39. Say Please
Chapter thirty-nine
Say Please
Astoria
Three years later, Tulum, Mexico
Moving here has been the boldest, craziest thing I’ve ever done. It didn’t take long to find a hotel that needed an accountant who spoke both languages and had enough experience to run things on her own. I’ve never been this… calm. Thank heavens Mindy’s parents helped me get all the paperwork so that I could stay and work here. For a week, I’ve been living in my house, which is two miles away from the beach, and every time I buy a new piece of furniture, I squeal on a call with Mindy.
The therapist I’ve been seeing says to keep a tight schedule, and that has translated into me running four miles every weekday after work so I’m too tired to think or remember, plus being the slave of two black and one orange cat. One and Two are the black cats, and Three is the orange one, of course.
Even with all the work and running, Julian still invades my mind every night. Tonight is no exception. After showering, I roll into bed and there he is, making my pussy and ass throb for him. It’s extra fucked up that he taught me how to masturbate because it means I can't think of anyone else but him while doing it. The ritual belongs to him. I sigh, then toss and turn in bed for hours, trying to resist touching myself. I wish he didn't still have this power over me because maybe then I'd hate myself a little less but it's the memories with Julian that make me wet. I close my eyes and let the craving and thoughts run through me.
Although the memory makes me sick, I'm addicted. The way Julian’s dick stretched me, filled me, swept in and out of me. My self control melts away. I think of that night in the hotel.
I moan as my fingers satisfy the urge, but only for a second before it returns, both holes screaming for him. He showed me the heaven and hell of being fucked in every orifice, and I can't stop needing to feel it again.
I don't want to do it, but I know there's only one thing that will take enough of the edge off so that I can sleep. I open the video he sent me when we last met, grab the dildo from my nightstand’s drawer, stick it to the wooden floor, and pour lube all over.
This is the last time. I promise.
I sink myself onto it. It’s too big, just like him. It hurts so much it draws my tears, takes my breath, stretching and hurting me, but I need it. I scroll on the video to where I'm a screaming, sobbing mess and Asher says through his teeth, “This is what you wanted. Take it." My screams bounce off the walls of the hotel room. The only way I can climax is if it tears me. I watch him fist me without mercy while bouncing on it, screaming his name and flicking at my already wet clit.
I nod at his accusation and command. " The thing about pretty girls is that they always have greedy assholes, but don’t worry, I’ll fill it again and again and again. We have all night long.”
"Yes." I come so hard that it hurts my belly. But instead of stopping, I hurry the video again to where he's about to come, listening to the groans and moans roll through him while I scream. My walls spasm and quake around the rubber while I sob, hating myself for doing this yet again. It had been three weeks. Now I have to start all over again.
The self-disgust takes over, just like it did with him, but I no longer have him forcing me as an excuse for these repulsive proclivities. I muffle my cry with the side of the mattress. Loneliness crashes back into me. I can't get myself to delete the video because I miss both versions of him. The shame drowns me. God knows I want to move on but I can't.
“Shhh," Asher tries to sooth me in the video.
There are no warm arms to hold me, no lips to kiss me and tell me it’s okay that I’m this sick, that I’m craving him and everything he did to me. I can’t believe there’s any part of me that feels like this for him.
"What's wrong with me, Asher? What did you do to me?"
“Shhh…"
My mind is a dumpster fire.
In the morning, as I drive my VW Bug to work, I’m still surprised he hasn’t shown up, dragged me back to his dungeon, and punished me. Would he use the same punishment? He said he’d always find me.
I can’t wait for him. No! That’s not true. He made my life a living hell. What the fuck is the matter with me?
I shake my head and tremble at the thoughts. Unbelievable, the things that run through my mind. It’s easy to fantasize and even climax at the romanticized memory of the man who destroyed my life and body. But if he appeared before me I'd have a heart attack. Time tends to soften everything.
I walk past the front desk and Cristian greets, “ Hola, preciosa. ” (Hi precious.) And it always pulls a smile out of me. Cristian and I always go to lunch together, so when my stomach rumbles, I come out of my tiny office with a sea view to the front desk.
“ Cristian, me voy a morir de hambre. ” (Cristian, I’m going to die of hunger.)
“ No puedo Astoria, mira la fila. ” (I can’t Astoria, look at the line.) Jesus, there are twelve families in line waiting for their keys.
“ Quieres que te ayude ?” (Do you want me to help you?)
“ No linda. Ve tu sola. ” (No, beautiful. You go alone.)
“ Okay. Te voy a traer ensalada. ” (Okay, I’ll bring you a salad.)
“Te amo!”
