Page 44 of Shame

“Can I? Are you sure?”

“Of course.” I smile and give him my hand. “Come.”

I’ve rarely seen anyone undress so fast. He drops the clothes on the floor and joins me, a groan escaping his throat as the water soaks him.

“Will you help me wash my hair? I don’t think I can.”

Lucas doesn’t only help me with my hair. He soaps my whole body, careful not to hurt me. His cock grows and I splay my fingers over his chest, caressing the blond curls down to his erection, but he takes my hand in his and holds it.

“Not that I don’t want to. I can’t help it, you’re just… you’re so fucking beautiful. But I don’t want you to think you need to… service me.”

“It’s not that, Lucas, you silly boy. I want to. You… you make me want to. Here, feel me.”

I put his hand between my legs, pushing his fingers between my swollen folds. My pussy aches for him. My pussy aches, period, but now it isn’t a bad ache. Seeing him, feeling him, soothes that other pain. The body is a remarkable thing.

He gasps and his cock thickens, but he takes his hand back and cups my cheeks.

“I want you so fucking much, but not today. Please just let me take care of you.”

Lucas is not like any other man I’ve ever met. My heart swells at his words, and at the warm look in his eyes. I nod.

“Okay.”

He’s a man of his word. After wrapping me in a towel, he goes in search of new sheets and a change of soft clothes. When I’m clean, warm and dressed, and my bed is made, he tucks me in and picks up where we left off in the second installment of The Fellowship of the Ring.

Lucas

I can’t be with her full time. I work long hours, odd hours, driving people, transporting goods.

Seven nights after I brought her back to the house of ladies, I get a call at four in the morning. It’s Eric.

“Come to Salvatore. Now.” He disconnects. I carefully untangle myself from the woman sleeping on my arm. Carmen’s face is peaceful. She’s a heavy sleeper, especially when she’s healing, and apart from stirring a little, she doesn’t wake.

In the common room, there’s still activity. A couple of girls sit with a man each, giggling, their voices sugary and filled with promises. I get an uninterested glance, but that’s all. They have long since stopped trying to seduce me, and everyone has gotten used to my presence here. I have even helped a little with some small things. Changing light bulbs, fixing squeaky door hinges, tightening a loose door handle. I think they’ve accepted me. I never thought I’d be a regular at a whorehouse. Funny how I don’t see them as that, though. Everyone is a person, has a background, dreams, and fears. Everyone fears the man whose mansion I’m yet again about to visit.

I don’t have to drive through the gates. Three men stand right by them, hidden from the road. Well, two stand, and the third hangs between them, his arms slung over their shoulders. Christian and Eric, and some unknown poor fucker. I hop out and open the back door. They toss the unconscious man on the floor and jump in.

“Knew we could count on you, dude.”

“Where to?”

“West harbor. Farthest you can get, by the cranes.”

I throw one last glance at the man by their feet, then I turn the car and head toward the designated destination. I have no illusions as to the fate of this man. Excitement rises in me. Is this them letting me in on some action? Like I begged them to a week ago? I had almost given up.

Suddenly life is feeling pretty fucking good. Carmen is healing, we’re closer than ever and my career is finally taking off. I’m gonna make some real money and get her out of this shit. She won’t have to sell her body.

The sun is rising, painting a thin orange line along the horizon. The air is crisp and feels new. For once the city isn’t covered in morning fog, and with the bay and the bridge in the distance, it’s a beautiful sight.

At five o’clock there’s not a soul by the docks. The seagulls have awoken and caw in the distance, the smell of salt and rotten seaweed is overwhelming. Christian and Eric pull out the man who moans and begins to struggle. They hold him up between them, in front of me.

“Knock him out, Payne,” says Eric, with a glint of a challenge in his eyes

I slam my fist to his face, once, twice, and a third time. His nose crunches, and his upper lip splits. His eyelids flutter, and then they fly open. He stares at me, unfocused, but awake.

Christian laughs and tightens his grip, making the man whimper. “Bro, I think you woke him.”

I tighten my fist and punch the guy so hard in the face I think I’ll kill him, not holding back in the least. His head lolls forward, and he’s out.

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