Pov Lauren The next day, I arrived at The Hills at around 9PM, when pleasant, sensual music played not too loud, providing the warmth I wanted whenever I went there. I passed by some couples who took advantage of the evening, without the least modesty, as they crowded into the corners, finally arriving at the bar and asking for my usual dose of Whiskey. I looked around for a familiar face, and after a while, when I could not find it, I relaxed a little. Camila should not be in that environment, because if she was, the customers present would think she was free. And she was not, because I provided that. Very well arranged. - Hello dear. I turned and faced Chloe, with a slightly forced smile. - Hello. - Camila is in her room, if you're looking for it. - I thought she was there. I replied, taking one last sip of my drink and thanking the girl from the bar who came to take the glass away. "Lauren." Chloe held my arm lightly, looking more meaningfully than usual. The forced smile was no longer on his face. - I can give you some advice? - Yes? I said, a little surprised at the intensity of his attitude. - Be careful. I stared at her for some time, not quite understanding what that meant. As if she could read my thoughts, she added, "Do not make her very special. I still did not quite understand why, but I still felt the need to defend myself. "I'm not making it special." "Do not be silly. It is obvious that it is. - She's a good friend. Chloe watched me, not speaking. After a few seconds, coming back from what seemed like an internal analysis of me, she spoke again, moving away soon enough. "That's advice, my dear. I stood motionless, watching her walk away from me, smiling again at some customers who were playing with her. I wondered what occasion to keep a friendship with one of The Hills girls would hurt anyone. That would not be the case for me, since I really enjoyed her company. It would not be the case with Camilla, because, as far as I knew, she also enjoyed my company, if I were to take her own words as an indication of that. That would not be the case with Chloe either, because nothing that was going on between us would disrupt her business. I walked up the stairs to the girls' bedroom corridors as I tried to understand the "advice" Chloe had just given me. I do not know how much it all affected her, but I hoped it would not affect her enough that she would feel entitled to interfere in the relationship Camila and I had now. If she tried to do that, we would have problems. I reached the door of his room and knocked, waiting for an answer. A muffled voice came out, asking me to come in, so I did. Camila sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, holding a now closed book that I identified as the same book she had been reading for some time. She wore comfortable red shorts and a black sweatshirt, so big on her that it seemed to belong to someone three times bigger. She looked at me with a broad, true smile, so beautiful that I had to repay him."Hello," I began, closing the door behind me and walking toward her. I'm sorry to interrupt your reading. "Oh, all right. I'm reading all day, it's good to stop once in a while. She put the book on the bedside table beside her, coming back to me still with that smile. I could not stop staring at her, remaining silent for some time as I admired the light that her apparent joy could emanate. - Is happy? I managed to say, getting out of the trance and going to sit next to him in the double bed after taking off his shoes. "Oh, you do not know how good it is not to have to go down." I smiled to know that she was really happy, and it felt good to know that it was my act that had made her smile. "Gee, you look prettier just smiling," I said as I opened the first buttons of my shirt. "Well, I have reason to be glad. Do you want me to help you? Without waiting for my answer, she already helped me open the buttons of my shirt, and my instinct was better to act immediately. "No, ma'am. I know what your hands and that innocent face are capable of doing. "I jokingly said as he took his hands away from me. - Hey, I'm just being nice! She said, pretending to be hurt. "Be gentle without touching me, you little provocateur. Camilla made a face with her tongue between her teeth and folded her arms across her chest, still smiling. "So what are you going to do with me tonight, sweetheart?" We can do a lot of things. For example, studying the Russian Revolution. She laughed, a small laugh, and the slightly hoarse, fluffy sound made her smile again. I had to remind myself to cheer her up more often because her joy was lovely. "Are you some kind of historian?" "No. I'm the head of an advertising company. - Cool. She said without much enthusiasm. "It's boring to tell you the truth. All I do is follow my secretary's orders. She looked confused. "Are you the boss and follow the orders of the secretary?" "She understands a lot better than I do." I'm just there to sign papers. My name has weight, since I am the daughter of the owner of Jauregui Advertising Companies. Camila stared at me with her eyes intent and her mouth slightly open in an almost perfect 'O', like a goldfish out of water. I held myself so as not to laugh at his funny expression. "That's why you have money." - IS. "It must be nice to be rich." She spoke with a sigh, taking her eyes from me and turning back. - Being important, living well, having everything you want ... - I seem to have everything I want for you? I asked a little more dry than I would like, and the tone of my voice made her look at me again, a little astonished."Ahm ... No." "Yes. It's because I do not have it. - Well ... What do you need? She asked, and I could see in her eyes that she was really interested in the answer. - Do not know. A breath of life, perhaps. I said, laughing low for no reason. Camila kept staring at me, as if she did not understand. "My social life is a disgrace. I do not have friends, I do not have people close to me. This is sometimes necessary. I wanted someone to talk to, someone other than Ally. Even because she's already fed up with my regrets. "Ah ... And who is Ally?" - My secretary. And a psychologist in her spare time. I owe her a lot. Much of the bit of my remaining sanity. In fact, I think she's the only person in the middle that I live with whom I'm not afraid of. - She seems to be cool. - She's an angel. I said, realizing that maybe this was what Ally was. An angel. It was not an absurd hypothesis, since she was always helping me, always giving me the wisest advice and always worrying about me when others did not care about me at all. Maybe she was my guardian angel, after all. From my peripheral vision, I could see that Camila was staring at me curiously, still with her arms folded. "Did she do that to you?" "What?" - Those marks on your neck. - Ally? I could not contain myself and I let out a loud, amused laugh, which seemed to bother her. - What's the fun? Not going to answer? "No, it was not her, Ally's just my friend. She is older. "Older, like how much?" - Older a good years. Like a seven. "His eyes flashed when you spoke of her. She snapped, still a little annoyed. "When I say I owe her a lot, you do not know how much." "When I was twenty-one, I was preparing to become the director of one of my father's branch offices. I had money, friends, girlfriend. Everything seemed to go well in my life. And I should have suspected that everything was going too well. I was in love with Beatrice, very much in love. And I did not care about the things she asked of me, or with sometimes she seemed not to be happy with me. In fact, I think I was blinded by love for her, so all I wanted was to stay with her for the rest of my life. I mourned and exalted her in every possible way. I bought the car, the jewels, the devil for that woman. I simply