《Blood Slave ( The Nightlife #0)》


 Page 1

    Chapter 1


    May


    The night I became a bloodslave started out like any other. I awoke to Conchita shaking my shoulder and yelling, ¡°Lev¨¢ntate!¡± Get up. Not once or twice, but over and over again ¨C right in my ear.


    She ripped open the curtains, blinding me in brilliant sunset. I yelled back. ¡°English! How many times do I have to tell you? We¡¯re in America! Speak English.¡±


    My bat-cave sanctuary of darkness ruined, I officially awoke for the evening. Conchita, my bubbly, obnoxious and neurotic roommate, got by on five hours of sleep a day. Not me, I gotta get my eight to ten. Don¡¯t wanna see what I¡¯m like if I don¡¯t.


    Conchita had been living in the Towers in Spanish Harlem since her arrival in New York five years ago. She spoke English like she stepped off the plane from Colombia yesterday.


    The wonderfully shitty Towers a.k.a. the ghetto ¨C New York¡¯s pathetic excuse for subsidized housing. Like most residents here, I hate the place. I really hate the place.


    Conchita chattered on, oblivious to the fact I wanted to sleep. ¡°Lev¨¢ntate! Tiene que ser bonita! Al¨ªstate por tu pareja. Ella viene ahorita!¡± Yes, I had to get ready. Yes, my date would be here soon, but soon is a relative term.


    I looked at the clock. ¡°It¡¯s only seven. She won¡¯t be here till ten. I could¡¯ve slept at least two more hours.¡±


    Most of my dates are late anyways. Few people are respectfully punctual when meeting a Colombian prostitute. Ooops ¨C escort. Prostitute is not the politically correct terminology, and it also happens to be illegal. Escort is much more PC, and fits nicely into the grey zone of New York state law.


    That¡¯s me, a twenty-two year old Colombian escort. My mother must have suspected what my life would be like. That¡¯s the only reason I can think of why she named me Esperanza de Salvador. Hope for Salvation. There¡¯s been little hope of that since the beginning of my illustrious career as an escort at the age of fourteen.


    I have often thought I should change my name to something more fitting. ¡®Damned for all eternity¡¯ or ¡®Swims in the lake of fire¡¯. I¡¯ll have to think on that some more, find a way to condense it so it rolls off the tongue better.


    ¡°Si, Ella estas aqui.¡± Yes, she¡¯s here.


    Conchita assured someone on the other end of my cell phone. She handed me my cell phone, buzzing with voicemail messages from the calls I¡¯d missed. She acts like my damn secretary.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°Hola Esperanza, how¡¯s my little lie detector?¡± Faustino keeping tabs on me, as usual.


    ¡°Hope. My name is Hope. Stop calling me Esperanza.¡±


    ¡°Que paso Esperanza? Por qu¨¦ no me contestas?¡± What¡¯s up? Why aren¡¯t you answering me?


    ¡°Hope, cabron! And I was asleep. That asshole you sent yesterday had me up all night long, and then he didn¡¯t want to pay! I had to call Arana.¡±


    ¡°Okay Hope. I Hope you got my money ready. I¡¯m coming over.¡±


    ¡°I have a date in a few minutes. You¡¯ll have to wait till later.¡±


    ¡°Que bueno, I¡¯ll expect a few more dollars.¡±


    ¡°Callate! I always pay you. I got two hundred, that¡¯s all you get.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get more than that. I¡¯ma get that ass. You better be wearing the perfume I bought you. And make sure you shower good.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡± I cut the call off. I get so sick of him.


    He acts like he¡¯s my damn boyfriend, boss and father all rolled into one. Faustino Vasquez, a.k.a ¡®El Tiburon¡¯, The Shark. He is my boss, he¡¯s cartel. He prefers the term patron. I call him cabron.


    Technically I don¡¯t owe him anything. I¡¯m pretty sure I paid my debt. But he¡¯s got me cornered. Despite all my arguments and other forms of persuasion ¨C blow jobs with a mouthful of ice ¨C he won¡¯t let me apply to renew my visa.


    Asshole has me living on borrowed time with an expired visa. I read somewhere there are millions of Latinos in the US with the same problem. Faustino thinks it¡¯s a good way to maintain his control ¨C keeping me here illegally.


    I know because I read his mind. No way he¡¯d ever admit the truth. Getting the truth out of him is like pulling teeth. He calls me his ¡°little lie detector¡± because he knows damn well people can¡¯t lie to me. He doesn¡¯t give a shit. He¡¯ll stand there and lie to me anyways.


    When I pressure him he gives me excuses. ¡°You can renew your visa when I get the rest of my money.¡±


    By my calculations I paid him twice over. He won¡¯t listen to that. He keeps insisting I pay him four hundred a week. Faustino retains the right to interpret my debt/interest balance at his discretion.


    Here¡¯s a piece of advice to the world: never put yourself in the position of owing money to a Colombian cartel patron, he¡¯ll end up owning your ass from here to eternity.


    I laid in bed for a while, half-awake, lamenting over my fantastically shitty life. Conchita nagged in Spanish about every fifteen minutes. Who needs an alarm clock when you¡¯ve got your very own Conchita?


    As usual, she¡¯s right, I needed to get my sorry ass moving. A bath would definitely improve my mood. I love a hot bath to relax and soak, forget all the problems with no solution. I had so hoped to be free by now. Debt free to Faustino and heading into college.


    What I wouldn¡¯t give to be a normal person with a normal job. To do that I need a college degree. As ridiculous as my ambition sounds, I¡¯d like to major in languages. I have a talent with languages. I learned English right away, and I picked up a little Portuguese from some Brazilians I met in Bogota in 2005.


    I sat in the bath fantasizing about a college degree. I¡¯m not foolish enough to think the escort business is a long term career with opportunity for upward mobility. No matter how many wealthy executives I fuck, I¡¯ll never work my way up the corporate ladder without a college degree.


    I have long spurned the cartel business. Traquetos ¨C cartel members ¨C are in for life. Their life expectancy is not good. No retirement plan, no 401K, no pension, no social security, no medical, and a very high probability of a prison sentence prior to a violent, untimely death. No thanks. Besides, they don¡¯t respect women. We are trophies, good for fun and popping out babies, but not so good for business. Colombian men haven¡¯t really caught up with the feminist movement yet, not the Traquetos.


    Lucky for me, I¡¯m not technically ¡®in¡¯ the cartel, but try explaining that to Faustino. He tried to get me one of those tramp stamp tattoos right above the crack of my ass with a bunch of Cartel symbolic crap. I told him ¡°Hell no!¡± and ¡°NO fucking way!¡±


    I guess I was a little overzealous in making my case to Faustino for staying in New York when I arrived four years ago. Although I¡¯m not exactly sure why he doesn¡¯t let me go, he seems unwilling to admit it even to himself. The only man who can lie to me is one who lies to himself. I¡¯m not foolish enough to think he loves me, that¡¯s not it. Lust? Sure, plenty of that, but he has just as much lust for Conchita, maybe even more. He and Arana show her preference regularly. I think it¡¯s the lie detector thing.


    I can pick a man¡¯s brain quite thoroughly the more time I spend with him, or underneath him. Skin on skin contact heightens my telepathy. While he¡¯s screwing me hard and fast, I¡¯m sifting through his thoughts and memories. Seems like an even trade, knowledge for sex, the money¡¯s almost a bonus ¨C almost.


    I¡¯d have been dead years ago if the Cartel boys knew how many of their secrets I picked up. I suppose I know enough to blackmail somebody, but that¡¯s not exactly a recipe for long life.


    The bathwater turned cold and I¡¯d started to prune up as I lay there daydreaming about college degrees, extracurricular time with my professors to catch some extra credit, and escaping all the ghetto cartel drama of the Towers. Time to get moving. I doused my body in scented oil. The women like it when I go the extra mile to be clean and perfumed. Men rarely seem to notice, at least not the men in my bed.


    Checking myself out in the full length mirror, I look damn good. Sexy, yummy, I always have. I enjoy the sight of my naked svelte body. I have a year-round tan. I have to hide from the sun in the summer or I start looking like a morena ¨C dark brown. My hair is long, sleek, black as black. I wear it layered, cut just past my shoulders. Cost a hundred and fifty for that cut. My eyes are so dark the difference between pupil and iris is barely noticeable. I have often thought of wearing contacts, brown or green, just to get a little color. My face still has soft, girlish curves with a cute, button nose. I¡¯m not exactly bony, but my body isn¡¯t really an hourglass. I¡¯m too narrow in the hips. My breasts are small by most men¡¯s standards, but I¡¯m happy with them. Big tits are sooo over-rated. And I can get away without a bra most of the time, as long as my shirt isn¡¯t see-through. I keep myself shaved clean, not one lick of hair between my legs. My dates prefer it. I¡¯m not too tall, but not too short. Five foot seven seems just about right to me.


    I actually like being naked. I prefer to spend my summer days off lounging around in the nude. Conchita got used to it after the first couple times I sauntered through the apartment in my birthday suit. She even sleeps with me in the bed we share, cuddled up on my naked back. We got frisky a couple times, but she¡¯s not into girls, so it didn¡¯t really go anywhere.


    I prefer to be naked when I receive my in-call dates. ¡®In-call¡¯ is the escort industry term when the date arrives on your doorstep, ¡®out-call¡¯, we meet somewhere else. I¡¯ve found that answering the door nude seems to improve my negotiations for getting the money up front.


    I became accustomed to nudity at the ripe old age of fourteen. I guess that means I¡¯m an exhibitionist, but really it¡¯s Rubin¡¯s fault. Rubin was my first pimp-boss-cartel patron back in Bogota. He purchased me from my father a couple months after my fourteenth birthday. Believe it or not, in Bogota Colombia, it is possible to buy and sell teenage girls, if you¡¯re high enough up in one of the Cartels. Rubin bought me for two thousand dollars. I don¡¯t think he got a very good bargain. My father was so angry with me he probably would¡¯ve given me away for free.

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    Rubin forced me to sit around his house butt-ass naked for three weeks straight, twenty-four seven, to teach me a lesson. His version of taming the shrew. You see Rubin liked anal sex. The first time I learned that the hard way, things got messy. Back then I didn¡¯t have the experience. I didn¡¯t understand how intense anal can be, and Rubin didn¡¯t prepare me beforehand with an enema. Colombians aren¡¯t known for advance planning and organizational skills, they¡¯re spontaneous. He paid the price for spontaneity, I shit all over him.


    I sure learned my lesson. He wouldn¡¯t let me wear a single article of clothing those three weeks. The asshole brought all his friends, buddies, brothers and cousins over to torment me.


    ¡°Hey everyone, come look at the cute naked girl. You can take her in the back for a few minutes, free of charge, my treat.¡±


    I learned that lesson over and over. By the end of the three weeks I knew exactly what I was doing. I¡¯d been broken in.


    Being nude doesn¡¯t bother me anymore, but some of my dates tend to think it strange. For the sake of propriety, I put on black thong panties and a matching black silk bathrobe. It¡¯s a little less shocking that way.


    I still had an hour to kill, and Conchita already left for her first date of the evening. I leafed through a book on astrology, ¡°The Birthday Almanac¡±, by Sophia Kendrick. The book had a page for every day of the year. Though I¡¯d read it twice, I turned to my birth date, July 24th, Leo. The Leo born on this day is summarized by three words: confident, attention-seeking, uninhibited. Some of the comments I identified with, ¡°¡­ you radiate sunny self-confidence ¡­ occasionally outrageous, attention demanding behavior. Your positive polarity removes your inhibitions wherever you¡¯re surrounded by an admiring audience ¡­ while you may often get carried away, you rarely go too far.¡±


    It seemed eerily accurate, which is why I kept rereading the page, searching for the hidden meaning. The page also listed famous people born on the same day, such as Amelia Earhart ¨C 1897 ¨C and Jennifer Lopez ¨C 1970. I didn¡¯t know much about Amelia, but I knew all about J-Lo. Being related to J-Lo via astrologic sisterhood seemed pretty cool. She¡¯s rich, sexy, has a totally yummy ass. Maybe we weren¡¯t all that different, except for the part about being rich.


    No matter how much I fantasize about it, I¡¯ll never have an ass like J-Lo. My hips don¡¯t have enough meat. I¡¯m too toned through my butt and thighs. Maybe that¡¯s a result of having my legs in the air so often? Maybe I should focus on other sexual positions, let my thighs get a little flabby? Probably a bad idea, most guys like missionary.


    I aim to please, so I¡¯m always anticipating what they like, and I just start doing it, as long as it¡¯s not too freaky. I hate swallowing, I refuse to do it. Don¡¯t bother asking, it¡¯s just plain gross.


    A text message grabbed my attention, Maria Rivera at the escort service. She confirmed my date was en route. Shit, she might even show up on time. That¡¯d be a pleasant surprise.


    I have three methods of acquiring dates: the escort service, a free classified ads website, and Francisco Lopez, aka Arana ¨C spider, Faustino¡¯s collector-handler. Arana keeps tabs on all the girls, Conchita and I included. The best dates usually come from the escort service and internet. The ones Arana and Faustino send are Traquetos, and half the time they want to fuck for free. I¡¯ve had to send Arana after Faustino¡¯s boys more times than I can count, happened just last night.


    The only ones who get me for free are Faustino and Arana, and they usually prefer Conchita. She¡¯s more bubbly, smiles all the time. And she has more jiggle to play with.


    Most of my dates are not ¡®in-call¡¯. But I don¡¯t worry too much with the lesbians. Women are so much more respectful. They aren¡¯t prone to violent-creepy behavior like men. My dates with men are always ¡®outcall¡¯. Stalker prevention.


    I sometimes enjoy the lesbian dates better. Women tend to pay larger tips and are generally more affectionate and considerate lovers. I have often thought I should go full on lesbo, but there¡¯s just something about a virile passionate man that a woman can¡¯t replace, not even with a strap-on.


    I hoped she wasn¡¯t expecting me to actually have a strap-on or any other fancy toys. It¡¯s not really my thing. I get enough sex in the flesh. I don¡¯t need dildos and stuff.


    She was punctual, arrived at ten p.m. sharp. In hindsight, I should have known her punctuality would mean trouble. Who can get anywhere in New York in a timely manner?


    From the other side of the door I began to catch a sense of her self-identity. Her thoughts reached me before I answered her knock. Blended into her anticipation, I caught a few snatches of her essence. Vietnamese. Not a native of the United States. But she had been here for many years. I caught a sense of someone mature, a woman of forty years or more.


    When I opened the door I stared into the face of a sexy twenty-something Asian American woman. She looked severe in her conservative business-like skirt suit, but she radiated a sensuality I found instantly attractive.


    As she stepped closer, the ¡®signal¡¯ of her thoughts strengthened, more easily readable. Proximity makes a huge difference to the clarity and depth of my read. She liked me intensely. She liked my smell, my slim-trim body. And she wanted to bite me really badly. I smelled yummy delicious, like a tasty meal.


    Odd, for sure, but then many people have strange urges and desires they never act upon. Propriety keeps our impulses in check most of the time. I wasn¡¯t too worried. She seemed like a nice little Asian woman. Perhaps a bit kinky but still prim and proper by my standards. It turned out to be the worst judgment call I¡¯ve ever made. She had me totally fooled.


    I¡¯ve been bitten before, not too hard. But if it¡¯s done right, right time, right place, it¡¯s okay, as long as they don¡¯t break the skin. I read somewhere one of the most dangerous bites in the world is that of another person. Something about all the bacteria we carry in our mouths, fairly nasty stuff.


    I shook her hand and invited her inside our modest one-bedroom apartment. We didn¡¯t need more than one bedroom, and certainly couldn¡¯t afford anything more. Conchita and I always changed the sheets after an in-call date.


    ¡°Hello, my name is Lia.¡± Lia Nguyen ¨C I plucked the full name right out of her head.


    No sooner had she spoken than she was on me. I never even saw her move, she was that fast. She sniffed my throat, right where I dabbed a touch of perfumed oil. Then she nuzzled her nose up and down my neck and jawline like a dog huffing ass. I wondered if she¡¯d lift her leg and pee on me to mark her territory.


    She inhaled deeply, savoring my scent like a fine wine, and then she actually said the very thing she¡¯d been thinking. ¡°You smell good enough to eat.¡±


    Chapter 2


    Her breath tasted minty fresh when she kissed me. Nice, clean, better than most of my dates. Glad she didn¡¯t smoke. Smokers taste like an old wet ashtray, disgusting. She displayed her aggressive side immediately, slipping my robe off my shoulders to watch it pool at my feet. She wanted it all right now. To lick me, fuck me, eat me, suck me and bite me. And she wanted me to go down on her.


    Her thoughts raced past, a heady rush of lust and desire. Kissing me wildly, she pushed me back against the wall. An image surfaced in her mind, the good ole ¡®sixty-nine¡¯, a lesbian¡¯s favorite.


    Instead of giving me the opportunity to offer what she wanted, she proceeded to strip off the last scrap of clothing I wore, my panties. I helped her free my skin of this final restriction.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we go into the bedroom and get more comfortable?¡± I offered.


    She backed off and let me take the lead. Holding her hand, I brought her to the edge of the bed and proceeded to take care of business.


    ¡°I get paid first. The escort service told you my rate of three hundred per hour, one hour minimum?¡± I hated asking. People like to play the ¡°I didn¡¯t know that¡± game. They like to see if they can talk me down by pretense of ignorance.


    Not this one. She didn¡¯t say a word. Her answer came when she produced a wad of cash from a small black clutch bag. I stood before her naked, counting the money that totaled out to five hundred. I read her anticipation. It oozed from her very pores. She wanted me so badly. It drove her nuts to wait while I put the money away.


    ¡°Would you like some help?¡± I offered.


    She smiled gleaming white. ¡°Sure.¡±


    I helped her step out of her skirt and we worked together unbuttoning her cream-colored blouse. I carefully laid her clothes atop the dresser. Expensive designer labels. I smoothed it out covetously, wishing I could afford something that nice.


    ¡°I love your color, so warm, a nice golden tan.¡± Her breath filtered down on the back of my neck. She slipped her hand around from behind. She felt me up while her other hand slid down between my legs, oh-so tender with her touch.


    ¡°You¡¯re warm, and wet. You like women too, how nice. And here I thought it was all about the money.¡± A little sharp in her attitude, but her hands knew their way around.


    The lace of her bra rubbed against my back as I leaned back into her embrace. I slid my hand back to feel her smooth thigh. I teased the edges of her white lace panties. I felt the contours of her warm sex through the silky lace. We fondled one another. I shivered when she stuck her her tongue in my ear.


    That was ¡­ different.


    Before I knew it we faced each other, her tongue in my mouth, fingers exploring everywhere at once. Her bra and panties came off in a flurry, both our hands going for it.


    I felt her up, lightly pinching her dark nipples. She growled low in her throat. Her tits were smaller than mine. Little dark nipples stood out erect on her pale white skin. I looked damn near black next to her absence of color. Her skin felt so slick and flawless, like one of those girls in an ¡®Oil of Olay¡¯ commercial.


    We finally made our way to the bed, Lia in the lead, pushing me onto my back as she climbed over me into the ¡®sixty-nine¡¯.


    ¡°Mmmm smells so good.¡± She buried her nose inside me.


    Seated over my face, I tasted her with feather soft licks. Ultra-clean and so very wet. A hint of saltiness. The cleanest I¡¯ve ever tasted.

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    Her tongue snaked over me, sliding in and around with amazing dexterity. She knew exactly what to do with that awesome tongue. They say lesbians do it better, they have the inside knowledge to do it right. In general I have found this true, but she put them all to shame.


    Lia¡¯s tongue worked an indescribable magic, sliding, darting, delving in and out, fast then slow. And always she had my nub in her lips and teeth. She had this serious hoover action going on my clit. I could hardly stay still, she had me humping and bucking my hips. I barely had any concentration for my face buried between her legs.


    Her Gene Simmons freakishly long tongue had me moaning and groaning, my hand fisted in her hair. She fucked me, and I fucked back. I caught a charley horse in my leg at one point from humping her face so damn hard. I¡¯ve seen dick smaller than her tongue, and used far less effectively for sure.


    She banged me so hard with her elephant trunk tongue that I forgot to focus on what she wanted from me. She paid for my services, but all I¡¯d done was come in her face. She served me. I remembered my obligation to my client and plucked from her mind what she wanted. Catching one of her thoughts out of the maelstrom of sensation, I gave it to her without warning. I shoved my middle finger in her ass and thumb in her pussy, the two finger stinger.


    She liked that a lot. She actually growled right into my wonderfully sensitive folds as I buried my hand deep inside her. And then she just went off. She ground her hips down hard into my face and hand, rubbing in a circular motion. I flexed my fingers inside her and gave her the other thing she wanted so badly. I swallowed her clit whole, sucking it up, my tongue tickling the very edges.


    She pounded and licked me raw with her anteater tongue, all the while humping my face and hand. I rubbed and flexed my fingers back and forth, sucking hard on her. I knew she wanted it rough so I ramped up the intensity.


    It became difficult to concentrate on my part of the bargain as she attacked me with her anaconda tongue. Then she returned the favor, slipping her finger in my ass, working it around, in and out. She had me grunting and grinding up into her face with my pelvis, same as her. I was so deep into her, lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, going at it with mindless determination, earning every penny of that five hundred.


    At the point when I came, my cries muffled by a mouthful of Lia, she did exactly what she¡¯d wanted to do from the moment we met. She bit me on the inside of my leg, a couple inches away from where she¡¯d been eating me out. She buried several fingers inside me, holding me down tight as her sharp little teeth dug in. I know damn well she broke skin, but I didn¡¯t care.


    I came harder than ever before. The most intense orgasm of my life. I swear I saw stars. It felt like every nerve ending in my body went off like a firecracker, exploding with this indescribable euphoria. She had me trapped, pinned down. I went ballistic, humping, screaming and clawing at her ass. I¡¯m sure I probably bit into her as well, but she liked it all. She kept on grinding into my face as she turned my world inside out with this awesome orgasm.


    It seemed to go on and on, but in reality it probably only lasted a minute or so. She finally released her bite and removed her lobster claw fingers. I felt like I¡¯d been reamed out and wrung out, limp, exhausted. But damn it was so good. Like some kind of religious experience. The southern Baptist accented voice went off in my twisted imagination, ¡°I have seen the light! Lord it shineth down upon me! The Lord sent a freaky Asian lesbian to show me the way.¡±


    I really should go full on lesbo. Who needs cock when you can come like this with a woman? I contemplated giving her back her money. I should be paying her for the experience. We lay there side by side, breathing hard and heavy. She asked the classic question.


    ¡°Was it as good for you as it was for me?¡±


    ¡°Better.¡± I answered vehemently, still trying to catch my breath.


    Lia had plans for something more. She got up and rifled through her tiny postage stamp purse and whipped out a little chrome steel bullet with a screw cap. She had a vial full of blow and an agenda. She advanced on me and unscrewed the cap, which doubled as a tiny spoon.


    ¡°Care for a bump?¡± She offered me an itty-bitty spoonful to snort. I nodded and sat up. One up the left and another up the right. She had good quality coke, about the same as the stuff Faustino brought in. Pretty sure she bought it from us, directly or indirectly. Faustino¡¯s product flowed all through the streets of NYC, from the lowliest back alleys to the upper most penthouse suites of Manhattan.


    She took a whiff herself, one up each nostril, as I read her mind to see what new forms of debauchery she had planned. I saw it in her thoughts as she wetted her fingertip, dipped it in the bullet vial, and reached down between my legs.


    My oversensitive slippery wet sex reacted instantly to the coke. I came all over her fingers ¡­ yet again.


    ¡°Oh shit. Oh shit.¡± I grabbed her arm, and she just kept on right at it.


    She took good care of me, plunging her fingers in and out, tweaking my clit with her thumb. The woman played my body like a violin. She made me gasp and squeal with the bombardment of sensations. I really should be paying her for this. After having her fun with me for a few minutes, grinning from ear to ear as I rode her hand, she finally let up.


    ¡°Now it¡¯s my turn.¡± She smiled.


    ¡°Good ¡­ I need a break.¡± I smiled back.


    She waited, not-so-patiently. A wicked grin of anticipation on her face as I dipped a fingertip painted with cocaine up into her slippery folds. I curled my finger up into her, hitting that spot with a ¡®come-here¡¯ motion while massaging her clit with my palm. Hips undulating, Lia humped my hand as I worked her.


    She really seemed to get off on the rough stuff. She wanted me to dig in hard. She grasped my hand with hers and ground my fingers into her juicy goodness. She came hard leaning her forehead on my shoulder.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s good. You¡¯re ¡­ you¡¯re one of the best dates I¡¯ve had in a long time.¡±


    She growled and shuddered on my hand. And then she did it again. She grabbed me and sunk sharp, little teeth into my neck.


    ¡°Shit! That hurts!¡± I panicked.


    She¡¯d broken the skin again. But I was overwhelmed by the most phenomenally intense feeling. Better than coke, better than sex, better than anything I¡¯d ever experienced. She returned me once again to the angelic choirs and roaring trumpets of heaven with a back-arching screaming orgasm.


    My hand clenched, still buried inside her. I was so absorbed in the moment I didn¡¯t realize I had shoved my whole hand in her to the wrist. By the time she let go her chomp on my convulsing body, she made this freaky snarling noise. She ground down on my hand hard, really hard, humping my whole fist.


    She seemed to really get off on the violence of it. I read how much pain I gave her, but she still liked it. She just kept on grinding harder. She had a thing for it, like a real sadomasochist. I went along with it, because she liked it. I aim to please. After a minute or so she finished her grudge-fuck on my fist. It¡¯s a good thing too, my arm had gotten tired. Fist-fucking is serious work.


    I pulled my hand out with a wet ¡°plop¡± sound and a grunt from Lia. She had wet my whole forearm. I think she¡¯s one of those chicks who squirt. The smell of our sex permeated the room. As I walked to the bathroom to wash up, I passed by the mirror and stopped in shock. A thin line of blood ran down my neck.


    ¡°You bit me! Look at that!¡± I pointed at myself in the mirror. ¡°That is so gross!¡±


    I freaked and ran to the bathroom. I could feel the warm blood running down my shoulder onto my breast. ¡°Shit!¡± I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the hydrogen peroxide.


    I found it and the triple antibiotic with shaking hands. Who knows where her mouth had been today, she was eating me out a few minutes ago.


    Before I could begin to wipe up the blood she was on me. ¡°Wait. Let me take care of it. It¡¯s my mess, I¡¯ll clean it up.¡±


    Then her slimy wet eel tongue snaked out and licked from my breast all the way up to my neck. The girl had skills with that tongue. She could take it on the road and make some serious money in a carnival freak show.


    Then it hit me and turned my stomach over in flip flops. She actually licked up my blood. And I read it there in her mind plain as can be. She loved it. I tasted like a syrup-covered ice cream cone to her. She¡¯d happily lick me all night long if I let her, as long as I kept on bleeding.


    ¡°Eww! Gross! Oh God, that¡¯s so nasty!¡±


    I almost lost it right there. I actually gagged for a second, barely swallowed it down. I kinda have this obsessive-compulsive thing about cleanliness, and blood is definitely unclean in my book. Blood borne pathogens. Diseases of the blood. Hospitals treat it like a damn biohazard.


    Lia snickered at my gross-out reaction, like it was all some joke. But she couldn¡¯t hide the fact she wanted more. The freak actually thought she was a vampire.


    Then she got really weird. She stared intensely without blinking. I sensed her trying to somehow take control of me with her creepy stare. The chick was really weird, a little too weird for my tastes. The sex was fabulous, but I couldn¡¯t deal with the blood thing, just straight up sick. I may be an escort from a third world country, but I do have standards.


    She kept staring at me, had been staring at me for some time. Then she spoke in a weird commanding monotone, ¡°Tell me your name.¡±


    The sad truth is I didn¡¯t really want her to be a stranger. As odd as it sounds, I wanted her to come back, and not for the generous tip. I wanted more of those screaming orgasms. I¡¯m not normally a screamer, but she had a way of bringing it out of me.


    So, against my better judgment, ignoring the creepy aspects of everything that had gone down so far, I gave her what she wanted. ¡°My name is Hope.¡±


    I have never told anyone in America my real name. Esperanza de Salvador just sounds so south-of-the-border. Hope has a nice ring to it, one syllable. I delude myself into believing that if I can drop my Colombian accent, employ flawless English and use the name Hope, I can somehow rise above my humble beginnings.


    Lia started in on me with that eerie command voice. ¡°Hope, you will not remember our meeting or this conversation. You¡¯re feeling tired. You feel like sleeping. You need to rest.¡±

 Page 4

    This shit was getting old fast. ¡°I get it. You don¡¯t need to repeat yourself. I¡¯m not stupid. I¡¯ve been doing this a long time. I know the score. I¡¯ll never tell anyone you were here. We¡¯ve never met before, yada, yada, yada. I know the routine.¡±


    That¡¯s the one thing Rubin used to get on me about ¨C my temper. I have a tendency to let it get away from me. I¡¯ve thought of taking anger management classes, I probably should.


    Back in Colombia I gave poor Rubin hell. It started with the nudity thing, but I flipped it around on him. After the first three weeks, he ordered me to wear clothes. I refused. I stayed butt-naked for another three weeks, twenty-four seven. I answered Rubin¡¯s door to receive the pizza delivery nude. I chatted up the cable repairman after a rainstorm messed up our lines. I met the Testigos de Jehovah¨CJehovah¡¯s Witnesses at the front door, they couldn¡¯t leave fast enough. I even met his mother for the first time in my birthday suit.


    Rubin learned a healthy respect for my temper after that episode. His mother trying to rip his ear off probably had something to do with it. A naked fourteen year old girl with an attitude can wield a terrible power.


    Lia didn¡¯t care for my attitude, either. She came at me again with that same monotone crap. ¡°You will not remember our meeting. We have never met before. You will not remember that I bit you and tasted your blood.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. It was gross. But don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯m not gonna say anything to anybody. It didn¡¯t happen. This is our little secret. I respect your privacy. Actually ¡­ I was hoping you might want to see me again ¡­¡±


    I¡¯d given this speech to dozens of cops, business men, politicians, even a priest. Everyone who¡¯s someone of importance out in the community needs reassurance their freaky romp with an escort will remain confidential. I¡¯m not into blackmail or extortion or anything stupid like that. It¡¯s nasty business that never ends well. I have seen it done by the cartel to others less fortunate. Plus, being illegal, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to get me deported.


    She did not look pleased. I tried to put her at ease. ¡°You already gave me a two hundred dollar tip, so I¡¯m cool. And I really would like to see you again ¡­¡±


    She started looking at me funny, her head turned sideways, like I was the freak. I dug into her mind to see what the hell. She¡¯d become extremely irritated over something.


    ¡°You¡¯re a special kind of girl, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    She was trying to defocus her vision to see something else, off to the side of my head. Some kind of hazy color spectrum.


    ¡°Yes you are ¡­¡± Her voice trailed off. She flipped like that into a raging-bull hatred. She pegged me with this totally wicked I-want-to kill-you-and-dance-on-your-corpse look. ¡°You Bitch! You¡¯re digging around in my head, you bitch!¡±


    I caught it a split second before she hit me, and I reacted. I flinched away, stepped back out of her reach, except she hadn¡¯t moved.


    ¡°Gotcha, didn¡¯t I? I knew it.¡± Her lip curled into a snarl.


    ¡°What? What¡¯s your problem?¡±


    Then I finally understood. She had been trying to hypnotize me into ignorance. When she realized it wasn¡¯t working, she began to suspect I had some kind of psychic sensitivity, a telepath, or clairvoyant. I had just proven her right by reacting to her thoughts rather than her actions.


    Staring at me with her head cocked sideways, she recognized something about this weird color she thought she could see, something yellowish-gold in my aura. That decided it for her.


    ¡°You already know way too much about me don¡¯t you.¡± She had this half-smile, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes.


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. But I think it¡¯s time you should go.¡±


    Her dilemma was this: if I couldn¡¯t be hypnotized into forgetting, and I had read her mind, what to do with me? The thought entered her mind instantly. A toothy grin slid across her face. She would probably have to kill me to contain the situation.


    Chapter 3


    ¡°Okay. You¡¯re creeping me out. This is over. It¡¯s time to go now. And I changed my mind. I don¡¯t want you to come back, ever.¡±


    I pointed her towards the front door while I shoved her clothes into her hands. She kept giving me these peculiar looks as she slinked back into her underwear and clothing. I watched her slide into her skirt, buttoning up her blouse. She stared back, smirking.


    Then I caught it. She was gonna break my nose as soon as she finished with her clothing. And she wanted to do it soooo badly. She wanted to see blood flying through the air as my head snapped back.


    Three buttons left ¡­ two buttons left ¡­ last button. Ding. She twitched and I jumped back two paces, and nearly toppled back onto the bed.


    ¡°Gotcha again.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t done a thing other than a little twitch. Another test. I had failed miserably. And she wouldn¡¯t leave.


    I knew she was trouble, but my options were limited. I could probably kick her freaky little ass, but then I¡¯d be in a world of shit with the cops. Probably end up deported. Being in the country illegally really put me at a severe disadvantage. Exactly the way Faustino wanted it. Great for him, shitty for me.


    I could call Arana. But he always took twenty to thirty minutes to get here from his place in Corona. Overall that was probably the best solution. I hated being in this position, under Faustino¡¯s thumb, but there were some side benefits to the arrangement. I could get the purest coke in NYC any time I wanted, and Arana dealt with anyone who threatened me.


    I¡¯d once seen Arana break a guy¡¯s collar bone because he donkey punched me in the back of the head right in the middle of screwing me from behind. A star tennis player in college, guy thought his shit didn¡¯t stink, thought he could beat on an escort and get away with it. Arana caught him on his way out the door. He scared the guy so bad he pissed himself. Arana had him down on his hands and knees begging my forgiveness. A broken collar bone is especially painful.


    Arana got off on it. He¡¯s only five foot seven, but he¡¯s two hundred pounds of muscle and straight up psycho. It¡¯s like flipping a switch. He goes into super evil mode. The guy really scares me sometimes. I¡¯ve seen what he can do, and I do not mess with him. He could kill me with his bare hands, and would probably enjoy every second of it. Violence is his thing. I guess that¡¯s the kind of man that does well in the cartels.


    I didn¡¯t want to hurt Lia, but the chick wasn¡¯t quite right in the head. Crazy people can be dangerous, unpredictable. I hoped Arana would scare her off without any real confrontation. But I couldn¡¯t be certain how far he¡¯d go. Like an attack dog on a chain, there¡¯s no way to be sure what he¡¯ll do when he¡¯s unleashed.


    Hoping for the best, I grabbed my cell and sent Arana 911 text. Our problem code. Not exactly original, but it served the purpose. Since I didn¡¯t send an address, he¡¯d show up here at the apartment.


    I barely hit the send button when I felt cold steel up against my left temple. From somewhere, I don¡¯t know where, Lia had managed to pull a little black pistol. The gun was so small she could¡¯ve had it up her ass. It happened in the blink of an eye, I never even saw the bitch move.


    She snatched my cell from my hand and dashed it against the wall. It fell in pieces. In one move my whole life had been smashed to bits and laid out on the floor. Every connection I had on this continent was programmed into my cell phone.


    The really scary part was how fast she moved. Hell, I didn¡¯t see her move.


    ¡°It would be so convenient to kill you right now, right this second.¡± That ice-cold smile of hers was really freaking me out.


    I needed to do something, she had that gun on me and she really wanted to use it. She suspected I¡¯d called someone for help. She was furious. The situation had become uncontrollable, and she hated things she couldn¡¯t control. She imagined tearing into me with her nails and teeth, bathing in my blood and entrails.


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t say a word to anyone, ever. You don¡¯t have to do this.¡± The words tumbled out fast and urgent.


    I¡¯ve read a lot of strange people¡¯s thoughts in my life. Perverts, weirdoes, idiots, pedophiles, all kinds of oddity and creepiness. But this woman had them all beat. I was so terrified, she had me literally shaking. No one had ever given me such a vivid vision of carnage so personal, my own mutilated body.


    She smiled at me knowingly as she imagined the various ways she might filet my flesh. ¡°Put your robe on if you want to live a few seconds longer.¡± She spoke of letting me live while contemplating my death.


    Naturally, I did exactly as she ordered, without delay. I knew the girl meant business. She radiated a barely contained raw aggression, an unbelievably strong desire to hurt me. She flicked her gun towards the door. She wanted to leave before whoever I¡¯d called showed up to complicate matters. I didn¡¯t argue, but I snatched up my purse on the way out the door.


    My life was in that purse: expired visa, five hundred in cash, bankcard, and a box of condoms. That about summed up my miserable life, an illegal immigrant taking money for sex.


    I prayed silently for Arana to catch up with us on the way out. Fat chance of that happening, we moved way too fast. He¡¯d probably miss us by several minutes.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill you ¡­ we need to see someone.¡± The gun never wavered, and neither did her intent to do me harm at some point in the very near future.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s such a relief.¡±


    She stared hard, eyes filled with a feral hatred. Then I understood. She wanted to do it, but couldn¡¯t. She needed permission from the Master. It almost felt like she had someone¡¯s hand on her shoulder, physically restraining her from pulling that trigger. How weird is that?


    At least I wasn¡¯t going to be killed ¨C yet. But what kind of sick cult-like group refers to the boss as the Master? That creeped me out even worse.


    She led me to a limousine parked in the street, pistol at my back the whole way. Who the hell brings a limousine to Spanish Harlem? To the ghetto? It must have been sitting out there the entire time she was busy making me scream. All hope of escape flitted past the tinted windows as she locked the doors to the limo and sat across from me, pistol still pointed my way. Off we went, gone before Arana could even get into the neighborhood.

 Page 5

    Then it came to me: Triads. She must be involved with one of the Triad gangs. But do the Triads have a setup on the Upper East Side on Park Avenue? Nope, couldn¡¯t be Triads.


    I knew we were headed there because she pictured it in her mind. A penthouse on Park Avenue. Whoever the Master was, dude had to be loaded, filthy rich. I¡¯d been to a party on the Upper East Side once, the place dripped with money. A little dripped into my pocket, but I earned every penny of it bent over the bathroom sink. I wasn¡¯t invited back to any more of those parties.


    I tried to maintain composure, but Lia¡¯s thoughts were the most disturbing I¡¯d ever encountered. She played a silent game of torture with me. She imagined things while she watched my reaction. I¡¯d learned years ago to suppress my reactions to people¡¯s depravity.


    I read my priest¡¯s mind when I was fourteen. He imagined screwing me while I bent over to tie my shoes. My dress had creeped up to the point he could see my white panties. Totally shocked, I overreacted. I freaked out right there in the middle of church service, making accusations in front of the whole congregation. My father was so angry, shaking his head in embarrassment, apologizing profusely. He¡¯d told me on several occasions, not to react to things people hadn¡¯t done or said, estas loca ¨C you are crazy.


    After that episode, Daddy decided he could no longer deal with my peculiarities. He figured if I wanted to accuse innocent men of perversions, then I should understand it. Colombian rationale doesn¡¯t always make sense by American standards. Sometimes two plus two equals three. My father did the math, found me wanting, and sold me to Rubin the very next day.


    I never made the mistake of letting my reactions to people¡¯s sick thoughts show ever again. But Lia had sorely tested my composure. I tried not to react. I tried so hard to stay calm as she imagined atrocious, unspeakable things. But she noticed. No matter how quiet I was, how I stilled my shaking hands in my lap, she knew.


