3. Rejected, Ejected Then Accepted

3. It hit me like a slap: I was stranded. All around me, nothing but black woods, the night alive with crickets and the sharp scent of pine. My breath fogged in the air. “This can’t be happening,” I whispered, hugging myself. Mark wouldn’t leave me. He couldn’t. Any second, those headlights would reappear, and he’d pull me in close, laughing off the scare.

But the road stayed empty. Minutes crawled by, and hope curdled into dread. He was gone. My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me forward as I fought back tears, every step echoing betrayal.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted or given him another chance.  I know there's got to be one nice guy in this world who will treat me right?" 

Shock, then anger, then a deep, gnawing fear churned inside me. This was supposed to be the best night of my life—a chance at love, at something more. Instead, I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere. My hand flew to my shoulder, searching for my purse—gone. My phone was still in Mark’s car. Panic sharpened everything into hard edges.

"Oh, God! Oh God help me! What am I going to do?"

I forced myself to move, scanning for lights or signs of life—anything. The twisted road led to a creaking, wood-planked bridge, shrouded by towering trees. My heels made my feet ache, but fear kept me going. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and something else—sweet, almost intoxicating. With every step, the bridge seemed to rise, carrying me higher. I was sure I was alone, yet the prickling at the back of my neck told me I was being watched.

My nostrils picked up various scents.

A musky and citrus cologne drifted through the air. I hesitated—then, in the moonlight, spotted a staircase winding up out of the trees. Maybe the resort was close. I pressed on, I had no other choice. There were curiosity and dread, warring inside me. When I reached the top, the stairs began to move as if I was on a escalator, slowly descending into the trunk of a massive tree. The darkness was alive, the only light from stars above. Suddenly, the stairs shuddered to a stop—face-to-face with a man whose gaze pinned me in place. My heart thundered. There was no way back. Only forward—toward him.

I gripped the rail, staring at him—tall, broad, shirt open to reveal sculpted muscle. His platinum hair spilled over his shoulders, eyes an unnatural, piercing blue. He smiled, lips curling into something both dangerous and alluring. I felt exposed, every nerve sparking.

"Welcome. “We’ve been expecting you," he said, voice low and rich. "Alone, just as promised."

I stumbled back, desperate to put space between us. Everything about him—the way he looked at me, the sound of his voice—was too intense. Too intimate.

“What?” I responded. “My boyfriend made reservations for two tonight, not just me. So, you expected me to come alone?” The man looked around, then behind me, and said, “Yes. I don’t see anyone else. We were told only to be expecting you.” The man replied, smiling with a hint of mischievousness.

My legs threatened to give out—not from exhaustion but from raw fear. Was this what Mark intended? Or was I caught in something far stranger? The man stepped closer, filling my vision, and I shrank back, only to realize another figure blocked my escape. The stairs kept moving, carrying me deeper, trapping me between them. My pulse thudded in my ears.

The first man’s companion came up the stairs and stood beside him. This one was slender but no less impressive. His tan face was narrow but chiseled with smooth skin. The features were sharp and pointy, with warmth in his eyes but with lust curling his lips. His hair fell past his shoulders in wavy, midnight-blue locks. It was thick like ropes but looked soft-like cotton, the kind of hair you would want to get lost in forever. He had brushed one side of his mix of midnight blue and black hair off his shoulder revealing his long thick neck. Admittedly it was exciting. He wore a snug, crew-cut, clean white shirt that hugged his slender but muscular arms and fitted black slacks.

I gasped as both men closed in, their presence overwhelming. The cologne was intoxicating, dizzying. A strong hand gripped my arm—gentle, but unyielding. Another traced the fabric of my dress, his gaze burning into me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak.

Then the other sniffed down my neck and between where my breasts met—taking my breath away as I barely managed to defend myself. I managed not to squirm at the solicitous touch, though it made my skin quiver. My breast responded to the warmth of his nose and lips in between them.

“What are you doing? Get away from me!” 

The man backed away as his eyes darted to the muscular one, nodding as he noticed my body's response. I looked down at my chest and saw the perkiness of my breasts. The slender man licked his lips as he looked at me intently.

“We are not going to harm you in any way. Welcome to Pleasure Paradise. From what we have examined, you have been abandoned and deprived. You are very emotionally and physically dehydrated.” The first man said in a low, deep voice, his nose flaring as he inhaled my skin again, making me shiver. 

“Come.” They said as if they took me by the arms and led me down the stairs. In my mind, I was resisting, putting up a fight. But physically, I cooperated with the two men. I knew something was wrong, willingly surrendering myself to them. Already the sense of a warm euphoria crept over me, a sweet intoxication that overwhelmed any instinct for self-preservation. My weakened knees shook even harder. It took all I did not have to collapse on the stairs.

The slender guy’s eager smile grew wider still. They entered the base of the tree trunk, and we ascended, and then we entered this circular room. They lowered me to one of the cushions.

“What is this place?” I gazed at my captors, my vision hazy with intoxication, though I hadn’t been drinking or given anything to take.

“You have entered Pleasure Paradise. You will be our private guest." I couldn't take my eyes away from the one with the large cat-like eyes peering at me. I batted my lashes, sitting there utterly afraid of what would happen to me next.