Twelve ~ Caliste
The room was small but nicely appointed in what could only be called 50’s retro chic. Twin beds with matching rose-toned coverings, both with pink padded headboards. White dressers and a make-up table, a small boxy looking TV set in the corner with rabbit ears that seemed to only play reruns of Ozzie & Harriet, The Donna Reed Show, I Love Lucy, and Father Knows Best. I’d had it on for an hour, then broke down and cried into a floral-scented handkerchief that I’d dug out of a dresser drawer. The closet overflowed with June Cleaver’s wardrobe and at least fourteen dozen wigs lined up neatly on a wall of shelves with rose print shelf paper. Then, there were the high heels. A hundred pairs easily, all brand new and shiny and in my size.
A few days ago, I would have found it enchanting. Now, I found terrifying. Whatever kind of warped fantasy was churning in Raphael’s head was a twisted one. How could I have not seen a glimmer of his madness? I’d done brunch with him for two months. And yes, he had complimented my esthetic constantly, but that wasn’t unusual. Most of my clients loved my look, and my legs in stockings and pumps. None, that I knew of, had set up a fucking cabin in the woods and outfitted it to resemble a Make Room for Daddy set.
I’d tried to keep my bearings in the car, but I had a terrible sense of direction, and after we’d left the highway, I was well and truly lost. Raphael hadn’t spoken one word to me other than to command me to stop crying. When he reached back to slap me, I stopped. My cheek still stung where the back of his hand had cracked my cheek. How had I so misread that man? I needed to get out of here, somehow, someway, before or after dinner. I feared that he had the intention of sleeping here tonight, with me. Just the thought of him uttering his delusional racist madness while he pawed at me made bile come up into my mouth. I swallowed and gave the room another look.
There was no window to escape through, and Joe the gorilla was stationed outside the door.
I was supposed to be getting dressed for dinner. There was no way I’d be able to eat, even though I’d not had a bite since…God, when had I eaten last? I’d lost track of time and where I even was. Blue Moon! I’d eaten at Blue Moon. Butch had made sure I’d had a little something. Kebobs! Yes. We’d had a tender, intimate moment in the shower before the food. Given the trauma of the past twenty or so hours, I clung to the gauzy memories of being loved by that gruff, uncouth, Pitbull of a man for dear life. If only we’d acted sooner. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, my aunt used to say when someone would begin wishing. I’d been a fool.
“You’re a stupid man, Caliste.” I sighed as I stared at myself in the lighted mirror. I looked ghastly. I’d have to wash off and start over with my makeup. The three-hour ride into the boonies had played havoc on my eyeliner. I had black smudges on my face from weeping and begging for my freedom. How dumb was I to think that they would simply let me go if I cried big enough tears? “Stupid, stupid man.” I flung the hankie at my reflection, got to my feet, and walked over to the door to rap on it gently. “Hello? Mr. Joe? I need to use the lavatory and freshen up my face and hair. May I please come out?”
I heard the key slide into the old-fashioned lock. When the door creaked open, I jumped back then demurely smiled at the hulk in the doorway. He wasn’t a bad looking sort of man. Massive and intimidating, but pleasant enough. Quite young. No older than twenty-five, I would guess. I smiled up at him and saw a glimmer of something in his plain brown eyes. Hmmm.
“Thank you so much, good Sir. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“No trouble, Ma’am.” He gave the room a quick once-over, then took me by the arm.
“Oh, darling, I’m not nearly old enough to be called Ma’am,” I teased, ramping up my glorious Southern belle persona. If I had a fan, I would have tapped his barrel chest with it. “You may call me Onyx.” We made our way down the narrow hallway I’d been hustled down a few hours ago. Joe let me limp along this time. I leaned on him more than was actually warranted. We came upon a few doors. One was open and led to the living room, another was closed, and a third led to the bathroom. Joe directed me into the tiny room, which was obviously 1950’s, but there was no retro chic about it. I smiled and batted my lashes. “Oh, a tub! I would love to take a bath but I’m afraid I might need help in and out of the tub. Can you call Mr. Ortez to come assist me?”
