Chapter 10 A Nice Dream

As people dispersed, Harold rolled his fingers over the check-in information card and suddenly spoke, "Maggie."
His voice, tainted by the dense cola and cigarette smoke, made her heart skip a beat.
She walked over hesitantly, saying, "Yes?"
With the light against him, his expression was unclear. "You don't look well. Has the medication not worn off?"
As he spoke, he returned the check-in information card. Maggie took it, blushing profusely. "It has worn off. I'm just cold."
Her gaze shifted downward to the man's dry and slender fingers, with neatly trimmed round nails. When they had inserted into her body, the slight calluses on his fingertips were distinct, and his touch could corrode the mind, penetrating her tremors, vigorously targeting that unknown point...
Maggie's lower body tightened, and a few warm drops of liquid trickled out, sticking to her underwear.
She clenched her fingers tight and asked while looking up, "Sir, am I free to go?"
Harold's tone was flat. "I didn't stop you."
Rain mixed with snow fell from the sky, and the man's body emitted a high temperature, as if covered by a golden bell jar, shielding him from the wind and snow particles.
Maggie was undoubtedly trembling severely, and he sternly reminded her, "Aren't you freezing? You can leave here."
"Alright." She responded and turned to walk quickly towards the Rolls-Royce. Once she got in the back seat, the driver had just finished a phone call and glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
Maggie lifted the window and looked towards the revolving door. Harold was no longer in the original spot, leaving her with mixed emotions.
She was just an ABC television host and could only come into contact with the highest officials like the ABC Manager, who had just been promoted to deputy director and was still not seen more than three times a year.
Harold's status was undeniably important, and she dared not think too much about it. She only thought that perhaps God was looking at her lonely year of a sexless marriage in the desolate wilderness, granting her a climax-filled dream.
Maggie tapped the back of the driver's seat. "Sam, take me back to the employee dormitory at the television station."
She took out a long cardigan from the trunk and waited for a while, but the car remained motionless. "Sam?"
"Madam, Mr. Williams hasn't come out, so I can't leave."
"Drive me first and then come back. He won't finish so quickly."
The driver hesitated. "Mr. Williams gave me instructions over the phone." After saying that, he locked the car door with a click. "I must keep Madam here."
Maggie was startled. She pulled the interior door handle and said, "I have no relationship with him anymore, Sam. What you're doing is unfair to me."
Matt could come up with cheap tricks like taking aphrodisiacs together, and there was no guarantee he wouldn't escalate to do something even more malicious.
He claimed to have found Maggie's masturbation tool, and Maggie also found his sex toys with his male partner. A whole box full of them was stored under the wardrobe. The variety of shapes and the twisted forms were astonishing.
"Can I just pretend I haven't seen you and go back myself?" The driver remained indifferent as Maggie pounded on his shoulder.
"Sam, I've been good to you for over a year. Your daughter had two major illnesses, and I took care of her every time. I even got you double gifts for the holidays. Who in the Williams family would care about these things? Be a decent person, for the sake of your conscience!"
"Ma'am..." He hesitated, then unlocked the trunk.
"How will you get back? It's a deserted area in the suburbs, no transportation. It's difficult to walk without a car, especially alone..."
Maggie slammed the car door, wrapped her coat tightly around her, and started walking along the curb. She was dejected, her tears uncontrollable, flowing continuously. She started crossing out a line with her finger, as if erasing the rain pouring down endlessly.
She had intended to flag down a private car coming out of The Grand Club and negotiate with the driver if she could pay for a ride. But she ended up flagging down two or three cars, and the drivers said it was no problem, but the back seats were filled with drunken sots, their eyes as slippery as moss. She hesitated; not all wealthy people who can enter The Grand Club have good manners. There are also nouveau riche, business owners, and spoiled brats who come from far away and feign elegance.
Maggie walked a long way, feeling disheartened. Suddenly, a long string of sirens blared, and four or five police cars raced by, followed by three military jeeps, all crowding behind a Mercedes with a red flag. The scene outside the car window flashed by, an elderly man wearing a bright red embroidered robe, sitting in the backseat next to a young woman. It was a grand and prestigious sight. Harold's Audi was suspended at the end of the line of cars, with a license plate from City A, displaying a series of alarming zeroes.