mascara with a damp tissue and checking myself over. There's no sign of the attack I've just suffered. All my scratches and the bite are hidden beneath my clothing. My dress looks almost perfect. I'm one fingernail short, but my bandage is all that's visible of my trauma. Most of that's in my head, and sadly, I don't think it will ever leave my memory.
I start to relive it again...the feel of his filthy, animal fingers on my breast—nails scoring deeply into my skin—teeth sinking hard into my shoulder—the stench of beer on his breath—the weight of his body, and the pain they both inflicted on me.
But even worse than the physical aspects of the assault, are the mental ones. The way I felt to be held prisoner—to be full of such desperation to escape and unable to do so—to be so vulnerable at their hands. It's a sickening memory that I'll have to endure.
I distract myself with something superficial and beautiful, poking around in Maxine's expensive, black satin, Yves Saint Laurent cosmetic bag. I find and apply a light touch of her red lipstick and spray a quick squirt of a tiny bottle of Jo Malone in the air around me. My hair doesn't look that great but there's not much I can do with my fingers. I nosily look at Sean's things sitting on the shelf above the vanity. Expensive looking male grooming aids. I unscrew the lid of one and take a long sniff. It's a goddamn gorgeous smell which gives me a pleasant little kick in the lower belly, and my mind starts to wander all over his body. I replace it back on the shelf, guiltily. I shouldn't be feeling or thinking these kind of things right now, considering.
All the wine and tea results in the sudden urge to make myself comfortable.
After that, and a final check in the mirror, and a deep breath for composure, I return to the studio.
He's standing there waiting. He's changed his shirt for another white one, very similar in style.
He holds his hand out to me, and I slip mine into his, with a warm feeling rushing through my veins at the soft touch of his palm against mine. His face breaks into a smile and my heart is in my mouth, as he leans toward me and places his lips to my cheek.
“Happy birthday, for Tuesday.”
I'm overcome with emotion and hug him, hard and tight.
Thank you,” I murmur.
Two small words, but they mean so very much more.
His arms slip around me and he rubs my back softly in circles.
And then he kisses the top of my head.
I'm sunk...
Chapter Six
We walk through the front door of the coffee shop. Apart from Jase, it appears no one has noticed we've been gone.
“Where the fuck have you two been?” Jase demands, storming up to us with a face like thunder.
His eyes are darting between the both of us. He's looking for some sign of guilt, I presume. I'm feeling very protective towards Sean, after all he did for me. So I jump down Jase's throat in his defense.
“He's been looking after me, as requested,” I snap.
“I bet he has,” his eyes flash at him in anger.
“There was an incident in the back alley. Lissa went out for a breather, tripped in the dark, tore her dress and ripped her finger nail off. It was bleeding pretty bad, so I took her across the road to sort her out and give her some pain relief,” Sean replies, far more calmly than I know he feels.
I hold my bandaged finger up as proof. Jase looks suitably chastised. And Sean hasn't even lied. He'd just left the worst of it out.
“Oh, I'm sorry, baby... are you okay now?” Jase slips his arm around my shoulders and hugs me sympathetically.
“No, I don't feel so great. It must be the shock. I'm going home now.”
“I'll call us a cab,” Jase says.
“There's no need for a cab. My car's right across the street,” Sean says.
“It should be me taking Lissa home, not you,” Jase says, sharply.
I'm feeling very uncomfortable to be coming between the two of them. It's time to make things clear.
“Why's that, Jase? I'm not your property, why d'you keep acting
I start to relive it again...the feel of his filthy, animal fingers on my breast—nails scoring deeply into my skin—teeth sinking hard into my shoulder—the stench of beer on his breath—the weight of his body, and the pain they both inflicted on me.
But even worse than the physical aspects of the assault, are the mental ones. The way I felt to be held prisoner—to be full of such desperation to escape and unable to do so—to be so vulnerable at their hands. It's a sickening memory that I'll have to endure.
I distract myself with something superficial and beautiful, poking around in Maxine's expensive, black satin, Yves Saint Laurent cosmetic bag. I find and apply a light touch of her red lipstick and spray a quick squirt of a tiny bottle of Jo Malone in the air around me. My hair doesn't look that great but there's not much I can do with my fingers. I nosily look at Sean's things sitting on the shelf above the vanity. Expensive looking male grooming aids. I unscrew the lid of one and take a long sniff. It's a goddamn gorgeous smell which gives me a pleasant little kick in the lower belly, and my mind starts to wander all over his body. I replace it back on the shelf, guiltily. I shouldn't be feeling or thinking these kind of things right now, considering.
All the wine and tea results in the sudden urge to make myself comfortable.
After that, and a final check in the mirror, and a deep breath for composure, I return to the studio.
He's standing there waiting. He's changed his shirt for another white one, very similar in style.
He holds his hand out to me, and I slip mine into his, with a warm feeling rushing through my veins at the soft touch of his palm against mine. His face breaks into a smile and my heart is in my mouth, as he leans toward me and places his lips to my cheek.
“Happy birthday, for Tuesday.”
I'm overcome with emotion and hug him, hard and tight.
Thank you,” I murmur.
Two small words, but they mean so very much more.
His arms slip around me and he rubs my back softly in circles.
And then he kisses the top of my head.
I'm sunk...
Chapter Six
We walk through the front door of the coffee shop. Apart from Jase, it appears no one has noticed we've been gone.
“Where the fuck have you two been?” Jase demands, storming up to us with a face like thunder.
His eyes are darting between the both of us. He's looking for some sign of guilt, I presume. I'm feeling very protective towards Sean, after all he did for me. So I jump down Jase's throat in his defense.
“He's been looking after me, as requested,” I snap.
“I bet he has,” his eyes flash at him in anger.
“There was an incident in the back alley. Lissa went out for a breather, tripped in the dark, tore her dress and ripped her finger nail off. It was bleeding pretty bad, so I took her across the road to sort her out and give her some pain relief,” Sean replies, far more calmly than I know he feels.
I hold my bandaged finger up as proof. Jase looks suitably chastised. And Sean hasn't even lied. He'd just left the worst of it out.
“Oh, I'm sorry, baby... are you okay now?” Jase slips his arm around my shoulders and hugs me sympathetically.
“No, I don't feel so great. It must be the shock. I'm going home now.”
“I'll call us a cab,” Jase says.
“There's no need for a cab. My car's right across the street,” Sean says.
“It should be me taking Lissa home, not you,” Jase says, sharply.
I'm feeling very uncomfortable to be coming between the two of them. It's time to make things clear.
“Why's that, Jase? I'm not your property, why d'you keep acting
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