A few hours later, my cell phone alarm blared loudly next to my ear and I grabbed at it desperately. I shut it off as quickly as I could, my panicked heart pounding loud in my chest. I listened for sounds of Nicole but heard nothing. Finally, after enough time had passed, I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to calm this frantic feeling inside me.
I tried to ignore the achy feeling of my body and climbed out of bed. My pussy was sore, but my ass stung more, reminding me of the way he’d bent me over his desk and spanked me like a naughty little girl. I whimpered when I thought about how he’d fucked my ass. My body shook with shame. I refused to look in the mirror I’d studied myself in before and kept my eyes on the floor as I tiptoed over to my adjoining bathroom. I reached into the shower and turned it on, before closing my eyes and leaning back against the tiled wall. I didn’t open them again until the room was full of hot steam.
The mirrors fogged up and I couldn’t see myself anymore. The respite was much needed.
Almost on autopilot, I climbed into the shower and began to wash myself. I scrubbed my body ferociously, trying to clean all evidence of Markos from my skin. His seed washed off rather easily, but the marks from his fingers on my hips, my thighs, and my ass wouldn’t rinse away.
Those were very real.
I began to cry. How could I make sense of all this?
Maybe he had his hands in government technology. Maybe he had access to modes of transportation none of us knew about. Maybe I was just insane.
Maybe I had done this to myself somehow. I shook my head, shivering at the thought. No. I wasn’t the type of girl that hurt myself though. I had never been.
I stood under the spray for a long time, the hard, ruthless spatter of the water against my skin comforting.
When the shower finally began to get cold, I forced myself to turn it off and climb out of the tub. I wrapped myself up in a soft, fluffy blue towel and went back into my bedroom. Automatically, I went over to my closet, losing myself in my morning routine. I slid open the door and stared at the clothes inside.
They were organized by color and sleeve length, but most everything in my closet was black, gray, and subtle blues. It wasn’t the most exciting wardrobe, but it comforted me all the same. It meant I was home. That I was safe.
I picked out a gray pantsuit and laid it on the bed. I quickly pulled a pair of panties from my dresser. I whimpered softly as I pulled them up and over my sore, punished flesh. Next, I hooked my bra on behind my back. Then, I pulled on my pants and a tank, before shrugging into the suit top. I was swaying the whole time. Lastly, I brushed my hair and tried to make my tired face look awake with a little makeup. It didn’t really help, but I kept telling myself it did.
Eventually, I gave up and left my room. Nicole was awake, but she didn’t say anything. She was probably still pissed that I’d woken her up this morning. She was drinking coffee and I went over and silently poured myself a cup out of the carafe.
Nicole and I were never really friends. We’d been paired together by Interpol and stationed here in New York City. The United States government knew of our existence and I often worked with them to assist matters of international crime. Antonio Vitale was one of those projects.
Markos Varela wasn’t. I’d done that all myself. Interpol hadn’t even known that I’d taken an interest in him. If they did, I would have probably been shipped off to some project in New Zealand or something.
I had learned his name at a big meeting between Interpol and the CIA. Ever since then, I’d kept every newspaper story, every picture, even just the briefest mention of his name in an online article about the wine industry. I’d felt pulled to him and the more I learned, the more I felt he was a very bad man.
I’d known that, and still I had continued my self-imposed mission.
I sat down at the table beside Nicole and kept my eyes low, but I could feel her watching me, judging me for my odd behavior. I took a sip of my coffee and coughed at the bitterness. Looking down at it, I realized I hadn’t even added cream. Shaking my head, I stood back up and walked to the fridge. I grabbed some vanilla creamer and poured it in, watching as the inky blackness swirled into a lighter color.
Nicole snorted behind me.
“So, feeling any better?” she began, her voice still as cold as ever.
She and I had always been at odds. Over the past few weeks it had been way worse because we were volleying for the same promotion. I swallowed heavily and shook my head.
“Must have been some crazy nightmare,” I eventually answered. Taking another swig of my coffee, I dutifully avoided her gaze.
I’d have to be careful. Nicole would literally do anything to discredit me in order to secure the promotion instead of me. She was always looking for weaknesses in me, always trying to point out inconsistencies in my work and for the most part, my superiors ignored her, but sometimes, they didn’t. She’d gotten me in trouble a handful of times and I had no doubt that she would jump at the chance to do it again.
“Well, do me a favor and let’s not wake up the entire apartment complex next time you have a bad dream,” she replied, still very much peeved at the whole thing. “And that still doesn’t explain how the hell you’re here. Care to fill me in, Kassandra?”
She spat my name and the animosity in her tone was unmistakable.
I was going to have to mak
e something up, just to get her off my back. I literally had no choice.
“My mission was cancelled. I hopped on a plane yesterday evening and slipped inside early this morning. I was as quiet as I could be, so I don’t think I woke you,” I lied. I avoided her eyes. She was well trained in interrogation skills.
She huffed, and I briefly glanced up at her before looking down at my coffee once more.
“I’m sorry about this morning. I don’t know what came over me,” I said, apologizing in hope that she wouldn’t hold it against me. Last thing I needed was her telling my bosses that I was insane, suffering from outlandish nightmares and unqualified for my position. I wouldn’t put it past her.