“Mr. Ortez got called out on business. He’ll be bringing dinner back with him. I can help you in and out of the tub, Onyx.”
I gave him my widest smile. “Marvelous! Mr. Ortez will be so pleased when he hears how helpful you’ve been in ensuring that I’m looking my best for him. Give me two minutes to go back to my room and gather a razor, some bath salts, and a robe. Can you give the tub a fast wipe down and begin filling it, Mr. Joe?”
His gaze went down over me then slowly came back up. As I suspected. “Sure, yeah. Just don’t do anything stupid. You’re not able to run away, and if you could, we’re too far from anything for you to get anywhere.”
“Don’t you fret. I have no plans to push my luck.” I batted my lashes then gimped down the hall. Eying the living room as I passed it, I knew that what Joe had said was the truth. We were on some backroads dirt lane, hidden among trees and corn fields. Even if I did make a break for it on foot, they’d catch me with ease. No, I needed to come up with a different plan. What that might be, I had no clue.
Worrying my lower lip, I slipped back into the room that time forgot, and pulled a sheer white robe and matching negligee from a padded hanger, then limped to the makeup table. Running a finger over the small glass jars of bath salts along the far end of the table, I chose one that was rose and wisteria. Then I sighed over the state of my nails. Several of them were missing. I rummaged around in one of the three drawers and found a stash of artificial nails, polish, and a brand-new nail dresser file. I threw a look over my shoulder, then lifted the file from the drawer, my pulse picking up as I studied the pointed end. I placed the filed back where it was, pulled in a steadying breath, and shuffled my way back to the bath.
Joe was standing by the tub, looking proud as punch as water thundered into the old claw foot.
“Oh my, that looks lush! Let me slip by to spoon some of these scented salts into the water, then you can help me undress.” He nodded and stepped to the side. I gave him my back and he unzipped me, his fingers brushing along my neck. As we gingerly removed my dress and the crinoline skirts, his breathing grew a bit harsher. Finally, I was down to my panties, a pretty little lacy thong, white, with a black bow. My bralette was padded, and when he unhooked it, the backs of his fingers skimmed my spine. I drew in a breath and giggled nervously.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” he whispered.
I threw a coy look over my shoulder. His pupils had swallowed up the light brown of his irises. “No need to apologize” I let the bra straps glide down my arms. “I can manage to get my panties off, I think. Just stay close in case my injured leg chooses to buckle.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he croaked. I pushed my panties down, then wobbled a bit as I stepped out of them. Standing naked in front of a stranger didn’t bother me. I’d been a whore for too long to have any modesty left. Joe slid a hand around me as I took a step. Lifting my leg was incredibly painful, but I managed to get into the tub.
“If you’d just remove the bandage, please, Joe?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Oh! Do let me hang onto you.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. The material of his jacket was rather coarse and there were small pulls here and there. “Here, let me turn around.”
I inched around in a half circle, my cock now mere inches from his face. He tugged the tape from my wounds with a quick jerk. I yelped and teetered a bit. He grunted, then straightened as I clung to him.
“Sit down slow,” he said and took my hand, his eyes never leaving my flaccid prick until it was submerged. I sighed in relief, then slipped down into the scented water. “I have to go…outside. The door. Yell and I’ll help you out.”
I gave him my most dazzling smile. “You are a true gentleman and know how to treat a lady with dignity and respect.”
The tips of his ears grew red. He exited the bathroom, closed the door, and then took his place on the other side. The hot water and bath salts made my abraded hip and thigh burn, but I let the hot water soak away the aches. My neck was stiff and my heart heavy. Staring up at the rusty shower head, I began to make a plan. I wasn’t sure if a refined person such as me could dispatch two men with nothing but my wits and a nail file, but we were about to find out.