Chocolate is for Women in Lust

Chapter 4

One more time for my beloved readers, it's pronounced LOO-WEE not LOOWEESE (think french). happy reading!

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“Hey now, calm down.” Josh was now completely sure that Louis was being abused. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely, and even though it was not the time to notice such a thing, Josh didn’t miss the fact that her tears were clear; no black streaks or brown lumps as they rolled down her fair cheeks. He was actually surprised; her brown eyelashes had seemed so incredibly long, he had assumed some form of make-up must have been used. Turning back to the matter at hand, he grabbed a tissue box and handed it to Louis.

“I'm so sorry.” She got up and rushed to the bathroom.

It took her a few minutes, but when she came back out, her eye rims were just barely red.

“Now, we can leave right this second.”

“Leave?” she shook her head, “Ms. Scarlett is the only one with the key to the door at the end of the corridor.”

A sneaky grin crept up on his face, “Well, I’m not entirely sure which door this key belongs to…” he took the key out of his pocket and dangled it in front of her eyes.

She seemed transfixed. “The key!” was all she managed to mutter after staring at the little piece of silver as though it were an Oscar.

“Yup.” He pushed it back into his pocket.

“How did you get that!?” she sounded incredulous.

“Not important right now. What’s important is that we get you out of here.”

She laughed a twisted laugh when she heard that, “Please just let the subject drop.” She pleaded.

“No! You listen to me. I KNOW I can get you out of here. I’ll sneak you out. Surely you have relatives outside.”

She shook her head.

“Friends?” he pressed.

“I know no one beyond Ms. Scarlett and anyone who comes in here.”

“You couldn’t have lived here all your life!” he said it as a joke, but when he saw the pained expression on Louis’ face, he couldn’t mask his horror and shock.

“But how!?” how could she not have seen anything beyond those four overly plush red walls?

“You really don’t want to spend this night listening to my pathetic life story.”

“But I do.”

She remained quiet for a while so he urged her on.

“Come on! For the hundredth time I promise I won't tell a soul.”

Louis still kept her silence, her inner conscious fighting over whether to tell this stranger her sad story. One half of her, and currently the winning half, was itching to pour out her heart’s contents, and seek help from this man who claimed he could offer it. The other half was cowering away, berating her, telling her never to trust a stranger; that she shouldn’t throw away all what she had worked for those past twelve years.

Before her mind could get a grip on her lips, her mouth started running off on its own accord.

“My father was sent to some army barracks when I was seven. I don’t remember where he was deployed, but for three years we saw him only once, and I received more letters than I can count. The army announced him missing or captured when I was ten, and we never heard of him again. He was assumed dead when he was missing for two years. I have a stepmother; my mother had passed away when I was only two because of leukemia. My father had remarried thinking I needed some female help in my life. And no, this isn’t some Cinderella story where the step mother arrives with her two daughters and mistreats me. She was kind, loving, and I loved her as though she were my own mother.” Louis stopped to take a breath, and cleared her throat before carrying on. Josh was now leaning forward in the comfortable (red of course) chair he was now sitting on.

“After my father was announced dead when I was twelve, my stepmother took out my father’s will. I never got to see it, but according to our lawyer everything was left to her care, and I was to receive ‘whatever she deemed necessary’ as the lawyer quoted. I was young at the time and didn’t really understand stuff like wills and dowries and all that. Anyway, that’s when the abuse started. First, if I didn’t do everything Ms. Scarlett asked me to do, I would be cut off from sch-”

“Whoa! Hold on! Did you say Ms. Scarlett?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Is Ms. Scarlett your stepmother??” his voice cracked with shock and disgust.

“Yes. Didn’t I say that before?”

He shook his head, “Continue,” he urged her. A stepmother forcing her stepdaughter to become a prostitute!? Josh was beyond disgusted, and he felt a renewed rush of sympathy for this woman who had clearly suffered much.

“Actually, I’d rather not bore you with the details of this time, but the summary is obedience was equal to education. Disobedience meant no education. So I slaved for her until I was fifteen, working as a babysitter every free moment of my waking existence, or as a cleaner, or in some low-paying-hard-labouring job or another just to finish my education. As soon as I was fifteen she put up this club. I don’t know how she got the money, but I didn’t dare ask.”

“Did you finish your education after all?” he interrupted her to ask.

“Yes, I actually have a BA degree in interior designing. The design of this place got to me you know? I vowed that if I ever got out I would make sure that there would be absolutely no red and gold in my house.”

“Wow. How’d you manage to convince her of that?”

“I’d gotten a full scholarship, so it didn’t cost her a penny. Plus she needed something to hold against me. Something to threaten me to cut off if I didn’t do what she want-”

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

“Oh my god! She’s coming!” Louis hissed.

“What? Who?”

“Ms. Scarlett! Get up!” Louis was taking her robe off. Josh groaned internally; not the bare flesh again, he thought.

“Get up! And take that shirt off!”

“What the hell are you going on about!?Whydoes it matter if she’s in the corridor?”

“What do you think that window’s for?!” Louis was referring to the small glass window in the sliding doors of the bedroom. She had gotten off the bed and was pulling him towards her, unbuttoning his shirt as she spoke.

“No idea…”

“Well then lemme clue you in: she likes to have little sneak peeks at me giving favours.”

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Quite the ending huh?

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all the love, the author xx