Sex and Stuff

My body quivers has his hand touches my face. He looks at me and his eyes are kind, yet they are unforgiving. I look away and he walks over to his desk. Her hand touches his shoulder and she whispers something and gives me a look as if I am nothing more than a statue and she leaves the office. I am terrified. Her smirk before she left had sent a shiver down my spine and I could still smell her perfume in the air. It smelled like roses and some exotic fruit.

I tried to drift away but then he spoke.

"You know, the last girl who ran away was punished with my belt, but the bruises were too obvious... we had to tell the state that she had gotten into a fight. So, what are we going to do to you?" He said as if he had all ready decided. I swallowed and tried to think about what it was like to get over an hour away... if only his assistant hadn't stopped off at the gas station I could have hitched a ride with a trucker. Sherry had grabbed me and put me in her car and used her power locks to keep me there until she got her gas for her little Mazda. The whole ride back was one of silence. Sherry didn't say anything except, "Won't he be glad to see you!"

His name was Mr. Slade, but it was rare for anyone to say his name. We all avoided him at all costs... he frightened us all.

I felt the back of his hand hit my face. His ring hurt, but he knew how to hit without leaving marks. I tried to imagine fresh air and the sound of birds... I hated living in the basement. All of us did. But that was where we belonged. We were exchange students who never attended school.

He grabbed my throat and squeezed. I coughed and spit in his face. If I could die before being locked in the basement... that would be best. The others would think I made it home and then they would try to run away more often. Some might even make it.

I was thrown to the floor and Mr. Slade cleared his throat then said, "Tonight you will be entertaining Mr. Hughes. Be sure to wear your hair in pigtails, he does love to pull hair, doesn't he? Now go." I stood, tears flowing freely. Why couldn't he kill me? I didn't want to "entertain" anymore. I never did to begin with.

As Amanda says, "It's just sex and stuff. Just pretend it's someone you like." But I couldn't. I would lay there, looking at the ceiling, and let them do what they wanted because if I moved, Mr. Slade made us do a double, or even a triple, shift. As it was, I had two clients a week. I had lost count of how many. But I knew I would be going home in just a few months... I had only signed up for a year exchange.

I didn't want to be their puppet any longer...