trusted her, and it never crossed my mind that one day she could do anything to hurt me. In short, I was an imbecile. So it was well done that I was disappointed. The day I was going to ask her to marry me, I discovered that she had gone away with my best friend. More than that, I discovered from other people that they both had an old case, which probably lasted all the time we were together. Needless to say, I felt like a clown.Anyone who was a little more confident and less stupid than I was going to go after the two of them and maybe fool around with pride. But I decided to lock myself in the house and ignore the world. I pulled away from everyone I knew, because if no one had been able to tell me all the dirt that was happening under my nose, then I felt entitled to think I was betrayed by them as well. I lost my best friend, my future wife, and the urge to try again to have a chance in some relationship. In fact, it was not difficult to become a single person. After that nightmare, I started to drink too much and treat others like garbage. Obviously no one was willing to put up with me at the height of my existential crises, with one exception. This exception was Ally. So she stayed by my side for a long time, taking care of me treated me well, and I did not even deserve it. She advised me to take action, sought rehabilitation programs, and forced me to go back to work, because, according to her, I should be able to occupy my mind to forget my problems. So, to this day, I owe her too much. Camila and I were silent for a few seconds as she stared at me again with the goldfish face. I also stared at her, surprised to see the dry, emotionlessness I chose to tell that story. It was good to know that it did not awaken in me the sadness and despair I was able to wake up one day, and being able to tell that to someone other than Ally made me feel much lighter. "Sorry ..." she began, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. "Let me see if I understood: This woman had you at her feet, she had a lifetime ahead of you, and she decided to just go away with a friend of hers? - My Best Friend. Yes. - Okay. I think this woman is the dumbest I've ever heard of. She said, her eyes a little wide, looking really surprised or incredulous. "She was not an asshole, she was a bitch. I stopped immediately, noticing the gaffe I had just committed. I was standing next to a program girl, and maybe insulting a woman like that was not exactly appropriate. - I 'm sorry ... - All right. It did not offend me. I did not speak again, which did not plunge into an awkward silence. Camila was staring at her hands as she thought of something with a serious and slightly sad expression, and I immediately wanted to do something very ridiculous so that I could see that smile on her face again. "I hope you have overcome that." She said in a weak voice. "I'll bet she'll regret one day while you're enjoying her happiness." She did not deserve you, so it was better to have left you. "Well, I did not feel that at the time. I rewound, joking. - It hurt a lot. She was silent for a while, but then broke it. "We all have our bad days. - IS. We all have the worst days of our lives. I nodded. - IS. I think so. She smiled, but a sad smile. "What was the worst day of your life?" "You know what it was." I already told you. - What was the second worst? I did not even know why he was insisting on that. Maybe I was more stupid than I thought I was. "Well, my days are not very pleasant. None of them. But recently, it had an exceptionally bad day. - Which? "I encouraged her to go on. She seemed to ponder for a long time whether to speak or not. Finally he decided to tell. "A few days before you see me in that state." I froze, because even with that little information, I knew the day in question. I remembered her fragile state, the bruises all over her body, and a forgotten hatred within me sprang like fire, with the expectation of finally knowing what, or as I imagined, who had done it to her. "What happened that day?" I felt the muscles in my neck twitch with anger, and I remembered that I had to control myself if I wanted to hear the whole story. "Only one thing happens to me, Lauren. Customers.He spoke without looking at me, and the anger that almost exploded through my mouth made me ignore the pleasure of hearing the sound of my name in her voice. I gave Camila time to speak what I wanted and when I wanted to. It was extremely difficult, but I had no right to interrupt her, despite my willingness to shake her by the shoulders and demand the name of the son of a bitch who had done it. Not wanting to scare her, I took a deep breath and waited. "He was a gentleman at the beginning, as far as that was possible. But I think he was one of those men who did not take no for an answer. Then how he wanted one thing and I refused to do ... Well, he lost his temper. She giggled, still not looking at me. I gathered all the strength that existed inside me to speak in a minimally controlled tone. It was obvious that I already knew the answer, but since I was not reasoning very well, I asked anyway. "Did he hit you?" Tell him he did not hit you. Say no ... "" A little. I felt my stomach sink into a thud and pain, and all I wanted most was not to believe what she said. I was silent at the confirmation of my fears, while digesting the fact that someone had beaten her. Someone had beaten her. Some damn coward, son of a bitch, had beaten her. And it had not been '' a little, '' because I saw the state she was in two days after what happened, which led me to believe she was much worse before. Still mourning the pain I felt, I noticed that there was something worse in that story. I could feel my head heating to the point of boiling, as I struggled not to think about what might have happened after hitting her. At that moment, I would give everything to Camila to keep that thought from me, but the only way to make it happen would be to ask her. And I was afraid of the answer. "Camz ... You kicked him out of his room after that, did not you?" She was silent, staring at the wall ahead, as she intertwined and undid knots in her fingers, trying to find an answer to my question. - IT IS NOT? "I wanted to speak in a polite and controlled manner, but her silence made a desperation come over me, so I screamed. She looked at me in a calm and sad way, with eyes that could belong to an innocent and defenseless child. A child. A fucking raping child. - I tried. But he was stronger. She was raped. SHE WAS STUFFED. That phrase kept repeating itself in my head like a bright red sign, blinking incessantly, blinding me a little more with each blink. She was raped. "Why-" I was surprised to hear my own voice, a little trembling as I tried to reason. "Why did not you ... did not you scream?" He gagged me. I could not believe it, and everything got worse in every detail, and then I did not want to hear anything else. I looked around and noticed that I was already standing, walking around the room, I wondered how long ago I had been doing this. - What's his name? I asked dryly. - Hardin. Think. She looked at me a little fearfully. - As he was? - Because? She was suspicious, and I could not blame her. Perhaps it was my fault of inability to conceal what should now be an expression of a murderous maniac. I tried not to make it clear that some psychopathic thoughts were going through my mind, like walking with a knife and pulling out the eyeballs of that unfortunate, or tying it, bathing it with gasoline and setting it on fire, while enjoying its damn burning body and watching it die slowly and painfully. - I just want to know. "I do not remember very well. - She lied. "Why are you worried about him?" He forced you! You forced the ... For God's sake! "I'm not worried about anyone!" I just think it's easier to let it