    She could sense the changes in my respiration, she could smell my fear, and there was that other thing, the colors. She could see this hazy color, an aura. My aura screamed my terror and anxiety. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. She sniffed the scent of my fear, breathed it in deeply. She could even taste it, and it excited her to new levels of imagined violence.


    As she envisioned shoving a knife up between my legs Jack-the-Ripper style, I started to cry. I couldn¡¯t help it. The bitch smiled at me.


    ¡°Please stop. I¡¯ll never tell anyone. I promise. I don¡¯t want to die.¡± I begged shamelessly.


    I was more afraid than I¡¯ve ever been. I had this sense of her as something more than a petite little Vietnamese woman. She was a predator through and through, a Hannibal Lector, a Jeffrey Dahmer, a psychopath. The girl was extremely dangerous. The kind of dangerous people can be with all limits of propriety and conscience removed, zero regard for the sacredness of life. She was capable of anything, and somehow she had figured out I read her mind. She thought herself an actual vampire, and I was starting to think the same.


    ¡°You¡¯ll not die ¡­ yet.¡± Not until we see the Master. ¡°It¡¯s too bad you¡¯re so damn cooperative. And here I thought you had some spine.¡± All the more fun to rip it out.


    She wanted me to come at her, to try to fight my way out. She was purposely trying to scare me into action. Leaving as quickly as we did probably saved my life. My immediate cooperation was the only reason she hadn¡¯t pulled that trigger. She itched for me to make a move, anything she could construe as a possible threat. Then she¡¯d be allowed to kill me. Those were the rules she lived by, the rules of her Master. Straight up fucking weird.


    ¡°What, you¡¯re not feeling froggy bitch? Don¡¯t think you can take me? Come on. Do it. You know you want to.¡± She set the gun down on the seat next to her.


    I stared at that gun sooo hard. Oh how I wanted to go for it. She folded her hands in her lap and grinned with anticipation. She wanted me to go for it. She wanted it as much as I did.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that stupid.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But are you that weak? I thought there was more to you.¡± She was slick. I wanted to break her slick little nose. I¡¯ve been in a few fights, and knowing what they want to do before they do it does help at times. Knowing where it hurts. The nose is especially painful. I learned quickly where to hit to cause the most pain. I may not be a buff little ghetto rat, but I know how to find what hurts.


    ¡°I just want to go home. I don¡¯t want problems. Why can¡¯t you take me home?¡± I was starting to sound whiny, and I had more goddamn tears. I hate crying. I virtually never cry.


    ¡°I guess they don¡¯t make em like they used to in Mexico anymore.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Mexican.¡±


    ¡°Had me fooled.¡±


    Who the hell are these people? I began to think I¡¯d stumbled on some satanic chicken-sacrificing cult. There were several in Colombia, and I¡¯ve heard of them here. But there were no religious fanaticism indicators anywhere in her thoughts. I have seen my share of fanatics on all sides of religion, and I can¡¯t stand any of them. They judge from the word go.


    All that Lia had on the brain was plain and simple bloodlust, a desire for violence. Violence for violence sake. The freak thought herself a vampire and wanted to drain my body of every drop of blood. She wanted to suck me into cardiac arrest.


    Vampire or not, it didn¡¯t really matter. She thought I knew the truth about her, and was willing to kidnap-kill-maim-mutilate to keep her secret. To think, I¡¯d been totally enamored with her sensuality an hour ago. Now all I wanted to do was run and hide in the deepest darkest hole I could find.


    I¡¯ll never understand how a person can go from having sex with me to wanting to kill me in the span of a few minutes. I¡¯m not made that way. Sure I have a temper, I get angry, maybe hold a grudge for a while, but I can¡¯t really stay angry. I did the nudity thing with Rubin to prove a point, to take away the power he held over me. I didn¡¯t do it out of hate. I¡¯m not that way, and I find it hard to understand people that are. People like Arana and Lia, and even Faustino. How could they commit such acts of violence against another person?


    There must be something missing, something fundamentally flawed within. They are soulless, or their souls have been damaged beyond repair. Who knows, I don¡¯t get it.


    The limo stopped.


    ¡°Get out and walk very slowly. You move too fast, you start to run, and I will spread your skull all over this parking garage.¡± I got out and walked, slowly, cautiously.


    We had arrived at a massive Park Avenue high rise, the Clementine Building. Very nice, posh, ritzy. I felt like a mouse entering the lion¡¯s den. I had left home in nothing but a black silk bathrobe, no shoes, shirt or underwear. I entertained the silly hope my attire would magically bar my entrance to the inner sanctum. Saved by one of those little signs that read no shoes, no shirt, no service. I kept looking for one of those signs with the foolish hope of children.


    Turns out they had a residents-only elevator. Lia had the code, 6627, which I plucked from her mind and promptly memorized. The limo driver accompanied us up the elevator. He worked for a limo service providing drivers, but they didn¡¯t own the limo. Lia¡¯s Master owned the limo.


    The short, bald, fifty-something driver stood dead silent the whole elevator ride. He had excellent self-control with his demeanor, but his eyes and thoughts were all over me. Up my robe, tweaking my nipples, putting his finger in my ass, his fist in my hair. He imagined doing all sorts of things to me. I was nothing but a warm piece of meat to him, a trashy whore, which is kinda how I felt at the moment.


    Though his view of me seemed accurate, I did not choose this life. I¡¯d never really been given a choice. My father, Rubin, Faustino, they all told me what to do, whether I liked it or not. This was just another group of assholes taking away my freedom for their personal gain. Beyond killing me, there wasn¡¯t much they could do that hadn¡¯t already been done by someone else who got to me first. I tried to bolster my confidence with the idea that whatever happened, I could endure, like I have always endured. Truth is, I felt pretty dejected, and the asshole limo driver¡¯s smug nasty thoughts weren¡¯t helping.


    The driver deposited us in the hallway and left for his next job assignment.


    ¡°Move it. We¡¯re almost there, but you already know that, don¡¯t you?¡± Lia smirked, a wicked gleam in her eye as she waved her pistol at me.


    The penthouse apartment was massive. The word apartment didn¡¯t even come close to describing the opulent elegance of the interior. The place reeked of money. All rich dark wood tones interspersed with creams, tans, reds, and browns. A few maroon pieces here and there. It reminded me of something in an Architectural Digest I saw in a doctor¡¯s office waiting room. I stood in a ¡°Lifestyles of the rich and famous¡± expos¨¦. Artwork on the walls ¨C really expensive art ¨C probably worth thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. I don¡¯t know shit about art, but I could smell the money. Here I stood in my twenty dollar bathrobe, feeling more and more like a rat in a trap I might never escape, a trap constructed of money, power, and murderous intentions.


    ¡°We have a guest? What have you done, Lia?¡±


    The sound of a bodiless voice startled me.


    ¡°We have a problem.¡± Lia snarled, casting a hateful look my way.


    I opened my mouth to defend myself only to shut it as a man walked out of the shadows, a man who could only be the Master. Tall dark and handsome, at least six feet, he stared down at little ole me. Slender, he had a sinewy grace. He wore his long dark brown hair slicked back into a tight pony tail, along with a neatly trimmed goatee. He had pale flawless skin, an alabaster statue. His cold eyes were a light shade of brown, almost hazel, with little spokes of green and gold. It seemed his eyes actually changed color from brown to green to gold as he looked back and forth from me to the freaky Asian psycho bitch.


    He was one of those rare people who radiated power and confidence. It flowed off him like water, royalty. This guy had to be Sir something or other, Your Grace, the Duke of Fuck-me-running. I knew he was a Spaniard because Lia knew it, but from him I read absolutely nothing ¨C utter mental silence.

 Page 6

    He was a non-entity, a blank slate. If I closed my eyes I wouldn¡¯t even know he stood in the room with me. It felt very disorienting. I always knew who stood nearby. I could place them by their thoughts and emotions. I¡¯d never encountered anyone with a mind so completely blocked. I felt blinded.


    As he walked towards us with that flowing grace, he and Lia communicated silently about me. I picked it up through Lia¡¯s mind, the weirdest thing I¡¯d ever heard.


    ¡°She¡¯s a telepath. I can¡¯t compel or control her. She knows what I am, we have to eliminate her. She¡¯s fully aware I bit her three times. We can¡¯t let her live with what she knows.¡±


    It all poured out in a whiny stream of puke, she projected her anxiety about me straight at him. And then shit really got weird. He spoke to her, not out loud, but directly into her mind. I did a double-take to verify his mouth hadn¡¯t moved. I could hardly believe it.


    ¡°You think she is a threat to us?¡± His lips hadn¡¯t moved.


    ¡°She knows too much, who knows for sure how much. She¡¯s probably listening to us at this very moment.¡± Her lips didn¡¯t move.


    They both turned to me simultaneously, staring, digging into me with their freakishly intent, accusing gazes. I looked away, doing my best ¡®who me¡¯ act. He looked back at her, unhappy.


    ¡°Perhaps she is, but who would she tell? Who would believe tales of vampires?¡±


    My blood froze cold. Vampires ¨C for real?


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me to make suppositions. I acted on the potential threat.¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t truly a problem until you brought her here. Now you have exposed us both. But you already know this. You think me so foolish I cannot see your manipulations? You think to force my hand by creating a threat I must act upon.¡±


    ¡°I simply wanted to contain the situation.¡±


    ¡°Of course, a situation you created and made a hundred-fold worse by bringing her here to my door-step. I¡¯ll not be manipulated. You hoped to sate your sick desires on her, and you wish my permission. Let¡¯s not couch it in lies.¡±


    Their mental back and forth moved so quickly it gave me a headache. I could barely keep up with the flow of words so much faster than anything spoken.


    ¡°Yes Master, I want to kill her. If you¡¯d allow me to kill at my discretion I wouldn¡¯t have exposed you. I could¡¯ve taken care of it discreetly with no one the wiser.¡± Lia sounded snipish, as if it was all his fault that she brought me here.


    ¡°Your discretion is ever flawed. You prove the necessity for my limitations with your foolish actions.¡±


    ¡°I beg forgiveness.¡±


    ¡°No you don¡¯t, you are begging permission to kill.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And how did you find her? Walking the streets? I think not. You used the escort service, and they have the call records and financial payment records of the reservation fee. Is that your definition of discretion? The police investigation would lead to us in a matter of hours.¡±


    The entire conversation passed in the span of ten seconds of staring at each other. It ended abruptly when the Spaniard lashed out at Lia. He smacked her really hard, a whip-crack backhand. He hit her so hard her feet left the ground as she flew across the room. The sound of it echoed in the open space, breaking the uncomfortable silence with sudden violence.


    It scared the shit out of me. I actually gave out a girly squeak. Lia picked herself up off the floor about eight feet from where she¡¯d been standing and straightened her skirt like it was no big deal. Tough little bitch.


    The Master stared me down for a moment, then introduced himself in a cool calm voice. ¡°My name is Enrique de la Riguera, but I suspect you already know that.¡±


    He watched me intensely, looking down on me from that imposing Spaniard beak. I had that same over powering feeling I¡¯d experienced earlier with Lia. I returned his stare, refusing to be intimidated. His features reminded me of something I saw on the History channel, Spain had been overrun by Arabs at one point. As a result, the Spaniards had a heavy blend of Arabic genetics. He had that same Arabian hooked nose. An imposing nose, especially when he stared down it at me, ready to piss myself.


    I didn¡¯t fall for his ruse. I never admit I know more than I should. I tried to still my shaking hands and played it off. ¡°My name is Hope. I don¡¯t have a clue what¡¯s going on here, but I¡¯d really like to go home now. The people I work for are gonna be very upset if I¡¯m not returned soon.¡±


    He stared at me unblinking, unfazed, unperturbed. He drove me nuts with his mental silence. It felt so wrong to be cut off from his thoughts, like I was missing something vital. He could lie and I¡¯d never know it. No one could lie to me. Never stopped them from trying, but still, it¡¯s a point of pride. He robbed me of my one advantage, which I really needed now more than ever. How unnerving.


    ¡°And who do you work for?¡±


    It¡¯s a rare occasion I admit openly I work for the cartel. But they had me in a real situation, my life on the line. A little name dropping might prove useful. I opened my mouth, but Lia interrupted.


    ¡°She works with an internet-based escort service. She doesn¡¯t have a pimp, she¡¯s lying.¡±


    I whipped out my expired visa from my purse and shoved it at Enrique. ¡°Wrong. I¡¯m Colombian. I work for Faustino Vasquez. I¡¯m under his protection. If you don¡¯t let me go right now there will be hell to pay!¡±


    I¡¯d really gotten into the role. I played my trump card to the fullest. I had no idea the ramifications of my words, how much more danger my connection to Faustino created.


    Enrique sneered at me, at Lia, and looked at my visa. He flipped the card over, and flipped it again to study my four year old photograph. He nodded to himself in confirmation and calmly handed it back to me. No sooner had I took my visa from his hand than he turned on Lia snarling in rage.


    ¡°You ignorant bitch! You brought a telepathic prostitute who works for EL Tiburon into my home!¡± His lips moved on that one. He virtually screamed at her.


    The fact he knew Faustino¡¯s nickname on the street spoke volumes. I began to realize I might have made a mistake. Then he did it again.


    I never even saw him move. He smacked Lia across the room. I jumped and squeaked this time, very girly. He was so damn powerful. I¡¯ve never seen a grown person tossed around like a rag doll.


    It came to me then, just how dangerous Enrique was. I¡¯ve seen quite a few fights in my time. Colombians brawl over anything. But I¡¯ve never seen what I watched Enrique do twice in the past five minutes. He graduated to the scariest person I¡¯d ever met, more intimidating than Arana or Faustino.


    Although I couldn¡¯t read anything from Enrique, Lia¡¯s mind supplied me with plenty of information. Enough to know I was dead meat. As she picked herself back up off the floor again, I read it all. Enrique had occasional dealings with Faustino, which made me a liability. I might compromise his business with the cartel. Add to that the fact they thought I knew their secret, that they were vampires. Either of those reasons was sufficient cause to have me killed. Both reasons combined to create a synergistic blend virtually guaranteeing my death and dismemberment. Lia thought they should feed my corpse to pigs to dispose of the physical evidence.


    I turned and ran for the door, terror driving me. I ran like an animal being hunted. I ran for my life.


    Chapter 4


    Terror is an emotion in a class all its own. Few people ever know true terror in their lives. I mean the run or die, run till your heart bursts kind of terror. I¡¯d certainly never experienced it before. It robbed me of all sense, all reasoning capacity. All I could do was run.


    I made it about twenty feet. I had begun to think I might just make it out of there. I wrenched to a painfully abrupt halt by a set of immensely strong iron-sinewy arms. Felt like being hooked by a waist high steel bar.


    Enrique snatched me up in his powerful arms and lifted me off the floor like my hundred and fifteen pounds was nothing. When the intense instinct of flight is denied, all that¡¯s left is fight.


    I fought with all my strength and spitfire and heart. I kicked and clawed. I screamed obscenities in multiple languages. I flailed, pummeled, elbowed, bit and scratched. Nothing seemed to do any real damage until my flailing right knee caught him square in the groin. That changed things.


    He grunted in pain and promptly let go ¨C then smacked me into next week. A real whopper. Felt like he hit me with a cast iron skillet. I went flying, sprawled out flat on my back on the beautiful gleaming hardwood floors.


    I saw stars, and the landing knocked the wind out of me good. I lay there spread eagle, dazed, mostly naked. My robe had come loose and fallen to the floor in our struggle. I like to think that¡¯s what saved my life, my nudity and vulnerability. That and a little begging. When terrified of being murdered and fed to pigs, begging is not out of the question. In fact, I highly recommend it.


    He scooped me back up off the floor. ¡°Please let me go. I won¡¯t say anything to anyone. I¡¯m not even legal. You saw my visa, it¡¯s expired. I won¡¯t go to the cops!¡±


    He didn¡¯t say a word, and Lia¡¯s mind remained firmly set on my death, so I kept at it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll work for you. I can make two thousand a week. I do guys and girls and even group sex! You can have me for free all you want, every day, three times a day if you want. I give the best blow job you¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    Somewhere in the mix, begging, naked in his arms, attesting with all sincerity to my superior blow job skills, I saw a change in his face and attitude. Anger morphed to pity. Pity was good. I could live with pity. Pity meant he might not kill me. I sensed the difference and pressed the advantage.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never tell a soul, I promise. I swear on my mother¡¯s grave. Tell me what you want. I¡¯ll do it right now. I can go all night long. I¡¯m like the energizer bunny.¡± I reached into his pants to demonstrate my willingness to service him right there and then. He stared at me with something like pity, maybe even sympathy.


    ¡°Stop!¡± he yelled. ¡°Be still. I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡±

 Page 7

    I felt so relieved to hear those words. But the bitch was still planning my death. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d fully convinced him yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious! I¡¯ll do anything you want. We can have a threesome right now. I do anal sex too. Whatever you like. You guys into kinky stuff? You can tie me up, it¡¯s okay.¡±


    I had my hand in his pants by then, pulling on his cock. I tried to pull it completely out to suck him, but he spoke with undeniable authority.


    ¡°Stop now! I¡¯m not going to hurt you. We are not having sex. Kindly remove your hands.¡±


    No mistaking his command, he didn¡¯t want me in his pants. I¡¯d lost my initiative. My only bargaining chip gone. I wondered if he was gay. That would be so ironic, killed by a gay man who had no appreciation for my offer. If I couldn¡¯t seduce him, how would I make it out of this alive? Lia glared at me with one of those looks, her I¡¯m-gonna-enjoy-peeling-your-skin-off look.


    ¡°But ¡­ she ¡­ she wants me dead.¡± I whined to Enrique pointing at Lia.


    He looked at me funny ¨C then it hit me. I¡¯d basically admitted I knew what she was thinking. I had opened the lid to Pandora¡¯s Box. He smiled down at me.


    ¡°You are a telepath, how interesting.¡± He looked towards Lia and back down at me. ¡°I¡¯ve tried repeatedly to teach her to block her mind from this kind of intrusion, but it would seem she lacks the aptitude for it.¡±


    He addressed Lia. ¡°You understand you¡¯re broadcasting your every sick thought to this poor girl and she¡¯s mistakenly assumed we are of the same mind.¡±


    Lia glared at me with vitriol potent enough to poison the New York City water reservoirs. She imagined new horrors committed against my flesh: impalings, severing of limbs, flaying the muscles from my bones. She hissed like a reptile. I flinched away from all that malice and horror. I leaned into Enrique¡¯s embrace, the very same guy who I¡¯d been fighting with a moment ago.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a mind reader. It¡¯s obvious she wants me dead. I mean ¡­ just look at her.¡± I tried to play the denial game.


    Enrique shook his head in disappointment. ¡°No lies. We know what you are. It cannot be hidden from us.¡±


    I tried again. He interrupted me. ¡°Ahht! No lies Esperanza. I¡¯m not going to hurt you. I promise. Do you trust my promise?¡±


    I wanted to so bad. But she still wanted me dead, and I couldn¡¯t get into his mind. I nodded yes, but how could I trust a man whose thoughts I couldn¡¯t read?


    ¡°Okay then. No more lies. You must not lie to me. Ever. You are what you are. And for this reason I must decide what to do with you.¡±


    ¡°Please let me go home ¡­¡±


    ¡°Ahht! Shush. No more drama. I have made you a promise. I¡¯ll not harm you, and neither will Lia.¡± She shot daggers of pure hate at Enrique holding my naked body snuggly in his protective arms.


    He glared hard at Lia. ¡°You¡¯ll not harm Esperanza. I forbid you to hurt her.¡± It seemed like his voice had changed, a strange tone of command.


    Lia growled in frustration, literally grooowwled like an animal. She most definitely hated me, with such focused hatred that I¡¯d never seen before. A fanatical, maniacal kind of hate. Very disturbing.


    Enrique looked back down at me, almost nose to nose as I huddled in his steel-cable arms. ¡°We¡¯ll speak more of this later. I think you need some clothes and a rest.¡± He used that intense gaze. I felt pretty certain he tried to hypnotize me. Not happening.


    ¡°That Jedi mind trick crap doesn¡¯t work on me.¡± I blurted it out, like a fool.


    But I did feel tired, worn out, sore. I¡¯d probably have some good bruises shortly.


    ¡°Yes, and therein lies the problem.¡±


    He carried me through the hallways of his mansion-like penthouse to a monstrous bedroom with an awesome view of Central Park and a ginormous king-size four-poster bed. It was an orgy bed. Four or more people could fit in it comfortably. As he dumped me on the bedcovers, reality settled in. Though alive and well, I wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    ¡°Please let me go home.¡± I grabbed his hand as he stepped away from the bed. ¡°Please! Faustino will be looking for me. He¡¯ll hunt me down. You don¡¯t understand. I really need to go home.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m very sorry, but that life is over now. I¡¯ve yet to decide the role you¡¯ll fulfill here, but your former life as a prostitute is finished. Think about it for a while. You¡¯ll no longer be required to sell your body. You may find this a change for the better. I¡¯ll bring you some food and clothing shortly. You can wash up in the restroom.¡± He handed me the remains of my torn bathrobe that he¡¯d scooped off the floor earlier.


    ¡°How wonderful. I get my very own bathroom for the first time ever, but I¡¯m a god damn prisoner.¡±


    He tried to get away scot free, dump me in my cell and just walk away. I put it back on him. ¡°I¡¯ve had some asshole telling me what to do my entire life. This is just more of the same. So I don¡¯t have to sell my body, you still have me here. Might as well have my body, it¡¯s the same. Either way you look at it I¡¯m not free to live as I please.¡±


    He studied me. A momentary glimpse of emotion crossed his features, perhaps sympathy. Then he nodded and locked the door from the outside leaving me alone, caged, contemplating the new mess I¡¯d made of my life.


    In the luxurious bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror assessing the damage. I looked like shit. My left cheek was red and swollen, my lips puffy and bleeding, and my left eye had begun to change color. It wasn¡¯t the first black eye I¡¯d been given by a man, and probably wouldn¡¯t be the last. My elbows were raw from my landing on the hardwood floors, I¡¯d broken a nail on my right hand, and my arms had bruises from where he held onto me too tightly as we fought. Standing there butt naked, seeing how horrible I looked, I started to cry.


    I exhausted my tears with some cursing and a heavy dose of self-pity. A hot bath sounded good. Sometime during my relaxing bubble bath, a care package had been magically delivered. A bathrobe, nightgown, and a very expensive cocktail dress hung on the bathroom door. The bedroom revealed a whole four course meal from Chang Wo¡¯s Chinese Restaurant.


    The food smelled heavenly. I hadn¡¯t really eaten much since I woke up, and it was already past midnight. I downed the spicy szechuan beef, mu shu pork, and sweet-n-sour chicken with rice. The awesome meal went a long way towards soothing my frazzled nerves. I¡¯m such a simple creature when you break it down. Food, clothes, and shelter. That¡¯s really all I needed. But this deal also came with a bottle of red wine on ice. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re supposed to drink red wine with Chinese food, but I didn¡¯t give a shit.


    It was good wine, not that I know anything about wine, but any spirits were welcome at the moment. I had worked my way through most of the bottle by the time my new Master let himself into the room.


    I slurred. ¡°1998 was a very good year.¡± I held my bottle up in salute. I had grown attached to my bottle, reluctant to let go. It would serve as a decent bludgeon if that psycho bitch came anywhere near me.


    ¡°So it would seem.¡± Enrique sat next to me on the plush cream colored sofa I was camping out on in my new terry cloth bathrobe. ¡°What are you watching?¡±


    On the forty inch flat screen I viewed a rerun of ¡®twelve corazones¡¯, a dating show on one of the Spanish channels. I liked seeing all those young attractive people from all parts of Latin America smiling on TV, happy, doing whatever they wanted, with nice shiny new visas. I aspired to be like them someday, just a normal person enjoying life in America. Isn¡¯t this supposed to be the land of the free?


    My attitude creeped out from under my drunken smile. ¡°It¡¯s gay porn ¨C what do you care?¡±


    I thought about smashing my Cabernet Sauvignon over his head to make my escape, but I still had a few swigs left. I didn¡¯t want to waste that last bit, might need it to make it through the rest of the night. Besides, he didn¡¯t really feel threatening. I felt like I could trust him, my captor. How stupid is that?


    He seemed so civilized, cool and collected. I¡¯m sure he only smacked me as a way to get control of the situation. And the fact I kneed him in the nuts probably had something to do with it. I needed to watch out for that psycho Lia. Not this man.


    He didn¡¯t react to my bait, so I tried another tactic. ¡°What are you gonna do with me?¡± I shifted my legs, allowing my bathrobe to part just enough to flash a little bit of shaved pussy. He smiled at the blatant invitation.


    ¡°Does everything with you revolve around sex?¡±


    I opened my legs wider and pulled back the hem of my robe. He had an unobstructed view of me from the belly down.


    ¡°I imagine that¡¯s what most men think about in your presence, you¡¯re an extremely sensual person. I suspect it¡¯s your dominant trait.¡±


    ¡°Sex is my life. It has been since I was fourteen. I¡¯m very good at it. Wouldn¡¯t you like to find out?¡± I smiled as my hand creeped down my belly to stop between my legs, touching myself as he watched.


    ¡°I bet you are. Esperanza ¡­ you¡¯ve had it rough. I don¡¯t mean tonight, I mean in general. For that reason I truly regret what I must do. But I see no other acceptable alternative.¡± Then he struck hard and fast, right in the neck. It wasn¡¯t one of those friendly little nips. He chomped on my neck, and it hurt. He latched onto me with his iron grip and sunk his teeth in so deep I thought for sure he¡¯d take a chunk out of me.


    Then it hit, a wonderful joyous euphoria. It started between my legs and worked its way all throughout my body. He had me clawing at his back moaning and groaning with it. Starbursts and fireworks, a roaring rush like no other. A full-bodied orgasm, convulsions and all.


    I found myself wrapped around him humping on his thigh, making this guttural grunting noise. I was so damn wet. He made me squirt. My thighs were soaking wet from the world¡¯s most awesome orgasm ever. I¡¯m pretty sure I called out his name a few times along with God, as if the two were interchangeable. For those minutes he held onto me sucking the life out of my neck, he might as well have been God for all I knew. Yes, it really was that good.

 Page 8

    When it finally ended I was spread eagled on his thigh, my legs wrapped tightly around him. My hips kept humping, involuntarily, rubbing my soaking wet crotch all over his leg. I just couldn¡¯t stop coming, my body did its own thing. I was sore. Who needs a cardio workout when you can burn hundreds of calories with the world¡¯s best orgasm?


    My arms hurt from holding onto him so tightly, my jaw ached from earlier, and my pussy was raw from grinding on him with every ounce of strength I had. He¡¯d burned me out in just minutes. I felt totally limp. I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn¡¯t hold my weight. I collapsed. Enrique caught me up in his arms before my head hit the floor. Creepy fast and strong as an ox.


    ¡°Whoa there, you need to take it easy. You¡¯re anemic. Between Lia and I, we¡¯ve taken a little too much in one night. We¡¯ll have to get you a blood transfusion.¡± He laid me down on the bed and brought back a glass of water. He tucked me in as if he really cared. I felt so dizzy, drowsy, nauseous. As I dozed off asleep I heard him talking into the intercom on the wall.


    ¡°Bring me two pints of AB positive and an IV tier setup.¡±


    Chapter 5


    He woke me up with the prick of the IV needle.


    ¡°You really are a vampire.¡± My own voice sounded strange, groggy, slurred. I drifted off back to sleep as he kissed me on the forehead. That was nice.


    I awoke sometime later in the night. Enrique sat next to me on the bed. The IV tier had disappeared. I felt so thirsty, a horrendous puky taste. My tongue had morphed into a piece of deadwood stuck to the sides of my mouth.


    ¡°Can I have a drink of water?¡± I croaked.


    The glass of water materialized in his hand out of nowhere, must¡¯ve been on standby. I downed it all. He brought a refill.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I regained my voice at least.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I felt pretty good all things considered. And having a handsome smiling man at my bedside didn¡¯t hurt.


    The fact he sat there staring at me started to sink in. Men sit at my bedside for one reason only. ¡°Okay then.¡±


    He kept staring at me, boring into my soul with those damn freaky intense eyes.


    ¡°Okay. I guess this is what you want.¡±


    I untied my terry cloth robe and let it fall to the bed as I sat up. Though tired, sore, and not really in the mood, I was still alive and well. I owed him a thank you. Men are simple, they appreciate the simple gestures. Apart from all that, he looked quite yummy in his expensive suit. If he tasted half as good as he looked, I might even enjoy it.


    ¡°Esperanza, you don¡¯t have to do this. It¡¯s not necessary. I appreciate the offer, I¡¯m flattered. I feel guilty enough as it is without taking further advantage of you.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. It¡¯s my body. I give it freely in gratitude for my life.¡± I kinda liked him. He seemed so dashing and debonair. Cultured. He had that old world Spaniard nobility thing, a Latino James Bond.


    I crawled onto his lap, reaching to undo his pants. I looked him in the eyes as I wrapped my hand around his cock. ¡°Hope. My name is Hope.¡±


    I swallowed him whole. I took every last inch I could. He¡¯d been mostly ready when I tasted him, but he grew even larger, rock hard in my mouth. I sucked harder, deep throat, and then back up to encircle the head with my lips and tongue. They usually go nuts over that, and he was no exception.


    ¡°You ¡­ know ¡­ what ¡­ you¡¯re doing!¡±


    Mouth filled with him, I mumbled, ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Then I showed him just how much I knew.


    The guy had a cock on him, at least eight inches or more. Unable to read his mind, I was forced to figure out what he liked by trial and error. I worked at making him groan, gasp, sigh. I had more than enough experience to read a man¡¯s reactions. He fisted his hand in my hair and pulled me down to take him all in. I took every last inch, till I kissed his balls.


    ¡°Aye que rico!¡± He cried out.


    I thought for sure he would try to make me swallow it. I hate swallowing. But he turned the tables on me. In the blink of an eye he pulled me up and flipped me over face down on the bed. Then he shoved all eight inches in me with all his weight and power.


    ¡°Oh God you¡¯re fucking huge.¡± And he was.


    He attacked me with a fervor I have rarely ever seen in a man. He buried that thing in so far I thought it would come out my mouth head first. ¡°Oh shit! Oh shit.¡±


    He didn¡¯t fuck me, he assaulted me, the bed springs screamed as I grunted, face totally buried by all that power and weight. The man fucked me harder than I have ever had it. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d done to him to deserve a grudge-fuck like this, but it was intense.


    Then it hit me. He didn¡¯t have a condom. That¡¯s the golden rule, the inviolable rule. I had no chance to think about it. He slammed that thing up into me, scooting me across the bed face first. I had to push off the headboard or have my face jammed in it from all that strength behind his thrusts.


    ¡°Aye querida, you steal my control.¡±


    In spite of the pain it was awesome. He pounded my cervix to a sopping wet sponge and I loved every last second of it.


    ¡°Shit, I won¡¯t be able to walk tomorrow.¡±


    The man was made of steel cables and he rammed that steel inside me till I screamed his name, again. I never said anybody¡¯s name, not even Faustino, not even when I knew he wanted me to. Enrique had me screaming out his name as I held onto the headboard, barely able to maintain my grip.


    ¡°That¡¯s it! Say it again!¡± He shoved that monster cock in faster and harder as I hit my peak yelling like a madwoman.


    What began as an attempt at providing him some satisfaction ended with me writhing and screaming beneath him. He hit my buttons with long, hard, deep, strokes.


    ¡°Oh Hope you shouldn¡¯t have done this.¡±


    With that he laid his weight into me, squashing me down into the mattress and bit down on the back of my neck. As soon as I felt the sting of his sharp little teeth, an explosion of orgasmic wonder hit me. It was like nothing else. Love, joy, heaven, nirvana. He only bit down for a few seconds, but long enough to make me very, very happy.


    And then I felt his whole body clench up with it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it!¡±


    I swear he buried that cock all the way up into my ribcage and emptied himself inside me.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    He pumped it up in a couple more times as he unloaded, his steel fingers pulling my ass up tight against his groin, painfully tight. I couldn¡¯t have escaped that grip if I wanted to.


    I haven¡¯t had bareback sex since I was fourteen. It felt ¡­ strange. Felt like I¡¯d been claimed, permanently. Like he had made me his, and therefore he could come inside me as much as he wanted to. Like we were married or something.


    ¡°Aye Esperanza, see what you make me do.¡± He pushed it in a little farther as he convulsed in release.


    ¡°Oh God you¡¯re so huge.¡±


    I felt like I could hardly breathe with all that cock inside me. Probably just his weight smashing me into the mattress. We would definitely have to change the sheets. I was a wet mess, and he kept pumping, shooting it up in there as far as he could get it.


    I¡¯m gonna get pregnant. Stupid asshole just knocked me up. ¡°You fucker! I hope you want a kid, because you probably just gave me one.¡±


    He slid out slowly, all that wetness going everywhere. I didn¡¯t want to move, didn¡¯t think I could. But I wanted him to put that thing right back where it was and sink those teeth back into my shoulder.


    ¡°Well don¡¯t stop now. You already did it. Might as well do it again.¡± I mumbled, happily exhausted, face still down in the mattress.


    ¡°We must be more careful, querida.¡±


    ¡°Too late for that.¡±


    ¡°You mistake me. I cannot impregnate you, Esperanza, not even if I wanted to.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they all say.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine they make many excuses. It¡¯s a base instinct, to mate, to make children. I cannot. It¡¯s the truth. I will never have children.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see in time. But you must not test my control like this. It¡¯s far too easy to hurt you. Are you hurt?¡± He stroked my back soothingly. Those powerful hands could be gentle too.


    ¡°I¡¯m not getting up anytime soon, but I¡¯ll survive.¡± I spoke with my head turned sideways, too lazy to wipe the slobber from the side of my mouth.


    ¡°Yes, I think you¡¯re okay. Don¡¯t do that again. I almost couldn¡¯t stop myself.¡±


    ¡°You already did it inside me, why stop now? I can handle another round. Remember, I¡¯m the Energizer Bunny, takes a lickin¡¯ and keeps on tickin¡¯.¡± I still hadn¡¯t moved, yet. I don¡¯t think he believed my bravado.


    ¡°Let us rest for now.¡±


    ¡°Okay ¡­ sounds like a good idea.¡± I could barely keep my eyes open as he finished undressing and climbed into bed to wrap all that steel around my happily abused body. He owned me now. Might as well get a decent cuddle out of the deal. As I passed into blissfully sated sleep, tightly held in Enrique¡¯s embrace, he whispered something strange in my ear.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I had to do this. But there was no other way.¡±


    His words didn¡¯t mean much to me at the time. I felt safe and protected in his strong arms. Satisfied, content, I snuggled in closer and went out like a light. What an idiot.


    I awoke in the afternoon alone in bed. I could still smell him on the sheets. Like the fool I am, I thought he¡¯d be there. Wake up sex can be awesome, but I rarely if ever have someone there when I wake up. And it usually isn¡¯t someone I really want there.


    A dining cart awaited me with pizza, bottled water, a couple cans of Ensure protein shakes, and a note. The pungent aroma of the chicken pesto pizza had me ravenous. I inhaled two pieces as I read Enrique¡¯s little love note:


    Dear Hope:


    Please eat and drink as much as you can. You will be anemic constantly. You must take very good care of your health. The Ensure supplement will help. There will be plasma and blood transfusions available soon, you will probably need them. Take the sublingual strip Suboxone to hold off withdrawals until we meet again after sunset around 7:15 p.m. The Suboxone goes under your tongue.

 Page 9

    I apologize for your situation. I hope we can find a way to work through this and become friends.


    Love


    Enrique


    Okay ¡­ Suboxone. Some of the guys at the Towers mentioned it once. It helps fight off heroin withdrawals. One guy said it gave a slight buzz, but nothing like heroin. I have never and will never try heroin. I¡¯ve seen what addicts look like, it¡¯s really fucked up.


    So why would he give me Suboxone?


    And why wait till seven? Three hours from now. I didn¡¯t want to wait for him. I wanted him here now. Right now! I wanted him to bite me again right now!


    ¡°Son of a bitch! He got me with that fucking bite. That¡¯s what he¡¯s been talking about. He¡¯s got me hyped on his bite! Fucking vampires!¡±


    I had a craving, a need, an unscratchable itch for Enrique. Three more hours to go.


    Chapter 6


    I was bouncing off the walls by 5:30 p.m.. The Suboxone helped get rid of my headache, and I had a decent buzz going. None of that solved the craving I had for Enrique, or more specifically his bite. A warm bath didn¡¯t help, the three cans of Ensure didn¡¯t help, nor did the half bottle of chardonnay, although it kicked up my buzz nicely.


    By 7:16 p.m., I was ready to strip the floral print wallpaper off with my nails. Every part of my body ached for Enrique. I don¡¯t mean pain, I mean need, desire, angst. By 7:17 p.m. I kicked at the locked door, front kicks and sidekicks. I took a few steps back to do a jumping side kick when he opened the door with the most infuriatingly calm comment on his lips.


    ¡°Did you miss me?¡±


    I screamed and launched forward. ¡°You son of a bitch!¡±


    He caught me right out of the air in a graceful embrace, absorbing all my impact in his iron hard arms. Before I could react, he bit me fast and hard, right in the neck, robbing me of all sense and reason. Anger, hatred, need, frustration, all obliterated in the blast of sweet, sweet euphoria so intense it brought tears to my eyes. He carried me to the bed as I convulsed with orgasms, still held in the leech¡¯s embrace as if he cared for me. It¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t have any underwear on beneath my bathrobe, I would¡¯ve had to change them. My inner thighs were soaked by the time he let up.


    I hated and loved him. I wanted to kill him, fuck him, and kiss him, all at the same time. What a mess. Hate won the toss up as the strongest sentiment of the moment.


    ¡°I hate you.¡± I spoke in a quiver, breathless from his bite.


    ¡°I expected as much. It¡¯s regrettable, but under the circumstances you left me no choice.¡± He sighed.


    ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say? What did you do to me?¡±


    ¡°I know this seems bad. I understand you¡¯re upset, and rightfully so. I apologize, but it was necessary.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I had to assure your loyalty. I had to bind you to me. There was no other way.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean bind? How am I bound? I can¡¯t read your mind! You have to tell me what you¡¯ve done to me. Why do I want to be with you all the time? Why do I need you to bite me?¡±


    ¡°I understand. It must be upsetting you can¡¯t get in here.¡± He tapped his finger on his skull. ¡°The only name for your condition I have ever known is an archaic terminology I learned from my master over a century ago. He called them ¡®Bloodslaves¡¯. I think it¡¯s an inappropriate title. I have no intention of making you a slave.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m not a slave then why don¡¯t you let me go home?¡± I whined.


    ¡°Querida, you know too much. It was bad enough you knew of our existence. Then Lia brought you here. She is a constant strain on my patience. If she had let you be, the situation would¡¯ve diffused itself. I imagine you considered her an eccentric. As it stands now, I can¡¯t let you go. To be truthful, your particular talents are intriguing. I¡¯m beginning to like the idea of having you around.¡±


    He had me crying by then. I couldn¡¯t go home, ever. He¡¯d never let me go. Hating him for my captivity, I still felt this inexplicable desire to touch him, coerce him into biting me again. The bastard had me hooked like a damn heroin junky! As I stood there with tears streaming down my face, the son of a bitch hugged me.


