The all-too-familiar click of a pistol woke my ass up. I was lying naked on my stomach. I assumed I was still in Margaux’s bedroom. Where the hell were my clothes? Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to remember what happened. The last thing I recalled was coming to Margaux’s for lunch. Then we had sex—that explained my lack of clothing—and I fell asleep.
Keep calm, I told myself.
There had to be a logical explanation for what was going on.
Logic said that Margaux had a boyfriend or a husband and my ass was trespassing on intimate property. Not a good spot to be in. Despite my tactical disadvantage, I pushed my hands over my head and didn’t dare move any farther.
“Look man, my French is pretty shitty,” I started. “I didn’t know she belonged to anyone. Understand what I’m saying? I fucked up, but I’ll leave. No harm done.”
Minutes passed, and nobody said a word. Suddenly, I needed to hit the head, but there was no way in fucking hell I’d piss on myself. Dude would just have to blow my goddamned brains out.
“Listen, buddy. Let me get up. Take a leak. Then, I’m out of here.”
“Shut up.” That was Margaux’s voice.
My brain glitched. Who all was in her apartment? Margaux and her significant other? Or, was it still just the two of us? If it was just Margaux, why was she holding a gun on me?
Cold steel pressed against my skull, and then, something heavy landed on my spine. Air whooshed past my lips as my face sunk deeper into the pillow. Perfume and sweat wafted off the damp cotton case. I tried to move my head and nearly suffocated as the funky smelling fabric pressed into my nostrils.
Spitting cloth out of my mouth, I sniffed.
It was a familiar scent that normally came with death. I had to be mistaken, so I inhaled deeper. The coppery smell was unmistakable. Whose blood was it?
“Fuck, man, I don’t want to die over some pussy.” My voice came out garbled, but I continued, “Let me get up from here, and you’ll never see my ass again.”
“That’s not happening,” she said.
Suddenly, the weight eased off my back. The bed dipped, and then the funk of hot sex mixed with a floral fragrance descended over me. There were men who succumbed to fear in those situations. But for me, that shit only fueled my anger. If Margaux was playing games, she picked the wrong man.
“Margaux, what the fuck’s going on?”
My body shifted as someone moved closer. I assumed she was the one sliding the barrel of the gun over my cheek. Just as quick as it started, it stopped.
“You tell me, James.” Her accented voice was next to my ear. “I don’t play games.”
Like hell she didn’t!
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