go! It's over. I stared at her in disbelief. - How can you say that? - I'm glad this happened once! Any bitch does it, remember? I remembered. Those were my own words. "It does not matter what any ... one does. You have your conditions, and if a customer wants to be with you, you have to respect them!"Customers do not respect me, Lauren. You should know that. - I respect you. And if all the customers knew you as I know you, they would see that you deserve respect. You are much more dignified than many women I have ever met, so do not insinuate that you do not deserve it. I do not know about the other girls here, and I do not want to know, but I know that I respect you and every son of a bitch who touches you should do the same! Okay. My craze for being extremely honest in her company was getting annoying and embarrassing. I should keep my mouth shut, but I could not. He simply had to tell her everything, he had to tell her all the good she had and she could not see in herself. I had to show her that she was not either. She was not either. "Thank you ..." I was taken by surprise by her tears, which resolved to descend in a sudden flood, so that I did not know what to do. I've always been awful at comforting people, simply because I've always been too insensitive to be able to say anything to console. But Camila needed me, maybe more than anyone ever needed. I knew that trusting that secret had not been an easy task for her, so it was my duty to make her feel a little better, even if I did not know how. Ignoring the pulsating rage that screamed inside me, I sat down next to her on the bed, trying to appear calm and controlled, which I was not. But she really needed me, so I could not afford to feed that hateful feeling and go out into town hunting the son of a bitch like the animal he was. That would be for later. - Come here. I tried to speak in a soft voice, and I failed miserably. Luckily, she did not seem to identify the hostility emanating from me, so less than a second later Camila was already on my lap, wrapped like a ball in my chest and clinging to me like a koala baby. His head rested on my shoulder and I could feel his warm breath on the skin of my neck. I willed her to stop crying because feeling her tears wetting my shirt only added to the anger inside me and my killer instinct flared up. I hugged her tightly, trying to make her sobs subside, but it did not help. "Okay," I began, trying to convince myself more than her. - It's all right. Do not Cry, please. Seeing a woman crying has always been my weakness. I just could not bear to see a woman cry, and to see Camila crying could be twenty times worse. At that moment she seemed more defenseless and more fragile than she really was, and to think that anyone could do anything bad to that girl, that someone could be such a coward as to take her strength, it was revolting. I'll kill this son of a bitch. "Thank you for being so nice to me ..." She started, trying to control her sobs. "Do not thank me for that. I said dryly as I mentally planned the murder. "Do not do anything stupid, please. - It's all right. I lied, ignoring the image that popped in my mind as I smashed a brick in the face of the accursed. - Promise? "No." "If there was still justice in this fucking world, that bastard had to pay for what he did.I unfolded it, still careful not to wake her, and wrapped both of them in a kind of cocoon, which made her squeeze even closer against my body and sighed quietly. I allowed myself to enjoy a strange pleasure in being with her in such an intimate and caring way, and not thinking about the reason for it, or what it might mean. Instead, I allowed myself to be carried away by the peace that was pouring out of our cocoon, forgetting the thoughts of hatred and revenge I had harbored all night, and then I fell asleep. *** When I woke up, it took me a little while to figure out where I was, until I felt Camila's body glued to mine. I looked around a bit and realized that now we were in completely different positions. She was sleeping heavily on her stomach in bed, and I was on top of her, also facedown, her face tucked into her hair as she held a possessive arm around her waist. I wondered if she could be dead from suffocation by the weight of my body, but as I noticed she was still breathing deeply, I did not have time to despair. I raised my head and saw that the clock on the nightstand next to him marked around 2:30 AM, which meant my time to be gone had long since passed. Carefully, I stepped off of her slowly, making sure she could get used to the lack of my weight there, and then I finally stood, a little staggering. I slipped on my shoes and put on the jacket of my female suit, combing my hair blindly with my fingers, which had to be dented by the nap. I walked over to her, tucked the blanket around her body, lowering it to her side and getting close to her face, and pressed the back of her hand very lightly on the tip of her nose to see if she felt cold. Suddenly, I did not want to leave. It was hard to see her sleeping that way, so quietly, and not feeling a force almost as strong as gravity pulling me toward her. Closer to her. Closer and closer ... I sighed, filling myself with that feeling of overprotection that I had been taking lately with me when I was staying with her. Unfortunately, I had to go, because in a few hours I would have to stand up, pretending to run a company. I gave her a simple but long kiss on her forehead, then got up and left her room. I followed the empty corridor, which I thanked in silence, and went out the back door, going to my waiting car parked a few yards away. As I drove, I tried not to think about what I had heard today. I tried not to bring up again that deep hatred I felt when I heard someone dare to hit her and ravish her. And I tried not to think why I had decided to protect her and try to keep her always happy with all the strength of my being. I still did not understand what Chloe had told me earlier that night, or maybe I pretended not to understand. Maybe she did not want to think about it, but whatever it was, one thing was clear: She was right. I had made Camila very special. *** I was in the middle of the hall of The Hills, which seemed to be fuller than usual. I did not remember how I'd stopped there, but I did not care. The atmosphere was strangely dark and cold, with no music, where only the sounds of loud, unpleasant moans from the upstairs and low chats-almost whispers-could be heard around me as if they were telling secrets to one another. I began to realize that as they spoke, everyone glanced sideways at me. I wondered why it was the subject that was happening there, so I started to feel bad. The bar was empty, with no girls and no drink. I missed a dose of Whiskey, and my mouth went dry abruptly. Without options, I convinced myself that it would be best to climb up and find Camila. As fast as that thought, Chloe appeared beside me, holding my forearm firmly. "She's not available." - How come it's not available? I looked around, and I could see that the conversation had now ceased, and everyone in the room was staring at us. "You're late." She already has a client. "I was not late at all!" I paid for her week. "He offered more money, so she's his for now. I stared at her incredulously as I worked out a way to dodge her grip - even if it would break her wrist - and up the stairs. As if they could read my thoughts, some men moved to stand between me and the stairs, forming a human shield. - What the fuck? -I said, already exalted - I paid first! "She is a desired object, my dear. Understand ... - She's MINE! "She's not for sale!" If you want, rent it, but do not consider it yours. She is not, and never will be! "Your daughter's-" "Why did you delay?" A voice interrupted my curse. The voice I knew. That I sought, and