    It didn¡¯t seem real. Like a bad dream I couldn¡¯t wake up from. He had to let me go home.


    ¡°What if I promised I would never say a word to anyone? Who would believe me? This is all so crazy! I can¡¯t hurt you or expose you in any way! I¡¯m an illegal immigrant! I can¡¯t call the police or any other government agency! Your secret¡¯s safe with me! I don¡¯t care who or what you are, or where you live. I just want to go home!¡± I begged him shamelessly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a bloodslave! And I can¡¯t stand it here. Your mind is locked up solid. You could be lying to me! I don¡¯t know anything about you!¡±


    ¡°Shush, Shush, Shush. It does no good to lament. What¡¯s done is done. Querida ... you are bound to me. The bond cannot be broken. Surely you¡¯ve noticed the connection between us, the way you need me?¡±


    ¡°OH MY GOD! You did this to me on purpose!¡±


    ¡°Though I¡¯m not proud of it, I¡¯ll not lie. Yes ... I did this.¡±


    ¡°Oh God, I¡¯m a slave!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not really correct. I¡¯ve no need to stoop to such degradation. I respect you. Enough drama ¨C let¡¯s look at some of the positives here.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s positive?¡±


    ¡°I know this seems bad, and it is, but there are some benefits to this life. Come with me.¡±


    I followed him reluctantly into the luxurious bathroom attached to my bedroom prison cell. The nicest bed/bath combo I¡¯d ever stayed in. If I could come and go at will it would be perfect.


    We stood before the mirror. ¡°Do you notice anything different about yourself?¡±


    I looked in my eyes. I had a post orgasm flush, anger and frustration evident on my face. My eyes were wet from crying. Nothing seemed different from the person in the mirror an hour ago when I¡¯d taken a bath.


    ¡°What¡¯s supposed to be different?¡±


    I took him seriously, a new sense of fear bloomed in my gut. What had he done to me? Was I changed? Was I like him now? I opened my mouth to inspect my teeth, looking for the tell-tale fangs. Nada. Nothing changed that I could see.


    Enrique snorted laughter. I elbowed him in the ribs. My temper flared up. This was my life he laughed at! The asshole felt so damn solid, like hitting a piece of wood.


    He had a twinkle in his eye. ¡°Look at your face. Do you see any bruises or black eyes?¡±


    The bastard hadn¡¯t even flinched when I hit him, he was impervious. He stared at me expectantly with a faintly amused expression. I looked in the mirror again. I scowled, not a very attractive look for me overall. No bruises, no black eyes, not a mark on me from yesterday¡¯s scuffle. My elbows didn¡¯t have any raw spots from when I¡¯d hit the floor. The bite marks that should have been on my neck were nowhere to be found.


    I again asked the question, ¡°What did you do to me?¡± My voice filled with fear and awe.


    ¡°There are some pleasant advantages of repeated exposure to our bite. With each bite a small amount of venom is released into your system. This causes the euphoria. Our venom is quite beneficial over time. You¡¯ll heal much more quickly. Your immune system will improve, a higher resistance to communicable diseases. And you¡¯ll age more slowly than the average person. You could live to be well over a hundred. How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?¡±


    In shock from his words, it took me a few seconds to answer. ¡°Twenty-two¡±


    ¡°Oh ... well you seemed a bit older. So very young to have lived through so much. It¡¯s to your advantage. You¡¯ll look as you do for many years to come. A good situation for someone so young, to enjoy youth for a few extra years.


    ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Very old.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look a day over thirty five.¡±


    ¡°Why thank you.¡±


    The bastard had calmed me down. I chatted with him like old friends. He was so damn easy to talk to. Attractive, intelligent, kind, beautiful hazel eyes staring at me without blinking. Damn. I was falling under his spell. And why tell me all this? The more he revealed the more dangerous I became to him. He¡¯d never let me go now, I knew too much. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! And still he stared at me with those beautiful unblinking eyes.


    ¡°I thought vampires were immortal, what¡¯s all this hundred years shit? I could live that long just by being careful.¡±


    ¡°We live very long lives indeed, several hundred years or more. But you¡¯re not a vampire.¡±


    ¡°Oh I get it. I¡¯m just here for you to bite and fuck. I¡¯m just food ¨C a bloodslave.¡±


    ¡°Calmate querida. Vulgarity is so unattractive coming from such a beautiful woman. Listen to me carefully. You are not a slave. You¡¯re my guest, permanently. That¡¯s how you¡¯ll be treated, that¡¯s how it is.¡±


    ¡°A guest who can never leave the bedroom. That¡¯s the same thing as a slave.¡±


    ¡°No more strife. Let¡¯s get you some clothing, a few amenities. Lia has provided clothes temporarily. Get ready and I¡¯ll return for you shortly.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving? I actually get to leave the bedroom? Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Yes, with me of course. I¡¯m not letting you out of my sight. I¡¯m taking you shopping as a gesture of goodwill. Isn¡¯t that what all women want to do in Manhattan?¡±


    All I wanted was to go home. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I had been kidnapped and turned into a slave. I could imagine Arana and Faustino were already alerted to my absence and looking for me at this very moment. The ¡®going shopping¡¯ bribery routine didn¡¯t impress me.


    ¡°Oh I see. I¡¯m to be a pampered slave, how delightful.¡± Maybe I pushed it too far, he didn¡¯t look very happy.


    ¡°Thirty minutes! Be ready!¡±


    He left me standing in front of the mirror as he locked the bedroom door from the outside on his way out. Who installs locks like that, anyways? He must have imprisoned others here before me ... others who were now probably dead and gone.

 Page 10

    I was such a mess. I wanted Enrique to come back. I couldn¡¯t stand to be away from him. And yet I wanted to run home to the Towers. To top it all off, I didn¡¯t trust him one bit. He could lie to me! No one can lie to me, but he could. I wanted to trust him. He seemed sincere, he seemed to care. I wanted so bad to take him at face value, to believe the fairytale. Could I really live to be a hundred, here, with him, in this fabulous Park Avenue penthouse?


    After agonizing for the entire half hour while I dressed in Lia¡¯s designer clothing, I decided to give him a chance. Why not give Enrique a chance to prove he¡¯s the real thing? Like he said, no use fighting it. I recalled the serenity prayer one of the girls at the Towers taught me, the mantra from a Narcotics Anonymous 12-step program.


    ¡°God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference today.¡±


    I don¡¯t really have faith. I don¡¯t know if God exists, but the words make sense to me. Why stress out about things I have no control over? I might as well make the best of our shopping trip. I mean ... how bad could it be?


    I¡¯d hyped myself up for a Manhattan shopping spree, and then she opened the door to my room. ¡°It¡¯s time to go.¡± Fantastic, the psychotic vampire bitch from hell would be there too. Not very fairytaleish.


    We rode in the limo again, but the chauffer was a young Hispanic man, way more respectful than the previous asshole. He thought I was some rich bitch niece, daughter, or family friend of Enrique¡¯s. He didn¡¯t for one second suspect my true identity and relationship to the boss. What a difference a few hundred dollars¡¯ worth of clothes can make. The chauffer envied me. He assumed I¡¯d been born in the lap of luxury, all because of how I dressed, and the respectful way Enrique held his hand at my back. I almost turned to him to say three hundred an hour or fifty dollars for a blow job. I wanted to see the shocked look on his face as I tore down the illusion he¡¯d built up about me in his mind. Almost ... but I didn¡¯t. I enjoyed the illusion too much.


    The limo ride from the Upper East Side Park Avenue to the shopping mecca of Canal Street took almost an entire hour. It would¡¯ve been so much faster on the subway. I guess filthy rich vampires prefer to ride in style. Some real serious style: black leather seats, a wet bar, music.


    Though quiet, it was a hate-filled hour in the stylish limousine. I sat clenching my jaw while Lia imagined a thousand and one ways to kill-maim-violate me. She did it to torment me. She knew full well I could read every disgusting thing she imagined.


    Enrique quietly observed the loving atmosphere between Lia and me. When Lia pictured in her mind chewing through my body with her fangs, starting between my legs and working her way up through my torso, I¡¯d had enough.


    ¡°She¡¯s sick in the head! Her mind is like a horror film where I¡¯m the star who gets killed over and over! Make her stop!¡±


    I know it sounded whiny, but what could I do? The psycho bitch smiled a sweet serene innocent expression. She didn¡¯t fool anyone. Enrique lost his cool.


    ¡°This is unacceptable! Stop it now!¡± As soon as he spoke I felt a force clamping down on Lia¡¯s mind, like his words had a tangible effect over her. Lia¡¯s malicious thoughts curved away from me to refocus a spike of resentment and hatred towards her master. She imagined hitting him square in the nose, blood flying everywhere.


    I looked from her back to him. I knew he could read the same thing I could. He had access to her mind through their weird connection. Enrique didn¡¯t even look at her or acknowledge her malice.


    ¡°Why do you put up with her? She¡¯s sooo sick! There¡¯s something seriously wrong with her!¡±


    Lia twitched, reaching toward me as though she would rip me to shreds with her bare hands. Then I sensed that clamp on her mind again, a force that blocked her from doing as she wished. I looked at Enrique. He hadn¡¯t moved or said a word. He hadn¡¯t even looked at Lia.


    She fought a silent struggle with the thing that blocked her from hurting me. She flexed her hands, but she simply couldn¡¯t move any further to reach for me. Her hands were bound somehow. I could feel how Enrique¡¯s control bound her up physically, and it drove her insane. The woman was a fountain of seething hatred and resentment directed at both Enrique and I.


    ¡°She can¡¯t hurt you, I promise.¡± He spoke quietly, pegging me with those beautiful eyes. In the limo, against the backdrop of black leather, his hazel eyes became light brown.


    His words revealed the truth in her mind. She literally couldn¡¯t make a single movement intended to harm me. I laughed out loud. ¡°Ha! You can¡¯t touch me. You really can¡¯t lay a finger on me!¡± Stupid me, poking at the caged lion.


    Like a good zookeeper, Enrique turned on me. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough without you taunting her. Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m trying to keep things civil? Don¡¯t test my patience!¡±


    He addressed Lia. ¡°And you¡¯ll learn to live with Hope. You brought her into our lives, you have only yourself to blame. She¡¯s here to stay, deal with it.¡±


    We sat in silence for the remainder of the ride. Each of us stewing in our own brew of emotions. As usual, I decided to go with the fuck-it attitude. She couldn¡¯t hurt me though she wanted to, and Enrique seemed to have an iron grip on her. I couldn¡¯t help but wink whenever I caught her wicked stare burning a hole through me. It drove her nuts, but it made me smile. The chick was bonkers.


    I¡¯d never been to Canal Street before, too rich for my blood. Apparently my fortunes had changed. With the exception of the psycho¡¯s presence, I had a truly awesome shopping experience.


    Never have I walked into a Macy¡¯s and been told, ¡°Choose whatever you like. We¡¯re here to acquire an entire wardrobe. All your toiletries. Get whatever you need.¡±


    We hit em all: Prada, Louis Vuitton, Victoria¡¯s Secret, Mystique, Juicy Couture, and even J-Lo¡¯s personal fashion line. I loved it. I soaked it up. My affections were thoroughly purchased several times over. If Enrique hoped for a loyal, happy, bloodslave, he sure knew how to get what he wanted. It was soooo awesome.


    The one useful contribution the psycho Asian bitch provided to my shopping experience was her inside knowledge of certain shop¡¯s special wares. Lia sidled up to a couple of the Asian chicks at various stores and asked to be shown, ¡®the good stuff.¡¯ With this we were ushered into a secret stash, huge walkin closets of ¡®hot¡¯ ¨C stolen ¨C goods that still bore the designer tags. The store clerks assured us repeatedly the merchandise was ¡®legit¡¯, and could be verified by calling the one eight hundred line or via the manufacturer¡¯s website.


    I¡¯d heard of this ¡®Jersey shore¡¯ lifestyle, buying nothing but expensive designer clothing, but I had never deigned to participate in such a thing. Way too expensive for me.


    Only in America will people spend thousands of dollars on clothing, verify the serial numbers to make sure it¡¯s not a knockoff, and then donate it to charity when it goes out of style. I wondered if the IRS had a qualified tax deduction for donating out-of-style designer jeans.


    Back in Colombia no one would ever conceive of the idea, let alone do it. Americans are a breed unto themselves whose consumer culture is so strange as to be unbelievable to foreigners who¡¯ve never experienced it firsthand. My new three hundred dollar J-Lo jeans could¡¯ve supported a poverty stricken family in a hillside shack in Bogota for an entire month. Knowing this, I still loved those jeans. They were awesome. Especially since I didn¡¯t have to pay for them. I felt a connection to J-Lo beyond the fact that we were born on the same day ¨C we both enjoyed ass-hugging jeans.


    Lia couldn¡¯t help but stare at my ass, I flaunted it. I caught her looking. I winked at her, poking at the caged lion again. She immediately gave me a vivid image of sinking her huge oversized fangs into my juicy rump.


    It didn¡¯t bug me much anymore. I knew she couldn¡¯t hurt me. I may never get used to her sickness, but I could dismiss it more easily. I had a shopping high. Nothing could bring me down, or so I thought.


    Enrique carried the role of perfect gentleman. Complimentary, considerate, patient, smiling as I modeled my new wardrobe. He seemed to genuinely enjoy spending obscene amounts of money on me. It became increasingly difficult to hate him for converting me into his latest slave. I had to admit I didn¡¯t really feel like a slave. A captive maybe. I wanted his bite constantly, but he accommodated me every two to three hours. I stayed pleasantly hyped on his personal brand of euphoria. I had begun to wonder if I should wear a pad all the time. I wet myself whenever he sunk those wonderful little pointy teeth in my neck.


    My fairytale shopping spree ended with a picturesque walk in the night air at the park. Well ¡­ it¡¯s kind of a park. They call it ¡®The Highline¡¯. Some artsy conservationists transformed an ancient weed-strewn elevated rail track in Chelsea to a strip of park ¨C bike path ¨C recreation area. Ten whole city blocks of uninterrupted recreation: greenery, wildflowers, and boardwalk.


    Enrique treated me to a pair of kosher sausages as we sat on a balcony overlooking the Hudson. It kinda felt like a moment, at least until Lia¡¯s creepy thoughts reminded me of her intrusive presence. I had begun to enjoy my blissful ignorance of Enrique¡¯s thoughts. It added a touch of mystery to my life. For the first time ever, I had to take a man at face value, to trust without the certain knowledge of his intentions.


    Chapter 7


    The ride back to Park Avenue flowed smoothly. Lia seemed to have mellowed out. Instead of thinking about my demise, she focused on the details of a business venture of Enrique¡¯s in Madrid, Spain, his birthplace. The two of them had their mind-speak session running back and forth for several minutes. He planned to send her to Spain for a negotiation with a corporate board. She¡¯d been working with Enrique¡¯s Madrid attorneys for several years now. Obviously he trusted Lia much more than I realized.


    ¡°How long is she leaving for?¡± I cut into their private talk with my blunt edge.


    ¡°Stay out of my head bitch.¡± She sooo wanted to gut me.

 Page 11

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk of this later. For the sake of civility, please refrain from abusing your talents.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I mumbled agreement, feeling like a naughty little bad girl.


    A stab of jealousy hit me right in the heart, and twisted hard. They had such a long-standing connection, so intimate. How could I ever compete? I¡¯d be forever relegated to food status, a third-wheel. I felt sure Lia would hate me with a passion for years to come.


    I tried to focus on the positive. Lia would be leaving soon. I¡¯d have Enrique all to myself. I had a crisp new, sexy wardrobe valued in thousands of dollars, a complete makeup kit, and all the ridiculously expensive hygiene products a girl could ever want. To top it all off Enrique insisted I choose several cocktail dresses and gowns for certain black-tie events in the future.


    That was a good thing right? They planned on keeping me around for a while. I chose to see it that way.


    My pleasant little fantasy bubble of denial popped violently as we arrived at the penthouse. Enrique locked me back in my room with a promise to return in an hour. I¡¯d been looking forward to some more one on one time with him, and I could hardly wait for his return. Then I picked up on a conversation that wasn¡¯t meant for my ears.


    I overheard their weird mind-speak, through Lia¡¯s mind, of course. True to character, she started bitching at Enrique the moment he closed the door to my room.


    ¡°She¡¯s a cheap whore. She¡¯s nothing but trash and you treat her like a princess!¡± I actually heard her growl-snarl within her mind.


    He snapped back, ¡°You¡¯re the one slumming it with the trash in the ghettos of Spanish Harlem, so don¡¯t complain if you bring the filth home! I am not to blame for your foolishness, but I will clean up the mess when you force me to. You¡¯re stuck with her now. Learn to make the best of a bad situation.¡±


    I stifled my gasp, trying to be quiet as I put my head to the wall to close the distance.


    ¡°So how does bribery and bullshit chivalry equate to ¡®making the best of a bad situation?¡¯¡± She mocked him, mind-speaking in a weird tone, a parody of his voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to ease her transition into our household, to take away the sting of these drastic changes in her life. She probably won¡¯t live long anyway. You know this. Is it so horrible to make the time she has left enjoyable?¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ is that what you were doing? It looked to me like you were courting the tramp. I thought maybe you were shopping for an engagement ring.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. She¡¯s a whore. I¡¯ve no interest in her beyond the need to maintain an atmosphere of congeniality in my home, which you brought her to. She¡¯s nothing more than a bloodslave, but she deserves some respect and care. She doesn¡¯t deserve to be treated poorly. You will be civil with her. Cease these pointless attacks. It¡¯s childish and serves no purpose but to create discord.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡±


    ¡°I want you to start thinking about how she will fit in here with our nightly routine ¡­.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t catch anything further. They had walked too far down the hallway. My range was only about twenty feet.


    I had to sit down, my knees wobbled. Lia hadn¡¯t been joking at all. I felt her extreme rancor and jealousy. She actually believed Enrique liked me. Well, he certainly dispelled that notion. You¡¯re the one slumming it with the trash in the ghettos of Spanish Harlem, so don¡¯t complain if you bring the filth home. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forget those words.


    No mistaking the way he felt about me. Trash. I was nothing but trash in his eyes, a bloodslave whore.


    ¡°You fucking asshole!¡± I didn¡¯t want to cry. I hate crying. ¡°Damn!¡±


    The son of a bitch made me cry. I can insulate myself against people when I know who they are, where they¡¯re coming from. Their nastiness doesn¡¯t bother me so much, I just consider the source. But Enrique caught me by total surprise. I had begun to trust him.


    That little exchange pretty much ruined all the romance of an otherwise decent evening. I had an entire hour to brood. I would die soon. Explained why this room was set up with locks on the outside of the door.


    ¡°Who puts locks on the outside of a door? Who does that shit?¡±


    What was I to them, bloodslave of the month? Honored guest until I died in a few weeks? Obviously Lia didn¡¯t care to maintain the fa?ade. She wanted to get it over with now, minus all the pomp and ceremony. Why pamper a girl who¡¯s going to die tomorrow? She seems practical that way. It¡¯s a waste of time and resources to cater to someone so close to death.


    I wanted to hate Enrique. I wanted to denounce him to his face, tell him I knew all about the ruse. At the same time I wanted him here, touching me, biting me, making love to me. He made me his slave in every sense of the word. In spite of all the reasons I should hate him, I still needed him, which made me hate him even more.


    I¡¯ve never needed anyone like I need Enrique. It¡¯s a dependency.


    ¡°You asshole!¡±


    The asshole showed up with that sexy confident smile, the one that fit perfectly with his trimmed goatee. What a beautiful man. I hated him for being so appealing. The fucking master of my universe ¨C asshole.


    I forced a smile like I do with all my clients. I don¡¯t have to like someone to give a satisfying performance. He hugged me, kissed me in pretense of affection. I kissed him back with the same pretense.


    ¡°Ah, querida, you do look lovely with nothing but black silk.¡± A hungry look in his eyes.


    Though I wanted to hate him, tried hard to hate him, it felt so damn right in his arms. It was all a product of this bloodslave shit, but I couldn¡¯t get past it. I wanted him near, touching me, biting me. All my reasons for hating him became meaningless in his arms. God, I¡¯m such a loser. No matter the fact he saw me as filthy trash, he still held this power over me.


    ¡°I missed you already. I need you.¡± I gave into the irresistible desire to be with him. It allowed me to forget all the reasons I should hate him long enough to service both our needs. I untied my robe, and his hands helped remove it. The soft expensive silk flowed off my shoulders like water pooling on the ground at my feet.


    He scooped me up into those powerful arms and carried me to the bed. I gave him exactly what he wanted, my body, my blood, willingly. And he took it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard this before, but you¡¯re huge.¡±


    ¡°Aye querida, and you handle it well.¡± He had me so damn wet with anticipation. Just knowing he intended to bite me made me wet. And that big hunk of hard meat just slid right in to the hilt.


    We both grunted together as he sunk all eight inches in me. Talk about ruining a girl, I¡¯d never be satisfied with all those little five inchers anymore. I pulled hard on his ass, taking all of it, wanting it, needing it. He played with me for a while, sliding in and out real slow.


    ¡°Just give it to me already.¡± I gripped his ass, trying my best to get up onto all that hard meat. Then he bit me. I lost my mind for about five minutes straight. The asshole could make me come like no other man.


    We made such a mess together. He had me soaking wet, the sheets, all over my thighs. I was so raw and sensitive it hurt, but I couldn¡¯t stop humping his monstrous cock, and he gave it to me hard as ever. It seemed like the sex had gotten better, or maybe I could handle it with less pain.


    I loved it, every second of it. But I hated that he could make my body feel so awesome and my soul so desolate.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He stared down at me with those intense, piercing eyes that saw everything yet revealed nothing.


    My pretense of affection faltered. I rolled over and tried to ignore him, the man who had just fucked me stupid. He waited. When I continued to ignore him he rolled me back over, his face inches from mine.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± It sounded like a question, but his face looked demanding.


    ¡°What¡¯s to talk about?¡± Not too subtle.


    ¡°Whatever¡¯s bothering you.¡±


    ¡°What could be bothering me? I have a brand new wardrobe. You just screwed me so hard I can¡¯t walk. I¡¯m gonna live happily ever after for a hundred years, right?¡±


    He nodded his head, still waiting.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me more about how long I¡¯m supposed to live? All those ¡®benefits¡¯ you were talking about.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what you really want to hear. Tell me what¡¯s on your mind.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what¡¯s on my mind. I want to hear the tone of your voice and see the look in your eyes as you lie to me some more about how long I¡¯m going to live. Maybe I can learn to detect your lies without reading your mind.¡±


    ¡°Chingao.¡±


    All of a sudden he moved on top of me, pressed up between my legs. It was so damn unfair. I wanted him there, his hands on me. I wanted him to fuck me and bite me all night long, even though I was too sore for it. I wanted him to screw me until I forgot those horrible words.


    ¡°What did you hear? What gave you the idea I lied to you?¡±


    ¡°I heard it all, or enough of it. I heard your little talk about me outside my door after you locked me in. How much time do I have?¡± I did good so far, no tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, querida. I wish you¡¯d never heard a word of that. And I wish I¡¯d never said those things. I can explain if you¡¯ll listen.¡±


    I tried so hard not to cry. God I was sick of crying. I looked away from those intense eyes boring into my soul. I didn¡¯t want him to put me under his spell any further.


    He grabbed my face with strong hands, forcing me to look at him as he lied to me again.


    ¡°I know it sounds disingenuine. But I didn¡¯t mean what I said to Lia. I spoke of you in a very derogatory tone. I was attempting to combat her animosity towards you and our relationship.¡±


    ¡°Oh I feel so much better now.¡± I couldn¡¯t move my head, but I could still roll my eyes. ¡°So you didn¡¯t mean it when you said I¡¯m nothing but a whore, trash, a bloodslave, and I¡¯m gonna die soon anyway so who gives a shit.¡± There was no way to say those words without crying from the hurt, anger, frustration, and sense of impending doom.

 Page 12

    ¡°Oh how I wish you hadn¡¯t heard that. Querida ...¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t querida me! You may have me, my body, my blood, but I¡¯m not your querida!¡±


    ¡°Hope, you don¡¯t understand the complexity of Lia. It¡¯s very difficult to control her at times. She has become extremely jealous of the time I spend with you.¡±


    ¡°What does any of that have to do with how long I will live? You¡¯re planning to kill me, aren¡¯t you? It¡¯s true, I¡¯m gonna die.¡±


    ¡°No, querida. You must believe me when I promise I¡¯ll never hurt you intentionally, and I won¡¯t allow Lia to hurt you. It¡¯s ¡­ complicated. This life with us can be very dangerous. The position you are in is very high risk.¡±


    ¡°Would you try to make some sense? Give me a straight answer. Am I gonna die soon or not? And why.¡± I needed to see his eyes, to see if I could detect the lie. I had lost my enchantment with Enrique¡¯s blocked mind. I really needed to know for sure if he told the truth.


    He sighed in resignation. ¡°There are many risks associated with your condition. I have never seen a bloodslave live past a few months. The risk is that Lia or I may feed too much, too often. It¡¯s very serious. We could kill you easily, accidentally. You could go into cardiac arrest from low blood pressure, anemia. For that reason you will require plasma and blood transfusions regularly. You also have to drink lots of fluids constantly. There are some supplements that will help you recover from anemia.¡±


    ¡°Why did you tell me I could live a hundred years, and now admit to something totally different? How is that not a lie?¡±


    ¡°You should be able to live a very long life, if we¡¯re cautious, if we take pains to keep you healthy. There are certain ¡­ side effects of regular exposure to our venom. You will see some ¡­ changes.¡±


    ¡°Stop playing me. I¡¯m not an idiot. I know when I¡¯m getting a bullshit line. You still haven¡¯t explained how this is possible if you¡¯ve never seen a bloodslave live for more than a few months!¡±


    ¡°That has been my personal experience, but I avoid bloodslaves for that reason. You¡¯re the first one I¡¯ve had in over twenty years. Lia¡¯s not accustomed to the arrangement. She has never dealt with this before, and she isn¡¯t adapting to your presence very well.¡±


    I stared at him, waiting not so patiently for the answer that he skirted and danced around.


    ¡°It was my own master who lived far longer than I, several hundred years longer, who told me tales of what is possible. He once had a bloodslave who lived to a hundred and thirteen. That was way before any of the modern medical miracles of today. I truly believe it¡¯s possible for you to live a very long, happy life. But it¡¯s not a certainty, no guarantees. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll be happy. All I need is for you to fuck me and bite me. I¡¯m just a trashy whore right? I don¡¯t need much.¡±


    ¡°NO! ¡­ I don¡¯t expect you to believe me, but the truth is that I said those words to placate Lia. Our problem is that Lia suspects the truth.¡±


    ¡°What truth is that?¡±


    ¡°That I like you.¡±


    ¡°Of course you like me. I put out on command and I don¡¯t wear much in the way of clothes around the house. Sex and blood every night. What¡¯s not to like?¡±


    I reached down to his semi-hard cock resting against my thigh and tugged on him. He quickly grew solid in my grip. I pulled and guided him in.


    ¡°Fuck me. Bite me. It¡¯s what I¡¯m here for. It¡¯s what I want. You don¡¯t have to lie or pretend it¡¯s anything more than that.¡±


    Enrique tensed.


    I¡¯d made him angry, which was the goal. I hoped to strip away the pretense to get to the underlying truth. No more lies. Of course, that didn¡¯t stop him from shoving that huge thing back up into my ribcage harder and rougher than ever before. He trapped my hands above my head with one of his strong arms and the other hand held my jaw. He slammed me harder and harder, harder than I¡¯ve ever been fucked before. I was gonna have bruises from this one. He assaulted me with his cock, glaring angry the whole time. A hardcore grudge-fuck from hell.


    ¡°Is that what you want? You want to be treated like a whore?¡±


    He kept ramming me hard, fast, deep, painfully deep. I lifted my knees up high to rest on his chest. The perfect angle for punishing penetration. He took it all and then some, hitting home inside me over and over. It hurt, but I could take it. Even if I wouldn¡¯t be able to walk the next day I could take it. I¡¯m a survivor.


    He went off on me, growling and pounding, his powerful hands trapping me underneath him to ride his punishing wave of fury. It was the most violent sex I¡¯d ever had, but he didn¡¯t hit me. He didn¡¯t smack me or punch me or call me names. He abused me with his powerful hips and that massive piece of meat between his legs. Somewhere in the pain and pleasure flurry he reached his own peak and actually said my name.


    ¡°Esperanza!¡± And then he bit me really hard.


    ¡°Oh shit!¡±


    It hurt, a lot. But then it didn¡¯t hurt anymore. That bite of his wiped away everything else with sheer joy, and love, and wonderful euphoria. The sex hurt too much to get me off, but the bite made up for it. I wished he¡¯d never let go, but he did, after only a few seconds.


    As he slowly got up from atop my bruised thighs he cursed.


    ¡°Shit! God damn it, Hope! Is this what you wanted?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to see what I already knew was true. I looked away. I¡¯m kinda squeamish about blood.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not what I want ¡­ but I don¡¯t want to live a lie. And I don¡¯t want to die. You can do what you want with me, I¡¯m your whore, your bloodslave. Please don¡¯t kill me, don¡¯t let Lia come near me. She wants to kill me. If she had her way I¡¯d have died last night.¡±


    Crying, again. God I hate crying.


    He sighed. ¡°Hope, I have made you my promise. I can¡¯t help it if you don¡¯t believe me, and I don¡¯t blame you. I am sorry for those harsh words. I truly did not mean them.¡±


    ¡°She wants me dead Enrique. She wants to tear my body to little pieces and bathe in my blood. I¡¯ll take a grudge-fuck over death anytime. My body is yours. You own me, just please don¡¯t let her near me.¡±


    ¡°I understand how you feel. We¡¯re not getting anywhere with this conversation. Tempers are too high. You¡¯re not listening to me. I said I wouldn¡¯t hurt you and neither will Lia. A promise is a promise, and I keep my word.¡±


    He looked down between my legs, shook his head and left the bed.


    ¡°We will talk about this again tomorrow.¡±


    He slipped into his robe and headed for the door. As he left me in bed, bruised and sore, he had missed the big picture. It was too late to promise, he¡¯d already hurt me.


    Chapter 8


    I had ample time to think about last night¡¯s revelations when I awoke at four-thirty in the afternoon, three whole hours before Enrique would arrive to visit me in my gilded cage. It¡¯s so maddening that all I¡¯ve ever wanted was to be free of the chains of fate by which I¡¯ve been bound all my life. Here I am, seemingly free of Colombia and all its influence, but I have no freedom at all. I¡¯m bound worse than ever.


    It started early in my teens. My path had been predetermined by my mother. She worked in the floral farms. I loathed the idea of working my fingers raw in the floral farms and coming home to smell like her. I still hate the smell of most flowers to this day.


    The floral farms of Colombia are massive corporate greenhouse operations employing over a hundred thousand people, mostly women, and more underage than the world would care to know about. The savannah bordering the Andean mountains on the fringe of Bogota supports one of the world¡¯s largest cut-flower export industries. My mother served twenty years of her life in those places, from the age of thirteen till she died at thirty-three. All my mother¡¯s friends were floral workers, all her cousins, virtually everyone she knew. The crappy little cinderblock house we lived in was part of the sprawling housing tracts paid for by floral farms. It was a forgone conclusion my destiny would be that of a floral laborer, cutting, stacking, and arranging flowers for eight-ten-twelve hours a day till I died.


    I begged my father not to make me do it, but he did. At the age of twelve, a job like that seems like the seventh circle of hell. My budding floral career was cut short by an incident with a supervisor.


    A sweaty little man in his late twenties, I still remember how bad my supervisor smelled. He had his eye on me, and I caught his thoughts as he stood by admiring me. I smiled nervously. Such a thing is so easily misinterpreted by depraved men. He advanced on me with a head full of raunchy sexual imaginings, things I never knew men could do to little girls. I screeched, dropped everything, and ran like the Devil himself chased me.


    I escaped the creep easily enough, but I made the mistake of telling another girl at work. Women gossip, the news spread at the speed of a viral YouTube video. The resulting scandal led to immediate termination of my employment. They demoted him to a laborer. My father beat my butt raw. The man was an acquaintance of his.


    That was the first time I made accusations against a man who technically hadn¡¯t done anything. I avoided the horrendous fate of a flower laborer by the dumb luck of my peculiarity. I pestered my father endlessly not to send me back to the farms. He agreed it was perhaps unwise.


    The second incident, two years later when I caught my priest checking me out, was the last straw. My father decided I had reached womanhood and it was time for a change. In my father¡¯s mind, I could see how he considered Rubin an attractive man, a good prospect for me. They had met at a bar. My father bragged me up and showed off a picture to Rubin.


    In Colombia, many a young girl fantasized of being swept away in the arms of a wealthy adventurous Traqueto, like something in one of the novellas ¨C soap operas. These men were actually respected in the community. Meeting a handsome man who had seemingly taken an interest in me didn¡¯t seem horrible at the time. I¡¯d only begun to know what it meant to be a girl, little perky breasts popping up out of nowhere, boys staring at me more often. I agreed to meet Rubin based on the idea that he actually wanted to marry me, would provide for me without putting me to work in the floral farms.

 Page 13

    I was totally unprepared for the harsh reality of the transaction that passed between my Father and Rubin. In my father¡¯s perception, his anger had justified everything. He saved me from the floral farms, paid off all his debts, and provided me a reasonably comfortable lifestyle through Rubin. But Rubin lied. He had no intention of dating me, let alone marrying me. I was his latest acquisition, earning my living in his household. One of several girls he owned. My father didn¡¯t care enough about Rubin¡¯s intentions to listen to my protests. I tried to tell him Rubin was lying, he simply wouldn¡¯t hear it.


    Life with Rubin was nothing like it should have been. And Faustino proved the same with his constant demands for payment on a never-ending bill. As far back as I can remember, I¡¯ve had men running my life, siphoning off my body, my money, my time and affections, and constantly lying to me. I made up my mind to confront Enrique. I wanted it all, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No more lies.


    I twiddled away three hours like a good little bloodslave, drinking lots of water and Ensure along with vitamin water and my dose of Suboxone to calm me down. It seemed like my antsy cravings for Enrique ¨C his bite ¨C were getting worse. I couldn¡¯t sit still and I¡¯d begun to sweat with nervous tension. It felt like I¡¯d drunk a whole pot of coffee. I was wired, but my head hurt, my stomach felt nauseous and I started sweating as I paced the room back and forth.


    He popped in the door a little after seven and I wanted to claw his eyes out ¨C after he bit me of course.


    ¡°Good evening, Hope.¡±


    He greeted me as I latched onto him. I pulled my hair to the side to accommodate his bite. After getting what I needed and coming all over myself, I stopped humping on his leg and stepped away from his embrace. He was magnetic. I had to fight to keep from going to him, rubbing up on him back and forth like a damn cat.


    After I caught my breath, I pegged him with the look. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Before you begin, I ask you to refrain from calling me a liar and desist calling yourself a whore. Neither of these derogatory names is correct and I find it offensive.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Do you agree to tell me everything without any bullshit?¡±


    ¡°If I can¡¯t answer your question with one hundred percent honesty, I will let you know. Ask away.¡±


    ¡°If you haven¡¯t had a bloodslave in so many years, why is there a lock on the outside of this door? It was that way when you first put me in here.¡±


    ¡°When I had this penthouse refurbished a few years back I put special locks on several rooms. I believe in being prepared for any situation. I have always lived with rooms like this. It¡¯s something my master taught me many years ago.¡±


    ¡°And where is your master now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not prepared to discuss that. He is gone and you¡¯ll never have to concern yourself with him.¡±


    ¡°Okay, and what about Lia? How did she end up here with you? And what is your actual relationship with her?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it all?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all of it.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get comfortable.¡± I followed him over to the couch and sat next to him.


    ¡°It was approximately twenty years ago ... the last time I had a bloodslave actually. That¡¯s when I met Lia Nguyen. She must have been twenty-something. Her tale is similar to yours in some ways.¡±


    ¡°Cha, whatever. I am nothing like her. She¡¯s certifiable.¡± Whatever happened to Lia, it messed her up bad.


    ¡°She was born into extreme poverty in Vietnam. Her father, an American GI from the war, was never in her life, except briefly right around the time I met her. She had it rough, probably just as rough as you did. Perhaps worse. She was a child prostitute from the age of eleven, her and several of her half-sisters.¡±


    ¡°Being a half-breed, she wasn¡¯t exactly the favored child. Being of mixed race, fairer of skin with less severe cheek bones and eye slant, she was more attractive, but instantly recognizable. The Vietnamese have no real love for the children of the GI¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°By the age of fourteen she was physically mature enough to be considered a woman. Her mother was so dirt poor, and a heroin addict to boot, she really had no control over the household. Men came and went, paid for services. Some stayed for a while, most didn¡¯t.¡±


    As he spoke I found myself edging closer, putting my hands on his thigh or shoulder. I wanted to be in his lap. I had to constantly check myself from crawling on top of him. He had my body enraptured. He just smiled knowingly.


    ¡°Lia fought with some of the men who attempted to control the flow of money and business in the house. She was beaten severely. Eventually she learned to defend herself, most often with a weapon. They were a family of prostitutes. A man could pick from their mother or any one of four sisters ranging in age from eleven on up. Lia¡¯s brother Tri Nguyen was born in 1985, the first boy in the family.¡±


    ¡°As Lia grew into adulthood, she became very fond of infant Tri. She took on a role of surrogate mother. Her own mother continued her descent into addiction and died in 1988 of an overdose.¡±


    ¡°Lia and her sisters survived okay for a couple years. She looked out for Tri as if he was her own son, but raising a child was difficult in that environment. Tri dashed into the middle of a fight with one of Lia¡¯s sister¡¯s clients. The man was drunk and belligerent, and didn¡¯t want to pay after he¡¯d already sampled the goods. In the midst of the fight, Tri jumped on the guy kicking and screaming. The man fell on him by accident. The police hauled the man to jail to sleep off his drunk, but Tri caught the worst of it with a broken arm.¡±


    ¡°Tri healed quickly, but Lia had made her decision to take him and go. She worked double shifts at a strip club and did some work on her back to save up enough money for the trip to America. In the spring of 1991 she arrived in New York with Tri. After paying for their visas and travel expenses, she was broke.¡±


    ¡°She went to work immediately in China Town, doing what she knew best. That¡¯s how I met her. I paid her fifty dollars for a couple of good bites.¡±


    ¡°We hit it off instantly. She related her sad story, talked of her desire to find her father. I met Tri, who acted like her son. She had plans for college. She wanted to make something of herself.¡± He looked at me, his eyes seeing deep into my soul. He was well aware of the effect he had on me.


    A sick feeling settled into my gut. Lia¡¯s life was a mirror image of mine. Different, but the same. And yet she was such a dark twisted woman. I began to fear what Enrique might reveal.


    ¡°At the time, I needed tax deductions for one of my corporations, so I arranged for Lia¡¯s scholarship, a full ride. I was being generous, the Good Samaritan. I even hired a detective to find her father.¡±


    He spoke of the very thing I wanted most, to get my education, to become something better, something more than a prostitute. It hurt to listen.