Although I’m tired of eating at the hotel’s restaurant, I don’t want to go too far outside, especially alone. I order our salads and water and sit at the bar. A man in a suit sits next to me, but I don’t turn my attention to him. When he greets me, saying hi, I roll my eyes.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I’m not interested. It’s not gonna happen. Go away,” I say with a scowl on my face.
He laughs and I lift my eyes to see him. My mouth drops. He’s tall, tanned, with wet black hair slicked back. His hazel eyes are enormous. Oh fuck! He's gorgeous. “I’m… so sorry.”
“Apology accepted. I hope you’re not that rude to all the customers,” he says with a thick accent and a wide, sexy smile. His voice is not anywhere as deep as Julian’s but it’s deep enough.
“Well, that’s why they keep me away from the customers.”
He laughs again. “Wow.”
“What?” I ask, feeling defensive.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, Miss uh,” his gaze drops to my name tag. “Miss Torres.”
I sigh, roll my eyes, and go back to eating.
“Doesn’t accept compliments either. Hmm. A tough cookie. So, what do you do here?”
“Look, Mr. uhhh–”
“Alcaraz,” he finishes for me.
“Mr. Alcaraz. I appreciate your compliment and I’m sorry for being so rude, but…” I stare at him and sigh because he is so hot. “I’m here to work, not make friends, or date. If you have something you need to address with me professionally about the hotel, then I’ll be back on the clock in fifteen minutes. Anything else is a terrible idea. Have an amazing stay.”
I pack my and Cristian’s lunch and walk away. Forty-five minutes later, my office phone rings.
“Hi. Uh, Astoria?”
“Cristian?”
“Administration would like to see you in the presidential hotel suite.”
A sinking sensation fills my chest, and stomach. I have no doubt this is about that man. “In the suite? Well, that hasn’t happened in all the years I’ve been here.”
“I know but remember we changed owners months ago. It’s not rare for them to stay in the presidential suite and use the office. What did you do?”
“Nothing. I had lunch. Some creeper hit on me–”
“Oh shit, Astoria. What did you say?”
In the time I’ve worked here, I’ve built quite the wall toward men in general. Anytime a guy hits on me, it’s as if he’s challenging me to be rude. They don't know I'm really saving them from my stalker. Cristian laughs and often grieves for their egos. Sometimes I take it too far, but I’ve never gotten in trouble for it. Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything. I sigh and close my eyes. I think the only reason Julian never killed Romeo is ‘cause he was too busy trying not to kill me. “Cristian…”
“Yes?”
“Never mind.” I wanted to ask him to come with me, but he couldn’t leave the front desk.
“Bye. Remember to breathe.”
“Bye.”
I have to walk through the entire hotel to get to the tower where the suite is. I take the elevator all the way up and knock. One of our butlers opens the door.
“Miss Torres, right this way.” He leads me through the apartment to an office and closes the door after leaving. The wall behind the giant desk is made of glass, like the one in the hotel where I willingly fucked Julian. The difference here is that the view is of the ocean and the room is much more spacious. I only walk up three steps before he lifts his eyes to me. It’s Mr. Alcaraz. My heart painfully hammers. I resist allowing my mouth to fall open and my eyes to widen or the chill to make me tremble.
“Miss Torres, come in. I hope you had a peaceful lunch.” He stands, walks around the desk, and leans his butt on the edge of it with his arms crossed.
Even though I suspected something like this was about to happen, I’m panicking. I love working here, I love my routine. I just bought a house and I need this job to pay for it. I’m just getting my life together. There are so many things I still need to fix, but at least… Oh God. This is unbelievable, but I won’t apologize. Asher told me apologizing makes me look like a victim. I’m not fucking apologizing.
“I had a great lunch, Mr. Alcaraz. I hope you did too?”
I walk up to a seat and stay behind it, using it as a border between us. He stays quiet for too long, studying me.
“Was there something you needed from me?” I ask, sounding exactly how I want, like an ice queen, but still panicking inside.
“Yes. There have been numerous discrepancies in the last three reports you’ve sent to the board of trustees, and I’m here to discuss those with you.”
“Oh.”
He returns to his side of the desk and pats his chair. “Come sit.” Again there’s that menacing smile.
I sit in his chair, roll it nearer to the desk, and look up at him. “Please, unlock your screen.”
He reaches over and does just that. Opened files from six months ago stare back at me. I spend the next five hours explaining my methods to keep the numbers clear and not lose sight of a penny. Everything is clean. We move from the computer to printed copies, making notes so that he will understand and can explain it to his bosses.
“I think it’s best if you join the administrators for a meeting and explain your methods. They’d appreciate a clearer view and perhaps want to teach this to the other accountants so that it’s uniform and used across all the properties.”
