Memories

  “It must be hard for you. Don’t you want to admit it?”

Lisa halted again and turned to the pale woman. How could she not know it was a trap to get to her? “Do have a safe trip, Ms. Cornwell.”

She walked back to her car and let the chauffeur drive off.

  “Are we heading back to the office, Ma’am?” Sally asked carefully from the shotgun seat. She could tell just how tired the woman at the back was.

Lisa sighed. “Take me home. Postpone all my schedule to tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma.” Sally tactfully agreed. Despite that the meetings were of huge importance; she could tell her boss was nowhere in the mood to work.

The car drove into a large, beautiful villa, stopping right at the door. When she alighted, the driver drove off to park the car. Lisa strolled into the house while the maids rushed out to collect her bag from the car, echoing their greetings as they walked by her. She stopped by the door to kick off her shoes and change into a pair of comfy home slippers before heading straight up the stairs to her room, massaging her neck as she went. The bedroom was big with a king-sized bed that was meant for two. Actually, it was meant for two people.

Unfortunately, most nights, she had been the only one on it.

Without changing out of her dress, she slumped on the bed, shivering a little from the cold air from the Air Conditioner. Her head replayed Ms. Cornwell’s words. Would she end up like all the other girls she had paid off and sent out of the country?

She couldn’t deny how the thought of it scared her; but then, the difference between her and the other girls was that he hadn’t touched her. Ever. She laughed, surprised at the hoarse voice she could barely recognize as hers. Life indeed has its ways of playing games on someone. She could still remember it all. Vividly like it only happened yesterday.

She was sitting in front of a large mirror as stiff as a block while the stylist worked on her hair. She sighed severally watching her face and hair change under the expert hands of the stylist. Just outside those doors, in a Cathedral, a few distances away were seated more than a thousand guests; both invited and uninvited. Of course, who wouldn’t want to attend the wedding of the century? Her hands shivered slightly as her eyes shifted to look at the magnificent wedding dress hanging just beside her.

Then, someone knocked on the door, just before it opened. It was her father.

  “Dad.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She was scared and nervous.

  “You look beautiful, princess.”

Tears welled her eyes. “Dad.”

He turned to the stylist instead. “Excuse us please.”

The stylist nodded curtly, closing the door behind her as she left to give the duo the privacy they need.

  “Are you okay?” He asked gently, pulling a seat adjacent to hers.

Okay? How could she be okay? She was getting married to someone she barely knew! She flashed a forced smile and nodded, swallowing the bitter lump in her throat.

Sighing, he reached out and took her palm in his. “I am sorry, Lisa. I failed you as a father. We need this. The company does.”

She had the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard these same words constantly for the past two weeks.

  “I understand, Dad.” She managed to flash a smile.

He nodded but still continued. “Your mother and I had no choice. The Norths are the only answers out of this mess.”

Of course, she knew the whole story. She knew her father’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy and would fall any time soon if she didn’t lure the Norths in with the marriage. However, she couldn’t understand why Mr. North would refuse to help her father without tying the nuptial knot despite that they have been friends since forever.

  “I am only playing my part as your daughter. At least, I owe you that.” No, I don’t owe you that. She had spent the last two days telling herself it was alright; that she was going to be fine. She hadn’t seen the venue for the reception but she knew it was going to be huge. They hadn’t let her do a single thing in preparation; all she did was test gowns and go for fittings. She didn’t even get to take a glance at the guest list.

He reached one hand to stroke her half-styled hair. “Indeed, you have grown. I am so proud of you, Monalisa.”

She smiled. Somehow, she searched her memory for the last time her father ever said those words and realized it was years ago when she won a stupid gold medal in a math competition. Her eyes teared but remembering her make-up, she blinked the tears away.

  “Alright.” He stood to his feet. “I guess I better leave the bride to get ready else Raymond may kill me.” They both chuckled. Then she left.

Lisa returned her gaze to the kitchen waiting for her stylist to re-enter the room. Minutes passed but the door remained shut. Worried, she stepped out into the large hallway. Thankfully, she was still wearing her pink silk nightwear. She couldn’t imagine wearing the heavy, flowing gown in search of her missing stylist. Speaking of the stylist, she looked up and down the hallway but there was no single sign of her. She went back to the room to grab her cell phone only to realize that she didn’t even have the stylist's number. It was Raymond, or probably his mother who had contacted her.

Raymond!

She couldn’t get to his mother but she knew Raymond was in the hotel somewhere, preparing for the wedding. She quickly scurried outside and down the stairs.

  “Hello. Please may I know the room number of my fiancé?” she asked the receptionist politely.

Everyone knew of her and Raymond’s wedding. She was sure nearly all the billboards in the city bore the news.

  “1080, Ma’am. Congratulations in advance, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” She flashed a smile before taking the elevator to return to the third floor. Luckily, Raymond’s room was on the same floor as hers. It would save her the stress of running back to the room. She looked at the huge clock in the distance. She had less than an hour to finish preparations. The dress fitting would obviously take more than half of the time. In her hurry, she forgot to knock and pushed the door open instead. It wasn’t even locked.

  “Raymond can you—” the words froze in her mouth at the scene before her.

There was Raymond, elegantly dressed in a grey suit, all ready for the wedding; except that his fly was open and his phallus fully buried inside a woman. Not just any woman. Her stylist.

Her first reaction had been that of disgust; no, not fear. She had long heard of his exploits. Only that she refused to believe he would stoop so low to disrespect her, and on the most important day of their lives. Well, maybe it was only important to her and not to him.

  “Hello, wife.” He grunted in utter pleasure like a pig as he pounded furiously in and out of the screaming lady.

Lisa sighed and folded her arms with no intention to watch him getting pleasured. “I need my stylist. The wedding starts in less than an hour.”

  “Oh, is that so? Maybe you should join us.”

She snickered in reply. However, Raymond’s attention was no longer on her. He was now pounding away furiously, finding his relief while she screamed out loud. He found it soon and wasted no extra second before pulling out of the panting lady.

  “You are one hell of a badass whore.” He complimented, slapping her buttocks while she chuckled. This time, Lisa grunted out loudly before walking out on both of them. Her stylist returned minutes later and managed to fix her dress just in time for the wedding. However, that wasn’t the biggest shock she got.

As she walked down the aisle, arms hooked around her dad’s, she caught sight of Raymond grinning on the altar and pretending just well to be blown off; putting on the perfect show for the herd of reporters as if she hadn’t caught him seconds ago fucking her stylist.

And guess what? He was wearing the same suit he had worn to fuck her. Just on the zipper of his fly, was an almost unnoticeable white stain of semen. The effrontery!

In the distance, her phone rang suddenly, jerking her out of her reverie. The sky was already dark outside. It made her wonder how long she had been out. She picked it up quickly, catching the words on the ID caller. It was the last person she was expecting to call her.