never in my life longed so willingly to hear. I looked up and saw her. She was wearing clothes I had never seen her wear. Vulgar clothes, heavy makeup and a sad face. While strong colors on his face were screaming, they could not draw the attention of various bruises she had in her mouth, around the eyes and down, all over the body, indecently exposed by the short skirt and the almost transparent top. A whore. An object, with the mark of all rents over time. "I waited for you, but you did not." I thought you were going to protect me. The scene had now changed, and now there were only the two of us, still in our positions, while all the other coadjuvants had disappeared. I was overwhelmed by hope that I could walk to her, but my joy lasted long enough for me to realize that I could not move. I tried to speak, but my voice was not audible either. I was impotent, and could only pray that she could read my thoughts. But she could not. "You said you'd be around." I said ... I'll be! I did not lie, I want to be! - It's your fault. I'm so your fault. I'll take care of you ... I'll ... "" Do not come back here. I do not want to see you anymore, I do not want to talk to you anymore. Pretend you do not know me, that I never existed. I despaired, still trapped in the same place, trying for all that was most sacred to scream something, anything, but my voice would not obey me. She could not throw me out of her life like that! I could not go! Camz! Please ... "She turned and walked slowly down the hall to the bedrooms, and I could do nothing but watch her walk away. Please! Please ... - Lauren? A familiar velvety voice called my name, slowly drawing me out of that dream. I opened my eyes and saw Ally's face in front of mine, staring at me curiously. Gradually I felt the pain in my neck from the awful position I was in, my head resting on my arms on the table in my study. "You dozed off. I raised my head slowly, aware that my muscles screamed in protest. - Excuse me. I had a very bad night. I remembered the night in question. After I got home, I took a shower and lay down on the bed, doing all the strength I could to not think about what I had heard from Camila. So obviously it was the only thing I thought about all night long, which kept me from having a normal sleep. Eventually the beginning of a dream began to nebular my mind, but immediately was amazed by the memory of the conversation we had a few hours before, or my imagination that insisted on painting, to the smallest detail, as I had been told. As a result, I spent the whole night awake. "You were grumbling things," Ally began, trying to sound sensitive. I stared at her a little worried. I did not know he was muttering in his sleep. - What I said? - A name. Great. I did not need to ask, I knew exactly what it was.Who is Camz? She asked, still staring at me. - Nobody. - Lie. You seemed too worried for her to be nobody. - She said with conviction, which reminded me why she always won all the discussions that happened between us. - Okay. She's a friend. It has problems. Ally looked at me with several unspoken questions, but which I managed to capture. It was obvious that such a thing as '' Who the hell is this woman '' and '' Where the hell did you meet her '' was going through her head, but I allowed myself to enjoy her holy discretion and be silent since nothing had been asked. - Right. - She finally said, after analyzing me a bit. "Am I ever going to meet her?" That was an intriguing question, because I did not know the answer. If Ally knew Camila and found out the kind of relationship I had with her, it would have been that I would end up being skinned alive. If they knew each other and that little detail kept secret, I had a vague impression that they would probably become best friends. The good part was that imagining them getting on well made me feel a strange and genuine joy. The bad part was that I could never hide something from Ally for long. - Do not know. I answered, standing up, massaging my neck in an attempt to reduce the pain. - I'm not well. - I noticed that. Go home, your looks are horrible. "Do not I have meetings today?" I asked, a little astonished. - Yes, but I'm canceling. You're in no condition- "" No, I will. Ally stared at me as if I had just confessed that I liked Nazi ideas. "I need to get my head on something." "I tried to explain before she thought of going in." - It'll be good for me. I just need a painkiller down my neck. She continued to stare at me suspiciously, and I knew why. I had never preferred to go to meetings and discuss business matters to go to the house and do nothing. In fact, it had always been a punishment to play my part there, so she was sure that whatever was troubling me was quite serious. - Are you sure? She asked, a little worried. - Have. I just need you to go with me. How much time do we have before the first meeting? "It'll be less than two hours later." So we can use this time for you to explain to me what this meeting is all about. And please explain things to me that I never wanted to know. By now I had grown accustomed to Ally's expression of surprise. Coming out of her small state of shock, she withdrew and returned seconds later with a glass of water and an analgesic. I thanked him, taking the medicine he had offered, and went to sit next to him in the armchair on the opposite side of my desk. I did not want to think of anything that would give me doubts. He did not want to think about the dream he had or the meaning of it. I did not want to think about the intensity of the despair I felt when I thought I had to get out of her life, or the sadness that overwhelmed me when I heard her say she did not want to be around anymore. I did not want to think about her, and nothing to remind her of.It was not to think of Camila that it made me feel bad, but I did not understand the reason for the confusion of sensations in which I found myself every time she appeared in my head. In fact, thinking of her was good. It was too good to be considered healthy. Yet she had a strange power to make me doubt everything I felt after I had met her. As this was an issue that had been bothering me more and more, and as I tried to reach a conclusion, I failed miserably, decided to try not to think about it, or to think as little as possible. Unfortunately my goal was not reached when there was nothing else to occupy my head, so I would need Ally in that. I needed problems that demanded absolutely nothing from my emotional side. *** The day went off as expected. I attended four important meetings with Ally, and for the first time I was able to make decisions where I did not need her to intervene just because I could have spoken a bullshit or two. Before each of the meetings, she explained the reason for the discussions, what were the objectives of the clients and ours. It was interesting to note that in a way, the work I had theoretically done for a few years was not monotonous and unpleasant as I thought it was, and I had to give reason for Ally's speculation when she said that I just did not like what I did because he had never tried to do it right. I felt like an idiot asking her about certain things that I obviously should have known, but I could count on her professionalism and friendship to clarify important, neglected points so far. However, not even my commitment to think of anything other than business was able to keep me from remembering it two or three times. - I am proud of you. I stared at Ally a little stunned, coming back from my daydreaming. We were in my living room, she sat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, and I took my place in the black leather armchair. - Oh thanks. - Your decisions were good. And I did not even have to get involved. She was staring at me, smiling. "Well ... I think I paid more attention this