Halt in the name of the Crown!” The voice, a woman’s, was almost enough to make him hesitate. That was a change he hadn’t foreseen. But her uniform was a blur of dark blue as he barreled into her, sending her crashing against the opposite wall.
He had barely reached the corner when a burning sensation grazed the side of his head as he turned and propelled himself into the abandoned elevator shaft.
*
Dressed only in an old pair of sweatpants, the man stood shirtless and barefoot on the polished marble floor. He looked out the wall-sized picture windows at the lights burning in the buildings on the opposite side of Central Park. It was a beautiful sight—the park, a pool of darkness, and the buildings like sheer cliffs rising from its depths. He never got used to it, this breathtaking view so far above the crowded sidewalks.
His own beginnings were much more humble, even destitute. He never forgot the painful gnaw of hunger. The memory often kept him from eating an extra serving or overindulging in the richness of food and drink that surrounded him. People frequently commented on his self-discipline. Both women and men looked with envy and desire at his tall, muscular physique.
He smiled mirthlessly to himself. There was nothing like starvation to instill an appreciation of healthy food, or the raw bite of a bitter winter to make one long for the warmth that comes with strenuous exercise.
He walked to the sofa and sat down, leaning back into the cushions. It was here, in this position, that she had straddled him. Only a short hour before, his hands had encircled her waist, and he had watched as she moved rhythmically above him, her head thrown back and hair cascading around her shoulders.
But what started out as desire never lasted. The simple act of sex itself was never enough. It always had to be harder, rougher. It ended on the floor with her face down, his hands pulling her hair back in a brutal grip. Her slender frame penned beneath him, the force of his thrusts pushing her violently into the unforgiving marble.
She had said nothing as she slipped the dress on over her head and pulled the high-heeled pumps onto her feet. She merely patted his cheek and smiled. When she reached to pick up the heavy fur coat from the chair onto which it had been flung, he saw a livid purple bruise rising on her forearm. It made him queasy.
“Don’t forget what you owe us,” she admonished him playfully and left.
Would she ever let him forget?
He got up, suddenly restless. He would go for a run. Perhaps the rush of endorphins would lift the curtain of depression that had fallen over him.
As he headed toward the bedroom, his cell phone rang. He grabbed it from the counter and kept walking.
“Hello… Ettie?” He pulled up short. “What…? My God! I’ll be right there!”
His head spun, and he stopped to catch his breath. What was happening? Was this even part of the plan?
His disorientation increased as his reality twisted into another dimension.
Six
AVA FOUND HIM asleep on her sofa. She couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten in. Her apartment was on the eighth floor, and the building boasted both an electronic security system and an actual human guard. Even she, with her key card, had been stopped and questioned a couple of times when there was a newly employed guard on duty.
Once, she had walked in next to a woman with a baby stroller, only to be waved on by a new guard assuming she was the nanny. I guess that’s one way of doing it, she thought, but doubted that Odell would ever be mistaken for the help.
He lay on his back. One long leg was stretched out on the couch and the other rested bent with his foot on the floor. His blond curls were in disarray, and she could see dried, matted blood along the left side of his head. He slept so deeply, she thought at first he might be dead. She held her breath until he moved restlessly and murmured something unintelligible before settling
He had barely reached the corner when a burning sensation grazed the side of his head as he turned and propelled himself into the abandoned elevator shaft.
*
Dressed only in an old pair of sweatpants, the man stood shirtless and barefoot on the polished marble floor. He looked out the wall-sized picture windows at the lights burning in the buildings on the opposite side of Central Park. It was a beautiful sight—the park, a pool of darkness, and the buildings like sheer cliffs rising from its depths. He never got used to it, this breathtaking view so far above the crowded sidewalks.
His own beginnings were much more humble, even destitute. He never forgot the painful gnaw of hunger. The memory often kept him from eating an extra serving or overindulging in the richness of food and drink that surrounded him. People frequently commented on his self-discipline. Both women and men looked with envy and desire at his tall, muscular physique.
He smiled mirthlessly to himself. There was nothing like starvation to instill an appreciation of healthy food, or the raw bite of a bitter winter to make one long for the warmth that comes with strenuous exercise.
He walked to the sofa and sat down, leaning back into the cushions. It was here, in this position, that she had straddled him. Only a short hour before, his hands had encircled her waist, and he had watched as she moved rhythmically above him, her head thrown back and hair cascading around her shoulders.
But what started out as desire never lasted. The simple act of sex itself was never enough. It always had to be harder, rougher. It ended on the floor with her face down, his hands pulling her hair back in a brutal grip. Her slender frame penned beneath him, the force of his thrusts pushing her violently into the unforgiving marble.
She had said nothing as she slipped the dress on over her head and pulled the high-heeled pumps onto her feet. She merely patted his cheek and smiled. When she reached to pick up the heavy fur coat from the chair onto which it had been flung, he saw a livid purple bruise rising on her forearm. It made him queasy.
“Don’t forget what you owe us,” she admonished him playfully and left.
Would she ever let him forget?
He got up, suddenly restless. He would go for a run. Perhaps the rush of endorphins would lift the curtain of depression that had fallen over him.
As he headed toward the bedroom, his cell phone rang. He grabbed it from the counter and kept walking.
“Hello… Ettie?” He pulled up short. “What…? My God! I’ll be right there!”
His head spun, and he stopped to catch his breath. What was happening? Was this even part of the plan?
His disorientation increased as his reality twisted into another dimension.
Six
AVA FOUND HIM asleep on her sofa. She couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten in. Her apartment was on the eighth floor, and the building boasted both an electronic security system and an actual human guard. Even she, with her key card, had been stopped and questioned a couple of times when there was a newly employed guard on duty.
Once, she had walked in next to a woman with a baby stroller, only to be waved on by a new guard assuming she was the nanny. I guess that’s one way of doing it, she thought, but doubted that Odell would ever be mistaken for the help.
He lay on his back. One long leg was stretched out on the couch and the other rested bent with his foot on the floor. His blond curls were in disarray, and she could see dried, matted blood along the left side of his head. He slept so deeply, she thought at first he might be dead. She held her breath until he moved restlessly and murmured something unintelligible before settling
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