Chapter 3

Sofia's POV

My Savior 

I'm on my third bottle when he bellies up beside me. I look into his face. Worn out, probably by liquor or life or his wife. Nevertheless, he's smiling at me like I'm some long lost friend of his. 

My head is already spinning by this time and the words come out of my mouth without control. "I don't think you know me, pal."

"Oh, I don't have to know you before I sit here, do I?" 

"Hmmm," I say. "Well, you're right about that."

"What's your name?" he asks. 

I put the glass cup to my mouth and gulp down the rest of it. "I don't think I remember," I say, and burst out laughing. "Can you believe that?" 

The man laughs with me. "So what's a girl like you doing here sitting all alone?" 

"I'm not alone," I reply. "I'm here with these bottles. They're helping me drown my misery, you know."

"Oh, are they?" 

I nod my head. "Yeah. And after this, I am going to look for that guy at the hotel."

"Who is he?" 

"Mike, I think. That's what the big guy outside called him."

"What do you need Mike for?" 

"He's going to make me forget that I have a boyfriend."

"Oh," he moans and chuckles. "Now I know what you mean. Looking for someone to screw you, huh?" 

"Yep," I say. "Looking for some bad screwing!" 

I really don't feel the man's hands in me at first. My senses are so numb that the only thing I feel is the bottle in my palm. At least it's the only thing my mind wants me to feel. His proving gets stronger and his breath fills my face as he leans forward. 

"How about I take you somewhere and replace Mike for you? Trust me, we both want the same thing and you won't regret this. I really can do it better, shawty."

All I have on me, minus the coat, is a spaghetti croc top exposing my belly and body hugging leggings. The hand grazed my thighs and squeezed. Before I knew it, that hand had shifted to what's in between my thighs and began stroking me hard. I'm really too drunk to bother but this is not how I wanted it to go. I try to shake his hand off, but it hardens against my grip anyway. 

Eff. 

"What do you say, shawty? Don't tell me you don't want a tease of what's between my legs anymore. It's the best you'll ever get. Make you forget that bastard boyfriend of yours."

Yep. Men will say anything just to screw your brains out. Although, with the way he's saying it, I have a feeling he's going to be raping me. Which is not something I'll end up forgetting. I really do not want to remember the ills done to me on this day. One is enough.

I look around for the bartender but he seems to have disappeared. Probably went to the back for reinforcements. Don't know how long he'll be there and I cannot wait for him to return. "Can I say something?" 

"Oh, you wanna say something? Go ahead."

"You know, uhmmm... I really don't like the hard vibes you're giving me right now." 

"I'm surprised you can tell. Why don't you have another bottle?" and the man actually grins as he says this.

I shake my head. "Please, take away your hand, sir. You're making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, that's not me. It's the drink in your head. What I'm doing should make you feel like taking off those clothes and bending over real low. Know what I mean?"

My palms circle the class cup half filled with booze and I am getting ready to douse his face with it as I stare into his little eyes. 

"Give the lady some break, will you?" says a voice behind me. I turn around to see who it is, but the person moves away and comes to my right. "She says you're making her feel uncomfortable." 

"Have you been listening to my conversation with her? Who the hell are you?" 

"Just a man who knows when to stop." 

"Well you ain't telling me shit, aiit? Now, fuck off!"

The younger man standing on my right deftly hits Grinning Man right on his Adam's apple and pulls his hand from between my legs. Just as he begins to choke, the younger man holds him close like a lover and pushes him to the floor. Turns to the patrons in the bar and says, "Lost his footing with all that beer!"

He sits on the stool and looks at me. I didn't avert my eyes. "You are a sight for sore eyes."

"Tell me what I don't know already."

"You're torturing yourself this way. The headaches."

I say nothing. 

"Sorry about him. Can't control his libido."

"No. It was my fault. I was the one who gave him the idea that I needed some good spanking." 

I notice him flinching. Like I've pricked him with a needle sharp enough to draw blood. "Well, you have some bravery in you."

"Were you really listening to us?" 

No. Not really. I was only watching you both. And I can tell when a man is going too hard on a woman and she isn't interested in what he's peddling."

"He was peddling his dick, I know," I admit and pour myself another cup. 

"I think you've had enough," he says, and takes the cup from me first, then took the bottle that isn't empty. 