time. She kept staring at me for a while, then spoke. - Why are you asking me that? "Because you change from water to wine from one day to the next." I come here and see you depressed and tired of work. The next day, his gaze seems to have a glow from someone who has just discovered that he fell in love for the first time. So one more day and you're in the confusion in person. I do not know what you have, and I do not know who is doing it, but you seem lost. I looked at her without saying anything. I had nothing to say. I could not justify my strange behavior during those days. And she was right, I was lost. "However," she interrupted my thoughts, "there are times when I look at you and it seems to me that for the first time after your great pit, you are beginning to meet again. What an irony, is not it? "My life is full of ironies, Ally. She smiled. "All right, Lauren. I will not force the bar. Whenever you want, come and talk to me. I'm a good listener, you know that. Maybe I can help you if you let me try to do this. Ally got up and walked elegantly to the door. "Oh," he said, turning to face me again, "you have another party tomorrow." I told you so today, but it's always good to remember. It would be nice if you were, but if you really do not want to go ... "" I will. I hastened to speak, before I could think of the fact that I did not really want to go, and that I'd rather be somewhere else tomorrow night. - It's all right. Go home to sleep, your eyes are terrible. They should be. I was awful, and I feared that the chaos that formed within me would take on greater proportions. So, as fast as I admitted it was not my will, I made the decision to leave my needs aside and really go home.*** I woke up the next morning in a bad mood, partly because I knew that my day would not be good, and part of the night again badly asleep. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night because of bad dreams, and all of them relied on her illustrious presence. I dreamed of a faceless Hardin, who beat so hard on her that it left her unconscious. Another dream was a parallel reality where she did not seem to know me, and a third one consisted of the two of us having wild sex in my bed. The three dreams, in one form or another, terrified me. To my unhappiness, I did not have to attend many meetings throughout the day. What was once a punishment was now an efficient way to keep my ghosts away from me. Instead, I spent most of the day sitting at my desk reading and rereading contracts. Unfortunately, I could tell that it was very easy to lose the thought with simple readings. So I forced Ally to stay by my side all day, reading papers with me. That way, when her insight warned her that my head was far beyond the lines of the contracts ahead of us, she called me back to reality. However, none of this distracted me from the fact that it was increasingly difficult not to think about her. As the time I refused to remember her presence increased, the greater the difficulty in not letting her suddenly invade my mind. I could not run away from her for long, and it was becoming clearer and clearer. At 6:00 pm I went home to take a shower and get ready for the party I was going to attend. It was not about closing deals, but apparently my presence was important, Ally had told me. That way, in a little more than half an hour I was ready, still wondering what would be the best option: To leave as soon as my quota of presence was enough, getting rid of that punishment as soon as possible, or stay in the party as long as possible, avoiding me to stop at a place I wanted to go to but that I was trying not to want. I rushed to my Porsche Cayenne in less formal clothes than I was accustomed to wearing: I was wearing a white dress and put on a pair of gold earrings with a necklace and a bracelet that matched the earrings. I put on a light makeup and highlighted my eyes well, shortly after I was welcomed by people I was sure I had never seen in life, but who still called me by the first name. The house was luxurious, like all the places where parties of that sort happened. Much of the walls were of glass, giving a clean style to the environment. Deep down, a bland Jazz played, giving me sleep and reminding me how I hated the sound of saxophones. Women in short, low-cut and expensive dresses walked among the guests with no apparent purpose, drinking glasses of champagne and laughing at idiot jokes uttered by rich and abused old men. Thank God, I did not take long to find Ally. I ran to her side, deciding that I would do my best to feel comfortable and have fun there. - Wow, you're a cat! "Do not make me blush in front of these people, Ally. I said, receiving a smile from her in response.Some people here want to meet you. How about making new friends? She said with a mocking smile. "Do not be false. "Come on, they're not so bad. A short time later, we were invited to sit at a large round table where men and women were discussing business, and I immediately wondered, in case I pulled some random subject, such as football or music, we could have a normal discussion. Apparently, all those people thought was money-related, and I felt a bit stingy about trying to get into the subject. I took a shot of Whiskey from the waiter. Ally glared at me, but did not stop me. "So, Lauren ..." A middle-aged woman began, already drunk, looking at me and taking me out of my reverie. "Where is Mrs. Jauregui?" Ally seemed to move a little in her chair beside me, a little uncomfortable about it. I was probably afraid that just mentioning that subject would bring me all the depression I could get through. I looked at her with a calm expression, trying to inform her that I did not mind talking about it. - I'm not married. She looked startled. - And why not? Do not you want to start a family? - I want! I spoke at once, and was surprised at the truth in my words. I had never thought much about it, but now that the question had been put before me, I could see that the truth in my statement was undeniable. "I just have not found a girl yet. A friend of the woman who was talking to me, also drunk, joined the conversation. "Darling, believe me, you can have the person you want, whether male or female. "I do not think I can." - He said, smiling - Who knows someday ... - Ah, yes you can. - The first woman interrupted - Look at your package. - That's right. The complete package! "I mean," she continued, "you own the Jauregui Companies, do not you?" "No ... My father is, I only run one of the branches ..." "Enough money. Daughter of the owner, will die rich. - Not to mention that you are a bad wand and still have a nice toast between your legs. The other interrupted, blinking at me. "You know," I began, a little more heartfelt than I should have-I'm cool, too. I'm a nice person. I tried to get Ally's support, but by now she was engrossed in a conversation with the couple next to her. Of course. "One of them said, not giving a damn about my words." But the fact is, any woman would throw herself at his feet. You just need to give her a credit card. - What? I asked incredulously. - Look there. Do you see that man in the green shirt with that little slut? I looked at the direction his finger was pointing, and I saw a middle-aged man talking to a girl who could be his daughter in an extremely fair dress and grinning ear to ear for the man, charm 'on his shoulder. The man smiled back, staring hungrily at him in a public place. - I am. - Yeah. He is my husband. I looked at the woman in amazement. - You are not going to do anything? The two women looked at each other, and a second later, they began to laugh. "And why would I?" I thought of explaining to her that this girl was giving up on her husband, and by all indications, the man was not exactly fighting the seduction. But then I understood that, though