“I’m on it. But I’m still calling a friend.”
15
AERIN
“Take off your clothes.” The ragged, croaky voice escaping the man before me drags a claw-like shiver right down my spine, and my heart lurches beneath my chest.
This isn’t right.
I don’t want to be here.
But just like when he approached me in the bar and firmly told me to follow him, I can’t resist.
It’s like a compulsion that rises inside me like the swelling pressure of trapped air.
Clenching my hands into fists, I peer past him at the two other men lingering in this dark room.
One rests near the door, legs crossed at the ankle and picking at his teeth.
The other is a foot away with a phone in his hand pointed directly at me and a cold smirk stretching across his face.
“Take off your clothes!” the first man yells.
I don’t want to.
The compulsion grows so strong that I can’t stop myself no matter how loudly I scream in my mind about doing the opposite.
My hands rise and curl at my shirt, skimming quickly up and down the buttons.
Each one pops through the fabric with a little delay as my fingers tremble and the man before me leers forward.
Tears well in the corner of my eyes and the cold air of the room sweeps across my warm skin as my shirt falls open.
“Look at her,” says the man near the door with a scoff. “She’s gonna be so grateful when you fuck her. Fat ones always are.”
“She’ll suck your cock right off.” The one with the camera laughs. “Fucking hungry little slut, look at her. Those tits are massive.”
My cheeks burn hot and the tears pour as shame and fear collide in my chest.
As a sob bubbles up, I clutch at my blouse to keep it closed, but the ragged-voiced man before me surges forward and slaps me hard.
My head whips to the side and he grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me close.
“I said take off your clothes!” he yells in my face, choking me with a breath of stale cigarettes and liquor. “I want a show! Take them off!”
I don’t want to.
The louder he yells, the stronger the compulsion becomes.
He shoves me back toward the single bed behind me and I can’t stop myself.
My blouse falls from my shoulders and I shed my skirt just as quickly, even as tears pour down my face and panic claws up my throat like acid.
I don’t understand.
I don’t want to be here. I tried to fight in the car, but they overpowered me.
I tried to fight on my way up the steps to this apartment, but, just like with my clothes, one yell and I followed like a puppy.
