Mathilda sat on the edge of the bed avoiding her reflection. Harry’s associate was still sprawled on the hotel bed, and she was not sure how she was going to escape the room.
She felt trapped.
They had had a good night. He came back later after Harry had left with the other men. She was still at the strip club, and one of the dancers seemed to take a shine to her, and lingered at her pole looking at her. Her dance was slow, seductive and mesmerizing, as she held a lollipop in her mouth which she licked while she danced. Licking the lollipop delicately, she made non-stop eye contact with Mathilda, who smiled and kept the contact going.
When she felt the heat behind her, and saw the dancer’s eyes dart away from her she knew he was there. He kissed the nape of her neck, and held her hair to the side. Mathilda leaned into him, and he pulled her close.
When he tried to talk to her, she ran her finger over his lips to let him know that no words were needed. He pulled her close, and she was okay with him putting his hand at the small of her back and taking her to his car.
She looked out on the dark night, and they got out at the nearest hotel—which was not the one where he was staying at or the one that she was staying at. They got a room, and even though they used no words…
…Mathilda knew he was in control. He positioned her in ways she did not think she could be positioned, and she accommodated him. Mathilda liked to be told what to do—or made to do what her partner wanted. Her body was pliable for him, and the looks they exchanged let him know she wanted it and her know he was appreciative.
Feeling like something from a circus, that type of contortion, Mathilda could not even believe the pleasure that she gained from that angle and that he had the stamina to control himself as well and move in and out of her.
But now, sitting on the edge of the bed, Mathilda was not sure if she wanted to leave, but she knew that she could not stay. She promised herself this time no entanglements—she was going to be free.
Free from what exactly? she thought, her long legs still tangled like a contortionist.
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