Snowed In With A Predator 1

(I accidentally submitted this story with the wrong category. Sorry for the confusion, and thanks to Laurel for fixing it.)

This story depicts a particular slice of the American experience. It includes workplace sexual harassment, blackmail, and racist micro- and macro-aggressions. The viewpoint character is neither male nor white. The sex is exploitative and dubiously consensual. Please ask yourself whether that sounds like a warning or an advertisement.

It was a stormy night, though far from dark. The swirling snow that buffeted their car from all directions threw back their headlights, so they appeared to wander through an endless white cloud.

Lily sat in the passenger seat, clutching her purse in one hand and her phone in the other. Her gaze darted from the rental car's GPS to her phone's GPS to the turbid emptiness outside, where she strained her eyes for the lit sign she hoped would announce their hotel.

The handsome man in the driver's seat was twice her age or more, nattily attired in a blazer and bow tie. His name was Alexander Saltonstall III, though his peers called him Salt and his underlings called him either Mr. Saltonstall or

fucking Salt!

depending on whether he could hear them.

He had spent the last several hours wrestling the car back and forth with white-knuckled hands to match the weaving path of the tractor-trailer whose tail-lights he claimed he could see ahead of them. Now he hammered the wheel with one hand and bellowed wordlessly, making Lily jump before she realized he was also grinning in triumph.

"It's signaling! What do you bet that's the hotel?"

"Oh, thank goodness. Yes, there's the sign." It popped out at them as they rounded the curve. And it didn't say

No vacancy

either. Lily slumped in relief.

Salt dropped her and their luggage at the front door. Laden with her purse, his briefcase, and both their carry-ons, Lily made her way to the front desk.

"Welcome!" the clerk called out cheerfully, his well-worn face creasing into a friendly smile. "You're getting the full Vermont experience tonight, aren't you?"

Lily flashed the man a tired smile. She was in no mood to make small talk but they did seem to expect it around here. "Is this the Vermont experience? I was promised leaf-peeping and Creemees."

"Little late in the season for leaves, much less ice cream. You should find a new travel agent. One who can read a calendar."

"Unfortunately, my travel agent pays my rent." Not to mention her parents' mortgage and her brother's tuition.

"Ah, work travel." He grimaced sympathetically.

She smiled. It was rare to meet someone who understood. "It has its benefits, though. They're happy to let me stay the weekend, do a little sightseeing between clients. Saves them the trouble of bringing me home."

"Where's home for you?"

"Chicago."

"But that's not where you're

from

, is it? I mean, your English is great, but..."

"I grew up in New York," she said curtly. And her English was fucking perfect. Briskly, she continued, "Not that either New York or Chicago prepared me for this."

At least he could take a hint. "To be honest, this is a lot of snow even for us. They're expecting fifteen inches. You were lucky to get in when you did."

"No kidding," she said fervently. Now for the million dollar question. "So, two rooms?"

His face became apologetic.

She sighed. "You don't have two rooms."

"I did until a few minutes ago. This trucker came in right before you."

The trucker! So much for their guardian angel. She showed him the two carry-ons, as if that would make any difference. "He's my boss."

"Oh, that is awkward." He sucked his teeth, then offered, "I know this isn't much, but it does have two queen beds."

She looked out through the glass door. They weren't going anywhere.

"Gym, pool, Wi-Fi, $10 voucher for breakfast at the Stauntons' next door. Good pancakes, real maple syrup from their family's own trees." He paused. "I don't think you're going to find a better option tonight, honey."

He was right. She knew he was right. Numb, she handed over the company card.

She was going to have to share a room with Salt.

As if on cue, the man pushed his way through the door. To the clerk, he said, "I don't think I parked in a real spot. Can't see the lines anymore."

"No problem. Leave us your keys and we'll take care of it."

"Good, good." Salt brushed himself off and joined Lily at the desk. "What's the story, morning glory?"

Lily suppressed a sigh. Now that he wasn't entirely focused on keeping the car on the road, what passed for his personality was showing through again.

"They only have one room. The trucker got the other one a few minutes before I came in."

"The trucker! Guess I have two things to thank him for, eh?" Salt laughed heartily, looking to the clerk for confirmation.

"Sir?"

