“I knew you wanted me,” I say.
Arlo throws me into the room, releasing my arm as he does. I fall to the cold tiled floor, off-balance from my heels and the force he used to push me inside.
He leaves the lights off, but I can still make him out as he walks back to the door.
“You have no idea what I want,” he says matter-of-factly before shutting the door.
Then, I hear the door lock.
I slowly get off the floor, feeling my hands around until I find cabinets. I pull myself up and find a sink, mirror, shower, and toilet. I move in the dark until I find the door, but the knob doesn’t budge.
That motherfucker locked me in the bathroom with no clothes.
I can already hear him grunting and moaning with the women outside while I’m trapped, listening to him fuck other women. I’m no longer sure that he’s going to come back and fuck me after.
That bastard.
4
Nina
I’m going mad. The sound of Arlo fucking those whores is making me crazy. I’ve tried to distract myself by going through the drawers and cabinets in his bathroom. But I’m pretty sure that this isn’t the main bathroom he uses. All I’ve found are a few towels, a full bottle of soap, and a box of condoms. Nothing really to go through to learn about Arlo. Nothing to reorganize and distract myself with.
Now, every moan, every groan, every grunt is going to forever be burned into my memory. I’m never going to forget the sound that Arlo makes when he’s had his turn with each of the women. The sound of their bodies banging together, completed with vivid images from my own imagination. My jealousy at not getting to be one of his girls consumes me.
I don’t understand why Arlo won’t let me fuck him like all the rest of the women. How am I any different? But, on the other hand, I also don’t understand why he let me go as far as I did before he stopped me. Why did he let me strip for him? Why did he let me dance on his lap? Why did he stop me only when I went in for a kiss?
I don’t have the answers, only questions. Questions that are driving me mad. I have no idea how long they fuck, but it seems like hours pass until they stop. They don’t talk when they’re done. Not a, Was that good for you?, Did you come?, or, I’ll walk you out. They just stop.
And then there’s nothing for me to hear but silence. And, somehow, this feels worse than listening to them fuck. I feel empty and abandoned.
I wait a few seconds for the door to open, but it doesn’t open.
I walk over to it and try the doorknob again, hoping that, this time, it will somehow be unlocked. But the doorknob doesn’t budge. Pushing on the door doesn’t help either. Despite the house being hundreds of years old, the door is solid. There is no way I’m breaking the door or the lock.
I walk back to the rug in front of the bathtub, and I sit down. I shiver immediately from the cold. I remove my heels, setting them on the floor next to me, so that I can be as comfortable as I can while I wait. And then I hug my legs against my chest to try to stay warm.
Waiting for Arlo to unlock the door.
Waiting for Arlo to give me answers.
Waiting to plan my revenge.
I consider yelling for help, but I don’t think it would do me any good. Arlo seems like a stubborn man who takes complete control. Screaming would just leave me exhausted and worn out.
So, instead of screaming, I try to come up with a plan to make him as jealous and angry as he’s made me. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes, letting my mind drift off as I imagine ways that I can make him jealous.
I quickly sit up, startled by the sound of footsteps.
I smile slowly. Finally.
But the footsteps don’t come toward my door. Instead, more footsteps join them. Followed by sounds of kissing, of spit being swap
ped, of tongues tangling, and of bodies joining together with sweat and lust.
Bastard is fucking them. Again.
I’m not going to let him get to me.