Bonds of Fate - Part 1 (An Erotic Romance)

by Gray, Sherilyn

  Bonds of Fate

  Part 1

  by

  Sherilyn Gray

  Copyright © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2013

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: This work contains scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  “She has really pretty skin,” whispered a dark-haired girl to a lighter-haired one.

  Well, this was just a bit weird.

  The curious eyes of about a dozen young women stared back at me, assessing me as I stood at front of the room with my back to the door. Some were standing barefoot on the plush red carpet, some were reclined in ornately decorated lounges and chairs neatly arranged about the room. There were no windows, only lush green walls. The sight of a new girl probably worked well enough for a view.

  When they finally took their fill of my appearance, they either glanced away or talked in hushed voices with one another.

  I looked down at my small, white full slip. It was the same slip that the other women in the room wore. Being a little bit too big for me, the cloth hung awkwardly on my shoulders, but the material was soft and warm. I picked at it with my fingers, not really knowing what to do with myself.

  I decided to sit down next to a young woman about my age while I waited. At least, she looked to be. I had the urge to ask her, but the sour expression on her face let me know she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Sighing, I stared back down at my hands. They had been scrubbed until my skin turned pink, and they still tingled from the soap. When was the last time they had been so clean? Glancing around, the other women were just as clean, their bodies appearing smooth and pristine. Had they been as dirty as I had been?

  I leaned my head back against the wall behind me and closed my eyes. The night that dark car came and brought me here seemed like an eternity ago, but it was only last night, and one of the coldest nights in the city to boot...

  It had taken me most of that afternoon to scope out a place that hadn’t already been staked out by other people; the alleys and eaves of abandoned, but locked, buildings were in places I wouldn’t dare stay the night, unless I wanted to be found dead and frozen over the next morning. It had been raining for much of the day, and the clothes I wore—sweatpants three sizes too big for me, and an old sweatshirt from a high school I’ve never heard of—were soggy after trudging through puddles and rain showers.

  This had pretty much been the daily routine for me for the past two years, ever since I woke up in the doorway of a closed laundromat at the dead of night with no memory of how I got there, or who I even was. I had been stumbling around the streets of San Francisco fighting for my survival ever since.

  At first I tried to befriend some of the homeless people who seemed to be young and helpless like me, but the longer I stayed with them, the more I realized how they could not be trusted. We would sleep at night in a huddled mass for extra warmth, but by the time I woke up in the morning I would find myself abandoned; the only possessions I owned were stolen. Of course, pick on the little naïve girl. This happened to me twice before I made the decision to never put my trust in any of those people again.

  Yesterday had started off no different than any other day. It was that time of year when the weather was starting to get cold. I spent most of the morning and afternoon searching for recyclables along my usual route around the city, ducking into a warm spot every so often to prevent my fingers from freezing. Standing with a cup in hand asking for change somehow never sat well with me and I preferred to avoid it when I could. Maybe it was stupid pride but I felt better whenever the change I got came from the big green machine by the corner store that spat out coins when you fed it cans and bottles. It might not have been a big thing, but I still felt like I had a part in helping out the city.

  It was almost dark by the time I found a deserted alley in an area that I decided was safe enough—at least, in my tired, freezing, delirious state of mind it seemed pretty damn safe. Sleeping in the middle of the street seemed safe to me at that point. A dumpster loomed in the shadows, and as I walked towards it a few fat rats who had found something tasty to eat underneath it scurried away. Lucky bastards. The last time I ate out of the dumpster, I was puking my stomach out in the gutter. I couldn’t get myself to do it again. Sure, that meant that I would be eating less—far less—and sure, whenever I went into a coffee shop for a bagel I would get unfriendly glances from customers who would rather not see a dirty homeless girl while they ate their croissant and drank their soy latte—but it was worth it.

  The dumpster was nasty. It smelled as though the trash inside hadn’t been emptied out in years. Holding my breath, I opened the lid and found a stack of discarded cardboard. It didn’t seem like it was touching anything gross, and there was enough to cover at least most of my body while I slept. With my teeth chattering from the cold, I took the cardboard out and set myself up at the far end of the alley, where a chain-linked fence met the brick walls on either side of me. There was a black garbage bag back there filled with god-knows-what, and I used it as a pillow as I draped the cardboard over myself. It wasn’t much, but it would protect me from the rain that started to drizzle down at least for a little while until the cardboard became soggy. Hopefully that wouldn’t be until morning.

