Prelude 1 (ii)

I felt the light tapping of his fingers on my cheek and it woke me up. He was just waiting for me to open my eyes, and then he was carrying me in his arms to the showers. It was a big room, and actually luxurious, and the bath could carry about four grown people. Warm shower poured down on us as I trembled water he’d carefully put me down. He soaped me, shampooed and conditioned my hair, his hands gentle and his handsome face lazy and content. I stared more. He actually looked happy. Seeing me watching, he lowered his head and kissed me softly, carefully. My lips felt so sore and I appreciated his thoughtfulness. Once cleaned, he covered me with a robe and a big towel, blow-dried my long hair quickly, his hands so expertly doing this job that I knew he had done this so many times. I didn’t even feel envy of the other women. I might never see him again after this, but he’s given me an experience I would be incredibly grateful for for the rest of my life.

Because someone understood me. Understood me so well. I wasn’t the only one. Thank god, I wasn’t alone.

He carried me back inside the room, placing me in an armchair before stripping the bed of  wet sheets. There was a replacement inside a cabinet and it piqued my interest, in spite that I felt lazy and as sated as he’d looked. He got everything covered. We hadn’t talked with anyone when we arrived, just went straight for the elevator, and he used a black card with something embossed in it. He was a regular here, then. They knew what he preferred. He was fast and the next thing I knew, I was back in bed, under another sheet and the soft, fragrant comforter. Then there was a knock on the door before I could crash again.

“Good. Just in time.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Food. I’ll just be a moment.”

And it was food. As in FOOD. Sunny side ups, strips of roasted herbed beef, thick slices of French fries and garlic bread, greens in mayo and cheese, slices of mango, peaches and pineapple in cream. The smell hit me and I was suddenly so hungry I could cry. There was also a bottle of red wine that I wasn’t going to give further attention to because I just got to have that first strip of beef on my tongue but then I caught the label on the bottle and it was a Brunello. That’s a 15 to 20k pesos Italian wine…  I knew because one of the neurologists on call in the hospital had a collection of very expensive wines in the basement of his very expensive big house and I was not shy to ask because I had this chef aunt who would get envious when I gloat about the experience later. He was a good fellow, just very nerdy and out there.  And no, the visit wasn’t a booty call. Ugh, no. I stayed in his house for a week to take care of his mother, a stroke victim, when the private nurse took a leave to take care of the funeral services to a beloved brother who passed just two months ago.

So the wine was expensive. I didn’t worry about it. I just wanted to eat. I sat up and I was able to inhale a plate of food before I tasted the wine poured on a crystal glass with a large bowl—a classic red wine glass. We didn’t talk much but there was a lot of watching in between. I wasn’t expecting much after this so I was kind of trying to memorize his features. He was watching me, for every wince or ever bruise. I had several on my arms. I saw blood in the shower and wondered where in my privates it came from. I’d need a topical cream applied to it when I get home.

Goodness, I was a nurse. I was built of stronger stuff.

He didn’t apologize. I would slap him if he did. Both of us knew it was an insult. We ate quietly.

His voice was the first to disturb the companionable silence. 

“So... you really like it rough?”

I raised my eyes to his. “You know I do.” I smiled as I sighed in contentment. You’ve worked me well.”

He nodded as if it was a normal thing. “Most woman only say that to bloat up reputation before the fact. Or fuck.” We both laughed a little. “They couldn’t ever take it the way you just did.”

“Hmm…” I raised the wine to sip. It was my second and I was already in love with it. It was either fruity or spicy with the beef, yet earthy and herbal another moment, another bite. Then a bit bitter, almost astringent with the greens… spicy and earthy in contrast with the fruits. She used to enjoy wine with her mother and aunts. Not something as expensive as this, but her chef aunt knew what wine to pair with what and that was already a win, if you were asking me. 

“I’d like to see you again,” he abruptly said.

My eyes raised to his. Just my eyes, my face not moving, or my body. I wanted to make sure I didn’t just mishear that.

“It’s not going to be a… relationship.”

“Are you married?”

