Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Bend all the way over, I tell her. With your face in the cushion.”
She does this, sighing, like she’s tired.
“Good girl,” I say.
Then I get up and walk around the couch behind her. I slip her skirt up. My dick is already hard, but the sight of the ripped tights—the almost perfectly round hole exposing her ass—makes me throb with anticipation.
I grind against her, my dick safely tucked away.
I won’t be fucking her. Not because I don’t want to, but because she’s going to be unconscious in a matter of seconds. The champagne was drugged. Placed in that drawer for the end.
And this is what that is.
The end.
Her breathing becomes very heavy, so I grab her by the hair, bend over, and lean in to her ear, just to make sure she hears me. “You failed. I’m very, very sorry, Olive, but you failed. And now, my dear, you will have to pay the piper.”
“Whaa… what?”
“Shhhhhhh,” I whisper, then bite her earlobe. “I’m leaving now, Olive. I’ve been summoned to DC. You can’t come. I’m going to be reassigned and you’ll be collected soon. Today was your last chance. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to add any pressure, but it’s over now, Olive. We’re over.”
She starts freaking out, struggling beneath me, But I have her pinned to the couch with my hips and my hand is firmly wrapped around her hair.
Anyway, the drugs in the champagne were very powerful, and it’s only a matter of seconds before she’s passed out cold.
12 - Olive
Slowly, the world comes back to me. My throat is tight and scratchy, my eyes feel crusted over, and my head is pounding. For a moment, I just let the fuzzy world between sleep and reality hang, unwilling to wake.
But then a panic hits me—what day is it? Am I late for something?
I force my eyes open, unable to make sense of what I’m looking at. I’m on the couch.
Noooo. I’m bent over the back of the couch.
“Shit,” I mumble, trying to straighten up. But my back is aching so bad from being in this position, the most I can manage to do is slump to the floor.
This is where I wait as my head slowly clears and the blurry vision sharpens into clarity. My memory comes back with the vision.
“Brose?” My voice is croaky because my throat is so dry. “What happened?”
What did happen? What were we doing?
Then I remember, he had me bent over the couch and we were—
My reflexes come back in an instant. Years of muscle memory take over and I force myself up, holding on to the couch as I stand.
I’m alone.
“Brose?” I call out again. And I manage to walk the length of the couch so I can get a peek into our little kitchen. I already know he’s not here. He’s gone.
I push some messy hair out of my eyes, still looking around as I try to make sense of things. “What the fuck happened?”
Maybe I passed out? I mean, yes. Of course. Clearly, I passed out. And just as I’m thinking this I look over at the chair where Brose was sitting and spy the bottle of champagne. On the little table next to the chair are two glasses. One full, one empty.
I drank it.
He didn’t.
The sudden realization that he drugged me is so unsettling, a chill runs down my spine.
He drugged me.
I squint. He drugged me? Why would he do that?
But then I can hear him whispering in my ear right as I was closing my eyes. I’m leaving now, Olive. You can’t come. Today was your last chance. We’re over.
I look around, then stumble over to the closet. I pull the door open and start shaking my head. “No. No, this isn’t happening.” There are clothes in there, but they are all mine. Just mine.
Desperate, I make my way over to the dresser and pull open the top drawer. His drawer. Empty. I pull open mine and find it filled with underwear.
He’s gone.
You failed. I’m very, very sorry, Olive, but you failed.
The memory of these words hits me like a gut punch.
But I refuse to believe them. It can’t be real. It has to be… something else. A test, maybe. Yes. It’s a test, that’s all. He was getting jealous of Shep. He’s trying to teach me a lesson, that’s all.
I straighten my skirt, briefly consider changing my clothes, but decide against it. Maybe he’s downstairs. From the angle of the slanting sun shining through our floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows, I figure it’s morning.
That’s it. It’s just morning and he let me sleep in.
You know that’s not what’s happening here, Olive. You know—
But I don’t know. Not really.
So I don’t change, I just rush over to the door, pull it open, and start running down the hallway towards the stairs. I don’t pass anyone, and that’s the first clue, but I keep going anyway. All the way down to the main level where there is… no one.