Dark Pleasures

Maybell Foster got exactly what she deserved.

In the soft autumn light, the young cocoa-colored woman basked in the crisp 70-degree sunset over the hills in upper East Chicago. Her long bare legs and ebony-colored arms glowed in the orange light. Meanwhile, her gossamer green eyes, full pink lips, and slim face framed by black curly locks soaked in the last rays of the day, making her hair blaze like obsidian.

These were the last minutes of her freedom. Her nights now belonged to revenge and pleasure, pain so sharp it was enough to drive her mad.

"Blip! Blip!" said her cell phone just as the sun sank, turning the sky into a pastel painting full of blue, orange, and peach russet clouds. The chirp of insects and the "whoosh" of vehicles across the overpass hanging far above her head were the only sounds, and for Maybell, the phone easily overshadowed them all.

It wasn't a call. It was a text. A summons that made the young woman tremble and tears spring to her eyes.

Don't look. Don't go to him... You're wasting your time...

She tried often, every night, to fight it. But Maybell always ended up looking at the phone. She always read the text. She didn't care if she was wasting her time.

And away she ran, heart pounding and flesh quivering, to answer his summons.

All in all, Maybell was a normal, soft, sweet woman of only 21 years. She had a lucrative job as a diamond saleswoman, two cats, and an associate degree in business. She also had a loving family and a stable financial career.

And yet, all of this seemed second to the bringer of cruel lust. The man she had betrayed. The man who called her now.

Maybell got what she deserved.

***

Taking a shuddering breath, Maybell stood up from where she had been sitting against the hood of her small Honda.

She looked at the text.

A short sentence. The same exact sentence he had been sending to her for nearly two weeks now. A double entendre meant to make her squirm.

The text. The summons. Or was it more like a challenge? A dare? He wanted it to be her choice. He wanted her to choose him because she hadn't chosen him before.

What are you going to do? You can stop this... He's destroying you and you're just going to let him?

Swallowing a small chill, Maybell pressed her long dainty digits to the screen of her iPhone, replying.

It was witty and simple and also held a double meaning. She was proud of herself.

There was a pause. There was always a pause lately. Before this had all begun, he had been quick and attentive with her in all things, even messages, but no more.

Now he was slow, as if he were bored or busy and had a million other things to do, rather than respond to her insignificant words.

Maybell sighed.

I want to go back... Why can't we just go back?

"Blip! Blip!" The phone buzzed in Maybell's hand, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at his reply.

Sweating slightly, Maybell exited the text messaging screen and nearly cried out in horror as the time glowed bright white on her phone's screen. 7:08 pm.

With little dignity, the woman scrambled up and down the roof of the car. She was not a small woman, built more like a compact Amazon, sporting a healthy frame full of curves. She found herself nearly bouncing off the hood as she rolled to her feet, snatched her purse, hopped into the driver's seat, and pulled off.

Crap! Every time he cuts the time a little shorter. I'll barely make it!

With a grim smile, Maybell shook her head and gripped the steering wheel.

He wants me to be late so he can make me suffer more for breaking my promise...

7:09 pm. Read the clock on her dashboard as she merged into the street and headed towards the center of the city.