    ¡°As luck would have it, he didn¡¯t live very far away. He had a small cabin in the woods at the Eastern edge of the Appalachians.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d been visiting Lia regularly, keeping tabs on her, making sure she stayed in school and out of trouble. We spent plenty of time together. We were falling in love.¡±


    ¡°Her father, Raymond Shuman, had been an Army Ranger stationed in Saigon. He¡¯d survived numerous forays into the bush country, one of their elite. Like so many men in his situation, he¡¯d become a monster, a killing machine who collected trophies of flesh. When the military breeds a creature like that, they don¡¯t teach him how to turn off the machine. Most of them today are on heavy psyche meds with debilitating injuries to show for their service. They encountered a hostile environment here in the US when they returned. People called them ¡°baby killers¡± and treated them with outright disdain. Being a veteran of Vietnam was a stain on your resume. They were not honored for their service to their country.¡±


    ¡°Raymond was an extremely bitter man, paranoid the US government was out to get him, take away all his rights and freedoms. A card carrying member of the NRA, he was armed at all times. For him, Vietnam had never really ended. He returned to the bush country in his nightly dreams, and he had flashbacks, what they call PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. A loud noise or sudden movement could trigger a vivid memory.¡±


    ¡°I know all this because I read his psychiatric treatment file. The man was a dangerous unpredictable son-of-a-bitch, and definitely bigoted towards Asians, especially Vietnamese. I never should¡¯ve arranged their meeting. But I learned these things later.


    ¡°He met Lia the first time at a coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment. They didn¡¯t have much to say. She talked of life in Vietnam post war, which held his interest. Theirs was a tentative connection, just enough to agree to meet again.¡±


    ¡°Raymond cancelled their next meeting, but eventually, with Lia calling him weekly, he agreed to meet again. They had dinner together at a McDonalds near her college. She was excited for Ray to meet the people that meant the most to her, Tri, and of course, me.¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you guessed, she was a bloodslave. It¡¯s near impossible to have an intimate relationship otherwise. She was quite fond of me back then. She wanted me to meet her father, especially since I paid to find him.¡±


    ¡°We sat outside in the evening air by the playground and talked while Tri played with the other kids. The problem started when an Asian family sat down at a table nearby. Ray froze, watching their every move as they settled in. Their children ran off to join Tri. They weren¡¯t Vietnamese, but that didn¡¯t stop Tri, he chattered away at them in his native tongue. Ray had this wild look in his eyes. Watching that family had triggered a flashback.¡±


    ¡°The kids were arguing. They couldn¡¯t understand Tri. One boy had a black plastic toy pistol, one of those realistic looking ones. Tri grabbed it and wouldn¡¯t give it back.¡±


    ¡°They chased Tri as he ran to Lia, toy in hand. The other two kids swarmed around the table, a storm of shouts and accusations. Struggling with some vision of events long past, Ray couldn¡¯t handle the noise. He jumped up out of his seat screaming ¡®shut those fucking Gooks up!¡¯¡±

 Page 14

    ¡°They backed off immediately, except for Tri. Tri did what feisty, little children who¡¯ve learned to stand up for themselves often do, he yelled back. Tri pointed the black plastic toy gun at Ray and screamed something in Vietnamese. The toy made little pop sounds as he pulled the trigger at Ray as though shooting him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never know what Ray was thinking. Perhaps he forgot to take his antipsychotics that day.¡±


    ¡°Ray swatted the gun out of Tri¡¯s hand and pulled his own pistol and shot the boy point blank in the chest. Lia was in the fray a second later, screaming like a madwoman as she leaped on Ray. He shot her twice in the gut by the time I could disarm him and get Lia out of the way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not proud to admit this, but I did it. I snapped Ray¡¯s neck and tossed him aside. Lia was a mess, screaming as she crawled to Tri. The boy had died instantly. I had to get away before the police arrived, and I just couldn¡¯t leave Lia behind to die, so I took her with me.¡±


    ¡°She begged me to go back for her brother, but I can¡¯t be tangled in police affairs. As you¡¯ve probably figured out by now, I don¡¯t do daylight. Being arrested or even detained would quickly become a serious problem. Officers would be killed, very messy. I¡¯m not the kind of man you want to put in a corner.¡±


    ¡°Lia was dying. She lost consciousness within a couple minutes. I made a decision, probably the wrong decision. But I did it out of love. I did it to save her life. I never asked if it was what she wanted. Truly, I did it for myself. I cared too much. I didn¡¯t want to lose her. I felt guilty for not being able to stop Raymond in time. I brought Lia into the fold, made her what I am, which also made me her master. The process created a link, a psychic bond. She is my servant. The nature of our bond allows me to force her submission.¡±


    ¡°Lia never really survived. The woman I loved died that day. Tri was everything to her. She didn¡¯t want to live without him. He was all that had ever been good and decent in her life. The Lia you see today is a wholly different creature. She seems near incapable of forgiveness or compassion. She hates all men, I am merely tolerated. You know she prefers women intimately.¡±


    ¡°She blames me for a large part of what happened that day, for not reacting fast enough to disarm Raymond, for not letting her recover her brother¡¯s body, for not letting her die. Her primary grudge now is the power I hold over her, which she forces me to exercise regularly to keep her violent tendencies in check. The old wounds are mostly healed, but a shadow of it remains.¡±


    ¡°Then there¡¯s you, a whole new reason to resist me, and of course to hate you as well.¡±


    I found myself damn near sitting in Enrique¡¯s lap. I couldn¡¯t stay away from him. I decided to give into my impulse for the moment. I slid my hands over him ¨C it just felt right.


    ¡°Wow. That¡¯s ¡­ really harsh, but it does explain things. So ¡­ ah ¡­ do you to sleep together?¡± I tried to pretend like it didn¡¯t matter. For some stupid reason it did matter. I already knew the answer, but I had to hear it from him.


    ¡°Yes ¡­ we do sleep together, and we¡¯re sexual partners, if you could call it that. It¡¯s more mercenary than anything. Something like you and I last night ¨C she likes it rough, violent.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not like that, and don¡¯t compare me to her! Ever!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like it rough? You don¡¯t want me to fuck you till you can¡¯t walk?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not into pain. I can take it, don¡¯t get me wrong. Whatever you dish out I can take, but I don¡¯t get off on it.¡±


    ¡°And how are you feeling tonight? Sore? Tender? A little hard to walk?¡± He smirked at me. But the funny thing, I didn¡¯t really hurt. Maybe a little sore, but no big deal.


    ¡°No ¡­ I¡¯m okay ¡­ If that¡¯s what you expect from me, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± I tried to play tough. I¡¯m tired of showing him weakness. No more crying.


    ¡°For your information, that is not what I like. I don¡¯t enjoy hurting you. And I know for a fact I did hurt you. I did it to show you how dangerous this life can be. I did it on purpose to give you a glimpse of what can happen when we lose control.¡±


    Chapter 9


    ¡°I know you did it on purpose. I was the one underneath you getting pounded. And it did hurt, but I¡¯m okay now. I can handle it. I prefer to take a good pounding, knowing it¡¯s for real. I prefer that to lies. If you want to hurt me, then do it. Don¡¯t lie to me. Don¡¯t pretend you really care. I¡¯m the Energizer Bunny, takes a lickin¡¯ and keeps on tickin¡¯. All I ask is that you tell me the truth, keep it real. I¡¯ll take a grudge-fuck any day of the week over death.¡±


    He shook his head at me. I had climbed into his lap completely, sitting spread-eagle on him. I rotated my hips back and forth to grind down onto the lump in his crotch. As usual I was in my silk bathrobe with no underwear. My uniform. Nothing had changed much in my life. The only major difference, my body was Enrique¡¯s exclusive property now.


    ¡°Hope ¡­ you¡¯re missing the point, several points.¡±


    ¡°I have the point right here, and I¡¯m about to get it good.¡± I shoved down hard onto his erection. He pitched a tent in his pants, obviously ready to pound me again.


    ¡°Oh you¡¯re gonna get it all right. Let¡¯s get a few things straight. One: I¡¯m not going to kill you. Two: I don¡¯t enjoy hurting you, you provoked me. Three: you should be in pain right now, but the benefit of my bite allows you to recover quickly. That¡¯s why you¡¯re still tickin¡¯ and headed for another lickin¡¯.¡±


    I was so damn hot for him. I can¡¯t get near him without wanting him to fuck me and bite me. It was so much more than desire. I needed him like a priest needs donations.


    ¡°Please! Stop talking! Give it to me!¡±


    He had mercy on me. In a flash we were up off the couch and down on the floor. A second later his pants and everything else came off. Before I could take hold of him he slammed up in me. All the way to my limit. God it was so wonderful! I wanted him buried in me for eternity. He so owned me. I wanted to be fucked to death.


    He gave me the most intense sex, like nothing I¡¯ve ever known before. I couldn¡¯t get enough of him. I loved every minute of being his slave, wished it would never end. I wished he¡¯d never leave my side. It seemed different this time. Forceful, but he held back just a little. He cared enough not to hurt me. Though he knew I¡¯d let him, and I suspect he wanted to, he was careful enough to avoid hurting me.


    Well, it did hurt a little, the good kind of hurt. The kind that had me screaming, clawing his back, begging him not to stop. Then he bit me, the icing on the cake, the cherry on top, the whole purpose of my existence.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop! Don¡¯t stop! Don¡¯t stop!¡±


    And he didn¡¯t, not until I fainted. I woke up sometime later with an IV tier setup next to the bed. Two bags hung in the air, a clear bag of saline-glucose, and a little red pouch of blood. No sooner did I wonder where Enrique had disappeared to, I had a sense he was coming to check on me. He walked through the door to my room ¨C very freaky how well we are connected. But I still couldn¡¯t read a single thought in his head.


    ¡°So I suppose you¡¯re gonna try to convince me this was all an accident. You don¡¯t really want to kill me.¡±


    ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t read my mind.¡±


    ¡°Ha! That¡¯s funny. If I wasn¡¯t so busy dying I might have time to laugh.¡±


    ¡°Damn it, Hope! If I wanted you dead it would be over!¡±


    He moved so fast I could barely see him until he stopped at the point his fist smashed down in a hammer strike on my beautiful oak coffee table. The table exploded into pieces, shattered, splinters. Nothing but firewood now ¨C kindling. He stared at me with that intense look, a fierce animalistic thing. I was shocked, squeaked in surprise, but stupid enough to poke at the lion ¨C and this one wasn¡¯t caged.


    ¡°I¡¯m harder to kill than the coffee table ¨C furniture doesn¡¯t hit back!¡±


    Luckily for me I made him laugh. He chuckled. The intensity dropped a few notches.


    ¡°What am I going to do with you Hope?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It was an accident. I get caught up in the moment. You¡¯re a little too passionate for your own good. This is the risk I spoke of when you overheard that nasty conversation with Lia. Your health could be compromised unintentionally. You understand this was not planned? Nothing with you has been planned. It all just happened, and here we are. We have to make the best of it.¡±


    He slid his hand across my cheek. ¡°Stop provoking me. Stop with the accusations. I¡¯m going to do everything in my power to keep you healthy. Look how quickly you¡¯ve recovered. I¡¯ll bet you feel fine right now, a little dehydrated, but none the worse for wear.¡±


    I did feel okay ¨C thirsty, dry mouth, a slight headache, but I didn¡¯t feel like I was dying. Perhaps I had overreacted. Maybe just a little.


    ¡°So ¡­ can I get something to drink?¡±


    He handed me a glass of orange juice. I downed it all in one. That hit the spot nicely. He proceeded to feed me ice cream, something with fudge and caramel from Ben & Jerry¡¯s. I felt like a little girl pampered by daddy. A handsome, sexy, well-endowed daddy. I can¡¯t recall the last time a man fed me ice cream, maybe never. It was strangely romantic.


    ¡°Are you trying to fatten me up for the slaughter?¡± I poked at the lion again, but he took it good-naturedly.


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯re too thin. We need to put a little meat on your bones before the ritual sacrifice of the solstice.¡±


    ¡°What, no sheep or goats?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so Old Testament. Besides, I¡¯m really not that kinky. Bestiality isn¡¯t my thing.¡±


    ¡°And how am I to be murdered? Death by grudge-fuck?¡±


    ¡°Well if it¡¯s really necessary I suppose we could use the ritual dagger. I happen to have one from Haiti, very authentic.¡±

 Page 15

    ¡°I think you have all you need right here, you could probably kill me with this.¡± I reach for the fly of his pants to unsheathe his weapon. He put a hand on my hand, stopping my advance with a few whispered words.


    ¡°I¡¯d really enjoy what you¡¯re about to do, but I think you need to take it easy. And I don¡¯t want to be tempted any further to feed from you tonight. Let¡¯s take it slow till tomorrow night ¡­ Okay?¡±


    He seemed so gentle, concerned. I took him at face value and backed off ¨C a little disappointed, but strangely reassured by his caution.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost sunrise. I must go now, but I¡¯ll return to you tomorrow night. And we will finish addressing your concerns.¡±


    ¡°But what are you going to do with me? I can¡¯t sit locked up in this room day after day, I¡¯ll go insane!¡±


    ¡°I have a couple ideas. We¡¯ll discuss it tomorrow night. Get some rest, drink lots of fluids. Cu¨ªdate querida.¡±


    He kissed me on the mouth and left me locked in my beautifully-furnished prison cell.


    Chapter 10


    I woke up at three in the afternoon and realized I¡¯d forgotten to tell Enrique about my number one problem ¨C Suboxone. That little strip wasn¡¯t cutting it. I needed something stronger. Back at the Towers in Spanish Harlem I had known several girls ¨C escorts ¨C who were into pills, and I had no desire to go there. These girls would shoplift, steal, beg, borrow, and sell anything that wasn¡¯t cemented into the ground for their next Oxycontin, methadone, or Xanax. It was the withdrawals that drove them to do it, fear of withdrawals. I can sympathize with them. I really needed something bad, right now. I felt like I was heading down that road ¨C the Desperate Addict Lane. I had already developed a tolerance for the Suboxone.


    I had plenty of time to think before Enrique arrived. Two and a half hours is a long time to think about your life when you¡¯re hard up for a bite. I still didn¡¯t trust Enrique had been telling the truth to me, yet lying to Lia. I mean honestly, who was I to him?


    Sure, I¡¯m a nice piece of ass, but so what? Those are a dime a dozen in New York. Why should I believe anything special existed between us? He¡¯s been with Lia for twenty years, made her into a vampire because he loved her. That¡¯s like a twenty year marriage right? So what was I to him? A little side action? Little bit of strange? No wonder she¡¯s jealous. I¡¯m sleeping with her husband. He¡¯s got me here in his home, all dolled up in expensive clothes.


    What makes me so special? Sure I read minds, but that doesn¡¯t exactly endear me to anyone. I learned that lesson at the age of 14. I learned to keep my mouth shut about the things I plucked from people¡¯s minds.


    Faustino found me exciting to fuck. I anticipated what he wanted, what he liked. I catered to him sexually. I can¡¯t really do that with Enrique, I can¡¯t read a single goddamn thing from him.


    Faustino had thought it cute when I caught him or one of his Traquetos lying and called them on it. He often called me in to question people suspected of lying. Usually some idiot skimming a few dollars off the top of the business, cutting the coke with baking soda, or even using the product he was supposed to sell. Traquetos can be phenomenally foolish at times. All the drugs and illicit money makes them feel invincible.


    Faustino¡¯s idea of questioning was basically an extortion of information at gunpoint, Arana on standby. Arana really got off on scaring people. Sometimes I think he enjoyed it more than sex. To Faustino it was just business, liars are an occupational hazard in the cocaine business. The worst liars were the fools hooked on their own product. I can¡¯t count the number of times I¡¯ve seen an addict get the shit kicked out of him for using too much product.


    I quickly learned it did no good to lie to protect these idiots. They eventually confessed through the convincing methods Arana employed. All I could do was speed up the process of getting to the truth, which might save the poor fools some pain. A lot of guys learned of my reputation and wised up quickly. Once Faustino called me in, they started telling the truth rather than suffer the consequences of being caught in a lie.


    Faustino and Arana used me, the other Traquetos feared me, but my status as a lie detector never made me any friends. I never once admitted to anyone I could read minds. They thought I had a heavy dose of women¡¯s intuition. I was so careful. I never said anything too revealing. I never said anything that couldn¡¯t be explained as acute intuition.


    I spent all these years being careful, and for what? Enrique knew all about my dirty little secret and now I¡¯m stuck in this trap, a prisoner of a vampire and his psycho bitch servant. I know without a shadow of doubt my telepathy does not endear me to anyone. It makes me special all right, but not the kind of special anyone wants to keep around.


    Thoroughly depressing. To top it all off, Faustino and Arana were probably looking for me, pissed as hell. Traquetos are so overbearing and possessive. Faustino would not be happy his little lie detector had disappeared. He¡¯d immediately assume I ran off on him. It wouldn¡¯t be easy or simple to convince him otherwise. He knew damn well how much I wanted my freedom. Even if I found a way to break the bloodslave bond with Enrique, I¡¯d be living on borrowed time until I cleared things up with Faustino.


    With all this to think about, suffering through withdrawals, I had acquired a nice shitty attitude by the time Enrique arrived.


    ¡°There¡¯s my Knight in shining armor. Come to check on the Princess in the tower? Need to change the food and water in my cage?¡±


    He said one word, ¡°C¨¢lmate.¡± Calm down.


    With that he bit me into silence. It¡¯s hard to talk or complain in the middle of a multiple orgasm. I could barely recall what I intended to complain about.


    He hadn¡¯t wasted a second giving me what I wanted, what I needed. I didn¡¯t trust him, but I couldn¡¯t really hate him. He was too charming, too gallant. It¡¯s impossible to hate a man who can bring you to climax several times a night without even taking his clothes off. Each passing night in this bedroom served to convince me there was no way in heaven or hell I¡¯d ever escape this trap. I couldn¡¯t stand to be away from Enrique, even for a few minutes.


    Time to face facts. My life revolved around Enrique, he owned my ass. What to do ¡­ what to do. He must¡¯ve been attuned to my mood. His words mirrored my own thoughts.


    ¡°What are we going to do with you?¡±


    ¡°We could start by getting me a laptop and a cell phone. I want to order calzones, and some patron tequila. I¡¯m going loco in here without anything to do. And we gotta talk about this Suboxone in the afternoon. It¡¯s not cutting it. I need something stronger.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± He held me out at arm¡¯s length. ¡°Can you type?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course. Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking you may be able to help translate some paperwork from Spanish to English and vice versa. If you can handle it, I¡¯ll start you out at twenty an hour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m to work here in my beautifully furnished cage?¡± My hand swept out like a model on a ¡®Price is Right¡¯ showcase. I let my gesture pass over the smashed coffee table on the floor in a heap of fragments.


    ¡°No. I have an office you can work in.¡±


    ¡°Oh goody! I get to work beside the psycho. We can compare nails after she breaks them off trying to claw my eyes out. Won¡¯t that be fun?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s leaving for Spain tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°But what about when she returns?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s take this one night at a time. We¡¯ll see about setting up your own private workspace when she returns in a month or so.¡±


    ¡°And what am I going to do before seven when you¡¯re up and about? Am I supposed to sit in this room and climb the walls? There¡¯s nothing to do and I need something stronger than Suboxone, it¡¯s not working. Maybe if we double the dosage or something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned you could become dependent on the opiates in Suboxone, and really, it¡¯s not designed for your particular problem. There¡¯s nothing that replaces my venom. I¡¯m going to arrange for a dose of venom to keep you calm until I awake. It¡¯s wise for you to sleep in longer. You¡¯ll need to adopt a fully nocturnal schedule to match mine so you¡¯re not awake too early in the day. You should try to stay awake into the morning, about eight or nine a.m. Then you¡¯ll be able to sleep in till at least five or six in the evening.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean arrange for a dose? How does that work?¡±


    ¡°I can prepare a syringe of venom. You¡¯ll have to administer it yourself.¡±


    ¡°How do you do that?¡±


    ¡°There is a way, but it¡¯s not something you¡¯d want to see or be involved in.¡±


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t want me to know how to get your venom without your direct involvement and control? Need to keep a firm grip on the bloodslave right?¡±


    ¡°Must you always assume the worst about me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a realist. I choose to see the truth.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever seen a viper milked for its venom?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. But I have an idea of how it¡¯s done. That¡¯s how you do it? Like a snake?¡±


    ¡°More or less ¡­ yes. And I will do it for you. Not to control you, but to help you.¡±


    ¡°Okay ¡­ so does that mean I¡¯m not locked in this room anymore?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Should I trust you?¡± He stroked his fingers over his devilish goatee and looked at me appraisingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving. I can¡¯t.¡±


    He shook his head in denial of the simple truth. ¡°How can I be certain?¡±


    He was gonna make me beg. He wanted me to admit it. Aloud. The bastard.


    ¡°You know! I can¡¯t stay away from you! I want you to bite me again! Right now! I¡¯ll never be free of this addiction!¡±


    He had me crying with the admission. I needed out of the room. I couldn¡¯t stand to feel so trapped.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you do! You have me in here caged like an animal! All I want is you, all the time! I want you more than I want to eat. I go completely crazy till you show up every night. I hate you for doing this to me!¡±

 Page 16

    I¡¯d lost it. Tears, sobbing, snot running down my face ¨C Academy Award stuff. I dumped it all on him with the intent of getting out of my cage, but it wasn¡¯t really an act. I genuinely felt all these emotions. The only part I¡¯d lied about was hating him. I couldn¡¯t hate him, impossible to hate a man who makes you feel so good.


    He held me as I sobbed and slobbered on his chest. He wiped my face with a tissue and said the magic words.


    ¡°Okay, querida, you are free to come and go throughout the penthouse. Please refrain from leaving the apartment without me. I will escort you anywhere you wish, with the exception of Spanish Harlem.¡±


    He had me there, so I put in his lap to deal with. ¡°Faustino might kill me if he finds me. He¡¯s probably got Arana tearing up the city looking for me.¡±


    ¡°Are you really that important to them? Does he know of your telepathy?¡±


    ¡°Oh God no! I¡¯d have been dead years ago if I ever told anyone!¡±


    ¡°Hmm ¡­ that would be a problem. So why are you so valuable to him? I¡¯m sure he has plenty other girls, what¡¯s one more or less?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure to be honest. He used me as a lie detector sometimes ¡­ um ¡­ visited me about twice a week ¡­ you know ¡­ a freebie. I never really understood it. But he definitely doesn¡¯t want to let me go. He wouldn¡¯t let me renew my visa. His way of keeping me under his thumb. He figured it gave him more power over me.¡±


    ¡°I have an attorney who can get your visa straightened out. No worries there, but you must take care to maintain a low profile for a while, till Faustino loses interest. Perhaps a new look would be a good idea. A new haircut, some highlights.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like my hair?¡± I whined.


    ¡°Esta bien hermosa querida, en cualquier estilo, cualquier color.¡± How flattering, I¡¯m beautiful in any style or any color. But I¡¯m still a whore, a bloodslave, and I¡¯ll never be free.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I smiled as he pet my jet black hair that would soon be another color.


    ¡°Get cleaned up and meet me in the hallway in a half hour. We¡¯ll get you started tonight.¡±


    And so my new life began. I was officially an employee with a real job working for Reguera Internacional S.A., a Panamanian registered Shipping Corporation.


    Chapter 11


    Reguera Internacional S.A. was Enrique¡¯s personal company, no stockholders, no partners, and technically Enrique¡¯s name wasn¡¯t even on the corporate registry anywhere as owner or officer. Well, it did have his name, but what¡¯s a name? Panama allows their Sociedad Anonimas ¨C Anonymous Societies ¨C Corporations to function via prOxy officers. These S.A.¡¯s also allow for ownership in the form of bearer shares. Whoever holds the physical bearer share document in their possession is the actual owner. It¡¯s a privacy thing. Enrique was fanatical about privacy. That¡¯s why I¡¯m a bloodslave and not out roaming the streets as an escort anymore.


    Enrique¡¯s proxy officers managed all transactions, contracts, and banking, everything ¨C at his direction, of course. It seemed to me they had total control of his business. When I asked him, he snapped.


    ¡°The last corporate proxy who crossed me was found dead on the beach, his body parts missing. The fish nibbled on him before he washed up on shore.¡±


    Not smart to mess with Enrique. He scared me just listening to him talk about it. He commanded an intense ferocity when he became deadly serious.


    Reguera Internacional S.A. was only one of several entities Enrique controlled through a convoluted set of secretive mechanisms and proxies. His puppet-master routine remained obscured from the public eye and governments. Enrique had mastered the corporate shell game. I became his Padewon learner, marveling at his corporate Jedi skills.


    My part, initially, was unglamorous. Like a mailroom assistant starting at the bottom of the corporate ladder, my translation duties were tedious and time-consuming. The work robbed me of any illusions I held about my language proficiency. I had actually thought my English decent, and I¡¯d been certain I had excellent Spanish. I was so wrong.


    For conversation and general use language, no problem. My escort clients never complained about my vocabulary. Corporate contracts and emails were another story altogether. Memorandums of understanding, minutes of the meeting, powers of attorney, corporate resolutions, joint venture agreements, consulting contracts, fee agreements, all Greek to me. I had a Spanish-English dictionary that weighed five pounds, a Black¡¯s Law dictionary, and several translation websites, and I needed every last one of them. Most people don¡¯t realize the Spanish spoken in different areas of the world is vastly different. I worked on Spanish contracts from Panama, Spain, and Mexico City, and they each used their respective dialects and terminologies. I underwent a crash course in technical and legal Spanish and English by immersion.


    I struggled through it to the best of my ability. I felt proud of my progress. I had fifty pages of joint venture with inventory lists done in a week. I was working my ass off.


    He came into the office to check on me as I typed away diligently. ¡°Why do blondes wear underwear?¡±


    ¡°Ahhh, because momma said so?¡±


    ¡°To keep their ankles warm.¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. I think you made me dye my hair just so you could unload all these shitty blonde jokes.¡±


    Yep, I¡¯m a blonde now with a slightly shorter haircut.


    ¡°Oh hush, it looks good. You look so different now. You¡¯re a new woman, no one would recognize you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah sure, I look like some Traquetos¡¯ puta, like Natalia Paris!¡±


    Natalia Paris, the most famous bleach blonde, big titty model in Colombia. Thousands of Colombian women aspire to become her: beautiful, blonde, voluptuous, the former girlfriend of an infamous Traqueto. For women without money or education, marrying a Traqueto is one of the only ways to escape the severe poverty.


    I¡¯d been forced to live and work with the Traquetos in Rubin¡¯s cartel. But I never really wanted that life. There were tons of women who saw me on Rubin¡¯s arm ¨C or on his lap ¨C who envied my relationship with him. Though forced to sell my body, I lived a relatively comfortable life compared to many Colombian women.


    I¡¯d avoided the ¡°narco-babe¡± look, the bleach blonde, breast implant trend promoted by Natalia Paris. I had been perfectly happy with my black hair worn straight as a board. In his desire to change my appearance, Enrique transformed me into the very thing Traquetos desire most. All I needed to complete the package was breast implants. Breast augmentation is so popular in Colombia that Medellin is jokingly referred to as ¡°Silicon Valley¡± due to the number of cosmetic surgery clinics. The Spanish television stations are loaded with novellas-soap operas about Traquetos and their women.


    So there I was, the butt of every blonde joke ever written. I think he bought a book of blonde jokes, or he Googled it. He had new ones for me every night.


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t blondes be given coffee breaks?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°They have to be retrained.¡±


    ¡°Oh God, that¡¯s so cheesy.¡±


    ¡°Well, looking at some of these translations ¡­ I¡¯m starting to wonder.¡±


    ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not serious.¡±


    He popped my delusion of competency when he sat down at my desk, a stack of papers in hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go over some of these.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I smiled brightly, hoping he¡¯d bite me and bend me over the desk right then and there. I can¡¯t seem to get enough of the man.


    ¡°La m¨¢quina para quebrar, a crusher, is actually a ¡®quebradora¡¯. That¡¯s one example of equipment that¡¯s mislabeled.¡± He pointed out a list of machinery and equipment on the inventory sheet. ¡°Then here with the boxes of metal screws, we don¡¯t need total poundage of screws. What we need is a count of the boxes. The backhoe isn¡¯t really ¡®maquinaria¡¯ the proper term is ¡®retroexcavadora¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ Okay ¡­¡±


    He went on to show me about thirty other translations I had botched. Then he started on me about the document format: the margins, fonts, font sizes, and line spacing. Essentially I needed to rework about twenty pages of inventory. It would take another two nights at least.


    How depressing. I sighed, slumped over. ¡°It¡¯s all wrong?¡±


    ¡°Well it just needs corrections ¡­ a lot of corrections.¡± He smirked at me. The bastard smirked.


    ¡°This would be so much easier if I could read your mind.¡±


    ¡°I prefer that you not. I do enjoy my privacy.¡± He smirked again.


    ¡°But I never have these types of problems when I can read someone¡¯s thoughts. I always know exactly what they want.¡±


    ¡°Here, let¡¯s put this down for tonight. You¡¯re not accustomed to the pressures of a desk job. How about we take some time off? I know just the thing. Why don¡¯t you put on that dark red dress? The one I like.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no more cage food? Sounds exciting.¡± He stared at me for a moment, like he wanted to say something. Instead he nodded silently and left me to get ready.


    He took me to the Asiate Restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. I¡¯ve never in my life been to a place that nice before, and a window seat. Felt like another person inhabited my body. Esperanza de Salvador would never sit in this restaurant with a wealthy, smiling gentleman at a window seat. It seemed too perfect to be real.


    I had been spoiled in my bedroom at the penthouse. I had the same view, but from a different side of Central Park. Looking at the gorgeous night sky line, I wondered how horrible it would be to never see this view in the daylight. Poor Enrique.


    He pampered me like a princess. He was so good to me. I¡¯ve never been treated with so much care and respect, it¡¯s intoxicating. Enrique ordered for me ¨C a fabulous four course meal.


    Looking at him as he smiled at me, I started to suspect I¡¯d fallen in love with him. Did I love him? I¡¯m not sure I know what love is.


    I thought I loved my father, despite all his shortcomings. But then he sold me to a stranger full of promises. I certainly didn¡¯t love him after he sold my virginity to Rubin. I never even saw my father again. I heard he moved out of Bogot¨¢.

 Page 17

    I loved my mother, but she died when I was seven. I remember her kind face and gentle hands, and the smell of her coffee as my father made such a big production of it. ¡°Eso es el mejor cafecito en todo el mundo.¡± The best little cup of coffee in all the world.


    I¡¯ve never been in love with a man. I certainly never loved Rubin or Faustino. I gave them my attentions, affection, and cooperation. In exchange they provided me with money, housing, clothing, food, a decent standard of living. But I didn¡¯t love them or any other man I slept with. It was business, survival. We were congenial, friendly, affectionate, but that¡¯s not love.


    At some point I had begun to think of Enrique as different. I¡¯m not sure exactly why. Maybe it was the class difference. He seemed so regal, like royalty. Maybe it was just this connection, the whole bloodslave thing.


    The funny part, I seemed to have the better half of the deal. Here I lived in a fabulous Manhattan penthouse. I wore designer clothes. I ate steak and lobster with a handsome filthy rich gentleman who appeared to genuinely care about me.


    Apart from the small issue of being hunted by Colombian cartel and enslaved for life, I had it pretty damn good. With Lia gone I enjoyed myself, my alone time with Enrique. A fairytale existence. I thoroughly enjoyed sipping two hundred dollar a bottle Sangiovese in my nine hundred dollar cocktail dress, batting my eyes adoringly at my master.


    I don¡¯t think he loved me, but I had fallen in love with him. Probably since the first night. It¡¯s the only explanation I can come up with for the jealous reaction he inspired. I¡¯ve never been jealous before, you have to give a shit about someone to be jealous. I don¡¯t know what I was thinking. There¡¯s no way Enrique could feed solely from me, not if I wanted to live for very long. I knew this, understood it, but it really bothered me to watch.


    He was so damn slick about it. No one else noticed when he took the cute little waitresses¡¯ hand and bit down on her. It looked like one of those courtesy hand-kissing gestures. He had that old world grace, like an aristocrat of Europe, born to rule over the peasantry. I had to sit and watch as the woman had her orgasm right there at our dining table. Admittedly, she handled it well, a slight flush of color and a small sighing noise. I usually clawed and screamed at him like a madwoman. The waitress had a considerably more subdued reaction.


    After dinner we took a taxi to Jamaica Avenue in Queens, some of the best nightclubs in New York.


    ¡°I thought I was supposed to be staying under the radar?¡± I chided him.


    ¡°Si, querida, this is the reason for the change to your hair.¡±


    I guess I look different enough for Enrique to feel safe about hitting the nightclubs with me on his arm, lounging in the VIP section. He went out like this often, hunting. He had to feed from several donors on a regular basis. I can¡¯t meet all his needs.


    We partied like rock stars, dancing with a whole group of girls. I had to put up with Enrique biting two other women in the VIP section. It drove me nuts to watch him give an orgasm to these women who had their paws all over him, groping his crotch and kissing him ¨C they were shameless. I was so jealous I grabbed onto the cute brunette grinding on me, and made out with her, just to prove I could have anyone I wanted.


    I hadn¡¯t proven anything to anyone. My non-existent willpower broke a few minutes later and I attacked Enrique. I really don¡¯t enjoy being jealous. It¡¯s petty and childish, and it makes me feel like someone else is in control of my emotions, pulling my strings.


    ¡°It¡¯s my turn!¡± I grabbed him, slipping my arms around his neck, an open invitation for the bite which had come to be the defining moments of my nightly life.


    My first bite of the night. Enrique had been true to his word, providing syringes loaded with venom for my early evening needs. Consequently, he could refrain from biting me till later, around ten or eleven. The injection was actually a lot stronger punch than the slow absorption of venom from his bite, very intense. It did the job, but didn¡¯t feel the same as being in his arms.


    I came hard and fast in Enrique¡¯s embrace, moaning loudly and grabbing his cock while the fast-paced club music pounded in my ears, keeping time with my racing heartbeat. If I wasn¡¯t in love with him, I most certainly loved his bite, so what¡¯s the difference?


    As I spasmed in his embrace, wetting my thirty dollar Victoria¡¯s Secret thong underwear, someone nearby had recognized Enrique and wasn¡¯t very happy to see him. The man¡¯s thoughts grabbed my attention because of the uncommonly concentrated hatred. Though a little buzzed from a few beers, the man clearly recalled watching his girlfriend get frisky with Enrique a month ago in this very same club. He and his girlfriend argued over it, and she broke up with him. He had been planning to propose to her. He blamed Enrique for the loss of his fianc¨¦e. From my perspective the guy was an asshole and had created his own problem. But I doubt he¡¯d listen to me.


    I looked in the direction of his thoughts, he stood right behind Enrique. The man¡¯s bulk easily weighed over three hundred pounds, several inches taller than Enrique. He looked like a professional wrestler, the kind of client I¡¯d charge double simply on principle. Big, black, and mean. My instinct was to run. There was no talking sense to him. He¡¯d been waiting for this too long, too inebriated.


    He had an empty beer bottle cocked back to smash over Enrique¡¯s head. No time for warnings. I pulled down hard, dropping my weight, pulling Enrique on top of me. I twisted to bring him down beside me, trying to get him out of the path of that beer bottle.


    As we hit the plush red bench seat in our VIP booth, Enrique reacted with a freaky, whip-fast move. Up in a flash, he evaded the beer bottle. The big bad man had committed to his attack. The beer bottle hit home where Enrique had been a second earlier, which also happened to be my right shoulder.


    Pain exploded through my shoulder, collarbone, and upper arm. The bottle shattered, lacerating my flesh and cheek with shards of glass. Enrique¡¯s smooth ass was untouched. The big, black wrestler damn near laid on top of me with the momentum of his attack. And then he was gone in the blink of an eye.


    He went flying back off the raised platform of the VIP section to land on the stairs descending to the dance floor, on his back. Enrique snatched me up into his protective embrace. No longer the suave sophisticate who smiled, chuckled, called me querida. He had transformed into a ferocious thing with a snarl and fangs fully exposed. A coiled tension of deadly force rippled through his powerful body. He had tossed a three hundred pound man ten feet through the air like nothing.


    He whisked us down the stairs to face the wrestler who had barely gotten to his feet. The people at the edge of the dance floor gawked at the three of us, anxiously waiting for the action and drama. The man came up into a crouch, preparing to tackle. Enrique lashed out with his left hand, nailing him in the nose with a fleshy crunch.


    The wrestler collapsed in a heap, out cold. I knew his nose was busted, and I suspected worse, like his right cheek bone. The impression I caught was of something rock hard hitting something spongy, breakable. The wrestler¡¯s face would need reconstructive surgery.


    Club security swarmed all over us, but it became clear within minutes what had happened. I was bleeding all over the damn place, and witnesses attested to the wrestler¡¯s unprovoked attack. Enrique did what Latinos around the world have done for centuries. He bribed the head of security with a roll of hundreds. We left quickly, escorted to the limo waiting outside. I¡¯ve seen bribes paid out almost daily back in Colombia, but never in the US. I thought things were different here. Apparently not.


    Enrique dabbed at the blood on my arm and face with an expensive silk handkerchief. ¡°Aye, querida, I¡¯m so sorry. That was meant for me.¡±


    ¡°I know. He wanted to kill you for causing him and his fianc¨¦e to split up.¡±


    ¡°Que malo. So much pain over something so trivial. I had no idea.¡±


    ¡°He blamed you, but it was really his own fault. You bit his girlfriend a month ago. He saw the two of you together. A convenient target to blame when she broke up with him.¡±


    ¡°You can read all that in a matter of seconds?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and there¡¯s more. He had cheated on her. He assumed the same when he saw her kissing you. They always suspect people of doing the same things they are capable of.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry you were caught in the middle of this. These little dramas happen at times. It¡¯s unfortunate, but unavoidable. For that reason I try not to frequent the same locations too regularly.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s been looking for you for several weeks.¡±


    I began shaking, not from the cold, but from nerves and the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. Enrique glanced quickly at the taxi driver to see if he was watching. The driver¡¯s attention was on the road.


    ¡°This will help.¡± He snaked his sexy tongue out and licked the blood off my shoulder. He had to pick out pieces of glass as he went, but I hardly noticed. His venom soothed my aching shoulder and stole the pain from my lacerated flesh.


    By the time we made it home I was high as a kite, feeling zero pain. The bleeding had stopped on both my cheek and arm. Who needs first aid kits when you have your very own vampire handy to treat cuts and bruises? He had me so high I could barely walk to the elevator. He damn near carried me. It was so wonderful. I¡¯d almost be willing to get hit by a beer bottle every night just to have Enrique licking on me with his magical tongue. I¡¯m pretty sure I climaxed for about twenty minutes straight while he cleaned me up in the cab. That¡¯s gotta be a record for the world¡¯s longest orgasm. I¡¯m sure the cab driver heard me moaning, saw what was going on, but I didn¡¯t care.


    Back in my bedroom Enrique undressed me and tucked me into bed while applying bandages to my arm.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s an opportunity for your advancement. I¡¯d like to have an assistant who can give me the inside information on a potential investment. I have need for your unique talents.¡±


    ¡°What ¡­ you don¡¯t like my translations?¡± I slurred in my uber-high voice.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk tomorrow. Don¡¯t worry about it right now.¡±

 Page 18

    I was so high I¡¯d have agreed to anything at the moment. I cuddled up with my head in his lap. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ and a piece of advice. If we¡¯re ever in that situation again, I don¡¯t need your protection. All I need is for you to get yourself out of the way. I¡¯ll take care of the rest. You hear me?¡±


    ¡°Unh hunh.¡± I was half asleep already.


