myself craving his touch and wanting to lose myself in him, in the pleasure he’s offering, and in his firm gentleness and strength. I can’t explain why, but with him, for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. And I don’t even know his name.
I had been psyching myself up to be stripped of the little clothing I was wearing, tossed on the bed, and fucked. The last thing I expected was for him not only to offer me food, but ask me what I would like to eat. I may have eaten my fill of crab cakes, but the thought of a real hamburger has my stomach growling.
Then the man did something even more confusing by handing me his dress
shirt to put on. Allowing me to cover up.
Rinsing my face for the final time, I look up and finally recognize the person staring back at me. I feel like I have a little portion of myself back as well.
I slowly button the shirt back up. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the spicy scent of his cologne on the collar, very different from the noxious lingering Axe that men I know from school wear. I carefully adjust the sleeves, unrolling and then rolling them up so they are perfectly equal. I know I’m procrastinating, and I can’t stay in the bathroom indefinitely. Making this man angry by hiding from him doesn’t seem smart.
“It’s now or never,” I tell myself as I slowly open the bathroom door and rejoin the mystery man.
