"Maya, please help me, they won't give it to me anymore. I'm sick, I can't, and I won't last long without it. He... He's gonna kill me. Maya, I love you. I love you. You know... you know I wouldn't ask. Help me. I'm begging you. Maya! Maya! They're here! Maya! Please."
The line went silent.
I have listened to Clare's message over two dozen times since I received it. She sounded desperate, high on cocaine, and out of her mind. We've talked about this scenario before I left the States to study on one of the boarding school in Switzerland. My rational, loving and bubbly sister said on no accounts should I ever go back to the States. She was adamant on our agreement. She'll rather die, that I
should
let her die, instead of coming back.
The promise was easier back then. It's easier because we were both naïve.
"We will begin our descent to Los Angeles," the pilot claimed via the overhead speakers.
I sat up. I am being selfish. I will not let her death be in my conscience, not if I can do something about it.
Still...
the idea of me doing something is laughable.
Can I really do something?
I pushed the doubts aside. Of course, I can. I will do whatever it takes to save Clare, because she gave her whole life for me. I should do the same.
There weren't a lot of people in the airport. My heart is palpitating, it seems like it wants to come out of my chest. I'm scared. God knows I am. Seeing the restroom, I slid my way in. There weren't any women in it either. Turning on the faucet, I let the cold water run. There I am, looking at myself. Clare and I look a like, our black long hair with natural cascading soft waves, big bluish-green almond eyes, big full red lips, and fair soft skin. Our difference in height is evident, I'm 5'10 and Clare's 5'4, however, our generous breast, small tiny waist, shapely hips and long legs commanded attention.
I splashed my face with water.
Get a hold of yourself!
When I got out, the few people who were in my flight are nowhere to be seen. Instead, a man wearing a black suit was standing not far away from the restroom carrying a poster with my name on it.
"Ms. Lyons. Your sister is expecting you." He handed me an iPad, grabbed the only luggage I have and escorted me to the town car.
As soon as I hit the play button, I see Clare. She looked healthy, though she can barely open her eyes. She was also extremely pale. Her full lips are chapped. She moaned my name. I hugged the iPad, and a silent tear escaped my eyes.
How can I not come to you?
I told myself.
The drive was almost 2 hours. We arrived in the opulent Beverly Hills where we entered a winding drive way. The house,
if you can call it that,
was reminiscent of palatial houses of Tuscany. The colors were rich terracotta inviting guest to come in. The driver opened my door. Exiting, I see two or three people walking towards me. They were all dressed in white spa-like uniform.
"Thank you, you can go now," she directed to the driver. He bowed his head in response.
They ushered me into a room that looks like a doctor's clinic. Again, they gave me an iPad.
"Remove your clothes, all of it and put the robe on. To keep you entertained while you wait for the doctor." The woman with overdrawn eyebrows said.
I removed every garment I have including my underwear and put on the black silk robe. I pressed play. It's a live feed of Clare. There were two women towering over her, wearing the spa uniform, and removing her clothes. Her frail arms fought but she was weak, too weak to even make a child cry. They injected her with something through her right arm and she calmed down almost instantaneously. When they were done, I can see my sister's body, she was covered in red angry welts. I gasp when I saw.
"Miss Maya Lyons,"
I didn't even hear anyone come in. Standing in front of me was the definition of male perfection. Tall with perfectly tanned skin, naturally muscular –comparable to a swimmer's body- and a face Adonis would kill for.
"I'm Noah, I'll be conducting your examination today."
His voice was firm yet silky.
I nodded.
To his left was another man I didn't saw before now. He handed Noah a tape measure.
"If you could stand straight for me..." he said and I did.
"108 pounds"
"34 DD, 24 and 34" he said and the guy behind him wrote it on the sheet of paper he was carrying.
"5'10"
"Size 6 shoe size"
I could have told him all that but I had a feeling he wouldn't have believe me. He commanded me to lie down on the examination table. My heart hammering, I did what I was told. He grabbed my legs and positioned it to the stirrups at the foot of the table. My breathing is faster now. He looked at me with his gray eyes but did nothing to try to calm me down.
Next, without warning, he removed the knot of robe and pushed it on either sides of me. My breast exposed, and a flash of embarrassment washed over me as I feel my nipples become erect.
"Highly reactive," he murmured.
Cupping my breasts, "full and natural," he whispered. He tugged with my nipples using his thumb and index finger. I arch my back involuntarily. A man has never touched me before and certainly, not like this. I feel warmth cover my naked body; the cold silk to my side and his warm fingers only intensified the feeling. He then rolled my nipples using the same fingers, while tugging them.
"Ahhhh," I whimpered
He removed his hands and nodded to the man beside him. Taking the stool, he positioned himself below me. I pressed my knees together.
"You know why you're here," he said.
With a tear in my eye, I let my knees go.
His face was dangerously closed to my sex. I can feel his warm breath on every inch of me. He placed one hand just below my bladder and
oh my...
with his fingers, traced my soaking wet slit. Parting my labia, he gently circles my engorged clit.