    ¡°No more taking bullets meant for me.¡±


    ¡°Bottles ¡­ not bullets,¡± I murmured.


    ¡°Yes, but you understand the analogy. Don¡¯t do that again. You are much more breakable than I am. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± And with that I passed out, my head cradled in his lap.


    I woke up late in the afternoon, a few minutes before six. My shoulder and arm felt a little sore, but nothing like I expected.


    In front of the mirror in my massive bathroom, I tore the bandage off my shoulder expecting to see a nasty set of cuts that would need stitches. I had three little red welts. The scabs were ready to fall off. My cheek had a pink line where the bottle gouged me. The wounds look days old ¨C weeks old.


    That vampire¡¯s venom was a miracle cure. Every emergency room in the world could use a couple gallons of it. There¡¯s no way I could¡¯ve escaped that beer bottle without several stitches under normal conditions. But there wasn¡¯t anything normal about my life these days. At this rate, I¡¯d be fully healed in another night. I might even get off without a single scar to show for it.


    I poked my shoulder, it felt tender. But it was a slug bug kinda tender, which wasn¡¯t bad under the circumstances. How strange. Weird, but I¡¯m definitely not complaining.


    Chapter 12


    My first assignment as Enrique¡¯s assistant was to accompany him to a dinner party ¨C business meeting. We arrived by taxi. For whatever reason, Enrique didn¡¯t like to travel by subway. With him we always took a taxi or the limo. Enrique took us to the Le Bernardin Restaurant.


    ¡°This is the premier French seafood restaurant in New York. Parisian actually. Probably one of the best restaurants in the world. Of course, it¡¯s reservation only. The place has a waiting list for reservations.¡± If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think he tried to impress me.


    ¡°Oh God, why are you telling me this? Are you afraid I¡¯ll embarrass you?¡±


    ¡°No, relax. You can do this.¡±


    He had me in an eleven hundred dollar maroon Tarik Ediz gown and five hundred dollar Louboutin heels. I looked like a damn runway model. They actually called it a ¡°Red Carpet¡± gown, as if I was some kind of celebrity. I felt like I could¡¯ve charged a thousand dollars an hour in that outfit, at least enough to earn what Enrique paid for it.


    ¡°Listen, you¡¯re gorgeous. A young, beautiful woman helps liven up the meeting. They¡¯ll be staring at you the whole time while you pick their brains.¡±


    ¡°It only takes a few minutes of conversation. I¡¯ll know everything we need to know in a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°No, querida. You don¡¯t know what these people are like. We do this my way, you¡¯ll stay for the entire dinner.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled about the deception. I¡¯d been hoping to get in and out quickly. I felt like an imposter, a pretender. I didn¡¯t belong in this high-class world of MBAs and investment advisors. Here I was, twenty-two years old ¨C almost twenty-three, a former prostitute, and yet he expected me to put on a fa?ade of being a respectable cultured woman, his date. I thought it near impossible to fool them for any length of time.


    ¡°I¡¯m nothing more than an uneducated illegal immigrant. They will see right through this.¡± My confidence was seriously lacking.


    ¡°Querida, don¡¯t worry you¡¯ll be fine. I believe you can do this. It¡¯s okay to ask questions and feign ignorance. No one will expect you to understand the complexity of the transaction they¡¯re proposing. Your role tonight is simple eye candy. They will underestimate you. That¡¯s precisely what I¡¯m counting on. Be who you are, that¡¯s all I ask. You don¡¯t have to tell them anything personal. You¡¯re visiting the US, and enrolling in college. Nothing more. None of that is a lie. If you don¡¯t understand something I expect you to ask questions. That¡¯s the whole point.¡±


    ¡°The broker and the facilitator will take pains to explain to you what they assume I already know. It¡¯s perfect. As they explain the scheme to you, all their secrets will be revealed. Either through their indulgence of your curiosity, or by telepathy, we will uncover the truth.¡±


    It all made sense, but I still felt inadequate for the task. ¡°But what will they think of me? I don¡¯t want to dress up like a sophisticated, rich girl only to be discovered as an escort when they see through the deception. I don¡¯t know any French or anything ...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right there at your side the whole time. It¡¯ll be fun, trust me.¡±


    He kissed me to seal the deal, and with that I opened a new chapter in my life.


    We met Prince Ahmet Rahim Mahmoud, accompanied by a Spaniard, Emilio Rodriguez, a broker for Enrique¡¯s investments. I recognized Emilio¡¯s name from a consulting fee agreement I¡¯d seen that entitled him to ten percent commission on a transaction with Reguera Internacional S.A.. Emilio, a short bald pale man with a please¨Ceveryone sycophantic manner, introduced the Prince, and we all shook hands then sat down to order drinks.


    The Prince poured on the charm thick and syrupy. ¡°I¡¯m very pleased to meet you. I¡¯ve heard so many good things about you from Emilio.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, I hope you didn¡¯t believe everything. Emilio tends to exaggerate.¡± Enrique chuckled, but I could tell he was concerned about what Emilio had said. I felt so in tune with Enrique, it seemed like I could read his emotions. But I still can¡¯t read a damn thing from his mind.


    ¡°Please feel free to address me as Rahim. We are among friends here. I don¡¯t like to use royal titles when I can avoid it, seems too pretentious.¡± Pretentious was exactly the word for him. Pretentious, pompous, imperious, affected. He was short like Emilio, but much darker in color, swarthy, with a head of tight, reddish brown curls. Rahim spoke with an ever-so-slight Middle Eastern accent in articulate English. He sounded worldly and highly educated. It was easy to believe the pretentious ass had relations with the Saudi Royal family, even though he didn¡¯t.


    The alarms started going off right out the gate. He had lied about his supposed connection to the Saudi King. Rahim was so smooth he didn¡¯t even have to propagate his lies, he conned Emilio into doing it for him. Emilio bragged about Rahim¡¯s nonexistent banking relationships in Dubai and imaginary cousins in the Saudi Royal family. Emilio was such a sucker, blathering excitedly about this phenomenal new buy¨Csell investment program, which he also called a trade platform.


    It was all bullshit, starting with Rahim himself, or more accurately, Jaleel Ahmet, from Chicago Illinois, born and raised right here in the good ole US of A. Rahim¡¯s only knowledge of the Saudi Royal family came from world news, magazines, and Google. He¡¯d never been to Saudi Arabia or Dubai, but could expound for hours with seemingly educated opinions on the problems of Saudi society, politics, law, customs, and of course, oil. He had a library of written material on the Saudi¡¯s, and he spoke just enough Arabic to convince idiot American investors of his authenticity.


    Rahim had several clients he¡¯d conned into his trade platform totaling three million so far. He paid generous commissions to Emilio for another sucker he¡¯d brought in. Needless to say, Emilio was hyped up ¨C well motivated, doing his damnedest to convince Enrique to invest. It seemed Emilio¡¯s problem was greed. He didn¡¯t attempt to verify Rahim¡¯s claims ¨C he hadn¡¯t even run a standard background check on Rahim.


    Each comment from Emilio sparked little nuggets of truth in Rahim¡¯s mind. I found liars always focus intently on both the lie and the truth simultaneously as the falsehood is weaved into a tapestry of creative bullshit.


    Emilio rambled on and on with diarrhea of the mouth. ¡°The Prince has an exclusive invitation-only buy-sell platform. Although it¡¯s impossible to make any guarantees, historically the platform has profit returns in the neighborhood of thirty percent monthly or more per month.¡±


    Pure fantasy. Platform didn¡¯t exist. No returns were paid to anyone apart from a few initial payments coming from new investors funds used to pay earlier investors. I think it¡¯s called robbing Peter to pay Paul.


    The one investor Emilio referred hadn¡¯t received a single payout from the fantasy platform, but Emilio was okay, he¡¯d collected his broker¡¯s commission up front. Emilio had no proof the imaginary platform had ever paid out, and yet he promoted it.


    I dived right into the role Enrique wished me to play. ¡°Thirty percent monthly, why so high? I thought the stock market only produced like ten percent a year if you¡¯re lucky.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know a thing about the stock market, but I¡¯d recently read a spam email that complained about the ten percent average yield of the stock market. Enrique¡¯s eyebrows rose up at my question. He held my hand and smiled warmly as we waited for Emilio¡¯s answer.


    ¡°That¡¯s so true, so true. Lucky for us the platform isn¡¯t a function of the stock market, it¡¯s a series of private contracts to buy medium-term notes at a discount and sell at a profit instantaneously. The trader already knows his profit in advance.¡±


    What a mouthful. Emilio believed every word of it, which didn¡¯t change the fact it was all bullshit.


    ¡°How fascinating.¡± I could do the dumb blonde role all night long. I felt like a child playing in a pool of sharks ¨C does the big mean fish with all those teeth bite? Of course it does.


    Emilio bit into my dumb blonde act. ¡°The trader managing the platform has a special banking arrangement. Accounts are blocked, monies are never at risk. The best part, the trader offers a tax treaty to the investor. All proceeds are tax-free.¡±


    ¡°Oh my.¡±


    I gave him my earnest look of admiration. The same look I give a client after unsatisfying sex when he asks, ¡°was it good for you?¡±

 Page 19

    The whole thing was artfully elaborated crap ¨C all of it ¨C every single word. In the background, Rahim had a man who pretended to be a trader, Gregory Cranston. But Cranston was not what he seemed. The funds invested in this fantasy platform were not blocked at all.


    I caught a thread of thought coming from Rahim that turned my guts cold. Without thinking I opened my mouth to ask Rahim a direct question. ¡°Who is the trader?¡±


    A small slip up on my part, Rahim hadn¡¯t been speaking at all. I¡¯d asked Rahim because of his thoughts. I hoped he didn¡¯t notice how eager I was. My instincts hit home when Rahim leaned toward me, sloshing his syrupy charm all over.


    ¡°Ah, we¡¯ve truly caught Hope¡¯s interest. I had worried the conversation would bore you to tears. You must be an exceptionally intelligent woman to hit the heart of the matter so soon.¡±


    As I¡¯d worried, Rahim had noticed my unusual eagerness. He wasn¡¯t alarmed, but he put the brakes on Emilio¡¯s free-flowing mouth.


    ¡°The trader, my dear, cannot be divulged without undergoing certain formalities. We must have documented history and proof of funds for legal compliance. I assume Emilio sent you the file with the sample documents?¡±


    Emilio chimed in, ¡°I confirmed Senor Reguera¡¯s receipt of my email yesterday evening.¡±


    Enrique came back smoothly, ¡°My secretary will have them ready soon.¡±


    Rahim took my hand in his. He pulled me close to kiss my hand with regal charm, and then patted the back of my hand as if that made it all better.


    ¡°I regret to disappoint a beautiful woman, but we must adhere to the rules of private placement. The SEC is very strict about these things.¡±


    He didn¡¯t disappoint me at all. I was livid with rage at what I learned when he foolishly grabbed my hand. The close contact brought an avalanche of details. I learned far more than I ever would have if the prick hadn¡¯t kissed my hand.


    I could barely restrain myself from clawing his beady little eyes out. The bastard trader was no trader at all. He was an FBI agent paying Rahim as a federal confidential informant. They used Rahim¡¯s scam to fish for investors whose source of funds were questionable. They investigated everyone¡¯s bank accounts and assets, searching for money launderers. They had identified several. Money launderers are attracted to this kind of investment, it helps legitimize their funds for tax filings. That¡¯s why they dangled the tax treaty bait. Money launderers are drawn to that immediately.


    Rahim sat back to watch me as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. I caught his interest. He had a hard-on for me.


    ¡°Do I detect a hint of an accent? What is your heritage Hope?¡±


    He wanted to know more about me. Wanted me bent over the dining table. Wanted to take me in the bathroom and bang me up against the wall. I didn¡¯t want that nasty son-of-a-bitch to know anything more than he already knew. I wished I¡¯d never met him. Then Enrique jumped in and volunteered the answer.


    ¡°She¡¯s visiting from Colombia. She¡¯s acquired a scholarship and wishes to attend NYU.¡±


    Oh how I regretted Enrique¡¯s input. He divulged way too much information. Rahim¡¯s mind raced with the potential opportunities to take advantage of me. As he sat there with his creepy little charming half smile, Rahim schemed a twisted plot. He wanted to steal Enrique¡¯s money, have him indicted, and then blackmail me into having sex with him in exchange for immunity from prosecution as a minor party on the indictment.


    All my life I had believed the cartels and Traquetos were the most evil, predatory people in the world. Rahim and the undercover FBI agent Cranston were the real predators. They siphoned millions off the economy, and destroyed whole families with indictments and ruined reputations.


    It made me physically sick to sit at the table so near to him. He was the vilest, most despicable, most corruptly powerful man I¡¯d ever encountered. And I definitely didn¡¯t like the idea that he knew so much about me. He could have me thrown in federal detention and deported with a phone call.


    I tried my best to retain composure in the midst of the shocking revelations, but something must have shown in my face. A small glimpse of my shock slipped past the mask. Rahim thought I¡¯d somehow misinterpreted his words. He moved in close to apologize. I shied away from him, instinctively sliding towards Enrique who was already up out of his seat, taking me under his arm to comfort me.


    Enrique interrupted Rahim. ¡°Hope, what¡¯s wrong? Are you feeling sick?¡±


    When I nodded yes, not trusting myself to speak, he reacted immediately, pulling my chair out and helping me to my feet.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you to the restroom.¡± He ushered me away from the table where they sat looking puzzled by my sudden illness.


    As we neared the restrooms he whispered low at my ear. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be near that man anymore. Don¡¯t give him your information. Don¡¯t give him any money!¡±


    I calmed in Enrique¡¯s embrace. My earlier anxiety shifted gears to anger. I explained the scam, that Rahim was nothing more than a con artist. And then I did something totally out of character. I got some weird idea about truth, justice, right and wrong.


    ¡°You have to stop him! He can¡¯t be allowed to destroy people¡¯s lives like this!¡± Where did I come off acting all holier-than-thou?


    Something about Rahim¡¯s scam aroused a powerfully righteous anger. I wanted God to smite him right there at the dinner table. Rahim needed to be struck down by lightning, washed away in a flood, decapitated in a subway accident like a teenager in a horror film. I¡¯m not usually hateful and vindictive. Rahim found a way to bring out all the worst in me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them you¡¯re not feeling well and the meeting will have to be rescheduled. Ahht!¡± He interrupted my protests. ¡°Not here, not now. We¡¯ll talk at home in private.¡± He shut me down for the moment.


    We arrived home an hour later. By then I¡¯d relaxed and had time to think clearly about the situation. Enrique took care of business first. He took me straight to bed, made mad passionate love to me, and bit me good and hard just the way I like it. That stole some thunder from my righteous anger. It¡¯s hard to focus on bringing the wrath of God down on your enemy¡¯s head in the middle of mind blowing sex.


    ¡°Are you feeling better now?¡± I snuggled up into his arms and sighed with pleasure. ¡°Do you feel up to talking about it?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I wiggled my butt playfully up against him.


    ¡°Tell me what had you so upset.¡±


    I explained everything, the fake name, scam investments, the federal agent behind it all, and even Rahim¡¯s designs on me. Enrique listened intently without interruption. His features were well schooled, showing very little surprise or reaction. When he finally commented, it wasn¡¯t what I expected.


    ¡°It looks like we¡¯ve found your calling. You¡¯re hired, permanently. I want you present at all my major business functions. I want detailed written reports of what my associate¡¯s thoughts are versus what they have to say.¡±


    I was shocked to say the least, happily shocked. I had a career now, with real prospects for a bright shiny future, if only I could survive long enough to reap the benefits. This far exceeded any of my expectations. But there was still some unfinished business.


    ¡°What are you gonna do about Rahim?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯ll respectfully decline his offer to invest and that¡¯s the end of it. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever work with Emilio again. His greed blinds him. He can¡¯t be trusted.¡±


    ¡°You have to put a stop to it. He¡¯s a horribly dangerous man. He¡¯s gonna continue to destroy people and steal their money!¡±


    ¡°What would you suggest I do?¡±


    That threw me for a loop. No one ever cared about my opinions before. No one ever sought my counsel for anything, except to play lie detector.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know ¡­ Isn¡¯t there some government agency that would arrest him? Maybe the SEC?¡±


    ¡°And his federal agent buddy would immediately step forward to have all charges dropped based on his ongoing cooperation and efforts in other government investigations. There¡¯s nothing we can do legally.¡±


    ¡°But he must be stopped! He¡¯s the worst kind of predator ¨C worse than any drug dealer!¡±


    ¡°Let me think on it a while. But for now we simply avoid him and count ourselves lucky for doing so.¡±


    Chapter 13


    The next afternoon I awoke at five in the afternoon to a wonderfully pleasant surprise. There on my nightly tray, right beside my dinner, cans of Ensure, and syringe loaded with venom, was a four page document and a note attached.


    Dear Hope:


    Take some time to review this employment contract. If satisfactory, please sign and make yourself a copy.


    Love,


    Enrique


    I took care of my needs first of course. I had quickly become proficient at tying off my arm, finding the vein in the crook of my elbow, and injecting myself with Enrique¡¯s personal brand of liquid euphoria. First things first.


    After wiping the slobber off my jaw and cleaning up from the mind-altering orgasm, I sat down to review the best job offer of my life. Nothing short of a miracle. A blessing from God. The best thing that ever happened to me. A hundred thousand dollars annual salary, three weeks paid vacation, all travel and food expenses paid on business trips along with a per diem, and any college classes I required paid in full, including classes on intercultural etiquette ¨C to be enrolled ASAP. The sweetest part of the deal, a signing bonus of $20,000 paid immediately ¨C for services rendered to date.


    What were my duties? Attend all mandatory business meetings and provide a full detailed written report of all communications between parties and any of my thoughts, opinions, and intuitions. It didn¡¯t outright say telepathic eavesdropping, but I read between the lines well enough to interpret the picture. I had been hired to spy on everyone Enrique does business with.


    Maybe it was the venom high, or the fact I didn¡¯t want to give him a chance to retract the offer, I signed it immediately. I didn¡¯t wait to ask a single question. I was already in the office, typing my report on Rahim and Emilio, by the time Enrique arrived a little after seven.

 Page 20

    He walked up to my desk, watched me, looking for some hint of my reaction. I kept typing, ignoring him for about thirty seconds. Enrique had the patience of a two hundred-year old man. He waited silently until I couldn¡¯t hold back my enthusiasm any longer. I honestly can¡¯t recall a time I¡¯ve ever been happier.


    My vision had blurred from the tears in my eyes. Tears of joy. When I looked up at his smiling face I lost it. I leaped into his arms in delight, kissing him all over with a shower of, ¡°thank you, thank you, thank you.¡±


    ¡°It pleases me to see you happy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t restrain myself and didn¡¯t even try. He kissed me back. His hands slipped inside my silk robe to find me without underwear. He played with me, working his fingers in and out, driving me crazy with anticipation. He had me grinding in time with his hand, worked to a frenzy. I tore through his belt and zipper, trying to get into his pants as fast as humanly possible. By the time I took his cock in hand I¡¯d already come all over his fingers inside me.


    I was so high on life, on Enrique, I pushed him down into my office chair and went deep throat. I sucked and stroked him at the same time. He liked it as I cupped his balls nibbling on the very tip and then plunged down to swallow all of him. Every time I came up for air I followed with my hand pumping up and down. I rubbed the soft underside of his head with my thumb. He squirmed, his intense eyes staring at me when he came.


    Then I did something I¡¯ve never done for any man, ever. I clamped down on his cock, and sucked as hard as I could. I swallowed every last drop I could milk from him. That¡¯s how happy he made me, how strongly I felt for him. I doubt he understood the significance of the moment, but to me it represented a pledge of devotion. That¡¯s when the truth hit me dead on. Not only had I done something I never do, but I opened my mouth and said the words I have never uttered to any man, ¡°I love you.¡±


    God I was stupid. A young stupid girl who¡¯d fallen in love. And do you think for one minute he¡¯d return the sentiment? No.


    He held me in his arms. ¡°That was wonderful.¡±


    Then he proceeded to bend me over the desk for round two. It was just a little too much, all that length and size, but I could take it. He pounded me silly till I came again and again as he bit me on the back of the shoulder and then released again, all the way up inside me.


    I¡¯d long since become used to him coming inside me, unprotected sex. Vampires are sterile and they cannot get or carry STDs. Enrique could screw me till sunrise, make cream pies all night long, and never get me pregnant. He was the epitome of safe sex, a sterile, squeaky clean lover.


    I knew he didn¡¯t love me, but he cared, and he¡¯s considerate. I¡¯m stuck with him either way. I guess it didn¡¯t matter because I was happier than I ever thought I could be.


    So it worked out after all. This whole bloodslave thing wasn¡¯t so bad. I had a man who cared for me, treated me with respect. I had a real career, an office, and a business wardrobe. I started taking online classes ¨C intercultural etiquette. I began attending meetings regularly with Enrique. Sometimes I played the eye candy role in a low cut revealing evening dress, hanging on his arm at a high-class lounge or restaurant. At other times I would dress in Armani charcoal gray suits to sit in on office meetings with a notepad and simply observe everything and everyone.


    For the most part things seemed routine, uneventful. There were no new Rahim¡¯s or Emilio¡¯s to unmask. These were average business people doing everyday business. Some of them had unspoken thoughts, but they were fairly unremarkable. One lady wanted a higher commission on the sale of a piece of real estate. One guy was hoping for a lower price on the shipping contract with Reguera Internacional S.A.. An attorney was disgruntled with the amount of work Enrique required on a contract negotiation. The guy charged five hundred an hour, lazy bastard.


    I noticed this was fairly common among attorneys. Most were very intelligent, thought they were smarter that everyone else. But they were the laziest assholes I¡¯d ever met. Attorneys get paid whether business is good or bad, come rain or shine. They make way too much money for doing very little. I didn¡¯t have much good to say about attorneys. None of it surprised Enrique. He¡¯d been dealing with them for a very long time. He repeatedly told me, ¡°They are a necessary evil.¡±


    He congratulated me for giving him that extra edge, the advantage of knowing a little more at those crucial moments. Knowing what an attorney really thought instead of being led down a dead-end road of litigation. Enrique decided not to pursue a lawsuit on a hundred thousand dollar unpaid debt because in the attorney¡¯s mind, the guy was a turnip. Even if we won the lawsuit, how would we collect? This didn¡¯t stop the attorney from pushing to sue. The asshole tried to collect a retainer of fifteen thousand to start a pointless lawsuit.


    This inside track shared between Enrique and I and no other made for an especially intimate connection. I felt like I alone knew the innermost workings and decisions he made on a nightly basis. He consulted me after each meeting. He always considered my input prior to his decision. At some point I¡¯d begun to think of everything as ¡®we¡¯. No more I or him. We were a team, and no one else entered our little circle of trust. Us against the world.


    Our little circle of trust seemed inviolable and private, right up to the moment Lia came back from Spain.


    I had just read a notice Enrique drafted to Emilio stating his company no longer required Emilio¡¯s services as a broker. The consulting agreement between them was canceled. It sounded harsh, impersonal, but necessary under the circumstances. This reminded me of Rahim.


    ¡°What have you decided to do about Rahim?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s much I can do about him. He¡¯s very well connected with the FBI.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it? He¡¯s allowed to go on scamming people, ruining their lives without consequence?¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do? I can send Lia after him, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be happy to take care of him for us.¡±


    I¡¯d been living in a complacent state of denial, Lia completely forgotten about. I liked it that way. I was taken aback Enrique would suggest such a horrid thing.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what else can be done at the moment. If you truly feel strongly about putting a stop to them, I¡¯ll send Lia. I guarantee he¡¯ll be no further threat to anyone.¡±


    ¡°No! There must be another way. I wouldn¡¯t wish her on my worst enemy.¡±


    At that precise moment Lia Nguyen walked into Enrique¡¯s office and smiled at me. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to handle it? It would be so much fun. I was really looking forward to a good hunt.¡± She flexed her painted red claws to punctuate her words. Her mind filled with bloodbath imagery of carnage, showers of arterial flow. The girl was just straight up sick.


    And Enrique must have been aware she returned from Spain. Their minds were connected always. He knew where she was at any moment he chose to check on her. I wished he warned me in advance that our pleasant private life together was officially over.


    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d been thinking. I knew she¡¯d return someday, but I really enjoyed her absence and had put her out of my mind completely.


    Enrique dealt with her sadistic desires casually. ¡°Sorry to disappoint, no murder and mayhem tonight.¡±


    She was disappointed. She¡¯d been hoping I would give Enrique the go ahead. She enjoyed hunting people like a redneck with a deer tag, itching to escape the nine-to-five day job to go out and kill something, anything that moves. It was a rare exception she had permission to kill. It had been a very long time since she bathed in the blood of a man.


    I hadn¡¯t missed her one bit. I wished she¡¯d turn around and go right back to Spain. Leave me be in my happy little bubble of rough sex and love. I expected to catch the usual hate-filled thoughts she broadcast every moment in my presence. She looked to me with a slight hint of condescension. Had she actually accepted me in her life with some measure of tolerance? Could it be? Will miracles never cease?


    I spent the next few hours in the office typing up my reports, half my mind focused on Lia as she came and went past my desk into Enrique¡¯s office. I never registered anything more than a mild annoyance from her, and that only occasionally. Surprisingly, I did catch something positive ¨C sexual attraction. She stared at my legs. She wanted to reach up my skirt and play with me. That¡¯s quite an improvement over fantasizing about my death. Sex I can deal with.


    I glanced up and caught her staring at me with a hungry look as she imagined doing a hot lesbian number right there at my desk. I wasn¡¯t sure how to react to her now. It seemed we were turning over a new leaf, awkward. I¡¯m usually at home with my sexuality. It¡¯s my currency in this world. But I¡¯m not an escort anymore. I have a career. I don¡¯t need to seduce anyone but Enrique, especially not someone who admittedly wants to kill me and wallow in my entrails while she¡¯s at it.


    I smiled at her. When all else fails I smile. It doesn¡¯t mean I like you or want anything to do with you, it¡¯s just a smile. Lia smiled back as she imagined fingering me and biting my breasts¨C the good kind of bite ¨C not the tear you to pieces kind. This was so weird. She finally walked off after staring me down for a moment.


    I didn¡¯t know what to think of this new Lia. Seemed like a change for the better, she no longer wanted to kill me, for the moment. I should¡¯ve taken it as a sign of things to come, but I didn¡¯t. I spent the night finishing up my work and buzzed Enrique on the intercom to see what time he¡¯d be visiting me in bed for our nightly session of sex and further biting. Four a.m. and he hadn¡¯t bitten me since midnight, I needed him.


    ¡°Be ready in twenty minutes.¡±


    I hurriedly stripped and bathed, rubbing floral-scented oil on my skin for the best effect. I know he doesn¡¯t love me, but if I try to please him every way I can, maybe that will change eventually. I awaited him dressed in my blood-red silk bathrobe ¨C Enrique preferred me in red. He showed up right on time, smiling brightly as he entered my room. He hugged me close, sniffing the scent on my oiled neck. Lia walked in the door behind him dressed in nothing but a burgundy red silk bathrobe. I thought I looked better in mine than she did hers, my golden tanned skin and more feminine curves.

 Page 21

    If we were in a beauty contest I¡¯m sure I¡¯d have won. But it wasn¡¯t a contest, it was a m¨¦nage. Surprise, surprise, surprise.


    I balked. ¡°No way! She wants me dead. No way am I having sex with someone who wants to kill me!¡±


    Enrique, calm as can be, turned to Lia. ¡°Is that true? Do you want to kill our beautiful Hope?¡± Much to her credit, she shook her head no and stepped up to slip her hands up under my robe to stroke my ass lovingly.


    ¡°You know what I want.¡± And I did. I knew she wanted to eat me out and bang me till the sun came up. The scented oil on my skin had her wet for me. Not a hint of violence, malevolence, or murderous intent.


    Then I realized she was high. She¡¯d just snorted a fat-ass line of coke. She truly wanted to fuck me. I caught the undertones of her and Enrique¡¯s relationship in the mix. She enjoyed sex with him, he gave it to her especially hard and fast, but she preferred women. She had somehow gotten past her hatred for me and now looked at me as a new sex toy. She assumed I was Enrique¡¯s sex toy, and wanted in on the action.


    I¡¯ve never really thought of my relationship with Enrique that way. But I imagined it was possible he might see it that way. While I was okay with the arrangement, I¡¯d had numerous threesomes in my lifetime, I found it extremely disappointing.


    ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ sooo weird. You really want me to let her touch me?¡± I wanted to cry.


    I had fallen in love, but I was simply the new sex toy for my vampire master and his freaky Asian sidekick.


    Chapter 14


    Enrique slipped his arm around me. ¡°We thought this would be a proper initiation into our little family. Lia has come to accept your place in our household. She has agreed to let go of the past. Consider this a truce, a new beginning. It¡¯s vitally important that we all live together with a certain degree of harmony. Will you accept Lia into our sex life as a gesture of goodwill? I understand you two have been intimate before.¡±


    As he spoke Lia entwined around me, not waiting for my answer. She assumed I would accept. She had her hands all over me, my ass, between my legs, feeling me up. Her mind blazed desire, no hate, no malice.


    They say beauty conquered the beast, but I¡¯ll bet lust had a lot to do with it. Lia¡¯s mind boiled with lust, a whole lineup of really naughty things planned for me. Flowing through her thoughts had me wet, breathing hard. Her hands knew a woman¡¯s body like no man has ever known.


    She seduced the answer from my lips, coaxing a yes from me as she stroked my clit and nipples simultaneously. This was the Lia I met in Spanish Harlem. This sexy, horny little Asian could play my body like a violin singing with pleasure.


    My answer had been nothing more than a formality. We sealed the deal. No more words needed to be spoken. My body had already made the decision. Lia had me whimpering and humping on her hand.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s so good. Damn lesbians know just how to do it right.¡± No man can fingerbang like a woman.


    ¡°Lia has promised to take very good care of you.¡± Enrique smiled as I came all over Lia¡¯s fingers. God I loved him so much. I looked in his eyes as I came for her.


    I don¡¯t think I ever really had a choice in the matter. I had to allow Lia into my sex life to keep the peace. Say goodbye to my private intimacy with Enrique. It wasn¡¯t what I wanted, but when have I ever had anything I wanted? Maybe it wasn¡¯t for me to have. I should have learned to accept this kind of disappointment by now, but it still hurt.


    I let my robe fall to the floor and embraced my new family. They kissed me, both of them, all over, my breasts, neck, collarbone, belly, shoulders. They focused all their attention on me. They picked me up bodily to deposit me in bed. Lia had already discarded her robe. She settled between my legs going to town with her monster tongue, working me back up to another peak.


    ¡°This should be interesting.¡± Enrique smirked, watching me and Lia as he stripped his clothes and sat next to my pillow.


    Lia had me going good. I pumped my hips in time with her wicked tongue lashing. Enrique held my gaze with hunger in his eyes. I couldn¡¯t leave him out of the action, so I grabbed on his beautiful cock and sucked him as hard as I could.


    He moved over me, pinning me on my back as he straddled my face between his legs and worked all the way in. The skull-fuck position is an exercise in complete trust. He could literally choke me to death as he pinned me down for forced deep throat. He knew I could take it, we¡¯d done it before. In truth I don¡¯t usually go for this position, there¡¯s no one I have ever trusted that much. Enrique had become the exception to the rule, to all my rules. It came down to love. Because I loved him, I let him do anything and everything he wants. It pleased me to please him.


    For that reason I sucked him hard and fast, grabbing on to his hips to pull down. He followed my lead. I took it all, burying my face into his groin. I wanted all he could give. I poured all my love for him into the act. I swallowed him until I couldn¡¯t go any farther, kissing the base of his cock.


    Lia made it difficult to focus. She ate me out like a starving woman at a banquet. She deserved a gold medal for the world¡¯s best cunnilingus. She had me coming hard again in a few minutes.


    That¡¯s when everything happened at once. Lia bit me right in the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, centimeters from the sweet spot. It stung, but her venom punched through me turning a good climax into a whopper multiple orgasm. Enrique chose that moment to unload down my throat. He shoved in hard, squishing me down into the pillow as he convulsed with his release. I was overwhelmed, too much going on at the same time. I tried my best to maintain, screaming into his cock with my orgasm as I drowned in his release. I swallowed to survive.


    ¡°Oh, Hope.¡± He said my name, and I loved him so much. I would swallow for him a million times more if only he¡¯d say those three words I desperately wanted to hear.


    All this in the first five minutes. As I caught my breath, they switched it up. Damn vampires were tireless, barely even breathing hard. For Lia, this was just the warm-up. They had me in for a rough finish to the night. I followed their lead to change position underneath Lia.


    She spoke as she flicked her tongue over me. ¡°Try to keep up with us.¡±


    She straddled my face for the sixty-nine. Her turn to catch some love, but she was still in a giving mood. She continued the assault between my legs. Enrique took up his position behind her, ¡®perito¡¯ doggy-style, as she remained on her hands and knees.


    The lucky Asian caught a double whammy. Enrique slid in her ass while I suckled on her clit and banged her with two fingers. Kinda tricky to coordinate, but it worked. We all knew exactly what we were doing and played our roles well. Lia buried her face in me and I returned the favor, giving her clit all my attention.


    Lia must¡¯ve been really strong. She barely moved as Enrique buried all that meat in her ass, working up a good hard rhythm. I was halfway into my fourth orgasm when I noticed he was actually hurting Lia. The girl was too damn small to take all he had to give. Asian women are made for Asian men, not six-foot tall Spaniards with seven inch cocks.


    He had to have been aware of her pain, but he kept on going. If anything he slammed even harder. Then I understood ¨C she liked the pain ¨C a true sadomasochist. Enrique gave her exactly what she wanted. He gave it to her hard enough to rearrange her internal organs.


    Her pain drove her wild. Lia went off on me, fucking me raw with her tongue and fingers.


    ¡°Oh God! That¡¯s ¡­ oh God!¡± She had me in a non-stop frenzy


    I gave it right back the same, tongue, fingers, teeth. I gobbled that woman down. The whole operation exploded when he laid all his weight into her. He roared his release and bit her on the right shoulder. Lia screamed her orgasm, and then she tagged me right where it counts. That psycho bitch sunk her fangs right into my pussy.


    Oh God it hurt so bad, but it was wonderful too. An insanely rich mixture of pleasure and pain. I was lost for a time in agony and ecstasy, the two blended until one became the other and vice versa.


    I screamed as I jammed all four fingers as far into her as I could reach. ¡°You bitch! Don¡¯t you stop dammit! Don¡¯t stop!¡± And she didn¡¯t, not for a while.


    I regained my senses somewhat as they disengaged their bites and got up off me. That¡¯s when I noticed the blood. Not mine, Lia¡¯s. That kinky bitch turned right around and sucked Enrique¡¯s cock and balls clean. She¡¯s a total freak.


    ¡°That is so wrong. I can¡¯t believe she just did that.¡± I shook my head and looked away from Enrique. It creeped me out, but it was kinda sexy too. ¡°I thought I was bad. She¡¯s dirty.¡±


    I caught Enrique watching me as I convulsed, still reacting to their venom. They waited patiently for me to recover, adjust, watching for my reaction to this strange new dynamic. They were waiting to see if I would freak out.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay. I don¡¯t like the sight of blood alright? But I¡¯m not judging.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He said one word, but that pretty much said it all.


    We moved into the next sexual configuration in the game plan. In the lesbian world it¡¯s known as the scissor, where two girls slide in between each other¡¯s legs pussy to pussy. I coordinated with them flawlessly, taking my cues from Lia¡¯s mind.


    Enrique lay on his back. I settled my lips around his cock, snuggled between his legs. Lia had done a good job, Enrique was squeaky clean. I loved him so much. I¡¯d suck him all night long if he asked. As I swallowed all that wonderful cock, Lia started grinding on me with these hot little semicircular motions. It was tricky, like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time. But I¡¯ve had a lot of practice.


    I went with the flow, using my telepathy to its fullest. I synced with Lia¡¯s every move, and through her connection to Enrique, I knew how he enjoyed me. It was the first time I had the opportunity to read his mind. Lia provided me that missing ingredient, a psychic link to Enrique. I sensed everything he wanted, the way he wanted it, how much he enjoyed my teeth and tongue, my hands. He actually liked when I scraped him a little bit, almost biting him. I felt his intense pleasure as I focused on the very tip of his cock, swirling my tongue around and sucking hard. To this moment I¡¯d never truly known precisely what he liked. I think it strengthened my bond to him. I felt closer than ever before.

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    We screwed for what seemed like hours. Everyone got their needs met again and again. Lia just couldn¡¯t stop going at it. The girl was insatiable. She humped me raw while gnawing on my foot, biting me over and over again. It was awesome.


    For the first time ever they slept in my bed, wrapped around my blissfully abused body in a puppy pile of naked limbs. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven, with the exception of all the wonderful aches and pains I¡¯d acquired during our sexual adventures.


    I must¡¯ve slept for a good thirteen hours from sunrise to sunset, snuggled between them both. I felt so safe and secure ¨C loved. I don¡¯t know if I was loved but it sure felt like it.


    Somebody smacked me awake at sunset.


    ¡°Ow! What the hell!¡± I didn¡¯t want to wake up.


    When I finally did get up I thought I was dying of thirst. I had a horrible taste in my mouth, nauseous, bone dry with thirst. ¡°Get me some water.¡± I croaked.


    I tried to stand up to get a drink, but my head exploded with sharp stabbing knives of pain. I hit the floor with vertigo, and I couldn¡¯t get back up. My stomach lurched, the room spun. I broke into a cold sweat.


    ¡°Hope, wake up, Hope, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Enrique shook me.


    I felt dead tired. All I wanted to do was curl back up into his embrace and sleep. Every time I opened my eyes the room spun, my stomach flopped. He finally let me be, let me sleep.


    ¡°Get me an IV now!¡± he yelled at somebody.


    I awoke later in bed with the now familiar IV tier standing nearby, a clear bag and a red bag. Enrique and Lia sat beside the bed fully dressed. They had their little silent conversation going.


    ¡°She¡¯s not going to last very long.¡±


    Enrique came back at her. ¡°She will be fine if we take better care of her!¡± I could actually hear the furious growl in his mental voice.


    ¡°Why prolong the inevitable?¡±


    ¡°Because I like her. I want her to live a long happy life with us.¡±


    ¡°You finally admit it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the secret¡¯s out. There¡¯s something about her I like, something unique.¡±


    ¡°She does give one hell of a blow job.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be rude, she¡¯s listening. You have to respect her as a person.¡±


    ¡°That was a compliment.¡±


    Enrique followed his own advice. He granted me the courtesy of speaking to me instead of about me. ¡°You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?¡±


    The ¡®us¡¯ part wasn¡¯t really true. Lia had been quite entertained watching me fall on my face. Enrique was the only one who gave a shit about me.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving. And I could really use a quick bite. What time is it?¡± I hadn¡¯t been bitten in way too long ¨C withdrawals started to kick in. The clock showed a little after ten, I must¡¯ve been out for three hours. I never waited this late in the evening for my first shot of venom, way overdue.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Enrique accommodated me with a light loving nip, always careful when it mattered. After meeting my immediate needs, the gravity of the situation hit me hard.


