July (Calendar Girl #7)(19)
“I’m going to f*ck you so hard, take you like the whore you are. Fucking white trash,” he roars, spittle splattering against my face. This is the man who’d touched me while I slept, and when confronted, showed no remorse. Aaron Shipley, Senator for California, is about to rape me. Right here, out in public with a giant party going on not more than two hundred feet away.
I feel the head of his cock where he presses it against my legs as he grinds it along my thigh. I whisper, “No,” and shake my head only to receive a gut-twisting grin in reply. He puts a hand over my mouth muffling the sound of my scream. I bite down on the flesh of his hand, salt and the coppery taste of blood fill my mouth. He curses and smashes my head into the wall again. I can’t hold myself up and slump against the surface. my body feeling almost weightless, and as the darkness takes me, I am sure he is going to rape me.
“Get your f*cking hands off me!” I screamed loud enough to tear the house down.
“Mia, no, no! Lo siento. Lo siento. I’m sorry. Lucita, come back. Shit!” Anton cradled my head as I came around. My stomach rolled and churned. Staggering to my feet, I ran over to the nearest trash can and hurled my lunch. Maria stood over me, holding my hair back, whispering calming soothing things into my ear.
When I’d finished, a towel and a bottle of water were thrust into my hand. I gulped the refreshing liquid, but it went down as if I was swallowing razor blades, until all the bile washed back down.
Maria’s eyes were hard, now dark, and cold. She took my hand and brought me to a small room off the side of dance studio.
“Who’s hurting you? I know people. Very very rich people who will not stand for a good woman being hurt by a scumbag.”
I shook my head. “Maria, no, it’s not what it looks like.”
Her hands flew to her hips and she cocked her head to the side, black tendrils escaping her ponytail. “Really? Because it seems to me that someone hurt you, bad enough that you are having flashbacks. Not to mention the fact that you freeze every time one of the male dancers or Anton touch you. So tell me, is that not true? Am I imagining this shit? I know exactly what a battered woman looks like, hermosa because I was one. For many years. Not okay with allowing that shit to happen to good women and neither are my friends. Hell, Anton wouldn’t stand for it.”
Pushing my hair back, I took a deep breath and looked at her. “Anton knows. There’s nothing any of you can do about it. It’s been handled.” I lied. Technically it had been handled so that wasn’t a lie. The way I was dealing with the end result, on the other hand, had not been handled.
“I need more, Mia, because right now, I’m flaming mad. As in muy caliente and not in a good way. I want blood. So speak. Even if it hurts, even if you cry, want to hit something. You have to get it out. You cannot let this stay bottled in. Believe me, I’ve been through it and come out on the other side stronger and smarter.” Her statement was almost a speech—no, a benediction. Something she believed one hundred percent. Something that was private, part of her very soul, and she was strong enough to share it with me.
“My last client had a son that attacked me, sexually and physically. I was in the hospital for a few days.” Her eyes widened and blazed like a thousand fires set in a forest of dead trees. “I’m getting past it, but I’m having a little trouble with being touched. It’s weird. I don’t get it.”
Maria came over to me and sat down on the desk in the center of the room where I leaned. “It’s not weird. Once your trust has been broken by the opposite sex, it can be hard to get it back. Does Anton know?” I nodded. “Then he shouldn’t have kissed you or held you that way.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Anton and I have been working on it. The dancing has been okay, even when he holds on to me, but the second he bent me over him in that way and kissed me, I-I went back there. To that night.”
She nodded and put her arm around me. “For one, Anton shouldn’t have done what he did.” I tried to interrupt her but she held up her hand. “No, he knew your issue, and then threw you over his body in a way that put you in a vulnerable sexual position. That wasn’t smart. I’ll talk to him about his improvisation. That little scene was not part of the choreography. As a matter of fact, that cabron isn’t supposed to have gotten the seductress. The whole point is she’s off limits!” Her indignation was high. Her perfectly sculpted, black eyebrows narrowed, and her pretty mouth moved into a pout.
“He probably just got lost in the moment,” I offered with a small smile.
She squinted. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with handsy.” Once more, she squeezed my shoulder. “You will be okay. It’s going to take time. You should probably find a professional to talk to about it. I will say, telling me, Anton, and others who care for you will help.”
That made me think of Ginelle. I needed to talk to her about it. Really talk to her about it, not sweep it under the rug and pretend it was nothing. I needed to lay it out so that I had her to bounce things off of. She’d be angry. More than angry. Downright homicidal, but she’d listen, let me vent, help me get past it. That’s what I’d do. Later this evening I’d give her a call and hash it out.
“Now, we have this scene down. You’re off tomorrow. Why don’t you go to your apartment. Do you want to do dinner tonight?”