  It took a while until I drifted off into a fitful sleep underneath my makeshift covers. I didn’t know how long I slept before I was awoken by the sounds of two car doors slamming shut. By now it had started raining again and my cardboard blanket clung in a soggy mess around me. The cold wetness felt as though it had sunk into my skin, causing my bones to ache. I cracked my eyes open and saw a dark car parked on the side of the street directly in front of me. I moaned and shifted towards my side, away from the street, cursing them under my breath for waking me up from my sleep, mediocre as it was.

  I soon heard footsteps approaching me. Fuck, that wasn’t a good thing. I laid there frozen. “Please go away, please go away,” I mouthed the words silently. This was my alley. Mine! Go find some other place to sleep. The footsteps drew nearer and I squeezed my eyes shut before turning sharply towards the intruders. “Just go the fuck away!” I yelled at them.

  My eyes tried adjusting in the darkness, but I could only see the shadows of two people. One crouched down next to me and spoke in a woman’s voice. She was holding an umbrella, and despite the darkness I could tell she had long hair and wore a heavy coat.

  “We are offering you food, shelter, and a chance for a better life.”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. What did she say? Was I hallucinating? When I remained silent she continued. “If you don’t want that, then we can give you a hundred dollars and a bus ticket to wherever you want to go in the country. Either way, we’re offering you help. However, if you choose to come with us, there i
s the potential for long term employment where you can work for your food and board and not have to worry about living on the streets again.”

  My eyes adjusted a bit more to notice the kind smile on the woman’s lips, and the man who stood behind her, a flashlight in one hand, and an umbrella in the other. My body was on the verge of shutting down and all my mind was doing was screaming at me to take this chance for survival. What was this feeling? A glimmer of hope? Part of me was afraid of questioning a good thing, of finding out that this was all an illusion. I sat up, which took more effort than it should. I dimly remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything since two mornings ago.

  “I’ll come with you,” I croaked.

  They led me to the car, a sporty SUV with leather seats. The man opened the door for me and handed me a blanket. I took it gratefully and wrapped it around myself before stepping into the car. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in one. The man took the driver’s seat, and the woman took the seat in front of me. The car turned on with a rumble and I was suddenly blasted with hot air from the heater. I sighed happily and snuggled deeper into the soft blanket, not believing my luck. As the car pulled into the street I gazed out the window, at the cold, wet, desolate streets.

  I didn’t really care where I was going; I was just glad to get away from the streets. Never in my life would I miss living out there.

  “What’s your name?” The woman asked me after we had been driving in silence for a while.

  I shrugged and continued looking out the window. “I have no idea.” I said. “What’s yours?”

  “Marian.” There was a smile in her voice, and I immediately drew a liking to her. No one had ever been so kind to me before—not that I knew of, at least. The woman named Marian continued, “Do you know how you ended up in the streets?”

  “I can’t remember anything.”

  “Your age?”

  “Not sure. Maybe twenty, definitely less than thirty.”

  “Your family? Parents?”

  “I have no memories of them.”

  “Interesting.”

  It was my turn to ask a question. “Why are you helping me?”

  “I believe that everybody should be given a chance to succeed in life,” she told me.

  I must’ve dozed off because when I awoke, the sun began to rise as the driver parked in front of an old, three-story Victorian building. I almost didn’t want to get out of the car because it was so warm and cozy, but the driver came around to my side and opened the door for me. A cold wind swept into the car, forcing me out. I still clutched the blanket around me as I followed the two into the building.

  No longer dark, I could make out the appearances of Marian and the driver more clearly. Marian looked to be middle-age, maybe in her forties. She had long, wavy brown hair that ended a few inches below her shoulders and matching hazel eyes. Her lips curved into a warm smile when she noticed me admiring her fur coat. It looked so warm and comfy. The driver was an older gentleman, his head nearly bald except for a bit of gray around the edges.

  Although the exterior didn’t seem that fancy, as I stepped inside I was reminded of a picture I once saw in a discarded magazine that showed the interior of lavish mansions in Europe. Large oil paintings of abstract landscapes in detailed gold frames lined the cream-colored walls, heavy amber drapes hung from windows adding to the warm light that filtered in, and a winding staircase with marble balusters to each side was at the opposite end of the front door. Without giving me time to admire my surroundings, Marian ushered me down a large hallway, passing by large antique vases seated atop waist-high pillars. Her heels clacked with each step against the sage marble floor and that’s when I noticed that she was wearing black high heels. At the end of the hall, she led me to a room on the right. There was a large table with a few other women seated in ornate chairs, eating something that looked absolutely mouth watering.

  “Sit down here and we’ll bring out something to eat,” Marion said, pointing at a chair closest to where we stood.