    ¡°So, you guys trying to kill me?¡±


    Enrique shook his head, embarrassed. ¡°You know that¡¯s not our intention. But we did get a little carried away last night. I think you¡¯ll be fine with a pint and half of blood and a few hours recovery.¡±


    Lia simply stared at me unfazed. She couldn¡¯t care less.


    ¡°But you almost killed me. Is that correct?¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a bit extreme. You were severely anemic, but you recovered rapidly. Remember I told you one of the benefits of living with us is an ability to heal faster? Remember how quickly you recovered from the incident at the Metropolis? Your shoulder barely has a mark on it. Repeated exposure to our bite has toughened you up quite nicely.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you could hardly wake me up, and I couldn¡¯t even get to my feet?¡±


    ¡°Querida, you were a pint and a half shy. A normal person would have been on their deathbed. You¡¯re well-adjusted to this life. There¡¯s nothing to worry about. We need to exercise a little more caution in our sex life, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°You mean she needs to exercise more caution.¡± I pointed my finger of accusation at Lia, who simply raised her eyebrows as if to say ¨C who me?


    ¡°Yes ¡­ her and I both need to be more careful with you.¡± Enrique tried to play down Lia¡¯s role in my near death experience. Sooo uncool.


    ¡°Don¡¯t treat me like I¡¯m stupid! I know who did the majority of the biting.¡±


    Enrique looked to Lia then back at me. ¡°She knows she made a mistake, and she apologizes.¡±


    I looked at Lia, poised, quiet, and believe it or not, contrite. She spoke to me with one hundred percent sincerity, ¡°I¡¯m sorry Hope. Will you forgive me?¡±


    I searched her mind. The only thing there was a desire to make amends. I was so pissed. How could she do this and get away with it? Nothing more than I¡¯m sorry?


    ¡°So that¡¯s it? She sucks me dry and gets off with an apology? I¡¯m all better now ¨C no harm ¨C no foul ¨C no big deal?¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer to have her punished?¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± A dumb question.


    I saw clearly through Lia¡¯s mind, the two of them had discussed this. Enrique had mentioned the possibility she should be punished. She imagined it, naked, bent over, Enrique lashing at her back and ass with a leather blackjack. The idea made her wet. Both afraid and turned on by the prospect of it. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, anticipation, and fear.


    I shuddered. ¡°No way am I getting into that freaky shit! No! You¡¯re not going to beat her on my behalf.¡±


    ¡°Fine ¡­ you accept our sincere apologies?¡± He watched me quietly. Either pass judgment and draw blood, or let it be.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s as good as it gets.¡± I sighed. It felt so unfair. She gets to suck the life out of me and get away with it.


    They both moved up on me at the same time. Enrique hugged me first. He kissed me on the forehead, then Lia.


    She whispered in my ear as we embraced. ¡°I¡¯ll let you hurt me if you want. I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡± She flicked her tongue in my ear playfully. The chick was a total freak.


    ¡°No thanks. I don¡¯t really care for S&M.¡± I¡¯d done the whole leather whips thing before, just playing around. Lia wanted it for real. She wanted me to hit her, draw blood, cause real pain, not just a slap on the butt.


    She sat down next to me on the bed, her head filled with S&M fantasies.


    Enrique grabbed my attention as he pet my hair. ¡°I think we should do a little test to demonstrate something. You don¡¯t believe me. So I¡¯m going to prove it to you. Lia, please get me a thirty pound dumbbell.¡±


    She returned to the room a moment later. She hefted a big ole thirty pounder, a solid dumbbell with two big hexagonal weights on each side of the handle. A one-handed dumbbell. I spent a little time in the gym, took cardio kickboxing for a month. I didn¡¯t stick with it. The instructor gave the girls one or two pounders for each hand, the guys got tens or fifteens. I¡¯ve never even attempted to pick up a thirty pounder. Lia set it on the bed in front of me, expecting me to actually grab it and do something.


    ¡°I can¡¯t curl that!¡±


    Enrique smiled. ¡°One minute.¡± He unhooked the IVs which had mostly emptied and then gestured to the dumbbell. ¡°Just try it a couple times.¡±


    I sat there for a moment as they both stared at me silently, waiting, watching, not blinking. I finally sighed in resignation and gave in. I grabbed the thing, rolled my eyes at the both of them, and grunted as I tried to lift it. It was heavy, no doubt about that, but I could lift it off the bed one-handed. And then I started to curl it.


    Much to my surprise, I had this tight little ball of muscle popping out of my bicep with each of the 15 curls I did. By the time I finished it had swollen up even larger. ¡°Que loco!¡± I backslid into Spanish in my excitement.


    ¡°I told you so. You¡¯re much stronger now. If I had to gauge it, I¡¯d say you¡¯re about as strong as a professional female athlete. It¡¯s only been two months. Give it a little more time and you¡¯ll be as strong as a man. Haven¡¯t you noticed how healthy your appetite is lately? Muscle burns a lot of calories.¡±


    I realized he was right, I¡¯d been eating everything in sight since I moved into the penthouse. ¡°Oh God, I must be getting fat!¡±


    I dropped the dumbbell and opened up the front of my silk bathrobe to check out my usually trim belly. Still fit and trim, same as it was last time I saw myself in the mirror. But now I noticed something else. I had begun to catch a six pack of ab muscles. He was right!


    ¡°Bet I could really kick ass on the elliptical trainer!¡±


    Enrique seized onto my positive attitude and ran with it. ¡°See, there¡¯s nothing to worry about. You¡¯re much healthier now, much stronger. You¡¯ve already recovered from last night¡¯s excitement. As you put it so eloquently, no harm, no foul.¡±


    Oh he was so damn smooth. He used my own words to flip it around on me. Sneaky little bastard wasn¡¯t playing fair. But what could I do? Nothing.


    Truth is, I wanted them to do it again. I hope to repeat the adventure. If I wasn¡¯t a sex addict before, I most certainly was now. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything that could top last night¡¯s m¨¦nage apart from doing it again. I was hooked ¨C really bad.


    Enrique remained in caution mode. ¡°Here, eat as much as you can. Drink both of these.¡±


    He handed me a huge bowl of chicken noodle soup and two cans of Ensure. I did as commanded. The whole time I ate, I kept thinking. What I really wanted was for him and Lia to fuck and bite me all night long. I understood what Enrique meant when he tried explaining how there are risks involved in being a bloodslave. The main risk was my own desire to be used and abused ¨C in a good way. In the span of a few minutes I¡¯d gone from accusing them of trying to kill me to wishing they¡¯d try it again. That¡¯s a hard-core addiction if I ever heard of one. But I had no denial. I knew I was fucked up.

 Page 23

    Chapter 15


    Strangely enough things seemed to normalize between the three of us. My nights were a routine of business meetings, dinner functions, and mad, passionate sexscapades. A perpetual sandwich, with me as the juicy meat in the middle everyone wants to take a bite out of.


    My vampires were true to their promise, they were cautious. They treated me as their delicate little bloodslave¨Csex toy, and I was pretty happy with it. A happy little addict living in a world where I had everything I wanted. Well ¡­ almost everything.


    Lia¡¯s reentry into my life took away that sense of privacy with Enrique. Our little circle of trust had expanded from two to three. Lia was there in everything we did, every business meeting. Every time Enrique consulted me about his associate¡¯s thoughts ¨C he consulted Lia¡¯s opinion as well. Felt like us girls were being carefully balanced on a scale of Enrique¡¯s time, attention, and affection. He never seemed to give her or me any preferential treatment. This equality was in everything we did. If he took us shopping to Canal Street, he¡¯d spend ridiculous amounts of money on both of us, whatever we wanted. No perfume, dress, jacket, pants, tops, underwear, or jewelry was off-limits. Everything I could want.


    Everything except for the one thing I wanted most ¡­ Love. Perhaps it was too much to ask that these creatures could ever love, at least not the way humans define it. Enrique never used the word. I can¡¯t really say that they didn¡¯t love me. They let me sleep in Enrique¡¯s master bedroom suite with them. His windows were blocked against the daylight, completely blocked. Not one ray of daylight could enter that room. I guess they were pretty nervous about daylight. It spoke to their trust and confidence that they allowed me to sleep with them while at their most vulnerable. Being in their bed naked and intimately entwined together made me feel loved, but it¡¯s not quite the same thing. It just wasn¡¯t the same as that one-on-one intimacy I had shared with Enrique while Lia was in Spain.


    I guess I understood why. He had to maintain balance, avoid Lia¡¯s jealousy, or so he had said. I had to accept the fact Lia had been there all along, in the background. Enrique had never really been without her while she was away. The two of them were connected deeply. My privacy with Enrique had been an illusion.


    I think we need some illusions in our life. Allows us to function without acknowledging certain cold hard facts. I needed my illusion, but I couldn¡¯t get it back.


    But I was happy. I had plenty of reason to be happy. I¡¯d enrolled at NYU with online classes. Enrique¡¯s New York attorney worked on renewing my visa. Things couldn¡¯t be better.


    My birthday, July 24, I received several very cool gifts from my new family.


    ¡°Open mine first.¡± Lia beamed as she handed me four wrapped gifts, a definite surprise. Although we got along well, we had no real sentiment between us, just sex. Lots and lots of sex.


    ¡°How cute!¡± Three pairs of edible underwear.


    ¡°This one next!¡± She shoved another in my hands.


    ¡°Will it fit him?¡± I held up the vibrating cock ring to the light to gauge its size.


    ¡°We¡¯ll test it out tonight.¡± Enrique smiled a flash of fang. He might enjoy my gift more than I.


    ¡°Now this one.¡± Lia impatiently handed me her third gift, a golden see-through Versace top.


    ¡°That¡¯s so beautiful. Thank you.¡± As I hugged her I began to wonder if maybe she did care for me in her own twisted way.


    ¡°Here, I know you¡¯re gonna like this one.¡±


    She handed me her last gift, an eight inch-long gourmet chocolate penis. They both insisted on watching me bite the head off.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much, but I think you¡¯ll like it.¡± He put two small packages in my hands.


    The first gift, a twenty-four carat gold bracelet with the word Hope engraved in the center.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s so beautiful, thank you. I love you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t ask what it cost. If I had to guess I¡¯d say probably ten thousand or more. The other gift he gave me was priceless and brought tears to my eyes. A single piece of paper from the US office of immigration, a notice stating I had been granted a temporary visa until my card would be issued within thirty days. That little piece of paper said I was now lawfully visiting the US of A. Not quite a real visa yet, but still the best gift I¡¯ve ever been given. How he arranged it to be issued on my twenty-third birthday, I¡¯ll never know.


    I could hardly stop crying on him as I hugged him fiercely. I loved him so much. He¡¯d given me the life I dreamed of, mostly.


    ¡°No more tears, querida. We¡¯re taking the night off together to celebrate. No business. Be sure to wear your new top, I want to see you in it. Smiling. No tears.¡±


    ¡°These are happy tears.¡± He had cleared his schedule for my birthday.


    I felt so damn good; strong, healthy, and ready to rock ¡®n roll. We hit Club Tobago over on Liberty Avenue in Jamaica. I downed several shots of tequila in the limo on the way there. I was half toasted by the time we arrived. Their DJ mixed up a hip blend of reggaeton and R&B, which just happened to be my own personal preference in music.


    The place had it all, and a VIP section packed with awesome people. Lia and I danced, all over each other. We had a blast making out in front of everyone. I had on my new golden sheer top, no bra, nipples rock hard for everyone¡¯s enjoyment, and tiny black boy shorts. The outfit matched perfectly with my golden skin, platinum bleach blond hair and five hundred dollar YSL heels. I looked like a damn rock star, and I certainly felt like one.


    Nothing could bring me down, not even my jealousy at watching them feed from other girls on the dance floor. It usually bothered me to watch some girl getting what I wanted, but not that night. I tried my best to ignore my jealousy and waited my turn to be bitten. The problem was, girls get all hot and horny as the vamps suck on their necks. Things often got frisky. They put their hands all over my vampires.


    That¡¯s how I¡¯d come to view them, as mine. I was theirs of course, they own me. But I liked to think of them as being exclusively mine. At the end of the night, no matter how many others they fed from, I¡¯m the one in their bed at home in the penthouse. No one else was included in our m¨¦nage. No one else entered our circle of trust. I don¡¯t like sharing them, but it¡¯s a necessary evil.


    We made it home about four in the morning, by then I was so smashed they had to carry me into the penthouse. We had a short sweet threesome and crashed for the day. All in all it had been the best birthday of my life.


    One night flowed into another, the three of us inseparable, day and night. I attended all of Enrique¡¯s business meetings, read everyone¡¯s minds, tattled on them in our private after-the-meeting meeting. At the end of each night and often the beginning, my vampires screwed my brains out. I began to adapt to these little sexual marathons. I learned to perform like a porn star, my stamina and endurance had tripled.


    It was the best. The best career I ever imagined. The best food and designer clothing. The best restaurants and nightclubs. The best sex ever. And I loved Enrique with all my heart. I can¡¯t say the same about Lia. We got along. Occasionally I caught her irritation at some small thing. Usually some issue related to me. She was still an impatient psycho catty bitch, but she accepted me and I accepted her. The awesome sex went a long way to making up for our personality clashes.


    They say all good things must come to an end, and so it happened with my perfect little world. About a month after Lia returned from Spain I found out Enrique had a business meeting scheduled with my former cartel boss Faustino a.k.a. El Tiburon ¨C The Shark. I was required to be there to provide the service of psionic eavesdropping. It was the beginning of the end of my perfect life.


    Chapter 16


    Faustino Vasquez did not look like a physically impressive man. At five foot eight, a hundred sixty-five pounds, he¡¯s easily underestimated. He¡¯s deceptively calm and jovial, smiles often. Those who don¡¯t know him personally would never suspect he had such an intimidating nickname. I knew exactly why they called him the shark. I¡¯d witnessed him cut a man to pieces with a machete. A very traumatic experience, one I never cared to repeat. The information I¡¯d help to extract had led to the man¡¯s mutilation. The idiot lied about three kilos of missing cocaine. Knowing the man was too much of a fool to survive in the cartels didn¡¯t make it any easier to watch him die in such a gruesome manner. Cartel Darwinism. Only the most vicious and intelligent men survived for any length of time.


    Faustino used the incident to teach me a lesson. I learned that lesson well. I would never cross Faustino. He was a very possessive man, especially of me. At first I thought he wouldn¡¯t put me to work in Spanish Harlem. I learned his kind of possession required me at his beck and call, continually paying on a debt I had long since paid.


    Even in sex he was possessive. He preferred the missionary position, and he wrapped his hands around my head to stare in my eyes as he hammered on me. From his perspective I was categorized as personal property, and that¡¯s how he made me feel.


    Although I had been present during Faustino¡¯s machete-inspired investigations, playing lie detector, that¡¯s not exactly where he acquired his reputation and nickname. When he moved into Spanish Harlem twelve years ago as a cartel enforcer, a-low-on-the-totem-pole thug, he began wiping out competing Coke dealers with a machete. It took him a few months to pull it off. There were retaliatory shootouts, but when the dust settled, Faustino sat at the top of the distribution chain. Cartel members back in Colombia were impressed with his control of the market. Of course, Faustino had to kill his own local boss as part of the deal. That¡¯s the way of these things.


    I¡¯d been thrown into these cut-throat cocaine politics since the age of fourteen. Sad to say, I thought their psychotic behavior was normal. It¡¯s hard not to when you¡¯re surrounded by it. Moving to New York had been quite a learning experience. Suddenly I realized there¡¯s an entire world that exists outside the influence of the cartels. I learned most Americans know nothing of the primitive dog-eat-dog environment I lived in beyond what they saw on CNN.

 Page 24

    Faustino trained me well. I harbored a very healthy amount of fear and respect for him. He hadn¡¯t ever hurt me, but I knew his capabilities. I¡¯d hoped to never see him again, especially since I was on his shit-list for disappearing three months ago.


    And here I was, ten feet away from El Tiburon and Enrique where they dined on Italian pasta. Well, Faustino dined. Enrique only dines on hot fresh liquid blood. They met at nine in the evening, in a restaurant filled with families. Lia and I sat at a table across from them. I faced away. All they could see was the back of my head. I had on a pair of two hundred dollar rose-colored Prada sunglasses, and an eleven hundred dollar khaki suit from Hugo boss. I looked absolutely nothing like the Esperanza de Salvador who Faustino had once known.


    Knowing this didn¡¯t help to alleviate the fear settled in my gut at being so close to a man who might kill me or cut pieces off my body if he recognized me. I had an eerie sense the last three months spent with Enrique were but a brief interlude, a passing dream that was now over. Like I¡¯d been on loan to Enrique all this time, but now I must return to Faustino, my rightful owner. It really creeped me out. I felt ready to bolt at any minute, to run flat out as fast I could, to escape back to my beautiful bedroom at the penthouse.


    We weren¡¯t close enough to overhear the conversation, but Lia could. She had ears like a damn cat. I listened in through Lia¡¯s ears, and at the same time I read Faustino¡¯s thoughts to catch the unspoken.


    Enrique got down to business immediately. ¡°I understand you have need of my shipping services?¡±


    ¡°Si compadre. We need product transported from Panama into New York harbor. I know you can handle the job, my main concern is the cost.¡±


    ¡°Why all of a sudden? You never needed me to ship any farther than Florida in the past.¡±


    That shocked the hell out of me. I had no idea Enrique smuggled cocaine. But it made sense. He knew Faustino, knew his nickname, they¡¯d done something together before. I just never thought of Enrique in that light. He seemed too high class to be involved in this kind of business.


    ¡°I have problems. The mules, they don¡¯t like to fly anymore. They¡¯re superstitious about the new homeland security scanners. I tell them it¡¯s only for clothing, pockets. The scanner is not an X-ray, it can¡¯t see inside the body. They don¡¯t listen. They are afraid. You know how it is. The ignorant ones always live in fear.¡±


    Faustino himself couldn¡¯t be certain if the new scanners saw into a person¡¯s body. He tried to bully the mules into a test. Some of the cartel bosses back home were suspicious. The new scanners make people appear naked, all clothing digitally stripped away to reveal the nude body underneath. A subject of great debate among the cartels.


    Faustino was hurting financially. The cocaine market had been steadily eroded away by heroin, methamphetamines, and all the narcotic prescription pills. Cocaine¡¯s popularity had dropped fast. Faustino started trading cocaine for heroin in attempt to break into the market with the addict¡¯s drug of choice. He tried to adapt, but business wasn¡¯t what it used to be.


    I felt relieved to hear the mules had been shut down. I knew firsthand of the nerve-wracking experience. I had swallowed the latex balloons of cocaine, made it through customs unscathed, only to face the ordeal of shitting them out in a cheap hotel bathroom, Traquetos standing around impatient to collect. That¡¯s a mule¡¯s job, and it¡¯s risky enough without the added threat of the scanners.


    A few months after I made my one and only delivery to LaGuardia International, I rented a movie called, ¡°Maria Full of Grace¡±, about a girl who worked as a mule for the cartel. It was a low budget production, but it could have been a movie about my life. One of the girls died. I hadn¡¯t witnessed that personally, but everyone knew the rumors of what happened when a latex ball bursts in your stomach. If you can¡¯t get them out fast enough, you¡¯re dead. I tried it once, got lucky, and decided to take my chances with Faustino rather than go back to Rubin.


    Enrique nodded in acknowledgement of Faustino¡¯s problems, and came straight to the point. ¡°When, where, how much, and most importantly, how much can you pay me?¡±


    Faustino snickered and scooped the last of his pasta down with a swig of beer. ¡°That¡¯s what I like about you. Always direct and professional. I know what to expect when we do business.¡±


    Enrique smiled, ¡°Simone.¡± Exactly


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking three hundred kilos. We load up at Panama. Take a day or two to receive the product, then however long it takes for your ship to make it home.¡±


    Enrique nodded. ¡°A week or less, from the time we leave port in Panama. And your price?¡±


    ¡°Hundred thousand.¡±


    ¡°For three hundred kilos all the way from Panama? I¡¯ll have to scramble to find some legal shipping contracts to create a legitimate reason for the trip. That¡¯s not even a thousand a kilo.¡±


    ¡°Two hundred thousand.¡±


    ¡°Make it two hundred fifty thousand. I¡¯ll pay the fifty as a bonus to the crew for timely delivery, and to keep their mouths shut.¡±


    ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°I need a hundred thousand up front, and you¡¯re responsible for bribing customs officials at both Panama and New York.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°When do we leave?¡±


    ¡°About a week. I¡¯ll call you in a couple days to set a date to arrange for the first payment.¡±


    ¡°That will be payable to Reguera Internacional S.A., we have an account in Panama.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I recall that¡¯s how I paid the last time.¡±


    They shook hands and departed the restaurant. How crazy is that? What are the odds that my vampire master is an occasional business partner with my former cartel boss? I could probably catch better odds on winning the New York State lottery.


    Beyond my initial anxiety and surprise at the revelation of Enrique¡¯s history with the cartel, the meeting had been uneventful, boring. We talked back at home an hour later.


    ¡°Oh God I was so scared. I thought for sure he¡¯d see me.¡±


    Enrique hugged me close. ¡°See, I told you there was nothing to worry about. He didn¡¯t recognize you, no one would. Like the butterfly emerging from its chrysalis into a new life, you¡¯ve been transformed, querida. So, what¡¯s to report?¡±


    ¡°Nothing really. Well, Faustino will probably try to kill you if the product isn¡¯t delivered.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°No great surprise. That¡¯s the risk in this kind of business.¡± He spoke so nonchalantly, murderous threats from cartel bosses were no big deal.


    ¡°Faustino is always like that. He¡¯s ready to enforce his business with any level of violence necessary. I¡¯ve seen it before.¡± I tried to warn him.


    Enrique seemed well aware of the unspoken threat and not overly concerned about it. Besides, I don¡¯t think it would be very easy to kill Enrique. Faustino better pack a lunch for that one.


    Then it clicked, the one detail I hadn¡¯t thought of in the restaurant. Enrique had to meet Faustino in Panama in a week. It had never occurred to me Enrique would ever leave me behind on a business trip. But how could he take me? How to avoid being recognized? There would be numerous Traquetos there who knew me intimately ¨C way too intimately.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to leave me here ¡­ oh God, you are ¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how I can take you along.¡±


    I¡¯m ashamed to say I begged Enrique not to leave me, though I knew he¡¯d have to do it to go forward with the plan. Logic had nothing to do with the horrible sense of foreboding I felt at the thought of him leaving.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you send Lia or someone else? There¡¯s a dozen Emilio¡¯s running around hooking-a-crook for a dollar. Can¡¯t you send one of them as a representative?¡±


    ¡°Querida, there¡¯s no one I trust for this apart from Lia. You know Faustino. He¡¯d never deal with a woman. I must be there in person. You know this.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t let you go without me! I¡¯ll stay in the hotel the entire time! You can keep me hidden!¡±


    ¡°Hope ¡­ Hope, you can¡¯t leave the country until your visa is renewed. It should be ready within a couple weeks, but that¡¯s not soon enough. And you know it¡¯s too risky to take you with me into that nest of vipers. They all know you personally, don¡¯t they?¡±


    I nodded. He had me trapped, cornered. I had no argument that made sense, but I knew I¡¯d be totally fucked if he left me behind.


    ¡°I won¡¯t survive without you.¡± He made me cry again. I hate crying.


    ¡°Nonsense. Lia will be here at your side the entire time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the same! I know it doesn¡¯t make sense, but it¡¯s all wrong. I can feel it! You can¡¯t leave me ¡­ please don¡¯t leave me ¡­ I love you ¡­ I need you!¡±


    ¡°Shush, shush. It¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s only for a few days, two to three at most. I¡¯ll be back here with you in no time.¡± He hugged me close, wiped the tears from my eyes. He made slow tender love to me that night, showing me how much he cared without saying the words. I know he doesn¡¯t love me, but he cares, and for now that would have to suffice.


    There was nothing I could do or say to change his mind. I tried. Every night I tried to talk about my feelings of dread and foreboding. At the point I thought he¡¯d reconsider and cancel the trip altogether, Lia jumped in.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of our little Hope. Don¡¯t worry ¨C it¡¯s no big deal. We¡¯ll go catch a movie together. Have some fun ¨C a girls¡¯ night out.¡±


    She turned the tide of my argument right at the moment he was about to cave in to my fears.


    ¡°Of course. See Hope ¡­ It¡¯ll all be fine. Relax. Take it easy for a couple nights while I¡¯m away.¡±


    That was it. He would leave me, and I knew, I just knew nothing would ever be the same again. As it turns out I was right. Never discount a woman¡¯s intuition.


    Chapter 17


    Enrique flew to Panama on his private charter jet two days later. I didn¡¯t bother to try convincing him any further, he made up his mind and that was that. He left me depressed. I didn¡¯t feel up to going anywhere or doing anything. He promised to call when he touched down in Panama in the early morning.

 Page 25

    The first night I felt so down I couldn¡¯t bring myself to respond to any of Lia¡¯s advances. I shot up one of Enrique¡¯s venom doses earlier in the evening. By ten I needed a nip. I found Lia in her bedroom. Soon as I knocked on her door she pulled me in, pinned me against the wall and started making out aggressively. She slipped her hand down inside my sweatpants and started to finger me.


    I couldn¡¯t even get aroused. ¡°I¡¯m really not feeling this right now. Can you just bite me? Maybe I¡¯ll feel better tomorrow. We can go out or something. I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡±


    She hissed in frustration. Hot and bothered, she felt unsatisfied. ¡°You¡¯ll get what you want when I get what I want,¡± she snapped as she shoved me out into the hallway to shut the bedroom door in my face.


    Now I was depressed and hard up for a bite. Luckily Enrique had left me three doses of his venom. I used the remaining two shots to get through the night. I was in such a horrible mood. I hadn¡¯t even apologized to Lia.


    I spent the night in my room watching TV with two bottles of wine, camped out on the sofa awaiting Enrique¡¯s call. He finally called me at six-thirty in the morning. I had passed out on the couch with the telephone in my lap.


    ¡°I have a few minutes before sunrise. I wanted to let you know I made it and I¡¯ll be home as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°I miss you so much! Please come home!¡± Crying. Again.


    ¡°Be strong, querida. I¡¯ll be home before you know it. Take care and goodbye.¡±


    I cried myself to sleep on the couch, hating life, hating Enrique for leaving me behind, hating Lia for being who she is. Maybe if I¡¯d have been more sensitive to Lia that first night things might¡¯ve turned out differently. Probably not, she¡¯s a royal cunt, but maybe.


    The next night Lia began to show her true colors. They say when the cat¡¯s away the mice will play, and Lia was one sick mouse. I headed straight for her early in the evening. I knew the exact moment she opened her eyes because I sat astride her hips, waiting for the sun to set. I was a mess. My hands shook, my stomach flopped in nausea, I hadn¡¯t eaten anything yet.


    I read her mind from the second she awoke and realized I was sitting on her, pinning her down. Her fear, suspicion, and instant rage exploded in my face.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± She growled, and shoved me right off. I went flying. Luckily I tumbled onto the throw rug instead of the hardwood part of the floor. I never really understood till that moment how vulnerable vampires are in the daytime, and how insecure they might be about it. I had hoped to surprise her with some wake up sex, I was completely nude.


    I picked myself up off the floor cursing as I caught my breath. Before I could even stand she tackled me.


    ¡°I said what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to kill me?¡± She had landed on me with her damn claws sinking in, like a pouncing cat.


    ¡°Ow, get the hell off me!¡±


    I shoved her scrawny little ass right off. She tumbled across the hardwood floor. Then in the blink of an eye she was back on top of me, pinning me down. She thought I intended to kill her while she slept. She wanted to kill me. Her sharp little claws slid around my throat trying to close down. She wanted to take a chunk out of me right there. And then I felt it, she couldn¡¯t squeeze any harder. This other force overpowered her body, pulling her hand away from my throat. Enrique¡¯s mandate had kicked in overriding her desires. Though she wanted to badly she couldn¡¯t hurt me.


    ¡°Someday you¡¯ll know what it feels like to be restrained, to be tied by the will of another. Someday you¡¯ll know.¡± She growled and squealed. Her hands clenched. She shook her head, trying to fight a losing battle.


    ¡°I was waiting for you to wake up! You crazy bitch! I wanted to surprise you, to make up for last night!¡±


    I could not think of words to bring her back to sanity. So I kissed her. I have never kissed anyone who wanted to kill me. It¡¯s pretty weird. She let me, her mind filled with thoughts of murder, claws flexing with an ache to hurt me.


    ¡°I just wanted to please you, let me make love to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re feeling it now?¡± She mocked my words from the previous night.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about last night. I was depressed. I still am, but I¡¯m willing.¡± I tried to look willing, but she had scared the shit out of me. I trembled with the knowledge of how wickedly violent she could be.


    She calmed down, but continued to look at me with disdain. She suspected I might be lying. She actually thought I might do harm to her while she slept.


    ¡°Look I¡¯ll make it up to you right now. We¡¯ll do whatever you want.¡±


    I flicked my tongue at her in offering, and slid my hands down around her thighs. She wore a T-shirt and nothing else. Her mind registered a flicker of desire, so I kept going. I worked my hand between her legs to caress her warm folds. The spark ignited to flame. Her excitement grew as she wetted to my touch.


    ¡°Anything I want? Anything at all?¡±


    I hesitated for a moment, sensing the potential entrapment of her words. Her thoughts were centered on me, on sex. ¡°Yes ¡­ anything you want.¡±


    She shifted gears on me, stood up, and brushed me off callously. ¡°Good, go to your room and wait till I¡¯m ready. I¡¯ll call for you in a couple hours. When I call I want you exactly as you are ¨C naked. And bring lubrication.¡±


    Her attitude made me nervous. Her mind had filled with visions of vibrators, dildos, and strap-ons. I foolishly agreed to her game. ¡°Oh ¡­ Okay ¡­ so you¡¯re just gonna bite me for now? Saving the good stuff for later?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not going to bite you. I¡¯ll call for you later when I¡¯m ready.¡± Fuck.


    She stripped off her shirt and turned her back on me walking to the bathroom. The damn bitch was totally nude and so was I, yet she denied my offer. The precariousness of my position hit home. I needed that bite now ¨C immediately. I couldn¡¯t wait.


    I chased her into the bathroom. She let me pin her to the bathroom wall, rubbing all up her inner thighs and breasts. I gave it my best shot to seduce her. I whispered in her ear, flicking my tongue.


    ¡°Please. I need one little bite. I¡¯ll do whatever you want. Now, later, all night long if you want.¡±


    I went down on my knees, basically begging her. I attacked her shaved pussy, licking and banging fast and hard. One finger, two fingers, three fingers. I suckled her like there was no tomorrow. She grabbed my hair and shoved my face into her sex, grinding on me while she humped my mouth.


    I gave her what she wanted, down on my knees, worshipping at her altar. I gave it to her just the way she liked it, the three finger Stinger. I knew she wanted it all along, but I didn¡¯t understand why she tried to deny it. I made her come three times in a span of twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of service on my knees, her hands fisted in my hair.


    When I felt I¡¯d gone far enough, I stood up and kissed her, my hands still working her. ¡°Bite me now.¡±


    I looked in her eyes as she came again, humping on my hand as she finished.


    Her quiet whisper chilled me to the bone. ¡°No. You¡¯ll wait till I¡¯m ready. Leave me now.¡±


    Punishment. She was torturing me for my rejection of the night before. ¡°Please don¡¯t do this. I¡¯m sorry for last night. Please. I need it so bad. You don¡¯t understand what it¡¯s like.¡±


    She looked at me cold, glacier cold. She didn¡¯t care how I felt. She growled menacingly. ¡°Go now.¡±


    I used every last ounce of willpower I had walking out the bedroom door, doing as she commanded. I feared she may never give me what I needed if I didn¡¯t obey.


    I sat in my room freaking out and downed a thirty dollar bottle of Zinfandel in ten minutes. I raided the medicine cabinet and found forty mg tablets of OxyContin, a lifesaver. By the time the Oxys kicked in I was already blasted on the wine, feeling pretty damn good. If I could get my hands on some more Oxys or Suboxone, I could withstand Lia¡¯s nasty little games until Enrique made it back tomorrow night.


    She made me wait till midnight before calling me on the intercom. Her ¡®two hours¡¯ turned out to be five hours. Oh how I had wanted to call her, to beg her. I almost did it dozens of times. The only thing keeping my sanity intact was the fact I was shit-face drunk.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready for you now, come to my room.¡±


    I answered in my drunken slur. ¡°Oh great, let¡¯s party.¡±


    Chapter 18


    I had long since abandoned the wine glass. I showed up at Lia¡¯s bedroom door with the Zin in hand, my face wet and sticky from spilled wine, butt naked. I was staggering drunk, the kinda drunk where you can actually drive better than you can walk.


    ¡°Let¡¯s party!¡±


    I stumbled into her room. She wasn¡¯t alone. Of all the things I imagined she might want to do, I never thought she would want a man. Turns out he wasn¡¯t really there for her. He was supposed to play with me. I read it all there clearly in her mind.


    She had run an ad in craigslist personals, ¡°Smoking hot Latina needs a man with an 8 inch cock.¡±


    She posted a picture of me in a red Gucci dress with my rose-tinted shades. Bitch tried pimping me out for free! She¡¯d done it last night right after I turned her down!


    What I didn¡¯t comprehend at the time, but would later grasp, is that Lia had learned to control her thoughts in my presence. She could hide certain things from me. I¡¯d never seen this coming, even though she planned it since last night. I suppose I was too sloshed to think about the ramifications of her surprise.


    Guy called himself Corey. Kinda femmy looking, bisexual all the way, and he did indeed have an eight inch cock. Believe it or not, anything over six inches is uncommonly large. Few men are that large. So yeah, when girls say oh you¡¯re so big, they¡¯re probably lying, or they haven¡¯t had any real comparison.


    ¡°Damn you¡¯re sexy, girl.¡± He stared me up and down. Like all men of his size between the legs he wondered if I could take all of it without complaining. I¡¯d heard the gripe several times from different men. They have to be overly careful with their girlfriend ¨C wife ¨C significant other. It¡¯s just not fair they can¡¯t bury that thing to the hilt whenever they want. That¡¯s why they came to me, the Energizer Bunny, service without complaint.

 Page 26

    The problem, I never agreed to fuck anyone else, and most certainly not for free.


    ¡°A thousand dollars an hour, paid up front.¡± It was the first thing out of my mouth when Corey dropped his pants to show off his erection. Guess I was too sauced to be graceful about it. I didn¡¯t want him touching me with that thing, and I didn¡¯t want his money either. I hoped to scare him away.


    ¡°What the hell? She said this was all for fun ¨C no charge!¡± He pointed at Lia.


    I stared hard at Lia. I really wanted to smash my Zinfandel over her head and shove my hand in her unconscious mouth to force her to bite me. Lia smiled with a cold, wicked grin that never reached her eyes.


    ¡°If you want favors from me, you¡¯ll do what I want. Remember, you promised to do anything I wanted.¡±


    I cursed and downed the rest of my Zinfandel in one whack. Wine ran down my chin, neck, and breasts.


    ¡°Fine! Do you have any coke?¡±


    I was such an addict. But I vowed Enrique would hear all about this, and Lia would pay dearly for her manipulations. For now, I had to play her game.


    With my acceptance, she tossed her robe aside, nude underneath, and began buckling on a marvel of modern science. She had a contraption designed for lesbians with big bank accounts, a strap-on dildo with little vibrating nodes inside and out, and it rotated. A power tool sex toy, the fanciest I¡¯d ever seen. Thing had to cost near a thousand dollars or more. It even had a smaller ergonomically-shaped dildo curved inward for the wearer. She¡¯d get hers while giving it to me.


    I was fascinated with the toy. Better than a smart phone, definitely had more useful applications. She demonstrated the thing by pinning me to the wall and fucking me none too gently. God damn the girl was strong. She gave it to me so hard she actually lifted me up into the air. It felt really strange to look into her cold eyes, the vibrating nubs against my clit, and a huge dildo lifting me off my feet with each thrust. Fun, but weird.


    Corey stood there watching, stroking himself, wishing he could get in on the action.


    Lia stopped just before I popped off. She didn¡¯t want me to climax ¨C another nasty little part of her game. But I don¡¯t need anyone to do it for me. I finished the job myself, rubbing and moaning for a few seconds to relieve the frustration. Lia watched me fascinated, wet and horny. It turned her on to watch. Finally, she broke out the coke. I needed it bad.


    In reading her mind, I understood she intended to keep us high on coke so we could perform at her pace. She had an all-night marathon planned.


    All this time I¡¯d been here in Enrique¡¯s home, I¡¯ve never truly been made to feel like a whore. He always respected me. Lia succeeded in smashing my new-found confidence, debasing me to the level of a drug addict exchanging sex for a fix. I hated her more than ever.


    We took several bumps each. As usual she had high-quality coke. Between the wine and the coke, I could withstand the withdrawals. I was as ready as I¡¯d ever be for her marathon. It¡¯s a well-known fact some women can literally fuck all night long with a sufficient supply of cocaine. I put that fact to the test on several occasions. This was simply one more night I had to endure something I had done before, or so I thought.


    What hadn¡¯t occurred to me, yet, was if Lia planned to bang me with her bionic strap on, what about Corey¡¯s eight inch cock?


    I found out the hard way.


    ¡°Ride me.¡± Lia lay down on her back with the spinning power tool thrust up between her legs. She wanted me on top of that thing.


    ¡°Hey, I want my turn.¡±


    Lia looked at me with those ice-cold eyes. ¡°Backdoor.¡±


    I balked. ¡°No fucking way.¡± She grabbed onto my hips and pulled me down tight onto the power tool. I was so damn wet from that thing. Her hips were soaked, from me.


    ¡°You let him, if you want what I have.¡± She snapped her teeth at me in imitation of a chomping bite. God I needed it so bad.


    ¡°Please no.¡± I whimpered.


    She nodded her head yes, a wicked gleam of anticipation in her eyes. She wanted to see me punished.


    ¡°Okay, but put on a condom.¡± I murmured at him over my shoulder. I couldn¡¯t look at him, I was so ashamed. She had reduced me to the lowest point of my life, a whore for her bite.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a condom. Don¡¯t you have any?¡± He didn¡¯t want a condom. Like most men, he didn¡¯t like the way it felt.


    Lia growled in my face as she fucked me harder with her power tool. ¡°Just do it.¡±


    I knew he was clean, or that he believed himself clean, but I still hated every second of it. Cory did what men have done since the dawn of time ¨C he rammed his cock all the way in, taking full advantage of Lia¡¯s power over me. I¡¯d forgotten to bring the lube. I learned of Corey¡¯s sadistic side. He liked to see a woman hurt, especially if he was the source of her pain.


    Thank God for cocaine.


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have been able to pull it off if I wasn¡¯t so high. The two of them fucked me raw for what seemed like hours. Lia made me wait all that time, while they sandwiched me till I literally couldn¡¯t walk or stand. She pushed it as far she could go without driving me over the edge of insanity. Round after round of punishing sex. Finally Corey begged off. His cock hurt too much, he couldn¡¯t go on.


