In the Belly of the Beast

13

Ruby was good and tired. Not dead tired, but good tired. She had put in a full day's work, and dinner was finished. The man had risen from his place at the table and helped her dry the dishes.

She couldn't figure him out at all. 

He was the nicest thug she had ever met. And she had met quite a few in her time.

***

Most of them had been brutes, raping her in the most violent ways. But to those men, it had not been rape. It was their just due.

And to atone, they plied her with liquor, clothes, jewelry, and fine perfumes. They allowed her the privilege of decorating their arms at parties and nights on the town. 

 With no thoughts of her wants or wishes, they took her as often as they liked, roughly and without sentiment. Sex was power, a natural release.

She soon learned that a tough veneer and a wad of cash did not make a good lover. Often, the biggest apes couldn't get it up for two minutes. Some of the scrawniest guys could last all night.

But, she didn't judge them. They were not her family. They were not her friends. They were part of the revolving door of boyfriends that allowed her to pay the rent and keep food on her table.

***

The last dish was dried.

"I'm bushed. Going to turn in early."

He followed her down the hall to her room. She went into the bathroom to change, and he positioned the chair in front of the door.

She didn't even speak to him as she slid beneath the covers. She was too tired to wonder if he would come to her tonight. She closed her eyes to sleep.

The man took his seat in the chair. 

Right on cue, the cat silently crept into the room and sprang up into his lap. He absently laid a hand upon the purring feline. 

The house was still and quiet. Nothing moved. The only sound was Ruby snoring softly beneath the covers in the old cast iron bed.