drunk, the woman had a full notion of it. "I have everything I want from him. She said, coming a little closer to me. "I'll attend social events at your side so we'll look like a couple." He takes my dresses, my shoes, and my hairdresser. I take wonderful trips on cruises at least four times a year. All I have to do is pretend that I do not see that. - It's a fair exchange. The other finished, grinning and snapping at the waiter who passed by our table, bringing drinks."I'm telling you, you can have the person you want." In your condition I would say that you prefer women, do not you? It is not difficult to find someone who pretends to be your wife. That way you gain credibility and respect, and yet you can live your life, say, '' alternative, '' without paying anything for it. "Only your wife can not be jealous," began the other, "with a rich and beautiful woman to take care of, we have to admit that the competition is greatly increased. Even because an alliance on the finger makes a person much more interesting to conquer. The two blinked at me in synchrony, so I stared at them with a startled face. I did not know if I was too shocked to say anything or irritated to the point of almost sending them to hell, but whatever the case, I could not stay there any longer. - Excuse. I said, standing and turning my back to the table, reaching for another dose of Whiskey from the tray of one of the waiters passing by. I walked towards the bar, me and my indignation, so I sat on one of the high stools and drank at once, my dose of Whiskey. I refused to accept that my life would turn out to be this. It was difficult to accept that nothing would be the least true, and being surrounded by all that falsehood and interest only made me feel more and more diminished and less valued. In fact, all that had just been said was not a complete surprise. I was aware of cases like this, where a marriage sustained itself only by its appearance, but to have confirmation of this kind of thing, so vehemently and in a way that seemed so banal, was not in my plans. I had my third dose of Whiskey, followed by four more servings. One girl tried to bring up a subject with me, asking if I was '' a '' Lauren Jauregui, but I did not pay much attention to her. I tried to keep myself hidden, not wanting anyone to recognize me and come and talk stupid things. I was not in my best mood, and I had the impression that I would end up having someone else go and take that ass that night. I was an object. In the end, we were all objects. I was an object, so to her. Ready. All my caution during those two days had gone downhill. Now I allowed myself to remember Camilla clearly, in the small details, and did not try to hold the will I had to think of her more and more. I had my certainty that alcohol helped me in this task, leaving me dangerously vulnerable to that memory. I drew a line of resemblance between me and her, feeling some of her bitterness taking me. We were both objects, both of us used. Like her clients, the women who approached me had an interest, something that did not take into account what I was, or how hard I tried to be someone better. Around me, the unbearably slow and monotonous Jazz continued to play, while futile women still laughed at the same bland jokes told by the same unhappy and promiscuous middle-aged men. The waiters seemed to be the only people with whom I still had some sympathy at the time, but neither could they make me stay now. - Lauren! Ally had found me. She would see my state and give me a scolding, starting a speech about my responsibilities and the "Jauregui" role that I should play. Fuck you. - What are you doing here? I looked for you everywhere! - I came to drink. "I do not believe you-" "Ally," I began, raising a hand to interrupt her, "please. Leave me alone. Please. Something in the tone of my voice seemed to alert her that maybe I was serious. - What happened? She asked, sitting on the bench next to me and touching my left shoulder. - I can 't take it. These people ... It's all so artificial, so shallow. She kept staring at me, obviously not understanding what my sudden depression was about. "I'm leaving here before it goes crazy." I took the car keys out of my pocket and handed it to her. - Can you take care of him for me? I'm not fit. - It's all right. Please take care. Try to sleep, forget whatever you are thinking. "Ally, I'm not going home. I had to tell her the truth. It starts because the alcohol forced me, but also because I saw no reason to lie at that moment.Ally stared at me for a little longer, but her description had always been greater than her curiosity. She did not know where I was going, or who I was going to meet, but it was enough to know that it was not for her to ask me potentially indiscreet questions. - Right. Do you know what you're doing? She asked worriedly. "No," I admitted. "But right now, this is the best place I could be. I got up, finishing the eighth glass of Whiskey, and walked to the exit. I heard people mentioning my name in the distance, but I was not in the mood to check it out. And, after all, it should not really matter. I used my cell phone to tell the taxi company where the driver should pick me up. After five long minutes, a bright yellow stood in front of me. I banged on the door with a little force, and then recited the destination address. I did not expect to be welcomed by anyone. As I entered the room, I made a right path from the beginning, simply ignoring the presence of strangers around me or the mention of my name by different female voices. I climbed the stairs, taking care of the steps that occasionally came out of focus. I remembered that Camila did not like me in this state, and immediately regretted having drunk all those doses of Whiskey. I felt the fear of rejection strike me like a punch, and I concentrated to keep myself balanced as I reached the last step, walking a little staggering into the hall. I've always had good manners. Fortunately, if there was anything I could boast about, it was my education and my chivalry. So I could only blame the drink when a total lack of class struck me, causing me to simply turn the knob of Camila's room and enter, without the slightest ceremony. I found the room empty, the bed made up. I was possessed by an irrational hatred before I even checked the reason she was not in the room. Maybe she was out, my optimistic side argued, but almost immediately she was hit by the pessimistic side, saying, "Or she might be in the parlor offering herself to anyone. "Maybe one of the voices I decided to ignore was hers. No. I would recognize his voice by saying anything, especially my name. Maybe she thought I would not come today, since I was away yesterday. I must have rambled for a long time, standing staring at the bed, and then a noise of a door lock woke me up. I looked to the right for the first time, as if before the bathroom door was not there, and I watched her be opened and slowly reveal a wet Camilla from head to toe, trying to curl up in a white fluffy towel showing parts of her body between the crevices that the cloth made The most beautiful parts of her body. She was slow to notice my presence there. He was singing some music, staring at the floor as he rocked the ends of the towel in his hair, trying to make them less wet. I do not know if I was silent because I was hypnotized or because I had any hope that maybe she would not notice me right there in the middle of the room, looking at her with a psychopathic face. It was amazing how beautiful she was more than I remembered. Maybe that was due to the fact that I had been trying not to remember her, trying to take her image away from my thoughts. Perhaps a portion of this blame was also on the Whiskey doses, but the fact was that, at that moment, Camila