"The first thing being his tail-lights," Salt explained. "I couldn't see anything out there, so I just followed his lights."

"Yes, sir." The clerk's eyes darted from Salt's to Lily's, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Um. You'll be in 303. Elevator's really slow, but it does come. You'll see the ice machine when you come out. My name is John. The desk is staffed around the clock, so don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

He glanced at Lily. "Anything at all."

She nodded her thanks and took the key cards.

Salt was in an expansive mood. "I think the company can stretch to a few drinks after a night like this, eh?"

"I don't know, Mr. Saltonstall. I'm pretty tired."

"You can call me Salt when it's just the two of us. Or shall I start calling you Miss Ouyang even in private?" He chuckled at this patently ridiculous idea. "Come on, one drink. I saw you at the winter party. Don't tell me you can't hold your liquor."

What could he have seen? She had nursed two glasses of whiskey through the entire night while helping herself liberally to the hors d'oeuvres.

Salt was still talking. "Lovely dress you had on, by the way. You look good in black. It matches your hair."

Of course it did. Her hair was black. "What did you think of Mr. Lyman?"

"What an ignoramus. But, hey, job security, right?" He held forth on their client's shortcomings all the way to their room.

As promised, the room had two queen beds. Salt left his luggage by the nearer one and checked the refrigerator. "Ho-ho!" he chortled. Then he grabbed the ice bucket and was gone.

Confused, she looked in the refrigerator herself.

"混蛋," she swore, slamming the door shut.

How many hotels in Vermont had minibars in the rooms? At least one. This one.

Salt soon returned bearing a bucket of ice as triumphantly as if he'd carved it off the top of Mount Everest.

Lily repeated her feeble protest. "I don't know. It's been a long day."

"All the more reason to unwind a little. Let me make you my special cocktail. Girls love it." He was already pulling bottles out of the refrigerator, clearly not intending to take no for an answer.

A horrible thought popped into Lily's head. Surely even Salt wouldn't go so far as to slip something into her drink? But better be safe than sorry. "Well, okay, but only if you teach me how to make it."

"What, my secret recipe?" He clutched the liquor protectively.

"I'm into mixology." She liked a little water in her whiskey sometimes. "You can explain how it works."

A wolfish grin twisted Salt's face. "See, poppy, that's what I like about you. So

eager.

"

She had played a lot of poker, but she couldn't possibly have kept the revulsion off her face. Somehow he didn't notice. Maybe it wasn't her face he was looking at anymore. Lily resisted the urge to check her top button. It was buttoned. It was always buttoned.

She turned sideways and inserted herself between Salt and the counter. There were a couple of individually packaged paper cups by the coffee maker. She tore one out of its wrapper.

"I already got one of the glass cups. You'll taste the paper."

It was a reasonable point, but she wasn't drinking anything she hadn't unsealed herself. "Who knows if they've been washed?"

"Fair point. So hard to find good help nowadays. I had to let my maid go. Plum gig, too, with me hardly ever around. People just don't want to work anymore."

Yeah, that was definitely why Salt couldn't keep a maid.

"Anyway, this is a great recipe. Sweet, just like you. Start with some ice. Not too much. Maybe one more piece."

Salt was far too close to her. He loomed over her shoulder. She could literally feel him breathing down her neck, each word an unwelcome caress.

It was his latest move in the slow, plausibly deniable game they had played nearly since the day she started on his team. He held papers not quite far enough across the table for her to see without leaning forward, so she wore high-collared blouses and light scarves. He leaned over her, one hand on her shoulder, so she stood to show him anything on her laptop.

Salt knew where the line was. He knew exactly where it was. He toed it with the precision of a dog pacing the invisible bounds of an electric fence, having long ago learned how far he could go but always dreaming of the day the power might fail.

His special secret cocktail turned out to be gin, ginger ale, lemon juice, and simple syrup.

"You need more sugar to offset the lemon juice."

Gritting her teeth, she added a few drops of simple syrup to her ginger ale and took a sip. It was disgustingly sweet.

"Not bad," she said. She forced herself to take another sip and nodded. Now to nurse this and talk shop until he let her go to sleep.

It didn't work that way. She had been alone with him many times, but always in elevators and conference rooms and cars. Now, with only the two of them in the room and the door locked, the gloves came off.

