I look around the, pretty much empty, room. The walls are paneling that belongs in the seventies. There’s an old dresser with a mirror that again belongs in the seventies and a matching bed with a blue velvet and a definitely, seventies bedspread thrown over it. Still it’s soft, and there’s a connected bathroom, so I don’t really care. I head straight for the shower, planning on using all of the hot water and not leaving Max one drop.
I make good on my promise, and it feels divine. The water works magic on the aches and pains that living in the wilds the past few days had given me. There is a scratch on my breast; I can only assume, left there by Hernandez, and I want to hurl all over again. I suck it up and instead wash myself raw again. I’m wrapping a towel around myself and walking out into the room but stop when I see there’s a redhead sitting on the bed popping bubble gum.
“Hello?”
“Was wondering when you were going to get out of there. Of course, I guess if I’d been sleeping in the Florida swamplands like you have; I’d stay in the shower for hours too.”
“Umm…yeah,” I say holding the towel a little closer. It feels like I’ve been months without talking to anyone other than Max.
“I’m Cherry, sugar. I belong to Marcum. He asked me to bring you some clean clothes and take you to the kitchen to find you some food.”
“I appreciate it a lot, Cherry, but well…I don’t think anything you have will fit me,” I answer, and I’m not lying. Cherry is everything I always wanted to be and never could be. She’s taller than my 5’6 frame by a good four or five inches. She’s all tits and ass, I mean it should be illegal for a woman to be stacked that well. My sad b-cup and, hardly there ass, weep at their failures.
Cherry laughs, and it’s a nice laugh. She looks to be mid-to-late thirties, and she’s got a beautiful face to match the rest of her. She seems like someone I would be friends with, which surprises me. I didn’t expect that here at the Vipers—especially from a woman claiming to be the President’s property. I’m not even sure what that means. Are they married? Is she like, one of many he claims? I don’t ask her because I don’t want to offend her, especially when she’s being so nice to me.
“Marcum mentioned you were kind of tiny. He said he didn’t know how Dawg bent you over without breaking you in two. No worries, I borrowed some of Callie’s clothes for you.”
“Umm…Max and I well…we haven’t really…” I start to explain, and then stop because I don’t know what to say to that. “Who’s Callie?”
“You haven’t fucked Dawg? Woman what is wrong with you. They say that man is legendary in the sack, and he sure is fucking easy on the eyes. You take a vow of chastity or something?”
My face heats and I wish I had kept my mouth shut.
“I well, he took me hostage…” I defend.
“He could take any woman hostage, and they’d willingly go. You must be crazy or something.”
“Who’s Callie?” I ask again because I really need to change the subject here.
“She’s Marcum’s.”
“I thought you belonged to Marcum?” I ask, deciding since she left the door opened I’d walk on in.
“Callie is his daughter; she stays here sometimes. She’s away at school now. She’s small, like you, though she does have a little more in the chest area. Still they should fit.”
“You’ll have to thank her for me,” I tell her, reaching down and finding a pair of slim fit jeans and a green hoodie. I could almost giggle in delight. “I don’t suppose you have some makeup I could borrow?” I ask, sounding almost hopeful. Cherry reaches behind her and holds out a cosmetic bag. “Cherry, I could kiss you!”
“Well, I don’t normally swing that way, but it might be worth it just to say I got in where Dawg couldn’t.” I stop and look at her, and then we both start laughing. I hurry and get dressed and throw some makeup on to hide the circles under my eyes and we head towards the kitchen. Food. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my life. I still haven’t seen Max, and I guess he figures that as long as someone is watching over me, he doesn’t need to bother with me. It doesn’t sit well with me, but there’s not much I can do about it. A part of me wishes we were still in the woods, and I had Max to myself.
Cherry feeds me a BLT, and I will never take the taste of bacon for granted again. Once I polish off the glass of milk she gives me; she asks me if I’d like to walk out back with her where the rest of the women are. Since there is still no word from Max, I shrug and figure, why not.