Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (11 page)

His arm over her shoulder, Charlie held Les’s hand and his guitar as she led them to the elevators. Once the doors were closed, he let go of her and turned her toward him.

“I’m sorry that happened. He was a jerk.” His eye, the one not swelling shut, spoke apologies, but the grim set of his mouth said he’d be happy to do it again, even through the split skin.

Charlie sighed in exasperation, unsure if she was aggravated at Les, or the situation in general. “I know. I’m sorry it happened, too. Jerks are everywhere. You can’t beat them all up, Les.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him with a finger laid softly against his broken lips. “Don’t say it.”

She left her finger there, and was a little amused when he whispered around it, “Okay.”

Then, before she realized what was happening, Les had taken her hand in his, twining their fingers together, and wrapped his arm around her body, slowly pulling her flush against him. His eyes softened as they pierced her, filling her with electricity at his touch, before his head dipped toward hers. Slowly, his lips grazed against hers, and the soft touch made Charlie’s lungs not work. Suddenly, the elevator was a vacuum, devoid of oxygen. Les pulled away, the unspoken question in his eyes, before Charlie swept her own mouth over his, bonding their lips more firmly, trying to be careful of his sore lips.

His mouth eagerly returned her intentions, and she realized how badly she wanted this.

He groaned as their soft lips joined, molding to each others’ contours, as his hands snaked through her hair holding her in place for his assault on her lips. His scent overwhelmed her, and she found her own hands clutching the front of his shirt.

His tongue traveled the seam of her lips, and with a whimper that said she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, she opened. He swooped in, conquering her mouth. Charlie nearly came undone at the forcefulness coupled with the gentility of it all. Their tongues entwined, slid together, exploring each other’s mouths. She tried to pull back a little, not wanting to hurt his injured lips, but Les made a funny noise at the back of his throat at her obvious intent, and gripped her harder, continuing the kiss with renewed fervor. It was needy, possessive, and everything she’d never wanted with a man. But she loved it.

He tasted like whiskey and storm clouds. All of the tumult of the days with him fled as they kissed, swallowing each other’s moans. He pressed her against the wall of the elevator, pushing his pelvis against hers and she felt his arousal. Just as she was going to reach down to stroke it, further inflaming him, Les broke away from the kiss.

He didn’t let go of her head. Still gripping her hair, he leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, as if he were gathering his thoughts. Charlie was glad somebody was thinking here, because she was ready to rip his clothes off.

She unclenched her fingers from his shirt and smoothed the fabric, but he didn’t move away, and she didn’t push him away. Finally, he opened his eyes, and Charlie saw the wealth of emotion in the depths.

“Do you understand what I mean now, Charlie?” The elevator doors opened, and he kissed her hard, just once, before grabbing her hand and leading her to their room.

Once inside, he unbuttoned the top button of his collar and turned to her. She was afraid to move, not trusting herself. This was it. The entire night was leading to this moment. All the flirtation, the dancing, the kisses. Les wanted her, and she wanted him. But if she did this, he would want more than sex, it was his nature, he’d said as much. And she couldn’t give it.

Charlie didn’t realize she was shaking her head until Les spoke.

“You won’t let me say it, because you think you can hurt me?” His eyes flashed with pent-up frustration and his voice rose. She caught herself flinching as he unbuckled his belt and ripped it out of its belt loops, angry and frustrated. The swishing noise as the leather travelled through the loops of wool of his trousers was like a call for submission. A call for punishment

Coupled with the anger in his eyes, the movement brought back memories of other men doing the same before using the belt on her. Memories she’d buried long ago. Sounds of her own shrieking pleading filled her mind as she automatically dropped to the floor on her knees, face in her hands, in a gesture long forgotten. Her muscle memory took over, and before she realized it, she was curled in a ball on the floor, making her body as small a target as possible for the leather hitting her flesh she knew was about to come.

