The Don

I was in the inner rooms of one of the scariest Fight Clubs in the city of Charlesville and I had entered it in the most humiliating way ever.

The salt and pepper head of the man who had whisked me here gleamed in the muted overhead lights.

Tentatively, I looked about me, rubbing my arm where he had gripped me so tightly. The entire den was done up sparsely, in dark shades of brown to match the heavy wooden furniture; the table that seemed to dominate the room, the comfortable looking leather chair where the man apparently sat, the beige carpet, soft under my bare feet and the heavy beige and brown curtains that shut out the world. The bottles of expensive whiskey lining the wall on one side twinkled dangerously at me.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and a striking blonde woman rushed in, her hair in a tight bob around her beautifully shaped head, her blue eyes wide with apprehension and something else. She was quite a few years older than me but looked vaguely familiar though how it would be possible was a mystery in itself.

“Darling, Luc baby,’ she shrieked and flung herself at the man who looked irritated.

She was in a fishnet sort of costume and I stared in surprise for her dress revealed almost her entire body. Skinny, with an almost flat chest, she was tall and willowy.

As she sobbed and tried to press her long, lithe body to his, I saw the look of cool disinterest on his face and then, I looked away, colouring in embarrassment as he turned the full force of those cold grey eyes on me.

“I heard…you had been attacked …by some crazy wh*re…,’ she was babbling and I felt my cheeks flame and my small fists clenched in anger.

He put her from him and continued to watch me, his eyes enjoying my discomfiture.

I shifted uneasily from foot to foot as his eyes travelled the length of my skimpy red dress with the torn strap which I was holding up with some difficulty.

Becoming aware that he was not looking at her, she looked around, her bitter, crazed look lighting on me.

Immediately, the woman rounded on me.

“You little tramp! How dare you steal my…!’ she screamed like a harridan as she lunged at me. I sidestepped quickly as I saw she was inebriated but she swerved wildly as she shrieked,

’BI*CH!’

But the big man moved quickly and grabbed her shoulders, shielding me effectively with his large body.

‘Patricia,’ he spoke in a voice that could cut ice,’ You are drunk. Now get the f*ck out.’

He said in such a flat manner, I almost felt sorry for the woman. She turned to him, bleary-eyed, and then, swaying, she tore off the front of her flimsy gown,

’Lucas, let me…’

I winced. She was half naked, literally on her knees now, her long thin hands fumbling at his waist, trying to take out his…?

My mouth dropped open in shock. How despicable. She was humiliating herself.

On her hands and knees, the woman was now begging but the man pushed her away and bellowed, in rage,

‘Evans! Das! Where in the blody fck are you?’

Two men rushed in, not looking towards the woman on the floor who was stark naked now and keening, as he roared,

‘GET THIS FCKING PIECE OF DRUNK SHT OUT OF MY OFFICE!’ And as the woman was unceremoniously hauled to her feet by the men who looked as carefully blank as ever, he shouted,

‘IF ANYONE OF YOU SENDS HER IN AGAIN THIS EVENING, YOU ARE…’

The guards were outside the room, looking as though they were being hounded by devils and the door slammed shut after them. The man, his shoulders heaving, the strong muscles rippling under the shirt, strode to the door and kicked it shut, the lock clicking automatically.

I felt the fear rise up in me. But accompanying the fear was something like…? I did not know what it was. Was it…attraction?

Straightening my shoulders, I quickly put THAT thought out of my head.

I was a die-hard romantic, despite all that had happened to me. I believed in love, in holding hands and soft kisses. I wanted marriage and babies, lots of them, and a gentle lover.

Chocolates, flowers, long drives and dates, holding hands, the works.

I told myself firmly that no, I was NOT attracted to this beast; this man who had me shrinking in fear.

But then, asked another part of my mind coolly, why were my panties soaking wet, just looking at the man before me?

For one, the man must be at least fifteen years older than me. And besides, the caveman tactics he employed should make me repulsed, right, I told myself.

Screwing up my courage, I asked, stiffly, addressing his broad back for he had turned away, shutting me out.

’Ca…Can I go? I …I … I am sorry.’