    He shuffled off to the bathroom to clean himself up while Lia bit me. Five a.m. in the morning. I¡¯d gone twelve hours without a bite. In my coke ¨C venom ¨C exhausted condition, I made the mistake of opening my big, fat, stupid mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna make you pay for this when Enrique gets back. He¡¯d never approve of what you¡¯ve done to me.¡±


    She didn¡¯t react much at the time, slightly raised eyebrows, a small intake of breath. She pushed me off and left me lying in her bed exhausted ¨C bleeding ¨C demoralized. If I¡¯d known what she intended, I¡¯d have dragged my bleeding ass out of bed and hidden until Enrique returned. She took off to the shower, probably hiding her thoughts from me, maintaining privacy by distance. I passed out in her bed, unaware of what was to come.


    Chapter 19


    Night three of Enrique¡¯s absence started out relatively normal. I¡¯d slept well through the day. I awoke to find myself naked in Lia¡¯s bed, wrapped in bloodstained sheets. My blood on those sheets. Lia lay in bed next to me, still out cold ¨C the sun hadn¡¯t set, yet.


    I hauled myself out of bed and limped my sorry ass back to my own room to soak in a wonderful burning hot bubble bath. Though sore and walking funny, I was in pretty good shape all things considered. I knew from experience the kind of abuse I endured should¡¯ve made it impossible to sit down for a week. That vampire¡¯s venom was truly miraculous shit.


    I fought every raging instinct in my body urging me to go see Lia immediately at sunset. I vowed to never beg that woman for anything ever again. By eight-thirty I paced the room, a bottle of Patron tequila halfway gone. With enough liquor in my system to bolster my attitude, I worked up the nerve to go to Lia¡¯s room and demand she bite me immediately. As I stomped down the hallway in my red silk bathrobe, tequila bottle in hand, she intercepted me.


    ¡°Get dressed. We¡¯re going out on the town.¡± She flashed me her nasty little hate filled grin. ¡°Remember you promised me a girls¡¯ night out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere or doing anything till I get what I want. Bite me now!¡± The wonders of liquid courage.


    ¡°You¡¯re not in a position to give any orders. If you want my bite, you¡¯ll be dressed and ready to go in twenty minutes. I¡¯m going out, and I¡¯ll leave you here alone. Who knows, I may not come back till tomorrow night.¡±


    ¡°You bitch! This wasn¡¯t the deal. Enrique never gave you license to treat me this way!¡±


    ¡°Oh, by the way, he called a few minutes ago. You were busy, so I took a message. He wants you to know he¡¯ll be another day or two. Your precious master has left you under my care. Do what I say or you¡¯ll not get a single bite till he returns.¡±


    I stomped off fuming mad, slamming my bedroom door. I threw the tequila across the room to smash against the nightstand. There were no words to express how I felt. Screaming was the only thing that did it. I screamed till my throat hurt. I put a couple holes in the wall, destroying the beautiful floral print wallpaper.


    I knew I would capitulate to her demands, but I hated it. I hated her with every ounce of drunken hatred I could command. I wore a skimpy black cocktail dress. Low cut in the front with no back whatsoever, no underwear unless I wanted people to see it. My grand plan was to seduce Lia to get what I want. It¡¯s what I¡¯d been doing all my life, using my sexuality as a tool to survive. She¡¯d done her worst last night. No matter how hard, fast, or long she wanted to fuck me, I could take it and recover by the next night.


    I convinced myself there was nothing she could do to hurt me ¨C boy was I wrong. Since I didn¡¯t know where we were going, too proud to ask, I ended up way overdressed.


    We arrived by taxi at the Blue Smoke barbecue joint. It¡¯s informal, picnic bench style tables, live music. I looked way out of place in my Prada fuck me pumps and barely-there shimmery black cocktail dress. Lia dressed conservative in a cream sweater and black slacks ¨C she¡¯s always like that no matter where we go.


    ¡°Hang out here long enough and you¡¯ll probably get that thousand dollars an hour you wanted.¡± Lia snickered at me, pinching my ass. She had really started to piss me off the way she treated me like a piece of meat existing solely for her entertainment.


    I downed several more shots of tequila right away. Keeping my alcohol buzz ramped up seemed to help fight off the intense craving and withdrawals.


    ¡°What the hell are we doing here?¡± I wanted to be civil, but I sensed something off, and it put me on edge.


    ¡°We¡¯re waiting for someone.¡± Her frigid smile never reached her eyes.


    I couldn¡¯t catch a solid idea from her thoughts. I couldn¡¯t even picture who we were supposed to meet. I began to suspect she deliberately thought of other things ¨C meaningless things ¨C like the plunging neckline of my dress, and the pungent smell of charred meat she found irritating. To her, food smelled like crap ¨C totally unappealing. The only thing Lia wanted was kinky sex and hot, fresh blood straight from the jugular.

 Page 27

    Her thoughts got me nowhere, but I sensed something amiss. I just didn¡¯t know what, or what I could do about it. Suddenly she spotted someone, and abruptly popped up out of her chair.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    In her thoughts I caught a name, Pancho. She¡¯d been waiting for someone named Pancho to arrive and it had something to do with me.


    My instincts screamed to leave. Now. Get out. I couldn¡¯t think of anyone named Pancho. I had a horrible feeling in my gut. I got up and headed straight for the door, steeling myself to try to make it through the night without her bite. I thought if I could get my hands on some more Oxy¡¯s to hold me over, I might make it till Enrique came home.


    I was too slow. The trap Lia had laid for me already sprung. I¡¯d forgotten that Pancho was a nickname for Francisco. Francisco Lopez, a.k.a. Arana ¨C Spider. He snatched me up by the arm with a pistol held against my back, hidden under the folded jacket draped over his arm.


    ¡°Andale, puta ¨C I¡¯m so happy to see you again. We gonna go to my place and have some fun. It¡¯ll be just like old times.¡± I squealed in surprise, hadn¡¯t seen him coming. ¡°Shush ¡­ Go quietly puta. You don¡¯t want me to blow your guts all over this nice restaurant.¡±


    He meant every word of it. He really wanted to shoot me. The only thing that would keep me from getting shot ¨C immediate cooperation. He steered me out the door, same direction I had been headed.


    ¡°Nice and quiet. You make noise and I¡¯ma have to kill you.¡± I kept silent. He wanted me dead. He didn¡¯t care when or where, as long as it was sooner rather than later. Resistance would¡¯ve given him the excuse to do it right there.


    He steered me into a taxicab. I saw Lia standing on the sidewalk as he slid in beside me. She looked me straight in the eyes and winked. I read it all clearly in her mind. She¡¯d been plotting a way to get rid of me since she left for Spain. She was extremely jealous of my relationship with Enrique. She hated how close we were. She¡¯d been that close with him before, but their relations had steadily devolved to a function of master-servant. He no longer treated her as a girlfriend, and she deeply resented what she saw developing between Enrique and me.


    Lia had been commanded-compelled by Enrique not to raise a hand against me. She couldn¡¯t make a move intended to harm me, rough sex being the exception. Arana had no such limitations. He could do whatever he liked. Lia had arranged for him to take care of the dirty work she was incapable of performing. The age-old concept from Sun Tzu¡¯s Art of War, ¡°The enemy of my enemy is also my friend.¡±


    Arana had big plans for me involving ropes, restraints, a heavy dose of violent sex, and the use of my body as a new punching bag. He was flaming pissed off at me.


    ¡°You know how much shit I got from Faustino over you? He blamed me when you disappear. He¡¯s got a hard on for you. He like you or something, I don¡¯t know.¡± Arana had taken the full blame with Faustino over my disappearance. If he fucked up again, the shark would eat the spider for lunch.


    ¡°What¡¯s so damn special about you? You all skinny, no tits, no ass. I don¡¯t get it, why he like you so much?¡±


    ¡°I can explain, if you take me to Faustino I can explain. It¡¯s not your fault. I can convince him it¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    ¡°Too late for that, puta.¡±


    He had no intention of returning me to Faustino. He planned his juicy revenge, and then I would truly disappear, permanently. The way Arana saw it, I¡¯d already disappeared. He¡¯d already paid the price for it. Nothing to be gained by bringing me back into the fold. My return couldn¡¯t undo the damage. I¡¯d just be a pain in the ass. Arana would be forced to watch me closely, to make sure I didn¡¯t take off again. Just another source of headache to him. He planned to get some violent kicks off on me for a time and then toss my disfigured corpse in the Hudson River. No one would ever be the wiser.


    Enrique would never know what happened to me. I¡¯m sure Lia could play it off like I ran out on her at the restaurant. I was so conspicuous in my cocktail dress. It wouldn¡¯t be difficult to find witnesses who saw me arrive with her and leave in a hurry with another man.


    Arana put his hand on my thigh and slithered up between my legs to discover I wasn¡¯t wearing underwear. ¡°Look like a damn model.¡± As he rubbed my inner thighs, speaking of how beautiful I looked, he imagined how fun it would be to destroy such a thing of beauty.


    I was so terrified. I could barely speak as he guided me to the entrance of the Towers in Spanish Harlem from the taxi. Things had changed since I left.


    ¡°I gotta live in this shithole now because of you. You know how I hate the Towers, but I¡¯m stuck here because of you.¡± Faustino didn¡¯t want to lose any more girls. He forced Arana to move into the Towers to keep a close eye on all the girls. I¡¯d literally turned Arana¡¯s life to shit. He¡¯d been living in a posh, upscale two-bedroom apartment in Corona, but now he had to live in the ghetto, no choice.


    One advantage I had here was to be on home turf. I had a chance one of the girls or neighbors might recognize me. If someone connected to Faustino found out I was here, Arana wouldn¡¯t be able to get rid of me so easily. He¡¯d be forced to hand me over to Faustino. If I could survive a couple days, till Enrique and Faustino returned from Panama, I had a chance of making it out of this mess alive.


    Ideas churned in my mind ¨C ways to negotiate with Arana. I may be able to talk him into ransoming me to Enrique. Surely I was worth fifty thousand or more to Enrique, enough cash to grab Arana¡¯s attention. Inspiration struck. I could pay Arana the thirty thousand I had in the bank right now, my employment signing bonus and my first month¡¯s salary. I saved virtually every penny of that money for use on something worthwhile. Saving my life seemed worthwhile.


    Arana didn¡¯t give me a chance to negotiate. As soon as we entered his apartment he threw the double deadbolts and turned on me with a vicious right hook I never saw coming. He put me down and out.


    I woke up sometime later on my back, tied down to the bed posts, naked, legs spread open. I¡¯m pretty sure my nose was broken. It bled all down my face. My head pounded like a tribal drum competition. I¡¯ve never had a broken anything before, it hurt like a motherfucker. My throat was slick with blood and mucus, I could hardly breathe. I couldn¡¯t stop it before it happened, my stomach flopped and I puked, which made my head hurt worse.


    Arana stood over me, looking at the mess I made, shaking his head in disgust. ¡°I always knew you were a dirty puta, but this is a little too much. I can¡¯t work in this mess.¡±


    The work he spoke of was the task of beating me to a pulp, which he looked forward to with anticipation. He left for a few seconds then came back with a wet washcloth. After a few minutes he had cleaned me up and stood there staring with those soulless dark eyes, the eyes of a killer who enjoyed his work.


    ¡°Now we can get down to business.¡± He spoke quietly without emotion. He was known to be a merciless son of a bitch.


    ¡°I can pay you! I have the cash in the bank right now!¡±


    He shook his head. He didn¡¯t think I had any real money, not enough to change his mind.


    ¡°Thirty thousand cash. I can get it for you first thing in the morning when the bank opens. You don¡¯t have to do this! We can have a little fun tonight and I¡¯ll pay you in the morning. You don¡¯t need to tie me up, I won¡¯t fight you.¡±


    I had tempted him. He thought about it seriously. He wanted the cash. He thought of ways to hurt me that wouldn¡¯t leave obvious marks. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He figured he could have some fun, take me to the bank in the morning, and then bring me back here to finish what he started. Arana was nothing if decisive, a quick thinker. He made his plan and decided to go for it. He dropped his weight right into my gut with a wicked right-hand punch. Felt like his hand reached all the way through to my spine.


    As I whimpered in agony he casually removed his clothes and laid them out in an orderly pile on the dresser.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me. I¡¯ll pay you, I promise. You don¡¯t have to do this, it¡¯s not necessary.¡±


    I tried my best to stay calm, but I was in pain, crying. He moved up on my body slow and deliberate, like a cat settling in on its prey once mobilized. Arana feasted on my fear. He wanted me to be afraid. I knew everything he planned, and I was very afraid.


    He made me sing with pain. The sounds of my suffering were an aphrodisiac for him. I swear his cock hardened every time he hit me.


    He never touched my face. I had to look good for the bank in the morning. But no other part of my body was off-limits. I passed out from the pain when he broke my ribs with a vicious right hook. What made it worse was that he kept settling his weight into me, into my bruised broken ribs as he fucked me.


    I cried and begged shamelessly. ¡°Please stop. I¡¯ll give you all my money, I¡¯ll do whatever you want, please stop hitting me!¡±


    He liked it better when I begged. Crying, passing out unconscious, none of this made a difference to him. He got exactly what he wanted and nothing I did or said could change that. I would wake up to the shock of cold water on my face, another form of punishment. I don¡¯t know when he stopped, probably when I was unconscious. He could hardly get me to wake up. All that alcohol, pain, and exhaustion was just too much. I vaguely registered his concern that I wouldn¡¯t be able to walk in and out of the bank tomorrow.


    I had thought Arana wanted to know where I had been, what I¡¯d been doing all this time. He really didn¡¯t care. All he wanted was to get his kicks punishing me. The last thing I remember that night was being face down. He had untied me only to flip me over, to tag me from behind. He was going at it like a madman. He donkey punched me in the back of the head and I was out.


    Chapter 20


    I awoke to pain, the memories of last night¡¯s ordeal flooding in as my ribs screamed and my head pounded. I needed a bite so bad I could kill for it. I¡¯d gladly claw somebody¡¯s eyes out to get a bite. Just one bite. I tried to imagine being in Enrique¡¯s arms, feeling his teeth sink into my neck, the heavenly euphoria wiping away all the pain. And he wasn¡¯t even in the country yet. Somehow I knew it. Enrique was still in Panama, sleeping the day away while I counted the hours till Arana beat me to death.

 Page 28

    I needed time. The clock said nine-thirty a.m.. I was still tied to the bed. Arana walked in the door, ¡°Vamos, puta. We got a date with yo¡¯ bank account.¡±


    He untied me, but I couldn¡¯t move, my arms and legs too stiff. I lay there looking him in the eyes, praying to a God I don¡¯t believe in, that somehow, some way I could escape. Escape wasn¡¯t much of reality just yet, I could barely move.


    ¡°Get up, take a bath, get some makeup on. I want you ready to go in an hour. Cover up your bruises. There¡¯s some clothes there.¡± He pointed to jeans and sweater on the chair and walked out the room.


    I¡¯d gone thirty hours without a bite. Thirty miserable hours of hell. Lia hadn¡¯t even given me one for the road. I so wanted to kill her, kill someone, kill something.


    My hate got me moving. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and showered away the blood and stench of Arana¡¯s body that lingered on my skin. Stupid bastard left his DNA all over me. If he killed me they¡¯d have his semen and his DNA. Not a very intelligent killer. In this age of CSI forensics and cop shows everyone knew this crap. Only an insane idiot would leave their DNA all over a dead body. Arana wasn¡¯t the sharpest tool in the shed.


    The mirror revealed, my bruised looking eyes and tender bruises on each side of my chest. My broken nose and ribs didn¡¯t seem to be all that bad off. As a matter of fact I looked pretty damn good for the beating I took. I looked like I¡¯d had a rough night partying ¨C a good hangover. I was almost certain he¡¯d broken my nose and probably a rib or two. Could I have been mistaken? Sure hurt like something was broken at certain points last night.


    I felt okay, healthy, strong, a little stiff from being tied up. Nowhere near as bad off as I¡¯d thought. Arana didn¡¯t know this. All he¡¯d seen was the dried blood and bruises. Given the opportunity, this may become an advantage.


    My mother once told me hope springs eternal, hence my name. That turn of phrase never meant so much to me as it did right at this moment. I had hope, and where there¡¯s hope there¡¯s a way.


    I dressed and dabbed on some makeup to cover the bruises, wishing every minute for something to fight off this intense need. I just needed one little bite and everything would be better.


    We arrived at Bank of America at around noon. I needed a bite so badly my whole body shook with cold sweats, my jaw muscles clenched up, teeth grinding. I felt so angry. I wanted to scream at the world, and Arana, at Lia, at Enrique, at the cab driver who couldn¡¯t stop staring at me.


    I started to lose it. I growled when he tried to push me out of the taxi in front of the bank. ¡°Hey, asshole! I need a bump, or something!¡±


    I felt like I was on the edge of the precipice. If I didn¡¯t get something strong in my system right now I¡¯d start screaming. Once I started I didn¡¯t know if I could stop. I¡¯m sure he saw the wildness there under the surface, the madness in my eyes. He pulled out a baggie and handed it to me without protest.


    I took my sweet time hitting each nostril three times over. Never have guessed my nose was broken a few hours ago the way I devoured that cocaine. I probably snorted more than a gram by the time he snapped, ¡°Hurry up!¡±


    I felt a little calmer. My jitters subsided. The need was appeased ¨C marginally. I could at least function without screaming in someone¡¯s face.


    The Abdul-Camel Jockey cab driver stared at me hard in the rearview mirror as I took a fourth bump up each nostril. The asshole thought I was a coke whore.


    ¡°What the fuck are you looking at?¡± I barked at him. He flinched at my verbal assault and looked away. But his nasty thoughts were still pointed in my direction.


    ¡°Tell that asshole to stop staring at me,¡± I growled at Arana.


    The Jihad cab driver snapped back, ¡°I hope you know the meter¡¯s still running. Are you finished yet?¡±


    Arana looked back and forth from me to the driver and shook his head. He threw fifty bucks at the driver. ¡°Vamos, let¡¯s do this.¡±


    He pushed me out into the street. The idiot didn¡¯t even care about the bank¡¯s curbside cameras. If I came up dead, the camera footage would attest to the fact he¡¯d been the last person to see me alive. Pinche tonto. Estupido. How he ever got this far without getting killed or doing life in the penitentiary was proof that miracles still happen today. I would need one of those miracles shortly.


    It took an entire hour to get $31,863 out of my account in cash. The bank teller had to get the assistant manager, who had to get the manager, who then proceeded to try to convince me to withdraw funds in some form other than cash. They asked repeatedly why I needed all that money in cash. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to have that in a cashier¡¯s check? No ¨C it wouldn¡¯t. Wouldn¡¯t you prefer to have traveler¡¯s checks? They¡¯re so much more secure than cash. No ¨C I don¡¯t want traveler¡¯s checks. Why not send the funds out directly as a wire transfer ¨C much better than carrying around all that cash on the streets of New York. No thank you, I prefer cash.


    At one point the teller leaned over the counter and whispered, ¡°You know ¡­ If you walk out with all this cash you could get rolled on the street.¡±


    I snapped back, ¡°Are you planning to follow me out the door?¡±


    ¡°Oh no! I¡¯m just saying¡­¡±


    ¡°Then I have nothing to worry about, do I?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not wise to carry that much money at one time, especially not on your person.¡±


    ¡°Get me my money! All I want is my money! It¡¯s my fucking money and I want it now!¡± I was starting to sound like a commercial for JG Wentworth.


    My voice had gotten loud. People stared at me. I felt like snatching that little, bitch teller up from the other side of the counter and wringing her neck. My hands flexed, itching to grab ahold of her. The manager wisely guided me over to the waiting area and proceeded to placate me with assurances my withdrawal would be ready in a few minutes. Arana watched out the corner of his eye, sitting a few yards away pretending to read a newspaper. Ignorant bastard could barely read the traffic signs. The NY Times might as well have been in hieroglyphics for all the good it did him. He had that pistol under his shirt, ready to start cutting a swath through this bank if I did anything stupid.


    I sooo wanted to tell one of these bank employees to call for help, but who would they call? Cops. Snitching out a Traqueto to the cops is pretty much a guaranteed death sentence. That kind of betrayal is not tolerated. The cartel sends out a whole posse to hunt snitches down. Much more exciting than watching Monday night football.


    Besides, I don¡¯t trust cops. I have never trusted cops. I trust them about as much as I trust bank employees. Everyone in authority thinks they can help you, but all they really want is an excuse to exercise their power in your life. Bank employees think and behave a lot like cops these days, that whole know-your-client thing.


    I had banked with B of A since arriving in New York. They are one of the only places where foreigners without a social security number can get a bank account. I remember back when there was a big controversy in the media about all these foreigners with bank accounts getting credit cards when average US citizens can¡¯t qualify for credit. The issue was that noncitizens were catching credit without any credit rating. I guess no credit is better than bad credit, or something like that. I had one of those cards ¨C a hundred fifty dollar credit limit. Big deal. Most Americans are several thousand in debt on credit cards. It¡¯s no wonder banks don¡¯t want to lend out more. I thought it was cool, a status symbol. Obviously I¡¯m biased for the foreigners. But I did feel sorry for all the Americans who owe more money than they make.


    Foreign-born Latinos know credit is a total scam. Very few of us have any debt. I personally have none, apart from Faustino¡¯s entrapment. I never use the damn card, it¡¯s not even activated. It sits in my purse looking good. As of this day I may never use it. I seriously considered changing banks, if I survived this mess.


    I eventually realized it wasn¡¯t the teller¡¯s fault. The bank policy was to deter clients from using too much cash. The bank doesn¡¯t stock all that much cash anymore. My transaction cleaned them out. Tellers were trained to talk customers out of withdrawing large sums in the form of cash. Part of an initiative towards fully electronic and online banking. I knew this after reading the manager¡¯s mind for the hour I spent being jacked around. I didn¡¯t care, I just needed the money.


    Walking out of the bank with all that cash in a little canvas sack, panic struck. I knew I was dead if I gave up this money. I ran. I might¡¯ve made it if I hadn¡¯t tripped over somebody¡¯s damn dog. Sprawled across the sidewalk trying to scramble to my feet, Arana was on top of me instantly. He politely helped me up. His pistol, hidden in his folded over jacket was stuck in my back the entire time. I wanted to scream.


    ¡°Listen to me, puta, I¡¯ll kill you right now and take every dime you got. I don¡¯t give a shit. You go quietly, we have a little more fun, and then I give you back to Faustino. You keep your mouth shut, don¡¯t say nothing to nobody, I let you live.¡± He was lying about letting me live and handing me over to Faustino. But he wasn¡¯t lying about killing me right here and now if I didn¡¯t cooperate.


    Standing outside the bank, waiting for a taxi, in full view of the curbside cameras, I handed him the canvas sack of cash. If he killed me, I hoped he fried for it. The circumstantial evidence against him was piling up fast.


    With my cash paid, it seemed like the right time to beg for my life. ¡°Please let me go. I¡¯ll never say a word to Faustino or anyone. It¡¯s our little secret. I¡¯ll leave New York right now. You¡¯ll never see me again. No one has to know anything!¡±


    He was pissed that I ran. He didn¡¯t like listening to me whine. He snatched up my jaw in his hand, squeezing hard as he spoke with gritted teeth. ¡°We have a score to settle puta. You owe me. You got me all fucked up when you took off. I¡¯m gonna take it out on your ass and then I¡¯ma give you back to Faustino. We see if there¡¯s anything left of you after he finish.¡±


    He directed me to a taxi, making it impossible not to get in first as he followed me. That gun never left my body. I had to do something. I hadn¡¯t swayed him at all.

 Page 29

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me, it was the China! She kidnapped me and held me in her apartment all this time. She only called you to get rid of me, so I wouldn¡¯t call the police on her. She¡¯s using you to make me disappear. She¡¯s playing you.¡± There was simply no way to explain what had really happened. I tried my best to relate the complexity of my situation in partial truths.


    ¡°And where did you get all that money, puta? You expect me to believe these lies? The China give you thirty thousand dollars while she got you locked away? No soy tonto cabrona!¡± I¡¯m not stupid.


    I was screwed. What could I say that made any sense? I had to try a new direction, a new motivation to keep me alive.


    ¡°No ¡­ Listen. The China has a boss ¡­ he made me work for him. He likes me ¨C I¡¯m valuable to him. She¡¯s using you to get rid of me out of jealousy. Her boss will pay you fifty thousand to get me back unharmed.¡±


    I hoped the taxi driver overheard our conversation, maybe he¡¯d call the police and report it. No luck there, he was blissfully ignorant of our little drama, watching traffic and listening to the radio. The driver hummed along with a gritty, alternative rock tune, something about bleeding it out and digging deeper just to throw it away.


    The chorus line of the song repeated over and over with a fast pace beat and ripping guitar riffs. The words belted out in a scream of frustration and angst. The message was eerily symbolic of my situation. I bled out all my hard-earned money, digging deeper to ransom myself to Enrique, and for what? Arana wanted me dead. He¡¯d probably find a way to get his hands on Enrique¡¯s money, and kill me anyway. I bleed it out digging deeper just to throw it away ¨C the story of my life.


    Arana assumed I lied. ¡°And what makes you so special? Why would they lock you up, pay you all that money, and then call me to get rid of you? You not telling the truth. I¡¯m gonna have to hurt you some more to get the truth.¡± He wanted to hurt me anyway. Anything else was just a bonus.


    The heartless bastard watched me cry silently as we crept through the city, making our way back to Spanish Harlem, to his apartment, where he planned to hurt me really bad.


    I had to up the stakes. ¡°He¡¯ll give you a hundred thousand for my safe return. If I call him tonight, he¡¯ll have it for you tomorrow. He lives on Park Avenue, he¡¯s rich. I¡¯m telling you the truth!¡±


    ¡°Tell me why, Esperanza. Why would some rich cabron on Park Avenue pay for you?¡±


    I said the only thing I could think of that might make sense. ¡°He loves me.¡±


    Arana laughed as I lied to him. ¡°Nobody loves you. You¡¯re nothing. Nothing but a pinche prostituta. I¡¯ll be doing the city of New York a favor by killing you.¡±


    He had dropped the pretense of returning me to Faustino. And he was right, no one loved me. I was alone in the world. Enrique hadn¡¯t cared enough to take me with him. Lia wanted me dead. Arana and Faustino would simply use me up and spit me out, if they let me live. What reason did I have to live for? I couldn¡¯t think of a reason, but I wanted to live. I didn¡¯t want to die! I wanted to live!


    I persisted with the lie, hoping for a miracle. ¡°No ¡­ that¡¯s not true! He loves me, and he¡¯ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars cash to get me back. I swear it on my mother¡¯s grave!¡±


    ¡°Hmmm ¡­. who is he? Do I know him?¡±


    ¡°No ¡­ you don¡¯t know him, he¡¯s from Spain.¡±


    Arana stared me down. The wheels started turning in his head. We rode the rest of the way in silence while he thought about it seriously. He had a hard time imagining how I could fit into a world of wealthy high-class people as anything other than a whore. In his opinion, you can take the girl out of Colombia, but you can¡¯t take Colombia out of the girl. Then he recalled the expensive cocktail dress I had been wearing last night and how glamorous I looked. He¡¯d never have recognized me if Lia hadn¡¯t pointed me out. He began to wonder if maybe I was banging some wrinkly old man, giving him the time of his life, a sugar daddy. That seemed a plausible scenario given the fact I actually did have all that money. He remembered the twenty-four carat gold bracelet he removed from me last night. Someone cared enough to buy me expensive clothes and gifts. Maybe it wasn¡¯t all a lie.


    As we headed into the towers from the taxi, I caught a glimpse of someone, a ray of light in my darkness. Conchita walked down the sidewalk not thirty yards away. Our eyes met for a moment. I gave her a direct look. Recognize me. See me. Please see me! She did a double take, and altered her course, heading in our direction. I peeked a glance at Arana. His attention drifted in a different direction, preoccupied with thoughts of what to do with me. I gave the cutoff sign to Conchita, swiping my hand across my neck to warn her off. It was enough she knew I was here with Arana. I didn¡¯t want to put her in danger.


    She seemed to understand. She took off walking away from us as we entered the building, a single glance back at me over her shoulder. I had to work hard to keep from smiling. It was such a small thing, but it brightened my world with hope to know a friend was out there, aware of my situation. Though I feared him, I hoped that she would contact Faustino, bring him knocking on our door. The lesser of two evils. I¡¯d love to see Arana¡¯s face, caught with his pants down, abusing Faustino¡¯s personal property ¨C me. I¡¯d have a better chance of explaining things to Faustino. At least he¡¯d be willing to collect the ransom and let me walk. Faustino had a head for business.


    Though in high spirits after seeing Conchita, my luck had run out. Behind closed doors with Arana, I read his intent a split second before he clocked me with that badass right hook. It didn¡¯t knock me out, but it sure knocked me down, and it hurt like hell. He had me dazed, seeing stars. My newly broken nose exploded in agony, obliterating all senses. He had to have broken it again, it bled everywhere. Then I was up, being carried back into his bedroom, my pants and sweater savagely ripped off. He threw me down on the bed and I went off kicking, screaming, and clawing at him. I caught him in the nuts and he backed off.


    ¡°You gonna regret that shit!¡± he hissed, his teeth gritted in pain. I¡¯d nailed him a good one.


    I scrambled backwards to put distance between us and fell off the bed onto my back. Still dazed, my vision blurred from tears. When your nose is broken you cry. It¡¯s not a girly thing, it¡¯s a reaction to the trauma. I caught his thoughts just before he struck. He leapt over the bed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. He was mad enough to kill. His hands wrapped around my throat, choking me off. I understood his plan as I passed out. If I stuck to my story while he played with me for the next few hours, he might consider trying to ransom me off. If I survived.


    I awoke to pain, my hands and feet bound to the bed posts. Naked of course. It¡¯s the most terrifying thing in the world to be stripped and bound, hands above my head, legs wide open.


    It began again, rape, beatings, and more rape. This time he didn¡¯t care about how I might look after the fact. He didn¡¯t really expect me to survive. He re-broke my nose for sure. If not with the first punch, definitely the second, third, fourth, or fifth. I think he broke my jaw too. And ribs ¨C several ¨C he hit me in the exact same places as before, right where I was already bruised and tender. I was meat to be pulverized and tenderized so he could chew me up and spit me out. That song from the taxicab came to mind again, probably the last music I¡¯d ever hear. I bleed it out digging deeper just to throw it away.


    The torture wasn¡¯t all fun for Arana. I puked again, blood and bile. I hadn¡¯t eaten in over forty hours. He didn¡¯t like being puked on, but he liked being pissed on even less. It¡¯s one of those things that happens in moments of pain and suffering. He was so angry when I peed on him. He got me good for that one. He nailed me right between the legs with an evil right-handed punch. Though I don¡¯t have balls, that¡¯s still the most sensitive part of my body, and it hurt really bad.


    I passed out several times throughout the afternoon and evening. I¡¯d wake up as he smacked me ¨C sending waves of agony crashing over my broken face. No amount of begging or bargaining made any bit of difference. If anything it angered him more to listen to me plead. The only thing he wanted to hear were sounds of pain, an aphrodisiac for him. Every grunt, squeal, cry, and whimper, helped keep him going. That and Viagra. He made sure he stayed hard for my punishment, and he enjoyed it thoroughly.


    Sometime later he lost stamina. His knuckles were raw and his cock hurt. He left me tied down to go clean himself up and get some rest. I was so exhausted. I fell into deep sleep immediately. I¡¯d been on a nocturnal schedule for three months, but he had me awake all damn day. Torture is hard work, especially when you¡¯re on the receiving end of it.


    In my comatose sleep I dreamed of Enrique. I needed him so badly, more than I¡¯ve ever needed anything. In my dream he sat on a plush leather airline seat, one of those really deluxe private Jets. A luxurious interior paneled with gleaming hardwood grains, and cream-colored leather cushions. He had a Forbes magazine in front of him, reading, ignoring my presence. He¡¯d be touching down in New York soon. I missed him so much, I needed him. How wonderful to be together again, in his arms, feeling his teeth sink into my neck, breasts, thighs. Then she was there, that psycho Asian, sitting across from Enrique in her conservative skirt and blouse. She spoke to Enrique. ¡°Hope has left us. She¡¯s gone. We¡¯ll never see her again.¡±


    Enrique nodded his head, frowning. I screamed. ¡°No! I¡¯m right here! I need you!¡±


    He looked up and saw me for the first time, and I was there on the plane with him. Me as I was at that very moment, bruised, broken, bleeding, naked. I was in so much pain, I needed him so badly. ¡°You left me with that cunt! You left me to be tortured and raped! You left me to die alone in pain! You don¡¯t care! You don¡¯t love me!¡±


    He spoke with that infuriating calm assurance. ¡°Querida, I¡¯ll be there soon, and all will be as it once was.¡± How could he be so calm when I was dying, without him, in agony?


    Arana entered into my dreams to beat me and bent me over the airline seats. He raped me and pummeled the back of my head. My skull throbbed, waves of pain. My whole body ached, throbbed. Enrique just sat there holding his magazine, ignoring me. Lia winked at me twirling her fingers in a cute little wave, bye-bye.

 Page 30

    At some point in the pain and degradation a woman¡¯s voice filtered in, ¡°Levantate, Esperanza! Tenemos que irnos! Vamos!¡± Get up Hope! We have to go! Let¡¯s go!


    I awoke to a nonstop tirade in Spanish. Someone was cursing, shaking my shoulder. I wanted to sleep, rest, die. I didn¡¯t want to wake up, ever. I wanted to sleep until death could no longer tell the difference, and carried me off to oblivion without pain and suffering.


    She wouldn¡¯t let me be. I awoke yelling, ¡°Conchita, let me sleep dammit!¡±


    Chapter 21


    Conchita babbled in Spanish, saying ¡®oh my God¡¯ over and over interspersed with ¡®hurry up¡¯, and ¡®let¡¯s go¡¯. The words Arana viene ahorita, vamos! had the most effect on me. Arana was coming, I had to get up. It started to register in my sluggish brain that I¡¯d been untied. My prayers answered.


    I read it in her mind. She had called Arana from her cell phone claiming she had a problem with a date. She gave him an address in New Jersey. He would be gone for an hour or two at most, and she had risked much. He¡¯d know she lied. My very stupid, very brave, friend had put her life in jeopardy.


    Conchita had a key to his apartment. Since he moved in at the Towers she visited him regularly. He always did prefer the more voluptuous curvy women, and she did his dishes too. He never made a secret of the fact he liked Conchita.


    I was so groggy ¨C disoriented. My head pounded, my body had a thousand aches and pains stabbing at me like little knives in all directions. I needed a drink of water so bad. Beneath it all was the ever present craving for the bite. The words of my dream floated to the surface of my mind. Enrique had said, ¡°Querida, I¡¯ll be there soon and all will be as it once was.¡±


    Then it hit me, a need so sharp, so acute, it wiped away all other consideration. Nothing mattered beyond my need for Enrique. I knew with the certainty of walk-on-water religious faith Enrique was here in New York. He left LaGuardia International at this very moment, on his way home. I had to get to him. Above all else I had to get to Enrique now!


    My need overrode the pain. My need was stronger than my aching, broken body¡¯s demands for food, water, and rest. I jumped up staggering. Conchita blabbered in a hiss-whisper as if Arana stood in the other room. She helped my shaking hands put on the sweater and jeans I¡¯d worn earlier.


    I headed for the door. Enrique awaited me. I couldn¡¯t keep him waiting. I needed him right now! Nothing else mattered. No shoes, no purse, no jacket, no money, I was a complete mess of caked blood and bruises. It didn¡¯t matter. Conchita had enough wits about her to grab my purse that had been discarded in the melee. She followed as I limped¨Cjogged out the door and down the hallway to the elevator.


    I could hardly stand to wait for the goddamn elevator to creep its way up to our floor. I pressed the button over and over and over. ¡°Come on, come on, come on mother fucker!¡±


    I bounced on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt, shaking with adrenaline singing through me, an explosion of nervous energy.


    One idea burned in my mind blotting out all else. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go now now now. I clearly saw in my mind¡¯s eye the grid work of streets leading to the Park Avenue penthouse. The most direct route would be the 4/5 Express from 125th Street to 86th Street on the subway. Nothing else could get me there faster. I didn¡¯t have a card ¨C I needed one. Now!


    ¡°Give me your MetroCard!¡±


    Conchita flinched away. I must¡¯ve been quite a sight. She actually feared me, thought I¡¯d lost my mind. And she was probably right. I didn¡¯t give a shit what she thought as long as I got that card. I advanced on her.


    ¡°Daime tu pinche MetroCard!¡± I growled like an animal gone feral. She complied, shoving the plastic swipe card in my hand along with my purse.


    I¡¯d been so focused on her I failed to notice the thought patterns of the person ascending in the elevator. The door popped open with a click and I turned to find myself face-to-face with Arana. Surprise.


    ¡°Aye que cabron!¡± he exclaimed.


    Stupid, stupid Conchita had turned off her cell phone. When he tried to call her, she didn¡¯t answer, and he became suspicious. He had sharp instincts, the main reason he made it this far in life. Had she left her cell on, she could have kept him chasing off in New Jersey for another hour.


    It was so unfair. I was so close! Enrique awaited me! I screamed in anguish and launched at him. I had gone off the deep end, a stark raving lunatic. I set on him with desperation and hatred. I clawed, kicked, spit, cussed, screamed, tore at him like an alley cat gone rabid. He couldn¡¯t get a grip on me. I buried my nails in his face, clawing away strips of flesh. He tagged me several times, knocking me down.


    I was back up in the blink of an eye, raking at his face and arms viciously. I had him against the wall of the elevator, clawing, biting, screaming. I kneed him in the nuts one-two-three times. I¡¯d gone insane, and I was so strong and fast. He crumpled down to the floor groaning in agony. I dug into his face with my claws. He tried to block me, so I kneed him in the nuts again and again. That mother-fucker was never gonna hurt me again with his little five inch cock, and he definitely wouldn¡¯t ever have children.


    It was his turn to puke on himself. I put every ounce of strength I had into a wicked barrage of knees in his nuts, alternating with rakes to his face. He seemed a helpless child beneath me. Where was the powerful rapist-torturer who made my life hell for two days? On the floor puking and crying as I fucked his whole world up.


    I tore into his face and eyes with a vengeance born of madness. I sat on top of him, straddling his torso as I clawed his face off mercilessly. My nails broke off in his face. I kept on going, tearing his eyes to shreds, screaming all the while.


    He squealed and grunted, flailing at me, but there was no containing my madness. I had him down, beat, blinded, defeated. I owned his ass.


    Conchita had disappeared somewhere back in the hallway. Good for her. I continued to rake on his face till the elevator door clicked open on the ground floor. The click sound was my gunshot to start the hundred yard dash. I was up and out the door shoving past the Latinos waiting for the elevator. They fell out the way as I blasted through them. Those who saw me coming shied away.


    I had one thought. Enrique now now now! I had to get to Enrique! He was waiting for me at home! I left Arana behind. I had no more time to devote to his destruction. Not my priority.


    I ran. I ran like an Olympic gold medalist from Hellenic Greece, barefoot and determined to get to my destination at all costs. I ran like I have never run before. I never knew it was possible to run so damn fast. I was free ¨C unobstructed. My need drove me like a whip at my back. I ran flat out, strength and adrenaline coursing through me as I flew to the 125th Street subway station.