He saw her motion and looked at the belt before dropping it to the floor with a jangling thud. “Christ… What’s happened to you? I would never hit you, Charlie.” The tenderness in his voice brought tears to the surface of her eyes, but she blinked them back her face still buried in her hands. She’d heard the words before,
I don’t want to hurt you, but you force me to do this, you slut.

It had been so long, she’d thought she’d forgotten. Apparently not, though, as she found herself on the floor of yet another room, huddled against a bed, waiting for the tortures she knew were coming. Charlie was no longer in the present. She was no longer on a date, fighting her attraction against this really nice guy. She had travelled back to a time filled with beatings and put-downs, desperately trying to survive a life she had to get out of, or she would die.

Les dropped to his knees, but didn’t come closer. He didn’t touch her, but he brought his face close to hers so his breath brushed across her face, repeating himself. “I would never hurt you, Charlie.” If only he knew. A sob escaped her throat, and she couldn’t stop the tears from tracking down her face while she clawed at reality in her mind. She was with Les. She had legitimately made him angry, but he wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t rape her. He wouldn’t beat her.

She forced herself to relax, but still couldn’t move from her position on the floor.

“I want you to know I would never do something you’re not comfortable with. I just can’t think straight.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. Charlie raised her head and saw his fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders heaving with cleansing breaths. She did the same, feeling calmer as she brought oxygen into her body. Her heart rate slowed, and her breathing return to normal. Looking at Les, she realized his eyes were glassy, as if her display wrung some unnamed emotion from him.

The wildness was gone from his eyes and had been replaced by concern. Not that she could deal with that any better…

“Are you okay? I’m sorry.” He was close to her, and his fist clenched, like he wanted to touch her but was holding himself back.

“Stop apologizing, Les. I’m fucked up. You just haven’t seen it because you’ve never been around me this much. Nobody has in a long time.” Probably ever. She’d never been around any one person for four consecutive days in her life. Except for The Man. Her parents were her parents, Adam had had school and a job, and there hadn’t been anybody else, with the possible exception of her roommate in the facility, but even she had to go to therapy and stuff.

She forced herself to stand on shaky legs, not looking at Les. She didn’t want to see the pity she knew would be there.

Exhausted, she flopped on her bed and threw her arm over her face. She’d managed to push all these memories back, with the help of years of therapy, and suddenly being around Les was bringing everything back up to the surface again. She needed to make an appointment with her shrink as soon as she got back to Serendipity to see what the hell was going on.

Les’s deflated voice came from across the room. “Okay. I’m going to bed then.”

She heard the rustle of clothes as Les stripped and slid under the covers of his bed. She heard the click of the lamp and darkness pierced her eyelids. But his breathing remained heavy over on his side of the room. She was hurting him, and she hadn’t even let him in.

Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.

She slipped her own clothes off under the covers and rolled over, willing sleep to take her to oblivion.

Oblivion didn’t happen though…

“Mama?”

She looked to the door, where her mother’s head poked through. Her mother had always been beautiful to her, in a worn-out way. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and needed washing. Her skin was clear, if not pale and washed out, but hung loosely on her bones. She was her mama though, and Carla May thought she was beautiful.

“Shhh…just be quiet and let the man do what he’s going to do. It’ll be alright,” Mama said from the doorway before disappearing behind the door.

The man stood at the foot of the bed and Carla May knew what he would do next; he’d done the same thing last week and the week before. She’d heard Daddy say he could do it whenever he wanted as long as he had the money. She wondered where the money went, though. And why she had to do this. This was the third man this week, and her parents acted like it wasn’t enough. She just wanted them to be happy, but did it have to be this way?

A tear streaked down Carla May’s cheek as she tried to pull her legs up to her chest. She knew that wouldn’t stop the man, but it seemed to slow him down a little bit. She had to do this or else Daddy would beat her up again. She was scared of Daddy, and Mama always just told her to do what Daddy said. Daddy said to do this, so she would do it.

The man was dirty. He’d just come from someplace dirty. She could smell him, and he smelled bad.

