Baby Come Back(46)

(Holy f*ck!)

“Nick, we’re in an alley; people will be coming out here to see where we are. It’s really not a good time.”

“It’s the perfect place and time, Gina. No one will be looking for me. I told Teresa I was taking a cab back to our hotel. She knows better than to doubt or question me.”

“For me, Nick. Tristan will be looking for me.”

(I had to get the f*ck away from this lunatic mother-f*cker!)

“Not for a while,” he replied confidently. “Seems they’re having some major electrical problems in the kitchen,” he said with a laugh.

(How in the hell did he know that?)

“I’m sure Tristan is on the phone trying to get an electrician out at this late hour, on a holiday no less.”

Just then there were voices in the alley near the street. Please God, let it me someone other than a thug or mugger. Forget that last part; at this point, I would have welcomed either of those over Nick.

Nick grabbed me and pulled me back behind the dumpster; he clamped his hand over my mouth, cutting off my ability to scream (or breathe). I squirmed within his grasp, raking my fingernails over his hands, and biting the hell out of his finger closest to my lips.

“Ow, son of a bitch!” he yelled, jerking his hand off of my mouth momentarily. It was long enough for me to shriek.

“Over here! Please, somebody help!”

“Let’s get the f*ck out of here,” I heard one of the thugs say. “We don’t need this shit.”

(Great. I’m dead now!)

Nick slammed me to the cold, hard concrete. He pinned my arms up over my head with his hands. He straddled me with his thighs. His angry eyes were boring into mine.

“What the f*ck, Gina? Were you just shining me on a minute ago with bullshit? Were you just pretending?”

I was sick of playing Nick’s demented game. I thrashed around beneath him, screaming again. His fist slammed into my jaw. I saw stars; I was dazed. I prayed that I didn’t pass out. Instead, I decided to play possum. Perhaps with Nick it was the ‘fighting back’ that gave him the pleasure.

My eyes closed and I somehow forced my body to relax into a heap underneath him. I could feel his eyes watching me. He was waiting to see if I was really knocked out. I could hear the band from inside. They were playing ‘With or Without You.’ It was my favorite U2 tune. Perhaps this was a sign; perhaps Nick would finish me off while one of my favorite songs was playing in the background. How f*cking poetic was that?

The words from the song drifted to my ear that was now ringing from the impact of his fist on that side of my face. ‘Sleight of hand and twist of fate; on a bed of nails she makes me wait . . .”

(A bed of nails? That was right up Nick’s alley . . .)



I willed my breathing to slow as if I was in a restful sleep. My adrenaline was pumping so this was no easy task. It was dark enough that I could still make out his form from beneath my lashes.

He waited for a couple of minutes which to me, seemed like an eternity. He released his grip on my wrists allowing my arms to lie freely on the concrete; they were still up over my head. I felt him lift his weight off of me, only slightly. My other senses were kicking in now. My jaw was throbbing and my head felt as if would explode shortly.

I heard the sound of his fly unzipping. At the same time, I felt his hand part my legs.

(Oh dear god; the crotch-less underwear and gartered nylons! I needed to remain calm.)

It took every bit of will I had not to react to his touch. He certainly couldn’t respond to a near corpse-like woman. Or could he? As whacked as Nick was, I couldn’t be sure of anything. I felt him unzip the jacket that I had borrowed from Jo Jo. Once opened, he separated it, pulling each side apart covering my arms.

I felt his hands rub over my dress and massage my breasts roughly. He dipped his fingers below the bodice and pinched my nipples hard, again and again twisting them; he wanted me to scream. That would prove I was faking my unconscious state.

I thought of Reese. I pictured him in my mind and used it as a focal image to take my mind off of the pain Nick was inflicting. He seemed satisfied that I was out cold. That meant short term, he didn’t feel as if I posed a threat to whatever sick punishment he had in store for me.

His hand brushed the bottom of my short dress. He raised himself up and off of me to allow his hands to move the dress up past my thighs and around my waist.

(Oh God!)

“Well, what have we here?” he asked. “Looks like Tristan is partial to having you dress up like his whore. Is that what your man likes, Gina? Perhaps he will get his wish this evening when I make you my whore. Yes, f*cking you in this back alley will be proof to your Tristan that you are quite the whore, I think.”

(You are so dead, Nick. Tristan will f*cking kill you.)

I felt his hands travel up my thighs to my underwear.

“Yes, Gina. You have made your cunt quite accessible for my cock, I see. How very thoughtful of you to wear panties without a crotch. No need to waste my time undressing you. I can get right down to business.” Nick laughed as if he found himself very amusing. The sick bastard didn’t care if I was comatose or not. He was going to do whatever he wanted.

Ever so slowly, I moved my right hand on the pavement. I allowed my fingers to feel around for something, anything. Nick was distracted momentarily. From beneath my eyelashes I could see that he had his hand on his cock. He was masturbating!