  I took an empty seat at the corner of the table and almost instantly I was served the most delicious looking food I have ever seen; I was almost positive I was looking at a meatloaf with a heaping side of buttery mashed potatoes. I stared down at it in disbelief before taking my fork and stabbed the slab of meat right in the middle. Lifting the entire piece to my face I took a big bite and started chewing. My stomach growled happily as I swallowed and continued eating. I didn’t know if it was the hunger talking, but the meatloaf might have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted. A pitcher of water had been placed in front of me. I poured myself a glass and drank most of it with one breath.

  My body, however, wasn’t used to so much food, and it only took a few more bites before my stomach told me it couldn’t hold any more. I stared regretfully down at my half eaten plate before it was taken away from me and I was yet again ushered into a different room.

  Marion appeared at my side again but this time without her fur coat and had a clipboard in hand. I swear she was some kind of magician with the way she would appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. We were in a hot, steamy room with wall-to-wall showers.

  “I want you to scrub as much of that dirt from your body as you can,” she instructed me. “There’s shampoo, conditioner, and soap that you’re free to use. I’ll come get you in a bit to inspect you. Remember, clean everywhere.”

  Some of the women I saw earlier were walking around naked outside the showers, eyeing me with the same curiosity I gave them. Why were they all here?

  I put my blanket on a chair and slowly took my sweatpants and sweatshirt off, tossing them in a heap on the ground.

  I was all too aware of my naked body in plain sight of others. Even though nobody was openly staring at me, it was a strange, vulnerable feeling, and I quickly made my way to one of the shower stalls; it didn’t have a curtain or anything fancy, but the two plastic walls on either side of me made me feel a little less exposed. I tentatively turned on the shower and a blast of hot water spewed out at me. I jumped and immediately ducked my head underneath the water. Never before had water felt so good. I rubbed my hands up and down my body, the dirt and grime that had been caked on to me from years of sleeping outside rinsed away like paint, making a dark, swirling pattern as it drained underneath my feet. Two bottles of what I assumed were shampoo and conditioner were sitting on a little shelf built into the wall. Not knowing which was which, I used them at random, taking a sniff of each one before using it. They both smelled like the flower shop on Market Street I used to pass by every morning.

  After rinsing out my hair and rubbing the bar of soap over every inch of my body, I turned the shower off and walked over to where I left my clothes. They weren’t there anymore; a towel and a folded white full slip lay neatly on the chair instead. I was absolutely thankful that I didn’t have to put back on my filthy clothes and spoil my cleanliness. After I dried myself off and put on the slip, Marion returned with her clipboard. She studied me from the top of my head down to my toes.

  “It’s time for your makeover,” she said simply while jotting down a few notes.

  “A makeover?” I suddenly found myself thrown about the house, having person after person appear out of nowhere to trim my hair and cut and polish my nails. Worst of all was when they waxed my entire body. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so loud in my life.

  When it was over, they brought me to this windowless room where the other girls in white slips eyed me curiously. So here I was, taken off the streets only last night and now in the lap of luxury. Dirty, cold, and clinging to a piece of soggy cardboard for warmth, and now clean, waxed, and warm despite only wearing a thin undergarment. If this really was an illusion or a dream, I never wanted it to end.

  Feeling drained from all activity this morning, I was thankful I was able to finally sit down and have a moment of peace. I realized all of this pampering wasn’t so bad. It felt nice and refreshing to be so clean, to be able to run my fingers throug
h my hair and not have them get caught in tangles.

  I ran my hand over the smoothness of my legs. What kind of job are they going to give me, anyway? The fact that there were only women around me made me a little suspicious, but then I remembered the bus ticket Marion had promised me if I decided I wanted to leave. I could always go to Southern California or Florida…somewhere with a beach and nice weather…

  The door opened with a creak of its hinges, causing every one of us to jump. Marion appeared in the doorway with a man I had never seen before. She pointed to me and waved me over. As I walked over to them I saw her hand the man her clipboard. The man was middle aged or older with dark neatly cropped hair, and had a friendly smile on his face that immediately put me at ease. Marion handed me a pair of light pink slippers that reminded me of ballerina shoes. I put them on my feet and was amazed by how perfect they fit. I wiggled my toes as the man walked forward and offered me a jacket. It was way too big for me, but I took it gratefully. I pressed the leather against my nose and breathed in; it smelled like cologne, and definitely not the cheap kind.

  “This is the girl,” Marion told the man. The man nodded and put his arm lightly around my back and led me out of the building and towards a small, red sports car.