“Quit crying. I’m gonna make you learn to love this, Sugar.”

He grabbed her hand and put it over the hard ridge in his pants, breathing in her face. “That’s right, Sugar. Just like that.” She pressed against the ridge, because it made him close his eyes and stop looking at her. “Next time, I’m going to get them to tie you face down.” His greasy hands slid up her shirt and squeezed where her boobs would be someday, hard. She clenched her eyes shut, wrinkling her nose against the smell.

“Charlie?”
A familiar voice broke from the man’s face, and she pushed against him, wanting him to go away.
“Charlie? Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
“Mama!” She squirmed against the man. “Mama! Make him stop, please!” The man stood, and unzipped his pants, and Carla May screamed.

“Charlie!” Strong hands were shaking her awake and she fought them. When she opened her eyes, she saw Les gripping her arms tightly, eyes shining brightly. He pulled her towards him, enveloping her in a hug, rocking her back and forth. She realized she was crying. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you. Shhhh…” She inhaled deeply, washing away the stench of the nightmare, filling her lungs with Les’s clean man scent.

Oh god…she’d had a nightmare and Les had seen it. He felt too good to fight, though. His arms held her while she let the tears fall. She allowed the comfort from Les, knowing that if he knew her truths, he would be gone with the wind.

Tears for a lost childhood. Tears for abusive parents. Tears for lost loves. Tears even, for Les and what might have been. They all fell, while he rocked her in his arms, whispering soothing words of reassurance in her ears.

He stroked the skin of her back, anchoring her in the reality far from her dreams. The reality she’d established for herself, reminding her that she’d left the nightmares behind and fulfilled her own dreams. Charlie had left her childhood and adolescent mistakes in the past, where they belonged, and she’d grown up. She was an adult—with a successful business, a home she owned, who made regular contributions to society. The reminder helped dry up her tears of self-pity.

“I’m okay, now. Thanks.” She sniffed the last of her tears and took the tissue Les offered her, blowing her nose as daintily as she could.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked her softly.

“No.” The last thing she wanted was talk about her past. To anyone, especially someone she thought she might be falling for.

She looked at him, and he watched her face, intently. It was as if he was uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say. Of course, she’d just woke him up with one of her screaming mimi nightmares. Anybody would be uncomfortable. She looked down at her lap.

And realized she was naked.

That’s why he was uncomfortable, he was trying to be a gentleman and not stare at her breasts. Quickly, she pulled the sheet up around her breasts. “Sorry…” she muttered.

He chuckled softly. “It’s okay, Sweetness. You sure you’re okay?”

Was she? Would the nightmare come back as soon as she went to sleep? Sometimes it did, sometimes not. She’d taken her medication, she always did. That couldn’t be it.

“I’m honestly not sure. But I’m going to try to get back to sleep. Okay? Will you be able to?”

“Um… About earlier. I wasn’t mad at you. You know that right? I was just frustrated about… everything.”

She nodded, not willing to discuss her reaction to his belt. “Yeah, Les. I get it. I can’t talk about that right now. I’m tired.” She tried to be dismissive, but it came out sounding bitchy, and she regretted her words almost immediately. Charlie wasn’t going to take them back. She couldn’t talk about this with Les.

“Yeah.” He opened his mouth but snapped it shut. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before climbing into his own bed.

No one had ever done that before, such an innocent kiss, no innuendo. That one tiny gesture did more to soothe her than almost anything else he’d ever done, except sing.

“Les?”

“Hmm?” The timbre of his voice from the bed next to hers sent a shudder of longing through her body. Longing for what though, she wasn’t sure.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

“Of course, Sweetness. You close your eyes and rest now. I’ll sing you to sleep.”

How could one man be so damned good?

From prepared Congressional report entitled: “Sex Trafficking of Children in the United States: Overview and Issues for Congress”

“… experts widely agree that any efforts to reduce the prevalence of child sex trafficking—as well as other forms of trafficking—should address not only the supply, but also the
demand.
“