At His Mercy

Part 37

————————Trigger warning ———————

As I am emerging from the cubicle I falter when I see Ramiz Mukharji leaning against the sink facing me. He is waiting for me. Slowly, he puts down the cigar between his fingers and lets his gaze roam over my body, lingering on the rise and fall of my cleavage. The smile he gives me as his gaze meets mine is frightful. its like looking into the eyes of a sociopath. I stiffen under his scrutiny, knowing he is looking for signs of fear to sense his advantage over me.

'I think you're a little lost Mr Mukharji' I say smiling, whilst moving towards the sink to wash my hands and feign ignorance. My heart is drumming with fear and I try to consciously add a light tone to my voice to hide the nervousness at getting such an unexpected shock. I know that he is watching me. The best thing to do is leave quickly and amicably, under the pretence that all is well and that I haven't even noticed his strange behaviour.

As the hot water singes my fingers, I make a conscious decision to make eye contact with the man who is stood next to me. From the corner of my eye I notice he is slouched, leaning into the sink behind him, shoulders relaxed and down. Not in an aggressive confrontational stance. This helps reassure me a little, I'm not in any immediate danger. Through the mirror I raise my eyes brows and find the calmest voice inside ' You know better than to be smoking in here, you'll get us both in trouble!' I say more confidently than I feel. He lowers his head and takes another drag of his cigar inhaling deeply and then releasing the smoke in soft whirls. Lifting the cigar to contemplate it, then offers it to me. My first instinct is to push his hand away, but then I remind myself that I need to build a rapport, its my best chance of leaving quickly, but before i get a chance to contemplate this further i hear myself answer 'No, - Thank you. . . . I havent quite acquired a taste for the finer things in life!' I say taking a towel to dry my hands.

But he is isn't drawn into my light banter, instead he turns to face me ' I was thinking about what you said "Dr Saab'" his mocking tone instantly makes my skin crawl. He lowers the cigar and takes another deep drag. And then let's his eyes turn back to me lazily. His impertinent manner is offensive and part of me wants to storm out, but to do that I have to get past him. Something tells me he is trying to scare me and intimidate me, if I run or get angry it will escalate the situation.

'Oh? Maybe we should go outside and discuss this with my husband present" I say meeting him eye to eye. Don't back down, he is trying to intimidate you, scare you, stand your ground and then find a way to get past him quickly, I tell myself.

'We could. . .' his whisper trails off as he lifts his other hand to trail his fingers up my arm 'see you're husband is so eager to get things moving, maybe . . . . you could help. . . .' I have to fight ever instinct to stop myself from slapping his hand away.

'I. dont. think. so' I say biting out the words in a slow and clear voice as if speaking to a child. Inside I'm burning with fury and fear simultaneously. I want to spit in his face. How dare he?! the insinuation makes me sick to the stomach. I hope he can see the fury in my face. No more pretences. He's crossed over a line and he needs to know I'm not standing for it.

'Give me your phone number, I'm sure you'll need time to think about it' he says stepping closer to me, into my personal space, centimetres away. Acrid and stale. He smells awful, like decay.

Everything about the man is repungent. I can smell the musty scent of his cigar, see the acne pock marks on his face and the grease of the oil on in his hair. It makes me want to physically be sick to be in such close proximity of him. But worst of all is the creepy slimy smile he wears. I have never seen anything as abhorrent in my life. It is sleaze personified. He undresses me with his eyes.

'I don't think so!' I repeat firmly. As I move to walk past him, I feel his steel grip around my wrist as he tugs hard and swings me around till I hit the wall beside the sink.My immediate reactions is shock rather than the pain that shoots through my back as I catch some sort of towel hook mounted on the wall. I cannot believe he has put his hands on me! Then as I glare at him, with the realisation kicking in that he is assaulting me, I feel his other hand come up and grip my neck under my chin. Instantly he places the pressure on my trachea as if trying to cut off my breathing.

I am spluttering and gasping for breath, looking in horror at the smarmy face of the man who seems to be enjoying my pain. From this distance, I can almost taste the spicy tobacco on his breath, see my own reflection in the darkness of his glistening eyes. He's excited, I can tell by the dilation of his eyes and the grin plastered on his face. With my other arm, I try to scratch as his cheek, but it seems I am flailing. Using his grip around my neck he pulls me off the wall and then slams me back against it. I groan as my back makes contact with the hard tiles. Please God, I think, Please God let someone come in. I cannot utter a single word and despite trying to scream all I hear is more rasping coming from my throat. His eyes are mocking in enjoyment as if he is savouring this moment of power and I feel the sudden horror of being in the presence of someone who is really mad. He uses his thumb to press deeper into the dent in my neck, applying more pressure and strangely, I catch the glimmer of the cufflinks he is wearing as my vision begins to blur.

I dont hear the door open, only see Mukharji turn his face slowly away from me and then he loosens his grip on my throat. As I feel my airways open suddenly, I half slump and turn to see Adam stood in the doorway- the look of confusion on his face. The relief is so great, I feel the tears come to my eyes. I stumble towards him holding the side of the sink for support.

'Adam' I gasp when I reach him. He holds out his arm to steady me and then moves me behind him, never once looking at me. His eyes fixed on the man in front of him.

'Go to Ami-ji now, she's with Zara, near the reception waiting for the car.' he says turning his face over his shoulder towards me, but still not meeting my eye. I don't want to leave him, I don't want to go anywhere without him, but I take one look at his face, which has turned to stone and know he's not listening to me.

I grip his arm in a pleading gesture, but his eyes have turned black and the face that looks back at me is unrecognisably dark. 'Go. Now!' he says in a firmer voice. When I don't move, he turns and places his hand on my lower back and firmly nudges me out of the door. I turn to see the door closing behind me. Adam on one side and me on the other. Face to face. I see the steel of his jaw clench and the hard black eyes that no longer see me, a vein throbbing in his forehead. The fury barely concealed. He lifts his hand up to his tie and slowly yanks it downwards as he removes it before the door closes and the click of the lock falls into place.