"Who the hell are you? First you knock a man out and now you're depriving me of my drink. I bought that, you know."

"Like the rest of us. But I think you've had enough."

"You don't get to tell me when I've had enough, damn you," I say, and notice the bartender come back out. He's holding two cartons of booze.

The man comes so close to me that I can smell the skin off him. And it clears my head for a moment. Just a split one. And in it, I find myself yearning. Not just wanting to be screwed to forget but craving it to be at peace.

"Look miss whatever you are, if more than one of these men in here notice a lady like you has been drinking herself to stupor all alone, they'll flock you like vultures and take advantage of your body before you know it. They will take their turns on that snooker table over there. And you know where they'll leave your body? In a ditch. So I am your only hope of getting out of here in one piece. Take it or leave it."

The bartender comes over. "Problem here?"

"No. I'm a friend of hers."

"Oh, great. At least someone to keep her from the next bottle."

"Yeah. She's had enough. Come on, Lilian. Time to go."

He pulls me off the stool and I realize with horror how my legs feel on the ground. Like ice-cream.

"Easy there. Forget about trying to stand on your own. Your feet probably feel like jellyfish right now."

"Ugh. Yes, they do."

"Here. Take her jacket," the bartender says. He takes the jacket and uses it to cover me. Then we slowly walk towards the door.

"So where do you stay?" he asks me.

"My head is spinning... round and round and round..."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

Fresh air in my nostrils offer me some sort of relief. "Loophole."

"The hotel?" he asks.

"Please don't make me talk too much. I don't think I feel very good right now."

We stop abruptly. "Do you feel like throwing up? Like right now?"

"Oh, I dunno."

"Well, let's prepare for that," he says and takes me to a corner of the sidewalk, bends me over and stands beside me. 

"What are you looking at?" I ask after a while. 

"Beg your pardon?" 

"Admit it, you're looking at my ass."

"I'm looking at the wall."

"Who looks at the wall for a minute?" I ask, and he says nothing. "Seems you have some naughty thoughts of your own. Why bend me over instead of just making me squat?" 

"I didn't want to take you for a kid."

"Touche."

"Are you going to puke or not?" 

"Probably not."

He hefts me up again and we resume trudging along the sidewalk. "Why are you staying in a hotel? Don't you have an apartment or something?" 

"Really can't get yourself to shut up, can you? You get all fired up being this close to a girl?" 

"I'll take your words with a pinch of salt because you're drunk."

"And who says I'll tell you anything that's true when I'm sober?"

"Well, you're in worse shape than I thought anyway," he says and adjusts my arm around his head, making me feel a sharp pain under my armpit. 

"Ouch. Can you be careful here?" 

"We are here," he announces. "Anybody expecting you?" 

I shake my head. 

"Alright."

I don't really remember how the rest of the journey goes. Just that, at one point we're walking through a tiled floor. Then he piggybacks me and I feel so sleepy. 

The door shuts and my eyes open. I'm still on his back. "Where are we?" 

"In your room."

I look around. He's right. This is my hotel room. "How did you know my room?" 

"You told me, remember?" 

"I don't remember telling you anything about my room."

"Really? Can you remind me of what you drank at the bar?" 

"Flying Eagle."

"Jesus Christ. Let's get you to bed."

The sheets welcome me like a long lost friend. Cool and soothing. "Hmmm."

"Feels good, right?" 

I find myself smiling. "Yeah."

He begins to walk away and I call him back. "Where are you going?" 

"I've brought you home, haven't I?" 

"Please, help me get off these clothes."

He gives me a funny look. There's a smile playing across his face. "I should help you get out of your clothes?" 

"Yes, please. Don't tell me you've never seen a naked lady before. Because I know a man like you has."

"You don't know anything about me, okay?"

He comes over to the bed, gets on it. Helps me remove my spaghetti croc top. Underneath, I'm wearing no brassiere and my breasts fall free. I watch his eyes stare at them for a moment before climbing up to my face again. I point downwards. He sighs and helps me out of my leggings. The tightness of my fabric makes his fingers graze my flesh. I don't know if it's the alcohol running through my veins but I feel aroused at his long touch. From my hips down to my ankles.

His eyes widen when he sees that I have no underwear on.