22. Love, your husband

I groaned and rolled over my bed and grabbed the nearest robe I could find. A flimsy pink robe, that was almost see-through, but at least I wouldn’t be completely naked.

“Yes?”, I called. Can’t a girl orgasm in peace?

“It’s Aarav”, his deep voice carried through the door.

Unsteady on my feet, I opened my door a wee bit and poked my head out. I was clearly indecent. I didn’t want to scare that poor man off. Granted, he didn’t look like someone who got scared easily, but I didn’t want to take any risks.

Besides, I had my modesty to mind. Okay, now I was rambling to myself. Shush.

Aarav’s brows scrunched in confusion, “Why are you hiding?”

“Just because. How can I help you?”

“I thought waiting ten minutes after your last scream would give you enough time”, he smirked. Heat rushed to my cheeks. He knew. He heard it all.

I was certain I looked like a tomato, or worse, tomato ketchup right now.

“That colour suits you”, he chuckled. Pointing at my red face, he giggled, “Look, it’s getting worse”

“Stop pointing at it, you idiot. You are making it worse”

“Hey”, he admonished but I could detect a hint of playfulness, “Don’t forget I am still your boss”

“Sorry”, I murmured and then added sweetly, “Stop pointing at it, idiot sir. Better?”

“Very much”, he agreed.

“What’s gotten into you?”, I asked suspiciously. Aarav? The man who thought speaking wasted his time was bantering with me? Where did the sun rise from today, again?

“Told you this was my weekend mood. Unlike you, I am not always sullen and serious”

“Please”, I rolled my eyes, “don’t shoot your arrows at me”

“I am only shooting arrows that belong to you”

“Are you trying to tell me that I am sullen and serious?”, I scowled, the idea was preposterous. I was a happy, outgoing and chill girl. Not sullen.

“Trying? No. I am telling, with 100% certainty. You act all happy when you are talking, but once you stop talking, you are all sad”

“Excuse me if I don’t contort my face into a smile every breathing second of my life to conform to your idea of what happy looks like”, I muttered offended. Who was he to comment on my resting bitch/sad/sullen face? I wasn’t a doll with a smile prefixed.

“Hey, hey, hey”, he raised his hands in surrender, “I am not trying to attack you. I am sorry”.

I sighed, I was essentially naked and still half-drunk, “I’m tired. I want to sleep. Did you have a reason for coming here?”

“I do. When you poked that cute little head of yours out the door, I couldn’t resist teasing you but I actually came here for a very important reason”, his smile dropped off his face and he suddenly turned serious. The awkward, fun vibe of the room sucked away, and instead a heavy silence ensued.

“What is it?”, I asked, my heart thumping against my ribcage, anticipating his answer. For some reason, I believed it to be very crucial.

“You received another note”, my heart stilled. It really went stock-still. My grip on the handle of the door tightened as I felt breath leaving my body.

My legs wobbled and my voice shook as I reached my hand out, “Show me”

“It’s not important. I just wanted to tell you..”, he argued.

I interrupted, “Show me”

“No. There is no reason for you to read this. It’s ridiculous and…”

I interrupted him again, my voice hardening, even when the rest of me felt wobbly and weak, “Just show me”

He stretched his hand out, holding a small piece of paper, but he hesitated, “I haven’t read this because it was addressed to you, but whatever this vile man says, you know it’s not true and is never gonna happen right?”

“Yes, Yes”, I nodded, rigidly, “Just give it to me” and snatched the paper out of his hold.

The same blood-red ink and handwriting welcomed me and my breath hitched. My brain was a fuzzy frightened mess. While I didn’t know who he was and had next to no information about him, I knew that he was bad news. A very very bad news.

Why did it have to happen just after I had one of the most beautiful and intense orgasms in this world?

Gulping the saliva -or was it fear?- I unfolded the note.

As my eyes glazed over the words, the contents in my stomach started turning and I felt bile rise in my throat. I pushed away from the door and ran to my bathroom and after lifting the lid, emptied the contents of my stomach.

My throat burned with bile and my stomach was acting stupid. The implications of that note, the little word he had indicated to describe me and the reality of it all was too much to bear.

Soft, warm hands wrapped around the back of my head, gathering my hair. Oh god! This was embarrassing. He didn’t need to witness this.

I didn’t have enough strength to look up at him so I kept puking. And when I was sure nothing was moving out of my stomach in the near future, I closed the lid and laid my head on the cool tiles of the bathroom.

I heard his feet moving away from me and I relaxed a little, gaining some sense of privacy. That was when the first tear rolled down my cheek.

Lying on the cold tile floor in a fetal position, I reread the note I had crushed in my hand.

“Looks like you have no problem getting sold for money (I’d shorten this to a word, but I am a gentleman and it’s not good to call your future wife names, now, is it?)

I’m curious though, does that mean you’d happily marry me for a higher price? I’d be happy to oblige, darling.

I’m biding my time, letting the first buyer have its fun but I’ll soon come for you, my darling. Until later.

Love,

Your husband”

Was that what I was now? Was I really a whore?

I never knew who I was or what I wanted in life and maybe that is why my parents decided to label it for me. I was a whore now. A prostitute.

I felt dirty, shivers running over my spine. A sob escaped my lips as more tears fell freely. My body burning with shame and… I felt dirty, so fucking dirty.