DON’T HURT ME
I’M A vir-gin💦
Rated:🔞+
©️ ILLICTIMAGINATION
✍️ Chapter Eleven✍️
😋LEYLA😋
I can hear the shower running as soon as I reach the be-droom. Good.
I place the plastic bag containing the clothes he bought on t©p of the be-d. I gr-ab my jacket along with the corset and stiletto boots from the chair. I wear my jacket, hastily. I sl!pmy feet into the stiletto boots and then cover them with Jeremy’s long sweatp@n-ts.
My heart and mind are in a dilemma; each screaming something different. I ignore my ever pounding heart which is demanding me, asking me what I am doing, whilst my head is encouraging me to keep going.
I get up from the be-d and still thankful that the shower is still running. I run to the living area, heading straight to the coffee table containing his l@pt©p and briefcase. I gr-ab a pen and a blank paper and quic-kly I write my message;
I borrowed your t-shi-t and sweatp@n-ts, hope you don’t mind.
After writing this, I run again back to his be-droom and place the paper on t©p of the plastic bag which contains the clothes he supposedly purchased for me.
I don’t allow myself to feel but just to think.
I quic-kly gr-ab my corset and leave his be-droom, whilst he is still in the running shower. The only thought that is forming in my head as I exit the door is: thank you for the experience Jeremy.
I breathe in the luxury of his h0tel for the last time, knowing that this will be the first and last I will ever see, feel and smell such luxury. And then swiftly–so that he won’t hear– I close the door only to face the corridor of the penthouse suite floor h0tel.
Don’t feel. Don’t feel. Don’t feel. I repeat this in my mind as I command my feet to keep going.
Once again, I find myself standing before the elevator and I quic-kly press the bu-tton and it immediately pings open. I can’t help but feel disappointment tugging in my che-st.
Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Just go. My inner voice encourages me and so I submit.
There’s no one but myself in the elevator and I concentrate fully on the music to distract me from my thoughts and the emotion tugging in my che-st. I know if let myself suc¢v-mb to my feelings, I will find myself returning to him. The music is peaceful, an orche-stra I think. I let my mind bliss on the instruments, refusing so-rely to think over him.
Minutes later, the elevator pings to a st©p and I’m staring at the open luxury of the reception room. The crystal chandeliers are almost the same as in Jerem–I shake my head–his room, but they’re bigger. I don’t have time to as-sess all the expensive equipment that’s in there because I have to move quic-ker.
I ignore the frown and questioning look of the receptionist woman from last night. I’m one hundred per cent sure she’s wondering why a girl like me is here. Maybe she doesn’t resemble me from the same trashy looking girl who was accompanying Jerem–ugh I should st©p this; thinking about him at every moment.
Quit it now and move it! My inner voice shouts at me. I exit the h0tel quic-kly and immediately take in the fresh promising air outside. But still I can smell him, I can smell his vanilla b©dy wash, mixed with some cologne and some detergent.
It his smell and it’s suffocating. I realize the smell is emanating from the clothes I’m wearing.
Oh dear God, help me.
I can’t do this. I want him alre-ady, I have to go back. I tell myself but my shaky legs head straight away from the h0tel. I take in a few de-ep breaths to clear my thoughts.
I am being ridiculous. How can I miss someone I didn’t even know; someone I only knew S-xually, someone I only knew for half a day; someone who has somehow started to capture pieces of my heart.
St©p. I have to st©p this. I have to leave and forget it. It would have never worked out or even lasted between us, whatever it was that we had for that moment. He is way, way above my league.
Deciding to st©p thinking of Jeremy Lawson for one final time, merely saving my thoughts of him to ponder for later, I realize that I don’t even know this p@rt of the city.
Where am I? I check the street name and I realize I’m at the south of the city while I live in the east. Now that I figured that out the question remained; how am I going to get there? I find a solitary bus st©p with buses that could take me to the east. Thankfully.
I sit myself on the rail, still refusing to let my br@in open up thoughts of Jeremy and what I’ve just done.
I just hope the old woman is not in the ap@rtment. She is usually out “shopping” by this time on Saturdays.
Why do I keep calling her the old woman? You may ask. Well it’s that her appearance and her attitude irritates me so much, she is not even worthy of me giving her a character when she’s so undeserving of one.