He laughed  and I felt relief. Girlfriend was fine, there was no reason for them to meet. I could understand than men would hide something like this from a marriage-material girlfriend—managing this kind of need in private  was protecting the relationship. Oh, probably even after the marriage vows. But that’s another’s problem and I didn’t want to be a homewrecker, thank you very much.

“Oh, good. Yes, okay. We’ll just meet when we need it?”

He nodded. “Or I might surprise you.”

I smiled. “How?”

One of his eyebrows rose and he looked rakish and sexy, but not enough to raise my tired muscles and bones right then. More than enough for me to stay my eyes on him, though, appreciating the view so very much.

“Do you know where you are?”

I blinked, looked around me for a sec before returning my eyes on him. “A hotel?”

He shook his head. “Have you ever heard about a sex club ever whilst you hop clubs and bars around the area where we met?”

I blinked. That also didn’t peak my tired body, but it did make my blood race in my veins. “Wait a minute… wait a minute… the sex club? Is it the Saints?” 

He nodded.

“Oh my god, yes! Are you one of them? Can you get me in?!” If I was a member, there was no need to snoop and hook up on bars and clubs, then be mildly disappointed later. Mildly, yes. Only because it had happened so many times I couldn’t care more anymore. I had been really careful and chose my night spots carefully. But what if I wasn’t careful enough and I met the kind of predator nobody deserved to meet? It would only take one night.

I was into kinky sex, not real rape. Although one regular mind would say there wasn’t much of a difference, my mind and the other person knew what differed. No normal person could ever understand us.  

“You’ve told me your secret fantasy not by words but what you allowed to happen tonight. You are beautiful, a wonderful fuck, and so, so hot. And… you’re a nurse. I don’t think you’ll find it that hard to fit in with the theme and the… you know, bloody outcome of whatever turns you on.”

I lowered my eyes as I felt my heart beat faster. “If you’re telling me these things anyway… I’d love to hear more. How can I be a member, for instance? I want to be free.”

“Free to secretly sin?” he teased. 

But I only nodded, eagerly, feeling vulnerable and earnest for the first time in a very long time. 

His lids dropped lazily and as his eyes continued to watch me. He clearly believed my reaction. “There’s an initiation.”

Excitement definitely was a good aphrodisiac. “What is it? No, I don’t care what it is. I know I’ll survive it. Tell me more, please.”

He grinned. “Ah-ah. Not all of it right away. I want you to know what you’re going to get into first. You have to watch a video.”

I bit my lower lip. I had been through the dark web, had gone into private forums and closed threads. There was one standard video that initiates invited by the Saints watched, according to forums. Yes, there were pockets in the net that actually made the Secret Sins Club a topic. “I think I know which one. Trina Cheng’s?”

“Yes.” His brows furrowed slightly. “You think you can survive what she’d survived? I mean... you know what I mean.”

My eyelids abruptly dropped as sensations wrapped around me because of the memory of one of the videos I was allowed to watch. It wasn’t on Pornhub because it looked too real, it was banned on the ‘wholesome’ p**n site. “Yes,” I replied. Trina Cheng passed away in a car crash years ago. But what she’d done in leaked videos could still make blood on your veins burn with such sexual heat and guilt that you’d think she was still screaming and sobbing in another life, her suffering weirdly controlling her abusers.

My blood churned as I sat there at that small table with him, our left-overs but the wine forgotten, but only because I got thirsty, I raised the glass and drank from it like it was water. 

“Emile… my body’s really sore and hurting, but you’re turning me on again,” I moaned, breathing hard. “Tell me more, please...” I begged him.

“I will,” he said in a voice holding promises. “But I think we’re done here. Let’s get ready for bed, Nyleen. It will calm you down.”

I was grateful when he helped me to get up. I used the hotel—or whatever this place was—toothbrush in the bathroom to brush my teeth. I peed and washed myself and my face. It hurt, but not the peeing so I wasn’t infected. Our rough sex gave me burn rashes, and they were painful when urine passed. 

When I got back inside, he was already done with the table. He helped me to bed.   

“Will you help me get in?” I asked.

He nodded as he slid under the covers and laid his body beside mine. “I’ll help. You needed saving. What kind of a saint will I be if I don’t help a sinner like you?”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

It was the last thing I said before I fell into exhausted sleep.