Episode 9: Dark Red
Serafine wound up in the hall bathroom splashing cold water on her face.
A little infuriatingly, she found the room itself to be beautifully decorated, just like the rest of his house. With jade-green wallpaper, gold fixtures, and a sink made of a fancy glass bowl.
It wasn't fair. Why did someone so mean also get to have so many nice things?
Fuck him,
Serafine seethed, half-submerging her hair in running water to work the vomit out. The sensation of cold water flowing over her face eased the smarting pain across her cheek, but only a little, and the smell was a horrible reminder of what had happened. She had to carefully go through the front half of her hair in sections to make sure she'd gotten all the chunks of pasta and dark red marinara sauce fully out, but after several minutes, the water started to run clear.
Just as she was getting her breathing back under control, there was a knock on the bathroom door that made her stiffen and look around for --
What...? A window?
she thought helplessly. They were thirty floors in the air, there was absolutely no way out of this room but through the door that Ivan Masters was standing on the other side of.
I shouldn't have come here,
she thought, taking a step back and automatically reaching for her phone...but who would she call? The police? Her roommate, Elizabeth? Both options seemed awfully dire. Just the thought of how the conversation would unfold made her want to cry on the spot.
She was tracing her fingers around the edge of her phone, nervously contemplating what to do, when she heard Ivan's voice.
"Been about ten minutes of running water," he called with another sharp rap of his knuckles on the door. "Everything okay in there?"
Serafine's eyes fluttered shut briefly.
Relax,
she thought, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, turn off the water, and unlock the door.
Ivan was just standing there, ever casual, holding his phone.
In the sliver of light afforded by the hall bathroom, he looked so...normal. His shirt wasn't even untucked from their earlier ordeal. It was like nothing had even happened at all.
For a moment, it struck her that this was how most people saw him. Tall, well-dressed, attractive. No obvious signs of danger. How many other men were walking around this city just like him? Wolves in human clothing.
"Sorry," said Serafine, then immediately thought,
What am I apologizing to him for?
before clearing her throat. "I'm fine."
"I thought you would be," he responded, not seeming to notice the way her nostrils flared in anger when he looked up from his phone, and she quickly averted her gaze.
"What's your number?" he asked. "And your email, too. So I can send you the ticket confirmation after I book everything."
"Uh," she really didn't want to relinquish this last bit of personal privacy. But what was she going to say, no? It seemed impossible to say no to him for anything -- and even when she did, it made little difference. With a bit of defeat creeping into her voice, she gave him her number, and he immediately texted her to confirm.
"Got it," she sighed, edging out of the bathroom and toward the glass-walled living area while Ivan followed a short distance behind her, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
The most beautiful dark red sunset surrounded them, but Serafine couldn't pay attention to it, every iota of her focus on Ivan. He was uncomfortably close, and she sensed that he still wanted something even before she felt his hand on her elbow.
"Let's finish up over here," he said, but she jerked her hand away and backed up a step.
"Finish?" Serafine pined.
"What?" said Ivan, taking a step toward her that brought the two of them so close, she wished she could disappear into the wall. "I didn't cum yet."
Serafine drove her fingernail into one of her own fingers to distract herself from what he was saying, trying to think of a way to leave, but when she looked away from him, her eyes landed on the deepening red stain in the carpet, and it made her want to throw up all over again.
"The maid will take care of that, don't worry," Ivan said, tracking her gaze. "She see's this sort of shit all the time."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder with a little laugh. "Come on."
"Wait-" Serafine said, pulling away from him. "I- I- don't want to do that again."
"Tell yourself that while you're getting off later," he responded impassively, pulling her along beside him like a child being lead out of a store.
"You're being too rough," she protested, digging her heels into the carpet. But his words made her stomach tighten in a weird way.
How did he know about... that...?
To her surprise, he let her go, shrugging as he walked away and took a seat on the far side of the sofa by himself.
"Too rough? Oh, you poor thing," he smirked, before pointing at the floor in front of his feet. "Why don't you get on your hands and knees and crawl over here, honey? I'll go easy on you. I promise."
Serafine balled her hands into fists as she stared at him defiantly from across the living room. How did he do that? Manipulate situations like that. It was awful to be physically overpowered by him, but there was something even worse about the idea of going to him of her own accord. That's what had gotten her into this situation in the first place, isn't it? Doing what he said.
"Ivaughn-"
she started, but he interrupted her, a little sharply.
"How hard could it possibly be for you to just sit there with your mouth open, hmn?"
Under different circumstances, Serafine could've laughed at the absurdity of his statement, but she was too tense. Nothing he did was funny to her in that moment. His every move put her on edge, such that she even flinched when he unzipped his trousers.
Her gaze flicked back toward the windows, where the clouds were drenched in color, orange grading to dark red. It gave the whole penthouse a hazy, auburn glow, like she was watching a scene from an old movie, or in the throes of a dream.
When she looked back at Ivan, he was sitting with his knees splayed, gripping the base of his cock in anticipation.
If I leave now, he'll use it against me.