    I hit the subway and ran down the stairs. Somehow I¡¯d retained Conchita¡¯s MetroCard in my pants pocket, but my purse was gone. My adrenaline-saturated hands shook as I tried to align the swipe card with the terminal. I cursed in three languages as I swiped the damn card over and over. My gore-covered hands left blood smears all over the swipe terminal after having swiped the card six times. It let me through.


    Inside the subway tram I was still going full blast, but nowhere to go. Adrenaline and need permeated every cell in my body. My bloodied hands clenched and shook, my whole body jittered, vibrated with the undeniable need to go, go, go, now, now, now.


    I babbled on and on about Enrique. People stared, whispered, pointed. They looked at me with disgust and fear as I paced up and down the tram cars. I went from one car to the next to hit the end, then turned around and paced back the other way, only to repeat the process again at the other end. I didn¡¯t give a shit what people thought or said. I looked at the face in the reflection of the windows. Hope was gone. She¡¯d been replaced with a bloody, bruised, madwoman with insane eyes. The madwoman chanted over and over, ¡°Enrique¡¯s home, Enrique¡¯s home.¡±


    Children shied away from me to hide in their mother¡¯s embrace. Parents gave me wary, hostile looks as I paced and chanted my little ditty over and over. From their perspective I was the walking dead, something out of a zombie movie.


    At the 86th Street station I exited the tram running flat out, shoving past everyone, careening off the walls, skidding around the corners. I hit the stairs descending two or three at a time, knocking people out of the way screaming, ¡°Enrique¡¯s home! Enrique¡¯s home!¡±


    A NYPD officer must¡¯ve seen me coming through the crowd exiting the subway onto the street. He was ready for me by the time I reached him. The fool tried to grab me. We both ended up in a tumble on the sidewalk. He didn¡¯t want to let go. I¡¯m sure I broke a couple toes and fingers in the fall, but I was oblivious to everything but my need. As we rolled around, the cop ended up on top trying to hold me down and call for backup on a shoulder-mounted radio mic. When his hand went to the mic releasing his grip, I nailed him in the face. His head snapped back and I exploded off the ground throwing him to the side like a blowup doll. He tumbled into a group of bystanders and I was up and off, unstoppable. A gold-medal Olympic runner couldn¡¯t keep up with me.


    I sprinted the mile to the Clementine building where Enrique awaited my arrival. It took me all of a few seconds to get there. I never knew I could run so damn fast. I barreled into the parking garage right past the security gatehouse, vaulted the yellow and black striped security bar and made a beeline for the residents-only elevator.


    ¡°6627, 6627, 6627, 6627.¡± I chanted as I punched in the passcode on the elevator three times. My bloody busted up fingers, slick and unsteady, couldn¡¯t get the code right until the third attempt. Third times a charm.


    The security guard from the gatehouse finally caught up to me as the elevator door opened. He was huffing and puffing so bad he could barely speak. ¡°Stop! ... Stop! ... Right ¡­ There!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t let him stop me. I was sooo close. Enrique awaited me at the top of the elevator. I executed a text-book perfect step-behind side-kick straight to his face as he jogged right into it. I retracted my leg just in time for the elevator door to close, sending me straight up to the penthouse. My cardio kickboxing instructor Jean Paul would¡¯ve been proud to witness my flawless form and the wicked speed and power behind my kick. It¡¯s amazing the things we are capable of in extreme situations.

 Page 31

    I vibrated, bounced, shaking with need. Oh God, he was so close. I could feel his bite in my neck, the sting of his tiny, little needle point fangs, how wonderful it would be in his arms again. All my problems would be solved, all the pain and suffering washed away. All I needed was Enrique. Nothing could keep us apart this side of death.


    ¡®Ding¡¯, the elevator chimed and I shot out onto the landing like a rocket heading into orbit. I hit the front door to the penthouse, bouncing off when I couldn¡¯t slow down. I punched in the door code over and over until the electronic locks clicked open. I knew exactly where to find him ¨C his office.


    I slipped and slid on the polished hardwood floors as I raced to him. Slamming through his office door, I saw him. Beautiful, dashing, and debonair as ever. He caught me up in that inhumanly powerful embrace. Finally.


    After forty-eight hours of hell, I was home. Against all odds I had made it back. Like the cat from that creepy little song, ¡°Hope came back. We thought she was a goner, but Hope came back. She just couldn¡¯t stay away.¡±


    Enrique¡¯s face was grim. I didn¡¯t care. He could scowl at me all he wanted. I was elated to be home, nothing else mattered. He started to ask, ¡°What the hell happened ¡­¡±


    I interrupted him, gasping to catch my breath. ¡°Bite me now!¡±


    He frowned deeply, but complied, latching onto my black and blue, bruised neck with those wonderful little razor-sharp fangs. Heavenly euphoria. All the pain, worry, fear, degradation, anxiety washed away in a tsunami of euphoria. ¡°Oh God I love you so much.¡± I blathered as I melted into his embrace in sublime happiness.


    He gave me a moment to collect myself and then the questions started. ¡°What happened Hope? Who did this to you? Where have you been?¡±


    I started to regain some vestige of my sanity, but I could hardly figure out where to begin. ¡°Arana ¡­ he ¡­ beat me ¡­ raped me ¡­ I was tied up. It was Lia! She did it!¡± I didn¡¯t make much sense.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this business about Arana? What does Lia have to do with it? She said you left her at the Blue Smoke!¡±


    ¡°It was Lia! She called Arana. She set me up! He¡¯s one of Faustino¡¯s Traquetos. He tried to kill me, but Lia set it all up. She¡¯s lying to you!¡±


    At the point I¡¯d caught my breath, clear-headed enough to speak coherently, I picked up on Lia¡¯s thoughts. She was nearby and coming in fast. By the time I read her intentions, she¡¯d made it through the office door. She had her tiny little twenty-two pistol in one hand, and a huge chef¡¯s knife in the other. She stood five feet away, pistol aimed at the back of Enrique¡¯s head.


    She wanted to kill me. Enrique¡¯s authority blocked her. The only option left was to kill him. I heard her click the trigger and I screamed, ¡°No!¡± as I shoved Enrique down.


    Wired on adrenaline and high on venom, I guess I¡¯m a little stronger than I thought. Enrique went flying across the room sprawled on his back. Her first shot missed, but she adjusted her aim and fired over and over. I saw one shot nail him in the shoulder before I hit her screaming at the top of my lungs in rage. Without thinking, I had tackled Lia. We both went down in a tumble, her gun sliding across the floor. I couldn¡¯t think of anything but stopping her. I couldn¡¯t let her take Enrique from me. I just got him back. I couldn¡¯t lose him, not to her, not like this.


    We grappled, spinning and flopping. I rolled to the top position, punched her in the nose, and went for her eyes. Then I felt something cold and sharp cut into my belly, the chef knife. I grabbed her wrist to stop her, but she was so damn strong. That little Asian psycho was stronger than a man. I couldn¡¯t stop her. That huge knife plunged in and out, over and over, fast and mechanical like the needle of a monstrous sewing machine.


    Then all of a sudden I was up and flying through the air backwards, snatched up from behind. I landed on my back, my head crunched against the steel file cabinet. A real bell ringer. My vision blurred, doubled, wouldn¡¯t focus. I saw a shadowy blur of Enrique and Lia grappling on the floor. I tried to get up. The world tilted and spun. Game over for me. I collapsed, my vision turned black. My life bled out onto the beautiful, custom hardwood floors as I passed out.


    Chapter 22


    I dreamt of Enrique, of being in his arms, bitten over and over. My dreams vacillated between scenes of wonderful ecstasy and periods of agony. My whole body ached and throbbed, and my guts burned as though branded with an iron. I¡¯d press a button and the pain would die down, but it was ever present beneath the surface, lurking, waiting to return as soon as the button medicine wore off. Enrique disappeared for hours at a time, and then he was there, biting me, holding me, whispering to me.


    I dreamt of Arana and Lia, nightmares. They chased me. Arana¡¯s eye sockets were vacant gaping wounds, lidless. He caught up to me and held me down. Lia came and stabbed me in the belly with her knife, over and over. In other nightmares Lia had me tied down, waiting for Arana to come back and beat me again. Maybe he¡¯d kill me this time. I struggled with the cords wrapped around me, and then a woman appeared, trying to calm me down. I begged her to untie me, to let me go. I told her Arana¡¯s coming, he¡¯ll kill us both if I don¡¯t get away. I told her help me find Enrique. She assured me everything was fine, and then she pressed the magic button. The pain and anxiety drifted away.


    Mostly I dreamt of Enrique. I told him how much I loved him, how much I missed him. He¡¯d hold me. He kissed me where it hurt and the pain went away. When he left I missed him endlessly. The man was everything to me. I couldn¡¯t imagine my world without him.


    I awoke one day in a hospital bed in my room. The couch had been removed. The new bed took its place. I felt groggy-drugged, morphine or some other opiate pain killer. At the edge of my thoughts floated some vague anxiety related to something vitally important. It nagged at me, something unresolved. I couldn¡¯t focus, but it pressed at the edge of my awareness.


    I tried to recall the issue, something about Enrique? I had to tell him something ¡­ about ¡­ what? What was I supposed to tell him? And where was he? I could sense him nearby in the penthouse, in his bedroom. Why wasn¡¯t I in the bedroom with him?


    The past filtered into my consciousness piecemeal, Lia, Arana, rape, torture, escape with Conchita, the fight with Arana, all the way back here to the penthouse. Lia! Lia wanted me dead! She wanted to kill us both!


    I sat up in bed. The world spun and then slowly righted itself. My heart rate jumped up, the monitor beeped double-time. I had to get to Enrique, had to stop Lia. I tried to get out of bed, but the monitoring wires and IV¡¯s had me tied up. I ripped them off, tossing it all on the floor. A woman barged into the room wearing a nurse¡¯s smock, the woman I had dreamt about, my nurse.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± She ran up to me and grabbed on to my arm. She tried to push me back onto the bed.


    ¡°I have to get to Enrique!¡± I growled at her. ¡°Get out of my way!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be in at seven. You need to get back in bed!¡± She wouldn¡¯t back off and tried to push me again.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand!¡± I shoved her back and headed for the door.


    She grabbed my hand. ¡°You need to take it easy, calm down.¡± I back-handed her with a whip crack of my left hand. She went flying and hit the floor with a smack-thud sound.


    ¡°Leave me alone!¡± I screamed.


    Lia might be coming any minute now. She could be anywhere. I ran out of the room into the hallway. I knew where to find Enrique, but I couldn¡¯t go to him unarmed. The bitch was too strong to take on without a weapon. I had to protect Enrique. I found a brass lamp, tore off the lampshade and hefted its solid weight in my hand. It felt like a good five pounds, might do the trick.


    Then I remembered her knife. That¡¯s what I needed, a knife! My turn to cut into that bitch. See how she likes it. As soon as I thought of it I pulled up my hospital gown to look at my stomach. There were bandages wrapped around my torso.


    ¡°Ha! Thought you killed me! I¡¯m not so easy to kill, bitch!¡± I smiled, something like that wicked fat cat from Alice in Wonderland, a Cheshire cat grin.


    I found the block of knives in the kitchen, the large chef knife missing. The bitch still had it. I grabbed the next largest knife, a wicked seven inch blade.


    I made my way to Enrique¡¯s room, watching and listening carefully, scanning everywhere for any sign of someone in hiding. In his room with the door locked closed behind me, my exhaustion set in. I wanted to lie down and sleep right there on the spot. His room was pitch black, not a hint or speck of light. I groped for the light switch, lamp and knife held ready. Nothing moved, the room was dead silent. Enrique lay in bed asleep, alone.


    After a moment of utter silence I slinked around the room, checking everything, the walk-in closet, under the chairs, the bathroom and shower stall. I checked every nook and cranny that might possibly hide a five foot tall Asian vampire cunt from hell. She wasn¡¯t there. I imagine I looked pretty wild in my open-backed hospital gown creeping around with a brass lamp and a knife.


    I decided the room was secure, so I might as well barricade us in. I had a steady burn in my gut and my bandages turned red by the time I finished moving the heavy oak dresser in front of the door. As I threw the dead bolt on the door, it occurred to me how weird that was. Who the hell has dead bolts on bedroom doors? Fucking vampires.


    Enrique was totally out, in that dead-like comatose sleep. His body felt cool to the touch. I couldn¡¯t really tell if he was alive apart from an ever so slight air flow out of his mouth. He still breathed, he must be okay. It seemed like there was the faintest heartbeat when I put my ear to his chest.


    God he was such a beautiful man. He looked flawless, a sleeping beauty of dark hair, pale white skin, and neatly trimmed black goatee. I loved looking at him. But I was so tired, and my belly hurt, and I just couldn¡¯t stay awake no matter how hard I tried. It occurred to me, if Enrique slept for the day ¡­. then so did Lia. Nothing to worry about.


    I awoke to Enrique¡¯s hand on my forehead, a concerned look in his eyes. He was saying something, I caught pieces of it. ¡°... should be in your bed ¡­. where¡¯s your nurse? ...¡±

 Page 32

    I remembered everything in a flash, Lia, the knife, sunset! I reached under the pillow, whipped out my chef knife and sat up in bed, ready to do battle. I was up on my feet, swaying, knife held out.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Lia?¡± I croaked.


    My throat was so horribly dry, I could barely speak. My head swam and spun from the sudden movement. I almost fell over with vertigo. Enrique jumped up to catch me, his strong arms holding me tight, supporting my weight.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. She¡¯s gone now. She can¡¯t hurt you anymore.¡±


    ¡°She wants to kill us! She¡¯ll come back! We have to stop her!¡± I croaked, my voice breaking.


    ¡°Calm down. Here have a drink.¡± He handed me a glass of water. He forced me to sit down on the bed. I was still amped, ready to rumble, but too dizzy to stand.


    ¡°She¡¯s dead, querida. She left me no choice but to kill her.¡±


    It took a minute for his words to register. Lia dead? Gone?


    The realization stung. Surprisingly, I didn¡¯t want her dead. I just didn¡¯t want to live with her hate anymore. But how could she die?


    ¡°Really ¡­ are you sure? Can she die? Can¡¯t she like ¡­ come back?¡±


    ¡°Not when I separated her head from her body. No one survives that.¡±


    ¡°You took her head off?¡± I shuddered in gross-out surprise.


    ¡°Si, querida. The only way to ensure she could never hurt you again. I forced her obedience, but where there¡¯s a will there¡¯s a way. She found ways around my power over her.¡±


    ¡°How ¡­ I thought she couldn¡¯t hurt me. How could she attack me?¡±


    ¡°My orders were that she couldn¡¯t harm you. But I allowed her to defend herself. You attacked her. Granted, she was shooting at me, but your attack allowed her to defend herself ¡­ very aggressively.¡±


    ¡°She stabbed me ¡­ over and over.¡±


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s a miracle you survived, querida. I¡¯m so happy you¡¯re alive and well. I thought you were gone. You looked like death warmed over.¡±


    His words reminded me of everything I went through from Lia¡¯s devious betrayal and Arana¡¯s vicious assaults. If only he¡¯d have taken me with him, none of this would¡¯ve happened. Lia would still be alive. My life would still be perfectly wonderful. He didn¡¯t care enough to take me with him. It was his fault, everything was his fault. Lia would still be alive today. We would still be a happy little family if he hadn¡¯t left us.


    I wanted to cry, but my tears of self-pity were all used up. Outrage, fury, abandonment, I could still cry in frustration and rage. ¡°You left me here with that psycho! Did you really think that just because she behaved herself for a few weeks that somehow, magically, she had changed?¡±


    He was taken aback at my reaction. He didn¡¯t seem to know what to say.


    ¡°You knew what she was! Your minds were linked! You knew she was insane! She lived with you for twenty years. How could you leave me alone with her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Hope.¡± He wouldn¡¯t look me in the eyes. How could I trust a man who couldn¡¯t look me in the eyes?


    ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say? She made me whore for her bite. She made me fuck another man for hours just to get one fucking bite! Is that what you expected her to do? How could you not know what she was up to? She had no secrets from you!¡±


    ¡°Apparently she did. I was unaware of all this.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s only because you didn¡¯t give a shit. You didn¡¯t care enough to call me for more than a few seconds, one time. You didn¡¯t care enough to check on your psycho servant and your bloodslave sex toy! You didn¡¯t care what she did to me!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, querida. I¡¯ve never had to consider how dangerous she could be. She obviously learned to keep secrets from us both. I thought her incapable of blocking you out of her mind. She figured out a way to fool us.¡±


    ¡°She dumped me off with Arana after I threatened to tell you what she¡¯d done to me. She planned to get rid of me all along. You gave her the perfect opportunity.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had another person living in our home before. I never had to deal with her jealousy. It was always the two of us till you came along.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you decided I had to stay. When you forced me into staying, Faustino thought I ran out on him. He was so angry, he took it out on Arana. Lia dumped me off with Arana, he wanted me dead. Arana wanted revenge. He never planned to give me back to Faustino.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Hope. I can¡¯t deny it. It¡¯s my fault. I never considered how vulnerable you could be to Lia¡¯s sick manipulations.¡±


    But he should have known. How could he not know?


    ¡°Maybe you wanted her to get rid of me. Take care of the problem? I knew it was all too good to be true, the employment contract, all the promises of long life. You were speaking the truth when you told her how soon I would die!¡±


    ¡°No, querida, she was jealous of my feelings for you. I only said those horrible things so she wouldn¡¯t feel threatened by your presence.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t querida me! If you knew she was so damn jealous, then why did you leave me alone with her to be abused and raped and beaten half to death? She only bit me once! One time in four nights!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re upset right now, understandably so. Let¡¯s not argue. Come, let me take care of you.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what Arana did to me? He beat me for hours. I was tied down to the bed as he beat and raped me for two whole days! He tried to kill me several times ¨C choked me off. I could be pregnant, he didn¡¯t wear a condom! I wish he¡¯d have killed me! I wish I was dead!¡±


    He tried to hug me, I pushed him away. I still had the knife in my hand. I pointed the blade at him as I shook and cried.


    ¡°You don¡¯t love me! You¡¯ve never loved me! I was your little sex toy. You and Lia played with me, almost killed me twice. And when it was no longer convenient to keep me around, after I¡¯d picked everyone¡¯s brains to find out who was loyal to you, you decided to let Lia take out the trash. You let Lia get rid of your little problem!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not true, querida. I made a mistake. I thought she had accepted your place here. I didn¡¯t realize what she planned.¡±


    ¡°I told you she wanted me dead. I begged you to protect me from her. I gave you everything, every part of my heart and soul and body, and you left me here with her. I told you something bad would happen. I begged you to take me with you! But you listened to her! Did you honestly think her feelings towards me would change in the weeks she spent in Spain?¡±


    ¡°Yes I did. That was my mistake, trusting her. She said she could see the benefits of having you around for business. She said she was okay with the arrangement.¡±


    ¡°The arrangement, hunh? The arrangement where you watched her damn near suck me dry, fucking me till I could hardly walk? That happened while you were here. What did you think she would do the moment you were gone? And did you tell her about how you supposedly care for me?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t really talk about it. I admitted I liked having you around, I enjoyed your company, our lovemaking.¡±


    ¡°You mean sex? It¡¯s not lovemaking when you don¡¯t love someone. She believed I was just your sex toy. You let her believe that. So that¡¯s how she treated me after you were gone. Her own personal sex toy to fuck and abuse at her whim.¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve told her the truth. That¡¯s another mistake I made.¡±


    ¡°You told her the truth. And she did exactly what she thought was right in her twisted mind. I just don¡¯t understand how you couldn¡¯t see any of this coming.¡±


    I was irate, swinging the knife back and forth. I was ready to kill, to strike out in vengeance for what had been done to me. He stole my thunder and wrath when he grabbed me and bit down on my neck. Pain, fury, hate, all gone in a flash. I was a slave to the venom, betrayed by my biology.


    ¡°I loved you and you left me to die alone in pain.¡± I cried, wanting to hurt him, wanting him to make love to me. Not sex, love. It was all wrong. I was stuck with this creature who callously, mercilessly, used my biology to manipulate me. I hated him.


    He was the first man I¡¯d ever loved, the fairytale dream. But it was all a fa?ade, an invention of my own mind. He never loved me.


    He released his bite. The magic drained away, all that remained was my shattered illusions. ¡°I hate you.¡±


    Chapter 23


    My nights flew past without incident. I did my job precisely as contracted. I attended all required meetings, wrote lengthy, detailed reports of everyone¡¯s mundane thoughts and consulted with Enrique on certain key points in our after-the-meeting meeting. It all became routine. No big surprises. The property maintenance guy wanted a raise, an export company hoped for a better shipping rate. The real estate agent was horny for Enrique, and willing to violate her code of ethics by sleeping with him if it might finagle a better commission on a piece of commercial property he was bidding on. He respectfully declined her offer, and did not give her a higher commission. In fact, he considered firing her. Each night was more or less the same as the one before. Attorneys are still the laziest bastards on the planet, and yet somehow manage to catch the highest hourly rate for the least amount of work.


    I did what was required of me and nothing more. Sex is not in my employment contract. I am not anyone¡¯s whore or sex toy. I¡¯m not a piece of meat to beat on, chew on, or stick your dick in. No one touches me. No one. I am an island. Enrique¡¯s not permitted to touch me beyond the cordial embrace necessary to facilitate his nightly bites. That¡¯s the way I want it, and that¡¯s the way it stays!


    ¡°I don¡¯t need him, don¡¯t love him, and don¡¯t desire his touch.¡± That¡¯s my mantra. I repeat it to myself nightly in front of the mirror.


    ¡°I love myself. My body is sacred and magnificent.¡±


    I have tight biceps, a six pack of ab muscles, and my gluts and quads are rock hard ¨C toned. I attend real kick-boxing classes ¨C not that cardio wanna-be shit. I also have a private Krav-maga Israeli commando self-defense class every week. My kicks and punches break through bricks and cinder blocks. If anyone is stupid enough to pull a knife or gun on me ever again I¡¯ll take it and shove it so far up their ass it¡¯ll have to be surgically removed.

 Page 33

    I bench 275, curl l40, and squat 400. More than your average Joe at Gold¡¯s gym. Enrique brags about how I¡¯m bad enough to take on a UFC Fighter in the Octagon. I know he¡¯s just trying to get back in my good graces. It¡¯s all an act so he can get laid. I¡¯m not falling for it.


    I¡¯m strong, healthy, beautiful, sexy. If I wanted, I could be a professional model. I prefer anonymity, I like a low profile. I am not an exhibitionist anymore. I don¡¯t need to show off my beautiful body to anyone. I¡¯m sexy and I know it, and I don¡¯t give a shit if anyone else knows it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need anyone. I don¡¯t need Enrique, I don¡¯t love him, and I don¡¯t desire his touch.¡±


    If I keep saying it over and over maybe someday it will be true. What¡¯s the truth? I want that son-of-a-bitch every second of every minute, and I know where he is, always. He¡¯s in his office right now. He¡¯s been there for two hours. I¡¯m so well connected to him. I don¡¯t even have to think about it, I just know where he is. It¡¯s there riding in the back of my consciousness, an ever-present awareness of Enrique.


    He¡¯s in his office, probably waiting for me to make my appearance. I know his game and I don¡¯t give him an inch, not one stinking inch. If he wants something he can damn well ask. He can beg, he can grovel, but if it¡¯s not in my employment contract, I¡¯ll not give an inch!


    How is he taking it? Oh he tries. He tries to seduce me, to win me over. But I¡¯m not falling for the lies and the double-speak. I¡¯m nobody¡¯s fool. Like when he put the package on my desk a couple weeks after I returned to work. It had a note signed, Love Enrique.


    Everyone signs letters that way. He always has. It doesn¡¯t mean anything. I must admit the package was pretty awesome, my shiny new visa identification card with a special provision work permit to lawfully act as Enrique¡¯s ¡®Administrative Assistant¡¯. I am now officially one hundred percent legal in the U.S., and I collect my paycheck under my new social security number.


    He thought he had me there. He smiled all smug. He tried to put his arms around me thinking he¡¯d finally won me over.


    I swatted him off, ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡±


    He gave me that look, the one I see once in a while, a hurt look. Fuck him. He¡¯s not fooling me. I knew what was up. I see right through his manipulations, and I¡¯ll never trust him again.


    He reimbursed me the thirty thousand and change that Arana took, even replaced my twenty four Karat gold bracelet with a new one ¨C which I refuse to wear. He¡¯s paying me over a hundred thousand annual salary to spy on everyone. All that money has to be accounted for on his corporate taxes. Illegal immigrants can¡¯t go on the books. He needed me fully legal for tax purposes, and to avoid entanglements with US immigration for employing illegal aliens. He didn¡¯t do it for me. He did it for himself, for his own self interests. I¡¯m not that easily fooled anymore.


    That¡¯s why he killed Lia. He didn¡¯t do it to protect me, to save me from further assault or degradation. He killed her for shooting at him ¡­ and well, she actually shot him a couple times. She had intended to take his head off with that chef knife. I just got in the way. Stupid me. I had to be the love-sick idiot to take on the psycho bitch to save Enrique¡¯s ungrateful hide. And who got stabbed eight times? Me, that¡¯s who.


    I spent six days in that hospital bed, damn near died. In addition to my stab wounds I suffered dehydration, shock, four broken ribs, three broken toes, four broken fingers, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and a broken nose and jaw. The nurses and doctors were surprised I survived. The fact I recovered so quickly creeped them all out big time. They thought I should¡¯ve been bed ridden for at least a month.


    And what of Enrique? His gunshot wounds healed up in forty-eight hours without so much as a scar on his flawless white ass.


    He didn¡¯t kill Lia for any of the myriad things she¡¯d done to me, for damn near disemboweling me, he killed her on principle. I was not fooled, nor impressed.


    I sleep alone. His sly glances, sycophantic compliments, and attempted seductions are getting him nowhere. He doesn¡¯t give a shit about me. I¡¯m his tool, his snoop, and a food source. But I¡¯m not his damn sex toy anymore. I sleep in my room and he sleeps in his. He didn¡¯t care when I was being abused by Lia, he didn¡¯t worry too much when I was raped and beaten to a pulp by Arana. He has lost all rights and privileges to my body beyond the bites I allow him, because I need it. He knows not to fuck with me. I get my bite when and where I want it. My syringe is ready to go every afternoon for those hours before he awakes.


    He¡¯s a persistent bastard. Wants to have his cake and eat it too. I know what he wants. I can actually sense his desire for me. I feel his eyes on me, reaching up my skirt, my blouse. His desire is a near palpable thing in the air between us. I have to put him in his place occasionally.


    ¡°Back off, asshole! Stop staring at me like that! I¡¯m not your sex toy!¡±


    Then he switches his game up and puts on that butt-hurt look, like I broke his heart. The bastard doesn¡¯t have a heart, and he definitely doesn¡¯t love me. When you love someone you tell them how you feel. He has never once said the words.


    Instead of lying to me directly, he plays little games, dropping subtle hints. Like last night. He put the newspaper on my desk with an article about the arrest of a Colombian cartel member. I¡¯m not impressed. I see right through his manipulations. I¡¯m not that na?ve anymore.


    Colombian Cartel Member Arrested for


    Attempted Murder and Money Laundering


    September 21st, at 4:45 p.m., Federal Bureau of Investigations Agents with U.S Marshalls raided the home of Faustino Vasquez on a warrant obtained from information given in an anonymous tip. The unnamed caller claimed Vasquez, a.k.a. ¡°El Tiburon¡±, had kidnapped Ahmet Rahim Mahmoud, an investment advisor.


    New York Federal Officials found Mahmoud tied to a chair in Faustino¡¯s basement, bleeding heavily. Mahmoud was severely beaten. His left foot amputated by Vasquez via the ¡°use of a large steel blade, possibly a machete.¡± Mahmoud is currently in critical condition.


    Federal Agent Gregory Cranston states, ¡°Mr. Mahmoud is one of the many victims of the senseless, unprovoked violence that characterizes the terrorist-like operations of drug trafficking cartels. Mr. Mahmoud is a key witness in a money laundering indictment involving Faustino Vasquez. It¡¯s our sincere hope Mahmoud will recover to testify and see these criminals brought to justice.¡±


    Federal Judge Parkinson denied Vasquez federal bail bond on the grounds he¡¯s considered ¡°a menace to society¡± and a ¡°significant risk of flight¡±.


    I ignored Enrique all night long after reading the article in the NY Times ¨C apart from the brief moments required for his bites. He remained curiously silent, waiting for me. I held my tongue and played the game. If he wanted to be silent, I could do the same. I know he wanted me to come to him, so I didn¡¯t. I refuse to be manipulated.


    He was far better at the waiting game. Living over two hundred years, he¡¯d learned patience. By ten p.m. the next night I couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. My intense curiosity eroded away my resolve to wait him out. I¡¯m sure the bastard could¡¯ve waited weeks, months, years. So I came to him. Actually I screamed at him.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I threw the newspaper at his chest as he sat in his office chair looking regal as ever, and very pleased with himself.


    ¡°To what are you referring, querida?¡±


    He persisted in calling me that ridiculous pet name. I¡¯ve told him repeatedly to stop, but he does it anyway. It¡¯s all part of his ongoing program of seduction. He¡¯s trying to convince me that he really cares, that I mean something more, more than just a piece of meat to bite and fuck and suck on.


    ¡°You know exactly what I¡¯m talking about! Faustino¡¯s arrest! What the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all there in the article. Faustino kidnapped Rahim, tortured him, and was arrested on an anonymous tip. The Feds indicted him on money laundering, so he attempted to kill their witness. They caught him in the act.¡±


    ¡°And how did Faustino meet Rahim? How did Faustino know he was being indicted, or who the snitch was? Don¡¯t treat me like a fool! I know how the Feds do it. Confidential informants are confidential. You never find out who¡¯s involved till the Feds have you in custody and prosecute!¡±


    ¡°Querida, are you insinuating I had anything to do with this tragedy?¡±


    ¡°Yes goddamnit! I know you had something to do with it! Now tell me the truth for once!¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡± The bastard smiled, so damn smug, so confident. ¡°I took it upon myself to handle your problems and take care of that nasty little man Rahim at the same time. I introduced Faustino to Rahim and recommended he invest. After Faustino transferred his money to Rahim I arranged for an anonymous tip to Faustino. The caller provided information proving Rahim worked with Federal agents as an informer-witness and they had gathered evidence to indict Faustino for money laundering. As you can see, Faustino reacted harshly. I then arranged for a tip to Federal Agent Cranston that Faustino had kidnapped Rahim and planned to kill him. The rest, as they say, is history.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re trying to convince me you did all this for me?¡±


    ¡®Querida, I¡¯m not trying to convince you of anything. That¡¯s impossible. You don¡¯t believe a word I say.¡±


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t have done it for me. He doesn¡¯t really give a shit about me. Why would he do all that for me? He did it to get rid of a potential problem, so Faustino wouldn¡¯t be out there looking for me. He wanted to remove potential complications from his life, that¡¯s all. Prevention.


    ¡°Would you believe me if I told you I did it for you?¡± He tried his best to look earnest, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°No!¡± I¡¯m not a sucker for his act.


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the point of telling you?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t read your mind, and I don¡¯t trust you. So unless it¡¯s totally obvious, I¡¯m not gonna believe a word you say.¡±

 Page 34

    ¡°Exactly.¡± He leaned back in his chair.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡±


    ¡°You wanted me to put a stop to Rahim¡¯s scam. He won¡¯t be scamming anyone anymore after what Faustino did. I suspect he may never fully recover, physically or psychologically. Faustino almost killed him.¡±


    ¡°You wanted to be certain Faustino wouldn¡¯t create problems if he found out you¡¯d been hiding me all along. That¡¯s the real reason you did this, right? Admit it.¡±


    ¡°No. You needed to be free of Faustino¡¯s ties, and any threat that may still exist. You wanted to stop Rahim. It¡¯s called hitting two birds with one stone.¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t clean up a potential problem for yourself by getting rid of Faustino and Rahim? Faustino could be very dangerous if he was offended at my presence in your home. He knew all about your illegal drug smuggling operations. And Rahim already had a good deal of your information from Emilio¡¯s big fat mouth. Getting rid of Rahim removed the risk that you would ever come under investigation. You solved your own issues just as easily as you solved mine. I think your motives and actions are self-serving.¡±


    He scowled, that disapproving look. ¡°I see. Well. I never thought of it the way you laid it out. But I imagine it¡¯s possible to view the situation from that perspective, especially when you distrust me so. You can¡¯t see that you¡¯re reaching? Seeking anything negative to grasp onto?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I guess there¡¯s no way to prove my intentions.¡±


    There it was again, the butt-hurt look. The bastard tried to twist it all around on me. He didn¡¯t do it for me. He did it for himself, like everything he does. ¡°If you really truly did it for me, then tell me why?¡± I needed to hear him say it, hear the lie and watch his face.


    ¡°Because I care for you, querida. I care about your safety. I care about the things that are important to you.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do. Gotta make sure your little spy is happy. Keep the lie detector happy so she does a good job! I always do my job. I take pride in my work, and I don¡¯t need bribes or manipulations. This is my career and I take it very seriously!¡±


    ¡°Querida ¡­ why can¡¯t you see what¡¯s right before your eyes?¡±


    ¡°What? What is it I can¡¯t see?¡±


    ¡°That I love you. And I¡¯m so very sorry I left you here with Lia. I¡¯m truly sorry my mistakes caused you so much pain and suffering. I want to see you happy, querida. I want to see you smile again. I love you Esperanza de Salvador.¡±


    He was up from his chair, advancing on me. He took my hands. I tried to back away. I didn¡¯t want to be seduced by his lies, his proximity, manipulated by my own biology. He had me in that iron grip and wouldn¡¯t let go.


    I cried in anger, frustration, longing, desire, love, hate, an impossible mess of conflicted emotions. I had tried so hard to stay away from him. It wasn¡¯t fair. ¡°How am I to know if you¡¯re lying?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to trust me, Hope. Look into my eyes and trust me.¡±


    ¡°No! You can¡¯t hypnotize me like everyone else, it won¡¯t work! I can¡¯t trust you. I have no one I can trust.¡±


    ¡°What sacrifice must I make to prove the obvious to you?¡±


    ¡°Nothing is obvious with you! How can you stand here and say you love me, now, when I¡¯ve pushed you away for two months? How is that obvious? You¡¯ve never said the words Enrique. People who love can¡¯t help but say the words.¡±


    ¡°All these things I do for you are done out of love. Isn¡¯t that obvious?¡±


    ¡°No. What¡¯s obvious is that you¡¯ll say anything in order to manipulate me. Nothing else is working. This is just a new tactic.¡±


    ¡°Tactics? We¡¯re not doing battle, Esperanza. I don¡¯t want to fight you. I want to make love to you.¡±


    ¡°See, you admit it, you¡¯re saying these things just so you can bang me.¡±


    He shook his head, still holding me tight against him. It was so unfair. My hands had a mind of their own. They wanted to feel his powerful chest. I fought to keep my hands off him.


    ¡°It makes no difference what I say or do. You choose to assume the worst. I love you, but I don¡¯t know how to heal the breech.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t read your mind. It¡¯s all blocked up solid. If you¡¯d open up to me I would know the truth. Until then, this ain¡¯t happening.¡± I pulled my hands away from him, my treacherous hands. As I backed away, slipping out of his grip, he followed.


    We ended up against the wall. He pinned me, an arm on either side of me. His body pressed up against mine. It felt so right to be there. I hated him for using this near irresistible connection to overpower my objections.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what it will take, then I¡¯ll do it. Just this once.¡±


    And then it hit me all at once, a jumble of his thoughts and emotions. The walls of his mind were down, and I invaded it like a marauder.


    I felt his frustration at not being able to get through the ice-cold barrier of professionalism I had erected between us. His sexual arousal flooded over me in a warm wash of heady lust. He wanted me really bad. He wanted to make mad passionate love to me non-stop, until I begged him to stop. He wanted to rip the clothes off my body where I stood and ravage me every way possible, to own my body and soul completely. He wanted to watch me swallow as he buried his cock to the hilt in my mouth. He wanted to see the love in my eyes as I took all he had to give, the ultimate commitment.


    His need, so powerful, called to me. I was instantly wet, hot, aching for him to fill me completely. My nipples turned to hard little pebbles as my body reacted to him involuntarily. I could barely restrain myself from tearing off my clothes to accommodate him.


    Then I caught something else, a thread of anxiety, he feared me. Not me precisely, but the idea of attaching himself to me. The emotional investment was too much for him. Fear of loss, of losing someone who can die so easily. My multiple brushes with death served to remind him constantly of my frailty. I was too breakable. He didn¡¯t want to love me, didn¡¯t want the pain of losing me. Enrique guarded his heart closely, preferring to stay emotionally detached from everything and everyone.


    Too many times before he¡¯d loved and lost. I saw faces of numerous women throughout two centuries. Spaniard women, French women, English women, even a couple of dark Nubian slave girls. They all died one way or another, most sooner than they should have. Some he had killed inadvertently, in the heat of passion. He learned severe self-control through several painful accidents. When he saw me lying there in a pool of my own blood, half-dead after being stabbed so many times, the truth of my mortality hit him hard. He thought I wouldn¡¯t make it.


    All he¡¯d ever wanted was for me to be happy. Yet at every turn I was put at risk, if not from him and Lia in the course of our intimacy, then by Lia¡¯s deviousness. He wanted so badly to see me smile again. He¡¯d do anything to see me smile. I hadn¡¯t smiled at him in two months.


    I felt his righteous fury at what had been done to me. He wished he could kill Lia a thousand times over to find an outlet for his murderous rage. He hated the fact that not only had she almost killed me, but she succeeded in ruining all that was once good between us. I had based so many of my erroneous assumptions on Lia¡¯s lies. She didn¡¯t kill me, but she killed my love for him.


    He¡¯d been in such a rage that night. He tracked down Arana, found him in a hospital emergency room. Enrique snuck into Arana¡¯s room and fed from him till his heart stopped. No amount of CPR could bring him back. His body was three pints shy of the necessary blood to keep his heart pumping. Francisco Lopez died at the age of thirty three, of a heart attack, and no one had a clue it was actually a homicide.


    I hadn¡¯t known what happened to Arana. I had hoped to forget him. Enrique never told me. I didn¡¯t hear it in the news, the event passed over, an unremarkable death. To ensure the situation remained undiscovered, Enrique bribed Conchita with thirty thousand to keep her silent about what she¡¯d seen. It floored me to learn all this shocking news in a span of seconds. He had to hold me up as my knees gave out.


    The strong pressure of his arms around me sunk my telepathy in deep. There underneath all the turmoil, all the shocking revelations, was the underlying truth. The reason he feared losing me, the reason he worked so tirelessly to regain my favor. He loved me. He had loved me since our first night together when I lay naked in his arms, entrusting my life to his protection.


    It was the single most powerful emotion coursing through him as he supported my weight in his arms. Love. He loved me with all his heart and soul. He was so proud of me for all that I¡¯d been through, all that I¡¯d accomplished, all that I¡¯d become. In spite of all my flaws and his numerous fears, he loved me. There could be no denying it. We were both in love. No point denying it.


    Sublime joy brought tears to my eyes. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to be loved so completely, better than sex, better than being bitten over and over. He loved me, Esperanza de Salvador.


    As I kissed him and told him how much I loved him over and over it occurred to me that maybe my name wasn¡¯t a mistake after all. My mother knew exactly what she was doing when she named me. No matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, as long as we have love, there¡¯s always hope for salvation.


    The End