The Man in the Restroom

Chapter One

​~ MIRA ~

​The world was beginning to tilt. I watched through a golden haze as I drained the second glass of champagne Freya had bought. I didn’t care about the burn or the way the room hummed, I needed the numbness. I needed something, anything, to patch the broken parts of me my father was deliberately tearing apart.

​I refilled the glass for a third time. I held it up like a trophy, watching the bubbles dance before pressing it to my lips. One small sip to tease myself, then I tilted my head back and let the rest burn its way down.

​“Arrgh…” I groaned, a loose, giddy laugh escaping me. “It feels like heaven. Oh my days, I love this!” I didn't care that the other patrons in the upscale bar were shooting me judgmental looks. For the first time in years, I felt light.

​“That’s enough, Mira. Put the glass down,” Freya snapped. She sounded irritated, which was strange considering she was the one who had dragged me here and convinced me that alcohol was the cure for a broken heart.

​“Come on, Freya! I’m having fun,” I slurred, snorting as I reached for the bottle again. “You were right. The pain… it’s going away. I feel different.”

​I reached for a fourth pour, but a hand snatched the bottle away before I could touch it. It wasn't Freya's manicured hand.

Shocked, ​I whipped my head around, my vision swimming until Nora’s face came into focus. She looked angry. She pulled out a chair and sat down with a heavy thud.

​“I didn’t invite you here, you hungry cheap lizard!” Freya hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “Who called you? Mira… did you call her?”

​I shook my head slowly, staring at the table as it seemed to vibrate.

​“You don’t need to invite me,” Nora shot back, her eyes fixed on Freya. “I don’t wait for invitations from evil people like you.”

​“Girls… please,” I managed to mumble, blinking against the spinning room.

Nora and Freya had never liked each other. ​ Nora thought Freya was a dangerous friend in designer clothes, Freya believed Nora was a bitter bad influence dragging me down. I was caught in the middle, loving them both and losing myself in the process.

​“Sit and enjoy the view then,” Freya sneered, leaning back. “I know a place this luxurious is a shock to your system. It’s only thanks to Mira because if she weren’t my friend, you’d never know that a bar like this exists.” She shook her luxury handbag in Nora’s face, a silent reminder of the gap between them.

​Freya started to stand, but Nora’s hand shot out, clamping onto her arm.

I swallowed hard and ran my fingers through my hair. I hated seeing them fight because of me. And whenever they started, I could never stop them; and to be honest, I hadn’t invited Nora, she showed up on her own. She consistently appears whenever I’m out with Freya.

​“Sit your damn ass down. I’m not done with you,” Nora commanded, pushing Freya back into her seat. Her voice rang with authority that made the air feel thin.

​“Nora….” I tried to intervene, but she held up a hand, silencing me instantly.

​“Stay out of this, baby girl,” Nora said, before turning her fire back to Freya. “You and I both know who the real poverty-stricken one is here, you! But for now enjoy the glitter while it lasts, Freya, because soon you’ll be right back where you belong, begging for crumbs.”

​My jaw dropped. The alcohol couldn't dull my shock. Nora came from an average home. Freya’s family was one of the wealthiest in the city. My own father was a driver for Freya's mother, and it was a blessing that someone like her was even my friend. In this circle, I was the one at the bottom of the ladder.

​Freya’s face turned a dangerous shade of anger. She stood up and shot me a furious look. I sprang to my feet instantly and tried to apologize, but she shoved me back into my seat and walked out.

I turned to Nora, my throat tight and my fists clenched. Anger burned inside me like a wildfire. My alcohol-blurred gaze locked onto her.

​“Why do you do this? Why can’t you just leave us alone? I didn't invite you!” I screamed. A few people at the next table whispered, but I didn't care.

​Nora stood and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. “I’m trying to save you, Mira. You haven't seen it yet, but you will.”

​I shoved her back, hard. She stumbled, losing her footing on the polished floor and landing painfully.

​“Stop saving me! I don’t need it, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be from you!” I roared, slamming my palm against the table. “She never looks for trouble with you, but you’re always there, lurking! What are you even saving me from?”

​Nora got up, brushing off her clothes, her eyes blazing with a mix of pity and anger. “I’m trying to help you, Mira. Listen to me for once. You can move in with me if that’s what it takes to keep you away from that man before he ruins what's left of you.”

​She gave me one long, haunting look, then turned and walked out.

​I sank into the chair, my breath coming in ragged gasps, anger burning inside my chest as her words echoed in my mind.I grabbed the champagne bottle and took a long sip.

That man. She meant my father. My instincts screamed that she knew something, some secret that could be my exit strategy.

Yes, I wanted to be saved. I wanted to escape my father, who was slowly killing my dreams without a thought for how I felt. But I didn’t believe Nora could do that, not for me. I knew she cared and was only looking out for me, but her methods were wrong. What I did felt like the only way to make her realize I didn’t appreciate her interference.

​I grabbed the bottle and took another long sip. The guilt of how I’d treated her twisted in my gut, but I pushed it down with more champagne. When I set the bottle back down on the table, a man was suddenly sitting across from me.

​“Who the hell are you?” I snapped, my words thick.

He smiled and reached out his hand politely. “My name is…”

​“Go to hell!” I barked, grabbed my worn-out handbag and hurled it at his chest before stumbling toward the back of the bar. I needed a restroom. I needed to splash cold water on my face.

I staggered toward the restroom, my vision blurring and my legs wobbling. I pushed open a door and what I saw left me frozen in the doorway.

I had walked into the wrong room and the right thing I should have done was to apologize and leave immediately, but my mouth stayed shut and my feet refused to move. My hand clung to the doorknob, my eyes locked on the perfectly built man inside.

​He was a demi-god in the flesh. Tall, maybe six feet, standing in the center of the restroom. He had his side to the door and his front faced the closet. His big left hand wrapped around his huge erected veiny cock in his hand, head tilted back, eyes shut as he stroked himself slowly.

​I couldn't breathe as I watched him, mesmerized. My mouth parted, a bead of saliva slipping from the side.

“Yeah… fuck,” he groaned, stroking his thick huge cock faster now, breath heavy and ragged as if he was about to cum.

​My heart jolted with waves of pleasure. The sound of his voice sent a violent jolt of electricity through me. My stomach tightened, and a heat that had nothing to do with the champagne flooded my lower belly. My legs, already weak from the drink, began to tremble uncontrollably.

​’Mira, move. He’s a stranger. Run.’ I told myself, forcing my body to move so I could walk out of the restroom but my knees buckled and I collapsed onto the floor with a thud, snapping him out of his actions.