She’s not exactly old, she’s in her mid-forties and I know I’ve made her seem as if she’s the stereotypical old sweet lady who spends her days knitting on a sofa.
No. Miss Greta–as she insists I call her by–is the exact opposite.
She’s a cougar. Yes. ha-rd to believe but she is. Her face is always, always dabbe-d with make-up to cover up her blotted wrinkles and her clothes are always tacky. She’s dressed as if she’s a teenager, in fact a lot less than how I was dressed yesterday.
Every day she has her manicured nails clutched on men way younger than her, some usually young enough to be her own children. Why–I always wonder–does she prefer men like this? Well it’s not me to judge and besides they’re all cons£nting adults.
How she found me?–you may ask–or even took me in? Well it was by chance, I think she felt sorry for me at the time but now… now it’s as if I’m her personal servant.
“I’m hungry, make me food; make me bath; clean these clothes, will you? Leyla, oh don’t forget the dishes while you’re at it; the living room floor is dirty; you’re not living for free Leyla, I nee-d my money.”
I’ve endured since I was seventeen when I had left high school and had nowhere else to go. So I tolerate her overbearing attitude. I do everything she asks because I owe her immensely, more than the five hundred I lied to Jeremy about. Plus I’m much indebted to her for taking me in, so why would I complain when at least I have a roof over my head and occasionally if I’m lucky three courses of meals each day.
I breathe out a hvge sigh as I see an approaching bus. I take out the hidden money from the side pocket of my jacket and pay for the fee. The bus takes off, moving away from what had seemed to be my hope.
I take one last glimpse of the vast h0tel that held a hvge p@rt of my memories. Then as the bus enters town, I tell myself to let go of those memories because I won’t be reliving them any more.
*****
I enter the shabby ap@rtment of Greta, my b©dy tensing up and re-ady for her demands as I close the door behind me. I sigh in relief because she isn’t in the ap@rtment at all.
As soon as I figure this out, I venture toward my be-droom. Calling it a be-droom is an overstatement.
It’s a small room containing a single mattered small mattress which is the only thing that is bigger. I also have two small drawers which have all of my clothes. I don’t have much clothes and most of them don’t fit me anymore.
On t©p of the drawers are a few cheap toiletry ess£ntials which I managed to shoplift from shops. I know how wrong it is. plea-se don’t judge me.
As soon I step inside my room, I kick off the boots and jacket and then I fall on the mattress, pu-lling the comforter over me.
Then the feelings I’ve been so desperately trying to repress start to fluttering out as the realization of what I’ve just done dawns.
I’m an idiot. A complete stubborn idiot. A sob escapes my mouth and I let the tears fall freely.
He just wanted to help. That’s all. You’ve just lost your chance to better yourself, a chance of freedom.
I sob for what seems a long time, as all the negative thoughts pile and pile in my head.
I continue chastising myself over how stupid I am when suddenly my dark past that I have locked out a long time ago threaten to unleash but as soon as I realize where my thoughts are headed, I st©p myself. I cease the ridiculous tears once and for all.
No way am I going to bring up the past now. I won’t bear it. It will wreck me completely. I have been all my life trying to build myself into something good. No, I won’t dare open those dark thoughts now.
As I wipe away the last tears, I take a de-ep cleansing breath and let it out slowly.
That’s it now. What is done is done. All I have to do now is move on. I have to start building those steps I nee-ded to take again.
Firstly I nee-d a job, any job. I have to be persistent this time and no matter how many times they say no, I shan’t give up.
“That’s the first step,” I murmur to myself as the drainage of my energy from all the crying starts to affect me.
My eyelids begin to drop, but before I can finally sleep, I take a whiff of Jeremy’s scent from his t-shi-t. The scent is soothing. I revel in it as it helps me rid of all dark thoughts.
Goodnight Jeremy. I let myself think automatically. I wonder what he is doing at this moment, and then I let myself suc¢v-mb to sleep.
✍️To be continued ✍️
She left him! *Gas-sps*
Tell me what you think? Did she do the right thing or? Do you hate her or?
likes
Comment
shares😒
Abeg try to impress me for once now