Richard Van Dorne - Ravished wife

"Good," he said, sure that he had a good worker in the young Sammy. "See ya in fifteen minutes," and he hung up.

Paula stood for a moment with the phone still at her ear. When Red told her to be somewhere she had to be there, or suffer a beating like she had when she refused one time before. She remembered they had caught her at the airport and taken her back to Wade's where after four of them had used her, they beat her so badly she couldn't work for three weeks. If they found out that she would refuse to be with Sammy, especially for nothing, it could be worse, maybe for both of them.

"Who was that," Sammy's voice said from behind her.

"Oh, Sammy," she cried, turning to bury her head against his strong shoulder. "That was Red," she said starting to cry. "He said there's a customer for me, one that I have to see…" Her voice broke off, choked with emotion.

There's no way out, she thought, trying to find a way to explain to the first man who had moved her in a long time that she must go, or face the consequences. She knew that she had done the right thing to tell Sammy, though she didn't want him to be hurt, and didn't want him to remember that she was still nothing but a prostitute.

If he could only understand what they would do to me, she thought. If he could only see what I had looked like when they had finished with me before. I can't lie to him, her mind rationalized through the veil of tears. We've got to start off right.

"Are-are you going?" he asked, his own throat tight, trying to hold back a choking sob. He knew the answer before he had asked, but one last ray of hope held him, pleading with an unknown force to change what was happening.

"Oh, Sammy," she cried again, not seeing that the bartender stood nearby, listening to every word.

"Come on," he said roughly. "I'll drive you over."

"You're so sweet," she said. "But it would be better if I took a cab. I'd better just go alone."

Sammy knew that she didn't want to go, but knew also, that she must. He was too new in town, and she meant too much to him to be hurt for disobeying orders. His heart went out for her and her plight, more than for his own temporary loss, but he held himself back.

"I'll walk you out then," he said, controlling his voice.

Without answering she allowed him to help her with her coat, all the time thinking of what she must go through. She remembered the fat ugly man from the night before, the one who had sodomized her for the first time, forcing her to do things that went against her very nature, degrading her in her own eyes. A tool, that's what I am, she thought bitterly, nothing more than a fucking machine for terrible old men who can't get a girl any other way. I might as well have never been born for all the good I've done myself. How stupid! Why couldn't I have met Sammy a year and a half ago? Why did it have to be now, as a whore peddling her wares in a bar?

Sammy knew what she was thinking as they walked outside and he hailed a cab, but couldn't find words to console her. If there were only a way to be free, a way to control my own life as well as hers, he thought. Then it would be different, and we wouldn't have to bow to anyone.

Paula got into the taxi he had called with a shrill whistle and gave the driver an address. She didn't want to look at Sammy, or say goodbye, but she couldn't possibly leave without something, she thought.

"Will you wait for me," she asked. "I know it's too much to ask, but…"

His voice cut her off, "Of course, I'll wait," he said, controlling his feelings, trying to make her feel that it would be alright.

He recognized his anger, but contained it, not giving her the slightest idea how he felt. If she really wants to come back, he thought, then she will. But he couldn't get the picture of her being with another man out of his mind, no matter how well he tried to rationalize the situation.

Sammy stepped back from the curb as the yellow cab pulled away. He could see her tears as she turned and waved back at him, blowing a small but meaningful kiss at him as the taxi turned the corner.

Well, fuck it! he thought and turned back toward the bar. She's gone and I couldn't change it, so what the hell, I'll just get drunk, he declared silently to himself.

"Double scotch and a water back," he called to the bartender as he re-entered the cocktail lounge.

The two men sitting at the bar watched him with interest as he stumbled past them, already half drunk from the previous two hours drinking. If I'm gonna get drunk, he thought glancing at the two men, I'm gonna do it right.

The drink went down fast and hard and he chased it with a large gulp of ice water, trying not to think of the girl he had just seen drive away.

But in the taxi just a few blocks away, Paula fought with herself in mute anger and frustration. She kept thinking of what Wade's henchmen might do to her, knowing that it would be much worse than the beating she had received months before. But her mind could not free itself from Sammy's grip. He's so wonderful and kind, she thought. I know he's afraid for me, and he doesn't want to see me hurt. Oh, God, I just can't!

"Driver," she said, urgency straining in her voice. "Driver, take me back to the hotel!"

There, she thought, I've done it and God help me, she added in silent prayer. She knew she wouldn't back out now, not after feeling the relief that was flooding through her firm round breasts. She had made the decision and would stick with it, and stick with Sammy. I'll do anything for him, she thought as the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel.

She nearly jumped out, throwing a five dollar bill on the front seat and not waiting for the change as she ran through the revolving door and headed for the open door of the cocktail lounge.

"Sammy!" she cried as she burst through the door into the darkness.

Sitting at the bar hunched over his third double scotch in almost as many minutes, Sammy was startled to hear her unexpected voice. For a split second he thought he was hearing things, but he had to turn around to be sure.

It was true!

Paula stood silhouetted in the doorway, tears streaming down her face. Sammy looked only long enough to be sure that he wasn't seeing an alcohol fogged mirage then jumped off the stool and ran to her.

"Oh, Sammy, Sammy!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

She felt complete, and sure that she had made the right decision as she felt his closeness. It was so good to feel a man who cared, a man who could love her for herself and not just her body, she thought ecstatically.

Wanting him as she had no other man, Paula held him tighter and pressed her lips to his, tasting the heavy sting of scotch in his mouth as she plunged her eager tongue into his mouth and brushed the wet insides of his lips, trying to tell him that she was his. Paula and Sammy, she thought. No, Sammy and Paula; that was better.

After a long extended kiss, Sammy pulled back and held her soft face gently in his cupped hands.

"I can't believe it," he said. "It's too…"

"Don't say anything now," she interrupted. "I want you so badly. Please, take me home."

Their arms around each other, they walked slowly out of the bar, knowing that they needn't hurry now, that they would have all night. They didn't, however, know that every word they had said had been carefully overheard by George, the bartender; every word that he would later remember when asked.

The key clicked in the metal lock and the door swung open. Sammy stood back and let Paula enter. He followed her in, carefully looking at the decor, surprised that her apartment was decorated in Early American, neat and expensive.

"I'll be just a minute," she said without turning around. "I want to change first, so fix yourself a drink and one for me too."