was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life. - AAAHHH! Ah yes. I was still there, in the middle of her room. - Hi sorry. - Fuck, Lauren! She said, pulling the towel from every corner and trying to cover the parts I looked like a pervert. "I'm sorry, I did not know you were going to get naked from the inside." "I did not mean it, and it's not like I've never seen it before, right?" I smiled wickedly. "It's not because you've already seen that you can come into my room and watch me here!" - All right, all right. I said, as if I gave her reason and was about to leave the room. But because of my drunken state, I kept looking at his warm body, as if he had said nothing at all. - HI? She shouted. - What the hell! I turned, reluctantly, staring at a white wall and incredibly dull for five seconds. - Can I look? I asked impatiently. Without waiting for an answer, I turned to face her again. She finished wearing a blue robe. I do not know how that was possible, but just by looking at her I could feel-or feel I felt-the freshness of the freshly soaked bath and the softness of that tanned skin, still a bit damp and extremely inviting. God, I missed her.I watched her as a dog admires a chicken being roasted in the bakery, but I was too drunk to feel embarrassed about it. She continued to try to dry her hair better with the same towel, while she also looked at me with a curious and still slightly irritated look. "Why did not you come yesterday?" She broke the silence, going to sit on the bed. - Because I did not want. "I thought it best to summarize the whole" I want-to-stop-you-to-think "situation with this little phrase. Not that I minded telling the truth, given the high level of alcohol in my body, but I just did not want to talk too much. - Ah. She looked away, and I immediately noticed that my response seemed gross. "I thought you would come every day, since you paid for them ... I had thought of that too, but thanks to the recent panic and confusion I found myself getting myself thinking about her or wanting her, I had to change my plans. Yes, after all, I was a coward. "You must have noticed that I drank." "I tried to change the subject, going to sit next to her, a little closer than ideal. "But I will not hurt you." "I know not. Bullshit. She said with a sarcastic smile. Without thinking much, I brought my mouth to her neck, kissing it lightly under my ear. I felt the cool temperature of her skin with her lips, and I immediately noticed that she was creepy. I leaned my left arm on the bed, taking my right hand to the nape of the neck, bringing her closer. I pressed the kiss to her neck, letting air in her skin and feeling the softness of her face. "Why are not you wearing your perfume?" "I did not need the cream this week. She breathed. True, such a cream served to improve the bruises she got from clients. As I paid for the whole week, she obviously had not gotten any further bruises to the collection. I was satisfied with that fact, but I really, really liked that perfume. "Do you want me to give it to you?" For me. She would not go because she was hurt because she needed to. She would pass it on to me. Because she knew that fucking scent drove me crazy. Inconsistently, I took my left hand that propped my body up from the mattress and slid it into its blue robe, making circular movements on one of its thighs. "I want ..." I said, trying to contain a minimum of firmness in my voice, still breathing into his neck. I protested as she walked away, rising and walking to the bathroom. I stared at the door like an abandoned child, but to my happiness, seconds later she was back, carrying a flask of creamy liquid, and my cock throbbed painfully with the approach of an intense desire. Camila whirled me around so that my feet touched the floor off the bed, as if I were perfectly seated in a chair. Placing a leg on either side of my body, she sat on my lap, staring at me with a look that could be sweet and naughty at the same time. Then, certainly for the purpose of killing me, she undid the knot in her robe and pulled him down, letting it slip down my legs and fall to the ground. Still staring at me, Camila grabbed one of my hands and squeezed a drop of the contents of the bottle into my palm as I tried to control my breathing.- Pass me on. Did she really think I could get that shit on her? She could not find it. I could barely reason, and it seemed to be feebly frozen as my eyes swept her body up and down and I tried to figure out how to get my dress off in less than a second and burrow into her pussy so deep that my orgasm would come in first investee. Finally she seemed to understand that it was a little too much for my drunken mind, then she held my hand firmly and brought it to her chest, spreading the perfumed liquid there. As a teenager in puberty, I almost burst out horny to admire how my luscious hands slipped into her breasts in a hypnotic way, and at the moment the only fear I had was being literally drooling. Then my brain caught that scent, now being scattered all over the length of its body. It was incredible how that perfume brought me such a delicious memory. The memory of her. There could be no better perfume anywhere in the world. That perfume was a personal aphrodisiac, and I feared that, mixed with all those Whiskey doses, I would end up in some kind of limbo. Oh, my God, I miss her. - Camzzi ... - Yes? She said, still staring at me with that deliciously innocent look. "I can ... Please ..." I tried to maintain a logical reasoning, but it was practically impossible. Impossible because that perfume was too strong to allow me to think. Impossible because she was too close. Impossible, because I wanted her too much. - You want me? She spoke in a provocative tone to my ear. "Very-" I tried to say, but all I could do was sigh the word, resting my head on his shoulder. "You can do whatever you want with me." I'm yours this week, remember? She said, lifting my white dress and taking off my necklace and my bracelet. I tried to ignore the sharp pain I felt from adding '' this week '' to the sentence. She was mine for this week, and if I did not pay for the next one, she would not belong to me any more. Gently, she pushed me back, making me fall back on the bed as she stood on my lap. With skill, he undid my heels and earrings. Again I felt a sharp pain at the thought that her mastery of it was due to the fact that Camila had had so many other experiences that gave her practically perfection in what she was supposed to do. It hurt to know that I was just another one at that moment perfecting his skills. In fact, I was just one more. I had had that certainty today, and to be honest, I had been certain of that for some time. Remembering this only made me feel even smaller and more insignificant. - Wait. I said as I held her hands. She looked at me confused. "Just ... Pretend you feel something." Anything. I said, trying to contain the emotion that overwhelmed me, reminding me again how drunk I was supposed to be. - Pretend that I'm important. I made this request to her in a true, perhaps much truer, way than I'd like to admit. Not because she was the only girl who could pretend she cared, but because she was the only one in whose pretense I wanted to believe. She stared at me with an indecipherable expression on her face for some time, then gave me a slightly unhappy smile. "If you only knew ..." She began, stroking my face with her thin fingers, still staring at me. I held his hand there for a while longer, wanting only to feel the warmth of her skin, but finally let it go, letting her do her job. I closed my eyes and let myself feel wanted at that moment. I knew that cheating like that with a prostitute was pathetic, but letting myself be fooled by the '' feelings '' of a program girl was more acceptable than being fooled by any girl. In the