"Sit down! Take a load off!" He patted the bed next to himself in invitation, eyes sparkling.

She perched herself on the very edge of her own bed, facing him and clutching the cup with both hands like a talisman.

"How are you holding up?" he asked. "You're on the road nearly as much as I am, aren't you?"

"Hard to complain about getting paid to spend a week in London," she answered warily.

"Oh, yes, London. London's nice. But it's not always London, is it? A lot of times it's...where were we this week?"

They had flown into BTV and then Salt had driven them to the client's offices in one of the outlying towns. Lily hadn't paid attention.

Salt grinned. "You don't remember either, do you?"

She shook her head. "I guess they blur together after a while."

"They do. People think we're out enjoying fine dining and the night life after work, but all too often it's more like some takeout and a movie in the hotel room, isn't it? Gets boring, fast."

Lily smiled politely. This was one of the hardest parts of her job, making sympathetic faces while people complained about eight-hour workdays in air-conditioned comfort. Or, in this case, free housing and a generous per diem.

"Are you married?" he asked. "Seeing anyone?"

"Me?" Lily asked, startled by the sudden turn. "No."

A moment later, she cursed her shortsightedness. She should have made up a boyfriend, if not a fiancé. Hurriedly, she added, "That's not something I'm looking for."

"You don't want to be distracted when you're only starting out. You have your career to think of."

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"Although the right relationship could also be a real help to your career," he said blandly.

Lily felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. "I don't know what you mean," she lied.

He smiled, leaning back. "Don't you? Well, let me know if you figure it out."

"I'm not looking for a relationship," she said again.

"Of course not."

To her relief, he let her turn the conversation to work after that. They talked shop for another hour without any further mention of her relationships or their potential impact on her career.

During that time he worked his way through two more drinks, talking her through their preparation in grating detail. Somehow, though, his palate was not sensitive enough to notice the extra bottle of liquor she slipped in each time.

The third time she pleaded exhaustion, he agreed it was time to turn in. "Wouldn't want to interfere with your beauty sleep, my beautiful."

She smiled and cringed as he brushed by her. With the slightest sway to his step, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

As soon as the lock clicked shut behind him, she let herself slump. After most of a day at work and then the long drive, sparring with Salt had taken the last of her reserves. But she was halfway there, and so far he seemed to be taking no for an answer.

At least in the short term.

The right relationship can be a real help to your career.

Did that mean its absence could be a real hindrance? Only time would tell.

She could find another job. She had been here long enough to move on without raising any eyebrows. Maybe even an internal transfer would be enough.

Lily forced her mind back to more immediate concerns. If she got up early tomorrow, she could slip off to breakfast before he woke up. Then there'd only be the drive into Burlington.

Maybe the roads would be bad and he'd focus again. He was all right when he had something else to focus on.

With the mindless ease of long practice, she unzipped her carry-on and found her toiletries kit and a change of clothes. Socks, panties, baggy quick-dry workout shirt.

"他妈的," she whispered.

She hadn't brought pajama bottoms. She'd had her own room every other night. Why wouldn't she sleep in a shirt and panties? She had little running shorts for the gym and fleece leggings for the cold.

She'd have to sleep in the fleece leggings.

She repacked and closed the carry-on. No way was she going to let him see what she'd packed for Saturday night in London with Chase.

Salt shambled out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist. "All yours."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed, keeping her eyes firmly averted. She slipped past him and locked the door before surveying the mess he'd left of the bathroom.

Sighing, she wrung out the sopping wet towels on the floor, mopped up the excess water on the floor, and wrung that out too. A quick rinse took care of the hair and soap in the tub. Now she could take her own shower.

Feeling foolish, she checked the door. Definitely locked.

She flossed and brushed and checked the door again. Still locked.

With one eye on the door, she whipped through shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a rinse. She wasn't going to take the time to shave, not with him on the other side of the door. She could wear pants for the rest of the trip if she had to.

When she came out, Salt was already snoring loudly. Lily crawled into her own bed and stared up at the ceiling, sweating in her fleece leggings and wishing sleep would come as easily for her.