“I wouldn’t mind. It’s getting late so I should–”
“Would you mind joining me for dinner? I ordered some food for us since it’s getting late.”
“I–”
“I promise not to bite, Ms. Torres.”
I narrow my eyes into slits at his teasing. It’s not your bite I fear, Mr. Alcaraz.
For dinner, he ordered all my favorites from the hotel’s restaurant; the fried fish with Jasmine rice, black beans, and tostones. I can see the proud smile on his face from a mile away, but I’m not impressed. So he managed to get the inside scoop on what I like to eat, so the fuck what?
“I heard you prefer red wine.”
“I can’t drink since I have to driv–”
“I’ll have my chauffeur take you and pick you up in the morning. Relax. You’re safe.”
My chuckle turns into a giggle fest. It dies when I remember the last time I laughed like that. It was when I was with Asher. I take a sip of wine, trying to drown the memory. Not now Asher.
“You have quite the reputation.” His words save me from falling down the rabbit hole of thinking of Asher.
“I do?”
“Yeah. An ice queen/work nazi. In and out of work, all business, no play.”
“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”
“It’s not illegal to have fun sometimes, Astoria.”
“I have plenty of fun at home, Mr. Alcaraz.” I shrug as I take a bite of the fish.
“You can call me Sebastian.”
I know he's waiting for my permission to call me by my first name and eventually, after waiting a few minutes, he chuckles.
As dinner progresses, the alcohol relaxes me. In the meantime, I learn Sebastian has worked for the hotel's corporation since the beginning, rose through the ranks, and accumulated quite the comfortable life, fast. His job is to go from hotel to hotel to ensure everything is in order, from the numbers to the service to the decoration to the sheets.
“So, given how I behaved earlier and your position… am I fired?” I half joke.
“Is that why you’ve been so tense since you arrived?”
“I like my job.”
“You’re not fired. But–”
“But what?”
“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
“I thought you’d heard everything there was to know about me, the ice queen, the nazi…”
“I want to hear it from you, Astoria.”
I shrug. “There’s nothing special about me. I moved here three years ago, fell in love with this hotel, and started working here. I just bought my first home and I like my life the way it is.”
“And… before?”
“I lived in the United States, where I was born. My mother was Puerto Rican.”
“And your father?”
“Never existed. We were poor, and I learned that if I wanted to get out of poverty, I would have to work harder than anyone I knew, so that’s what I did and I like my life the way it is.”
“Yes, you keep saying that. What are you hiding, Astoria?”
“Am I being accused of something?”
“No. But I can tell something has you tied around its little finger. You’re wound up quite tight.”
“Well, maybe you should mind your own business.”
“Careful with your tone, ice .”
“Are we on the clock?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought, so let me put it to you this way. First of all, it's ice queen to you. Second of all, you really should mind your own fucking business.”
Laughter bursts out of him.
Why do I have the feeling I’ve been caught in a spider’s web? “I need to leave.”
A panic attack is rising in me, perhaps because he’s walking right behind me. When I turn the door handle, his palm flattens on the door above me, keeping it shut. The trapped sensation takes my breath and energy away. My legs are about to fail me. I can’t think. Not again.
“Sebastian, it’s been a lovely dinner and now I need to go home.” I form a fist with my other hand and turn around. He kisses me and I kiss him back. His lips are thick, consuming mine. Then his tongue slips into my mouth, trying to dominate me. My protest is muffled. He continues and I lean my back on the door. Our breaths are heavy.
I push at his chest but he doesn’t stop. I stomp on his foot. Still doesn’t stop. I yank my lips away from him, looking to the side, and my right hand flies to slap him, but he catches my wrist in the air.
“Don’t do this.” I’m losing my brave front. "Please." Fuck. I messed up already. Never beg.
“Don’t do what? Kiss you?”
“Don’t force yourself on me.”
His gaze and thumb sweep across my wet, swollen lips. “But you like it, Astoria.”
I whimper and shake my head.
“I already told you. I will not hurt you. You’re safe.”
“You’re n–not making me feel safe. I want to go home now.”
“Say please.”
My eyes snap open at his callousness. He’s playing with me, enjoying my fear, just like Julian. I don’t need another sadistic asshole in my life. The rage rises in me like a volcano that has been sleeping for three years and can no longer wait. I slap him, dig my heel into his shoe, then knee him in the balls.
“Fucking please!” I yell.
He's busy holding his balls, coughs, and laughs. “I can tell already that you’re gonna be my wife.”
“Yeah. When hell freezes over,” I yell as I bolt out. Once outside the room, I press the elevator button but run to the stairs. One floor below, I cross the building to the other elevators and take those all the way down.