He seemed to have forgotten about me and at the sound of my voice, which was little more than a shaky whisper, he turned around slowly.

He had unbuttoned his shirt down to his waist as he drank from a crystal tumbler, throwing his head back as he quaffed it down. To my distress, I found that I could not take my eyes off his chest. Flat board abs, strong muscles, a hirsute chest, and… I swallowed and met his eyes.

My face heated up as I saw the slow speculation in his grey gaze. I stepped back. The predatory glint in his narrowed eyes was doing things to me. I felt an unfamiliar wetness between my legs and I shifted uneasily.

“Please…” I whispered and he made a low sound. A growl.

‘Please what, little girl?’ he said and his voice was a silky rumble. He moved forward slowly, like a panther stalking his prey and my eyes widened in alarm. I backed away.

‘Ca…can I go…?” I said but my voice betrayed my nervousness and my palms were sweaty despite the blast of cold air.

He stopped a few feet away from me, his hands clenching and unclenching, eyes roving over my face.

’How old are you, little girl?’ he said suddenly and I blinked.

Running the tip of my tongue across my lower lip nervously, I froze as I saw his eyes arrested by my movement. His gaze shifted to the pulse at the base of my throat which was hammering away. He seemed hypnotized by my action and I cleared my throat, thinking quickly.

Maybe he was mulling action against me for entering the club being underage? I was not sure about the age limits but …Thinking quickly, I stammered,

’Eight...I mean Twenty,’ I said, trying not to look away.

Aunt Beth had always said that I was bad at telling lies.

The man moved closer and I saw that his nose had been broken at some point in time and had healed but not too well. It gave him a frightening look, the thin, well-defined lips that were set in a firm line, those grey eyes that looked as though he could see into my soul. The scarred and pitted face. Ugly but commanding.

His presence was unsettling; I wanted to keep my distance but like a moth, I felt drawn to him. Breathing shakily, I stepped back again and came up against the wall as he prowled closer, crowding me in. He was not very tall, but definitely bigger than me. But it was the breadth of his shoulders, the bulky body with his shoulders straining under the shirt and the way he was built like a bull, that made me hold my breath.

He smiled, a sinister, humourless twist of that beautiful mouth. And then he slammed his hands, palms first, on the wall beside my face and I jumped as I gasped, turning away, squeezing my eyes shut.

His breath, whiskey-laden and hot, was on my face as he moved closer and snarled,

’I do not like liars, little girl.’

I was shaking in fear…and an excitement that made my nipples stand out like hard diamonds.

Hoping, praying that he would not see them, I babbled, turning to look at him,

’I …I’m so…sorry… I am eighteen years but I shall be…’

He flung himself away with a slew of oaths and vulgar words that made me tremble I shock.

Hail Mary, I thought to myself feverishly, what would happen to me…?

He was back, standing before me, his shoulders heaving with fury as he snarled again,

’An underaged little whre. Answer me, girl. Who sent you here, you little bich?’

My eyes filled with tears at his abusive words and my mouth trembled as I looked at him in terror and said, shaking my head, the fight going out of me,

’ Please Sir. I …it was a mistake. And I am not a ...not a…’

My face flamed as I saw the dawning realization on his face.

“So why did you come here, little girl?’ he asked gruffly, his expression stony, the thick hands clenching and unclenching...

I looked at him and said, “With …uh…friends…’

They are not your friends, said my heart, and my voice must have lacked conviction.

I yelped as he placed a hand on my throat, forcing me to meet his eyes, terrified. He was close enough for me to inhale the man, the musk of his body, the expensive cologne he was using, and I trembled, with a longing I did not recognize. His lower body was barely touching me but I shifted and my nipples brushed his hard chest for I could make out the outline of the huge bulge under his trousers.

’ Sir, puh…please…’ I began. I shifted from one foot to the other slowly, my hands reaching out for the wall behind me to support me.

'Please, Sir,'I said softly, 'I made a mistake. I...I would like to leave...'

His eyes glowed and he said through gritted teeth,’ Stop saying that girl.’

I stared at him, wide-eyed, aware of the heat from his body, rolling off in waves. Awareness swept through me, my stomach clenched and wetness flooded my core as I felt his nearness; and I sighed.