HOOKUP!

CHAPTER THREE

The night wind whips past me, spreading my hair around. The feeling of the wind calms me as I walk home with my heels in hand.

I left the club in such a hurry that anyone who saw me would think I was crazy. I didn't want him to come out of the shower, and come find me.

Who am I kidding? I'm just a whore, why would he even bother to look for me? After all, he already got what he wanted.

You do know he paid for a night, not for one round. My subconscious snark.

I shut down that thought as a guilt bubble inside me, he did pay for a night. He wouldn't have paid fifteen grand just for me to run out.

My legs tingle, I can still feel his cock buried inside me. The way it felt, his lips on my skin as he ran his fingers down my body—

What the hell? Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about him.

That was the best sex of my entire life, and it was from a hookup.

I hate it, hate how I feel so dirty. I am not supposed to like the sex the way I did, it was just a one night stand or in my case a one time thing.

I am not supposed to want more, but I do. I want to run back to the club, strip naked and let him fuck me senseless.

But I can't, I won't.

It was a one time thing, and it's over. Now I search for a job, and leave this life behind.

I try to force the thoughts of the blue eyed man behind my head.

But it's impossible as I climb the stairs in this god forsaken apartment every step brings a dull ache that reminds me of the blue-eyed man.

Damnit.

Huffing loudly, I successfully climb the last steps rushing to my room.

I immediately plop down on my bed as I already showered at the club.

Grabbing my laptop, I click on my linked in account as I surf through the app in search of a job.

My hands scroll repeatedly, applying for any, and all jobs I could get my hands on.

A notification pops up on my laptop, I click on it to reveal I have a job match.

LG TECH is in need of a secretary. Perfect. I quickly apply for the job, crossing my fingers in hopes of it working out.

When I have successfully surfed enough, and applied to about twenty jobs. I lay on my bed, and forced myself not to think about him.

The man who gave me my first orgasm, the man whose fingers are like magic, the man whose mark is forever etched on my skin….

Stop thinking about him.

I will myself to finally shut my eyes, and fall into a disturbed sleep.

“Stop being so difficult, and let us have our way.” he grunts, his first meeting my face in a sharp punch.

My head rears back as I tumble to the floor.

“DADDDD!!! HELP ME PLEASE!!!!” I scream out loud.

The other guy lunges at me, his fisting pounding into my side.

“Shut the fuck up bitch!!! He won’t save you.” another one behind growls.

Those green eyes stare at me intently, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

“You will regret the day you came into my life.” he laughs, his fingers going towards the switch.

No, no, no, not the lights. I try to scream but before I can he flicks the switch plunging us into darkness.

A moment of silence then different arms grab me, pressing, hitting.

“AHHHH!!!!” I scream awake, sweat trickles down my forehead as I pant.

My vision blurs from the tears forming in my eyes, I take short gasps pressing my palm to my chest in a miserable aim to alleviate the pain.

It’s okay.

It’s in the past, he can’t find you. He is gone.

A sound of pain tears out of my lips as tears stream down my eyes.

Why can’t I just forget it all? My palm forms into a fist as I plunge it to my chest repeatedly.

The physical pain is nothing compared to what I feel wrecking my insides apart.

I fold my legs up, curling into a ball as I cry for the miserable person I am, for the demons that haunt my dreams.

*

Once I was feeling better I got dressed, and headed to the club for my money.

He probably slashed my money in half as I ran before time.

What was I thinking? Urgh, that was so unprofessional of me.

So what if he didn’t kiss me? So what if I feel like trash because he didn’t see me as someone worth kissing.

If I remember correctly I am a whore.

And so what if I felt like my heart would rip to pieces if he saw me as a whore.

I would probably never see him again so what does it matter?

“If it isn’t a famous whore.” a familiar voice stops me as soon as I am outside the club.

I turn around to stare at the only person who derives fun in taunting me.

“Hello Hale, how are you?” I force out the words.

Dressed in his usual joggers, and hoodie is none other than Hale Parker, my one, and only ex.

We dated for almost two years until he found out I was a stripper. Since then he derives joy in dragging me down.

He never even asked me why I did the job, just assumed the worst.

I didn’t give a rat's shit if he was fine or not, but in order to get away from him is to act like a saint when he sees me as a whore.

“Pft. Like a whore like you could even care. All you care about is getting your pussy fucked like a slut that you are.” he barks at me.

The words stings so bad, ripping my insides out. But I would die before showing that his words hurt.

I look down at my phone, eight am sharp, “Isn't it too early for this?” I ask, a smile finding its way to my lips.

I didn’t feel like smiling, I felt like ripping him to shreds with my words. I felt like crying my eyes out that a man I once loved could treat me like this.

I felt like screaming at the universe for casting a curse of bad luck on me, because no matter what I did I never found happiness.

“You are so disgusting, your face alone repulses me.” he snaps, turning around and walks off.

I took a deep breath, forcing a smile out of my lips as I marched towards the club entrance.

This is me, my life. No matter what happens I always smile, my tears are for no one to see.

*

Turns out he was generous enough to actually pay the whole money as he promised.

Madame gave a signal nod as she handed me my money.

I smiled happily for the first time in a while as I bounced out of the club.

I collapse in my bed, a smile still present on my lips as I recount the dozens of things I got to do.

I restocked my drugs, paid my rent, sorted my other bills, bought groceries, and still had enough to last for a while.

The blaring of my phone attracts my attention, stretching over. I grab it up.

An unknown number.

It can’t be him. It isn’t him. Chills ran down my spine as I scrambled away from my phone, his voice ringing in my head.

“When I want you, I will find you. Because you are mine.”

No, it can't be.