Lily woke the next morning to the vibration of her phone tucked under the small of her back. She was soaked in sweat and desperately thirsty. Salt was still snoring away.

She got what she needed out of her carry-on in the dark, sliding the zipper ever so slowly and then fumbling around for her clothes. She could use another shower, but she couldn't bear the thought of staying in here one minute more than necessary.

He was still snoring half an hour later when she slipped out of the room, still a little sticky but dressed and in search of breakfast.

Too nervous to wait for that glacially slow elevator, she took the stairs down two steps at a time, her heels ringing on the metal. Dumb idea. Even in one-inch heels, she was flirting with a sprained ankle. But she couldn't restrain herself. It felt fantastic to make a little noise after creeping tentatively around that room trying not to wake him.

She'd get herself some breakfast. She'd check her email. She half-hoped the company hadn't rebooked their flights. She wanted to call herself and make sure they weren't seated together.

She'd be soaking in her own tub by midnight. Sunday she'd have to spend reviewing the Winthrop account, but there was dinner with Carlotta to look forward to. Then she'd go from the restaurant to Midway for her flight to New York, where it would be Morgan and not Salt who kept her company after work.

She burst out of the stairs, smiling in anticipation of the end of her ordeal. Then her jaw dropped.

The front doors had been roped off with a couple of those retractable belt things. A series of handwritten notes had been taped to the doors:

Roads closed to non-emergency traffic until further notice. Please remain in the building. Bobby 2 a.m.

Staunton's is open. Remember, breakfast is on us! Betsy 7 a.m.

There was an arrow drawn under that, pointing to the left.

Your stay is extended for free! You might be stuck here but at least you're not paying for the privilege! Betsy 8 a.m.

That one had a big smiley face.

"操你妈," Lily breathed, drawing the last syllable out into an incredulous moan. "操你祖宗十八代." She'd never actually heard anyone say that one out loud before, but if ever there were an occasion for such profanity it would surely be this.

Behind the front desk now sat a stout woman with iron-grey hair pulled into a tight bun. She took in Lily's blazer and low heels with one professional glance. A pleasant smile affixed itself to her lips. "Morning, ma'am! What can I do for you?"

What Lily wanted to do was jerk an incredulous thumb over her shoulder and demand,

What the fuck?

Remembering how chatty John had been, she said instead, "Hi, I'm Lily. I take it you're Betsy?"

Betsy's smile spread up to her eyes. "Last I checked. Pleased to meet you, Lily."

"This is, um, quite a storm we've got here. How much snow do you think we've gotten?"

"Only fifteen inches, last I heard. It's the visibility that's making them close the roads. But they're guessing twenty, twenty-five inches by the time it stops tonight. We'll start clearing the parking lot as soon as we can see anything. You should be on your way by morning."

Lily's heart sank. Another night with Salt? "No chance of getting out of here earlier?"

"Well, I guess there's nothing to stop you from leaving as soon as they reopen the roads, if you want to shovel your own way out to your car, and your car can handle a couple feet of snow, and you know these roads well enough to drive them in the pitch black." It was clear what Betsy thought of that plan.

"No, you're right." Lily sighed. "Um, Staunton's?"

Betsy pointed at a door off to the side. "They get the eggs from a local farmer. The yolks are amazing on a piece of buttered toast."

"John told me to get pancakes with maple syrup."

"John's got a sweet tooth that's already cost him two teeth. But, hey, get both and see for yourself."

"Maybe I will. Thanks again."

Staunton's turned out to be half restaurant and half bar. Lily ordered her eggs sunny-side up. The yolks were a deep golden color, almost orange. Lily spread them on her toast like savory marmalade and took a bite. Glorious.

She managed to enjoy a few more bites before less happy thoughts intruded. She had to find another job. And she had to fend him off until she did.

Time to do some case analysis.

She started with the easy stuff. Suppose Salt wanted to crack some jokes, undress her with his eyes, maybe cop a feel. Fine. That was no worse than riding the train, some days. She'd go home, and scrub until she turned red and pruney, and consider herself fortunate.

What if he wanted more?

She hadn't heard anything about him doing that sort of thing, but that didn't mean much. The problem with whisper networks was the way they followed existing connections. Someone who was already on the outside for other reasons was unlikely to be invited in.