Three

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Scarlett

“Lovely night, huh.” The driver said, glancing in the rear-view mirror, his narrow eyes busy checking her out. “How did it go?”

“I’m not in the mood for conversation,” she said crisply, turning him out because he bothered her, he always had. There was something about him that unnerved her each time he came to pick her up. Maybe it was the sinister grin that seemed to have found a home on his lips, and the way he kept glancing in the rear-view mirror, sticking out his tongue suggestively when she locked her gaze with him. He was a white man with longish dirty blond hair. The only white man working for Bernard—not that she knew all his staff, just a handful that was always around whenever she visited his palace.

“’ Scuse me for existing,” he muttered, still grinning at her.

Damn! How she desired to kick him in the crotch. That would wipe off the dirty idea of having sex with her she knew he had been nursing for only God knows how long now.

Men! She thought. the only thing that rushes into their heads each time they see beautiful women like her is sex. Sex and domination.

“You don’t look too good.” The driver ventured, narrowly avoiding a meandering jaywalker. “Anything bad happened back there?”

“Just be quiet and drive,” she said, seething with anger. Turning her head to the left, she saw the coat she’d left in the limo when she arrived. Grabbing it, she slipped her hands, clutching it around her to conceal her ripped dress. How she managed to walk out of the house where Bernard— if that was indeed his name, and his foolish friends had held her captive for the last two hours, looking like a cheap prostitute who was engaged in a fight... she didn’t want to think about it.

What they did to her was unthinkable. She’d been more or less raped and brutalized, treated like an object to be used for their pleasure. They were more than rough with her, exhibiting no respect at all. As far as they were concerned, she was a souvenir, which wasn’t how Bernard treated her before. What changed?

Her pleas of, “Stop! No! This isn't going to happen,” didn’t affect them one bit. She’d struggled but to no avail. those bastards treated her like one of Madam Charlotte’s whores.

With shaky hands, she retrieved from her purse, the cell phone she used only when she wants to call those that would save her life if need be and speed-dialled her lawyer.

“Mr Chip will be with you in a moment,” replied the velvet-toned voice of his ever-efficient secretary.

Scarlett waited. Her lawyer liked keeping people waiting, she’d seen him do it before. ‘Builds characters,’ he would say with just a hint of the European accent he had never managed to get rid of.

Nervously, she leaned forward and asked the driver if he had a cigarette.    

“I thought you don't smoke,” the man said with a nonchalant shrug.

She used to smoke but had given it up a very long time ago. But tonight, she could do with a long deep drag of the stick.

“Do you want me to stop and get you a pack?” The driver asked.

“No.” She shook her head vigorously.

“Scarlett.” Her lawyer’s voice. The slight accent. The oily thickness. “You called.”

“Yes.”

“What’s up?”

“I need you to sue someone.”

“A client?” It’s always a client. Mostly those that didn’t treat her girls right. Now it was her that was abused and she wouldn’t have it.

“What he did to me... I can’t... I can’t.” Teared welled in her eyes. Swallowing a sob, she glanced at the rear-view mirror and caught the driver watching her. "I want... I want...” Trailing off, Scarlett realized she didn’t know what she wanted anymore. An apology from Bernard? More money? Or for the pig to rot in jail?

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⏰ Last updated: Jul 23, 2022 ⏰

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