Proserpina
I sat there with my friends watching over me as the tears flowed down my cheeks, unchecked.
Finally, I composed myself enough to stand up, pick up my book bag and give them a brave smile.
'Kid, do you want to stay over at our place?' asked Tanya anxiously, worrying her lip as she looked at me, concern writ large on her pretty face. Rachel stood too, frowning, ready to take up cudgels on my behalf.
Smiling through my tears, I shook my head. I know very well that Lucien would be furious if I stayed over with them. And the last thing I wanted was to face his wrath. I was too broken, although I put on a brave face before the girls, who were upset to see how affected I was.
'I'm good!' I smiled and hugged them briefly, and then I walked out, my heart breaking.
***
That night, I could not sleep. I kept reading and rereading the news item. The photo showed Lucien and a woman, considerably older than me, a silver blonde, tall and willowy. Pretty in a vague sort of way, I thought cattily. Almost flat-chested too, I thought gloomily, aware that my full breasts were tender and hurting.
As always, Lucien had a shuttered look on his face as he faced the photographer. The woman, on the contrary, looked thrilled to see them, posing with her arm around his waist and kissing him full on the mouth in another snap, her hands all over him. He was responding all right, I thought, my heart sinking as I stared at the picture woodenly, noticing the way he cupped her cheeks.
I flung my phone away, sobbing quietly.
After a while, I picked it up again and read the entire write-up.
She was Gloria Haysmith-Rhys, the heiress to a supermarket chain in neighbouring Wyoming. A wealthy divorcee, she had apparently been seen with him on many occasions before this. My heart sank as I did a quick calculation. Both the days they had been spotted having a cozy dinner and the days when they were caught sunbathing on a private beach, were on the days that Lucien had not been to see me...
The second set of snaps I found from Googling another rather sleazy site showed them on the beach. Lucien in his briefs, his powerful body revealed as he lay on a deck chair. The sunglasses shielded his face. But the woman, uninhibited, had been spotted topless, and her small, firm breasts were clearly visible.
I shrank in disgust. Obviously unaware of the paparazzi who must have been in hiding, she was in the process of lowering herself onto him.
In another picture at the same location, later in the day, perhaps, Gaston could be seen with his back to the camera while she was kneeling before him on a rug placed on the sand. He had his hand on her head. She was sucking him off, I thought, squeezing my eyes in pain and disgust.
Any fool could make out what was happening and this time, I buried my face in the pillow and wept my heart out.
How many times had I been in the same position, sucking him off, reveling in the act as I pleasured him? Listening to him grunt in satisfaction as he came into my mouth.
And I had believed happily, that he loved me, only me. All the while, Lucien Delano must have laughed at me, in pity and contempt, for being a prize fool.
It had not been as though it was only my pleasuring him, though, I thought, loyal to the end. He had made sure to make me aware of my own sexuality, my latent desires.
I felt like I was in Paradise when he went down on me...
***
I lay for hours, intermittently torn between disgust at my foolishness and hurt at the way he had never really cared for me.
Somewhere during that tortured night, I woke, contemplating suicide as a resort to end my pain. But when I thought of the unborn child in my womb, I knew I could not do it.
Tanya and Rachel, God bless them, kept calling off and on during the night to check on me. I didn't care anymore to wonder how Lucien would react if he had my phone records checked and knew my friends and I were in touch with each other once again.
***
The next day, I came awake at around noon, having had to throw up violently during the night more than a couple of times. Aching with a sorrow that was almost physical in nature, my body wracked with fatigue, I woke weary and hungry. The dry biscuit packet I had secreted away amongst my clothes was almost empty now.
When I saw what the time was, I sat up slowly. Close to lunchtime. I changed into my oldest T and yoga pants, trailing downstairs barefooted, giddy with weeping and a sore heart. There must be something that I could hold down in my stomach, I thought tiredly.
***
The sound of voices from the kitchen brought me to a grinding halt.
A man was speaking - it was White, the wingman. His voice carried through the open door clearly and I hesitated.
'...Feel sorry for the kid. Hardly more than a child, she is.'
The answering murmur was from Ana, the cook and I knitted my brows in puzzlement. I had no inkling that they were buddies, I thought, and almost giggled hysterically.
Welcome, to the World of Proserpina Martinez, the Most Clueless Idiot in the World.
Looks like there were a million things you didn't know, idiot, sneered a voice in me.
***
White's voice was loud enough to be heard from the corridor where I stood, shielded from view.
'...dismissed Jamie Bretton outright; Boss thought the dude was getting too close to his broad. Thought the c*nt would end up being f*cked by Bretton!'
He gave a cackle of coarse laughter, and I heard Ana sniggering,
'He so old. And she like a stupid schoolgirl. Mooning over him!'
With a shock, I realized they were talking about me. Without wanting to, I found myself listening intently.
Ana muttered something inaudible in reply, and White went on,
'...that girl is crazy about him, but I think she'll be kicked out by the end of this month, tops.'
An unfeeling chuckle from him again. My blood ran cold, and then he went on as I stood, the blood pounding in my ears so loudly that I could barely hear him. I was leaning against the wall, my heart pounding.
'Yeah, the Boss is involved with some real fancy lady from Wyoming.'
Ana's voice floated as she moved closer.
'Then looks like we'll be catering to another of his whores.' she said snarkily and I winced.
White's voice moved towards the door, and I dully understood that he would see me if he opened the door. As I stepped back into the shadows, I heard him give a harsh laugh as he said,
'It would suit a mob boss like him to hitch up with such a respectable, wealthy woman like that, not some silly kid who thinks he is in love with her...'
A shout of rude laughter, and I felt my face burn in humiliation.
I didn't wait to hear any more.
With a stricken sob, my fist in my mouth, I rushed up the stairs, unheeding of whether I would trip and tumble down. Closing the door softly behind me, I slipped to the floor, crying wildly. I dialed Rachel's number and whispered,
'Please pick up.'
But the gods were not with me; her phone was switched off.
***
Hours later, I sat up. Looking around the pretty room that I had transformed into my own space, I saw it for what it really was.
A temporary lodging for the Woman of the Month.
Like the Flavour of the Season; the latest ice cream flavor in town.
That was all I had been for Lucien Delano, I thought cynically, washing my face, and studying my reflection clinically.
Not a bad-looking face. My dark hair, deep brown and almost black in color, hung to a little below my waist now, for Lucien loved to feel my hair and had forcefully forbidden me from getting it cut.
Brown eyes, woeful at the moment, a small pet nose; full lips.
But I had not been enough for Lucien Delano, the Mob Boss, I thought deprecatingly.
The bitterness churned within me as I sank to the floor, weeping.