end, I would have been aware that I had been deceived, which was different from deluding myself for being too innocent to notice the lie. As I imagined, Camila did what I asked for perfectly. With the help of alcohol, I could believe that this was not a program girl, now riding on me with such intimacy, but rather a person who actually felt something for me.Not necessarily love, but at least some good feeling, something that was not just horny or interest. But again, I should remember that I was drunk, therefore, sensitive. Besides, I was allowing her to come back with full force into my life, exercising that strange power she had been exerting lately. I was leaning and mixing all these things, which gave me a damn hope that all this might not be just pretense. And that hope was going to leave me in the shit. Why did she have to be so good? Why did she have to be so beautiful? So she? Why did she have to have that perfume, or those eyes? And why did he have to look at me like that, as if he liked me? I tried to keep my head busy with these ramblings because the only question to which I really wanted to prove answers, rather than pull away, I desperately wanted to bring me more and more of it. "Lauren ..." I heard her whisper in my ear, now lying on top of me, trying to control the fears in her voice over her movements. She was going to say something. Maybe something important. But to hear my fucking name being uttered by that girl in my fucking ear while I was in it, demanded a lot of my control. Instinctively, I hugged her tightly, making the movements inside her more abrupt and desperate as I waited in silence for the continuation of that sentence. "Pretend I'm important too." Yes. I wish I could just pretend she was important. In fact, I just wanted to pretend to myself that she was special. But she was special. Too special for the little bit of time we knew each other. Too important for a whore. Fucking my fucking head more than I could. I rolled over on the bed, so I was over her, and as I stared into her face again, the urge to kiss her came with too much force. Why did all the feelings she aroused in me have to manifest so intensely? But I could not kiss her. She was a program girl, and I had experience with women like that to know that almost all of them refused to kiss, because that act was too intimate for a purely professional relationship. I was a bit shocked to see the main reason I did not attack her as a teenager full of hormones. I thought she would not accept it, I even considered not doing it because kissing a whore was out of the question. IS. I was already in the shit. Before I could betray myself, I thrust my face into her hair as I thrust hard at her. I felt her hands curl into my hair as she spread wet kisses down my neck, which did not make me want to taste her tongue any less. With a very high discipline to a drunk, we managed our orgasms for some time, always slowing down and changing position when she felt that she or I were beginning to lose control. When the situation reached an uncontrollable point, I allowed her to come first, following her almost immediately. The little reason that remained in me was screaming for me to wear me and go away from there, but as at that moment, my emotional side seemed prevalent, let myself relax on her, taking care of your body weight. She did not say anything for a long time. I did not say either. Unlike other fucks I had, where the post-orgasm silence showed embarrassing, I entered into a state of despair with the fact of having nothing to say. Even so, he used to talk any shit, just so the silence would not go on. With her, it did not look like that. I was comfortable with that moment of peace, and it was not necessary to fill it with words. In fact, it seemed wrong to say something that would break the strange mood of magic and tranquility. I would not find words that could be said, so I let myself savor the moment. I allowed myself to feel her hands wandering behind me casually, as if they were playing there. I allowed myself to feel the scent of her skin without restraint, without trying to push me away, strategically positioning my face in the curve of her neck. I allowed myself to sink my fingers into his hair, still wet, while making motions without a certain purpose, but which simply seemed to fit there.We stayed like this for some time. Every now and then I would sigh, thinking of the things I did and should not have done, feeling a joyous pleasure in noticing the skin on his neck, shivering with every breath I took. "Sleep here ..." I was taken by surprise by the unexpected sound breaking the comfortable silence and along with it, as I had imagined that the magic of that moment would happen. His words reached the rational part of me, the one that still fought bravely. Then, since I felt an almost immoral desire to accept her request and stay there that night, in that bed, with her like that, I felt the need to flee, like the coward she was. Because if I did not get out fast, I would end up giving in to her. In all. "No, I have to go," I said, already getting up and collecting my dress and accessories scattered around the room, while discarding the used condom. "But tomorrow is Saturday. His voice sounded a little disappointed, so I had to work hard not to fall into this satan trap. The tone of sadness in his voice made me dangerously vulnerable. "I have to wake up early tomorrow. I'll be busy. I said a little harshly, putting my earrings without looking at her. It was a lie. I would do absolutely nothing tomorrow. Well, maybe I'd spent the whole day martyring myself for today's weakness. But nothing more. - Ah understood. Okay then. Only I knew of the epic battle being waged within me. On the one hand, my emotions told me to jump back on that bed, take Camila in my lap and roll like a ball in my chest. On the other, my reason - or perhaps cowardice - ordered me to leave. Immediately. I dressed the dress anyway, fit the heel and looked at it for the first time, since I had decided to leave. His gaze was intense. Not only that, but the bond that formed between our looks. Intense how one feels when he is 14 and his platonic love looks at him for the first time. Intense to make disappear what exists around. Intense fucking. For a moment, I forgot I had decided to leave. - It's all right? - All. I said, blinking a few times and averting my gaze from hers. "I'll go then. Until another day. "Until." I hurried out of the room, trying not to rush. Her presence held me there. The mood of that room left me weak, almost defenseless, and I began to fear for my sanity. I had to take serious steps to control all my lack of experience of my own feelings when it came to her. I descended the stairs in a hurry, again ignoring some honeyed voices calling to me. I followed the back exit, finding a deserted dark street. I did not care and walked a little, not wanting to think about anything. In absolutely nothing. After a few minutes, I realized I had to call a cab if I did not want to go home on foot. I dialed the number saved on my cell phone, useful for emergencies like this, and waited. Half an hour later I was home. I staggered into bed, not bothering to take a shower or change my clothes. I prayed silently so that sleep would overwhelm me as quickly as possible. I did not want to think, because if I thought, I would come to some rather appalling conclusions. I would not know how to deal with them, because I was weak or imbecile, but anyway, I was sure I could end up mad and depressed. And just to have that notion, I already had an idea of what was happening to me, but whenever that idea popped into my head, I'd let it go, too terrified to try to deal with it. I already had an idea. I already knew. But she did not want to admit it. She could not admit it. I would not admit it.
