Sex In The Car

IRINA

"I swear, they're having sex in the car! Oh my god, Brooklyn is going to go crazy over this," I whispered, making a phone call with Cessie.

I couldn't believe my eyes. A passionate lovemaking scene unfolded before me. Miron Pavlov, the most dangerous businessman of the Century, was making passionate love to Daisy Carman, the rising poet of the season.

Daisy's movements were so expert as she rode Pavlov; their facial expressions showed how immersed they were in the pleasure of sex. Don't they feel suffocated? Doing it in the car, and their bodies drenched in sweat. Somehow, they understand pleasure.

"Irina , you have no idea how big this is, they’re going to pay dearly for this scandal. Now get their video."

"What?" I gasped. Cessie's orders felt a bit heavy.

My current position was hidden behind a tree, obscured by the long bench in front of me. I didn't even understand why Brooklyn's city park was so deserted this afternoon. The sky bore witness to how passionately they made love, with the car windows open.

"Listen, this is an epic, fantastic moment; it would be worth a fortune if we had a video file, so grab it."

"I've taken some photos, isn't that enough?" I said feeling a bit doubtful.

"For God's sake Irina, don't you want more pay?"

"Of course, I need a lot of money; the hospital can't wait any longer."

"Then, do something to save your grandmother's life!" Cessie's voice provoked me.

Firm, compelling, clear.

It wasn't just Cessie's order; I needed this opportunity too. The hospital bills wouldn't wait.

"Alright, I will do it."

"You can, and be careful. I warn you, Miron Pavlov, this man is dangerous, he's not just a businessman, but a cold-blooded man, so don't get caught."

My body shivered hearing that, no choice, reckless, fear of losing. I only have myself as a goal, and my grandmother as a reason to survive in my life.

Lost family, ostracized, and without love.

My camera was on, making sure I had the right angle. "How can someone enjoy sex? What's so good about doing that disgusting thing?" I grumbled.

The video was almost three minutes long, so I moved forward because it was dark in the afternoon. I needed additional lighting to prevent the video from being blurry.

"Bitch!" a hoarse voice.

My head turned back, oh my god. I got caught. My brain gave me the command to save myself. My legs were shaking, but fear made me act recklessly. I screamed, then ran while saving my things.

"Catch her!" the man ordered the others.

Where did that man come from? Why didn't I see him approaching? I was so focused on the video I was taking that I didn't realize danger was also lurking behind me.

I was out of breath. I ran towards the alley, looking for a place to hide. The sky had turned dark. I hid behind a gap near the trash can, thinking they wouldn't find me here.

"I-I have to call Cessie, no, no, just 911." Anxiety made me lose my mind.

Dark, scared, alone. Cessie has warned me many times. Miron is a devil in an Armani suit; he is dangerous because he shows no mercy to his opponents. Once he pulled the trigger, there was no second chance.  It doesn't matter whether the opponent is a woman or even a man.

"Here's what you look like!" the voice repeated. I gasped, dropping my phone. 911 was already connected, my eyes bulging as I was about to scream for help, "HELP…." I couldn't finish my sentence.

My body was pulled, my mouth was gagged. The man hung up. Another man came and dragged me into the car. They gagged my mouth with a wad of cloth and covered my head with a black bag.

"Hmmm, mmphh," my voice rebelled. My throat is hot because I can't scream freely.

My head was spinning, feeling the car speeding away. I didn't know where they were taking me. Was this the end of my life?

I've lived my life half-dead, lost my father, been abandoned by my mother, nearly raped by my stepsister, and cared for my dementia-stricken grandmother, who is now suffering from heart disease. And this is how I'm going to die?

They dragged me again as soon as the car stopped, roughly, silently, quietly.

Someone grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down. I was forced to sit down. After that, they removed my head covering, removed my mouth covering, and tied my hands behind my back.

My bangs were a mess, stabbing my eyes. But I can't fix that. My breath hitched as I looked around. Men in black jackets were standing at various points, watching me.

The door swung open, and a man in a navy shirt stepped in. As soon as he stood in front of me, my mind assessed his appearance despite the fear I felt. He had an intimidating charm.

His eyes were sparkling emerald green, his combed haircut, his defined jawline, his broad chest with muscles hidden beneath his shirt, the scent of cologne from his body, and, most importantly, a dark shadow enveloped him.

"You’re a reporter?" His baritone voice sounded calm when he spoke, but witnessing Miron making love to a girl firsthand made me fantasize about his voice.

"I'm just a librarian!" I answered firmly, choosing to challenge his eyes without fear.

I'm afraid of dying just because I can't leave my grandmother alone, but more than that, it feels like my life is worthless. Nobody wants me.

On the Table, my camera, my bag, and other equipment were arranged. "A librarian with a camera? Hiding behind the bushes, and all my photos are here?" he said, pointing at my camera.

I was about to open my mouth, but a movement I didn't expect. The muzzle of a Makarov gun was already at my forehead. "Tell me, little thing ! What were your last words?" he said.