"I'm gonna take so much pleasure in this … "
The young barmaid was desperate. It could not get any worse. She could not even hear the footsteps she had heard earlier. The little hope she had of being rescued had vanished. All she could hear was the gentle splashing of waves on the sand. Nevertheless, Aisha would not give up. She kept trying to push him away with all her might. Undeterred, the mysterious man was not going to give up his prize. 5'7", 128lbs, with big, black, oval-shaped eyes, long, black, curly hair, high, prominent cheekbones, high eyebrows, a silky skin and long, lush legs, Aisha was a stunning woman by any standards.
She closed her eyes, unwilling to watch the inevitable. In a split second though, she was free of his grip. Aisha popped her eyes open, only to catch a glimpse of a huge arm around her assailant's throat, pulling him away from her. She had been rescued; her rescuer was much bigger than most men she had ever met. In the little available light, he towered over her - now in trouble - 6ft tall attacker. In a tight headlock, he kicked sand, as he was desperate to catch his breath and beat the rescuer's arm with both his fists. But, just as Aisha was no match to him, the same could be said about her rescuer and her potential murderer. With his head just a few inches below the bigger man's chest, he pled for mercy.
"Let me go, I can't breathe … " Seconds after he finished his sentence, the attacker was thrown violently onto the sand. Meanwhile, Aisha was leaning against her shoulders, still attempting to come to terms with what had transpired. She could now see her rescuer's back, even though he was more than twenty feet away. It was plainly massive. Aisha was right about his size. He was easily 6'4" and much stronger than her assailant.
Soon, she heard him slap and punch her attacker several times. Still dizzy and in shock, Aisha was about to burst into tears. She put both hands on her face and sighed. A tear rolled down her left cheek. However, the young barmaid was a strong, composed woman. Friends used to admire her for her courage and her tenacity to overcome pretty much everything life could throw at her. Having lost her parents in a horrific plane crash six years earlier, she studied Computer Science in UCLA and was looking for something better than her current line of work.
She rose to her 5'7" figure, then straightened her tank top and swept the sand from her black leggings. Her attacker was lying on the ground, moaning hard, when she heard the footsteps of her rescuer, approaching her. She looked up at him. He was a very big man, 6'4", more than 220lbs, with a broad chest, short, straight, black hair, in a very expensive, beige, cashmere suit.
Just when Aisha tried to verbalize, the man smiled at her. His well-shaved face was square, manly and he also had a dimple on his chin.
"Are you ok?"
"I … think so. Thanks by the w … " At that point, the man raised his right hand at chest height.
"No need for that. Follow me."
"Wait!" Aisha extended her left arm and placed it on his right shoulder.
"What's your name?"
"Oh!" The man hit his forehead with his left wrist.
"I'm Sam Reigns."
"Sam Reigns? The Sam Reigns? 'CEO' of Rocktech Internet Security?"
Rocktech was a major security software development company, employing more than 2,000 people and a big player in the electronics market. Reigns himself, although only 32 had become a very wealthy man by closing deals with many banks across the USA.
"That's right." He smiled at her again.
"Melt in your mouth pleasure, sweet and lovely. I just wish you hadn't just been attacked. Then, I'd take you in my bedroom and give you a great time. Man, look at that body … " Sam was amazed by her great looks.
"What a true gentleman. He looks fantastic. I wish I met more guys like him … "
"I'm Aisha Wilson."
"Nice to meet you, Aisha. I'd shake your hand, but … " Sam then raised his right hand in the air and showed it to her. There was some blood in his palm, right under his middle and index finger.
"It's ok, I understand. What about him?" Aisha pointed at the unconscious man on the sand, eighteen feet across from her.
"Don't worry. I'll call the cops when we get in. Now, follow me."
"Well, hold your horses, Sam. Can a girl catch her breath or something?" Aisha protested.
"After you … " Sam pointed at the bench and they both walked towards the bench. Still in a state of shock, Aisha sat on the bench and put her right hand on her chest. Sam lay back on the bench, raised his arms and placed them on the back of the bench, as cool and composed as a man can be. In spite of the fight he had just been into, the young man had kept his composure.
"Alright, I gotta ask. What the hell were you doing here?"
Aisha lowered her eyes and looked to her left, somewhat surprised by his remark.
"You're not very perceptive, are you? Hello? Look at me!" Her voice got louder.
"Yeah, I get it, you were running on the beach and all, but did it have to be at dusk? Anyway, I'm just glad I needed that cigar. I think my nasty habit's just saved your ass."
"Yeah … " Aisha smirked.
"We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to that great little ass of yours, would we?" Sam added.
"Now he's messing with me. I'd probably tell him to go to hell, had he not saved me from that prick." Aisha tried to get rid of the sand in her hair by running her fingers through it, one hand at a time.
"Well, you know what I do for a living. What about you?"
"I'm a barmaid. Not really loving it, but it's a living. I've been through college, but that's a long story."
"Ok, you can tell me about it later. Now, I need a favor. There's this big client I'm after. His name's Jack Martelle, he's a banker. Have you heard of him?"
Aisha nodded.
"Good. All I want you to do is pretend you're my fiancée. You don't need to speak or anything. Just play along, nod, you know, be a woman and it's all gonna be just fine. After tonight, you won't have to see him or me again. We're even, ok?"
Sam's low tone seemed to have an effect on Aisha. He had a large vein on the right side of his forehead. He was so tense that she thought it was about to explode. Nonetheless, Aisha had been through a lot and needed a minute to take it all in. She had just been attacked. More than that, her attire was not suited for a special occasion.
"Um, hello? I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but can you take a minute and think about me here? I'm a mess … "
"He didn't hurt you, did he? And don't worry about clothes; my sister's got dozens of fancy dresses upstairs."
"Well, no, but … "
"Don't. I don't wanna hear about it." Sam repeated his previous gesture, when he raised his right hand in the air. This time, it stopped just an inch away from her mouth. Then, he leaned forward, towards her and grabbed her by the shoulders, squinting at her.
"Aisha, the guy thinks I'm gay!" He whispered. The baffled woman stared at his stone-blue eyes and felt her pulse rising, but she could not help but burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?" He asked.
"I … can't do this right now." Aisha could not stop laughing. She even averted her gaze from him and looked at the closed door, five feet to her right.
"What? You're gonna bail on me?"
"No, I didn't mean that. It's just … You should have taken a look at yourself in a mirror or something." Aisha finally stopped and faced him again.
"Alright. Let's do this, then."
Aisha followed Sam back to his beach house. They went past the driveway to the left and reached the service door, in the back.
A small light was on, right above the door. Sam stopped, flipped around and faced her. Only when they stepped into the light did she realize just how handsome he was.
"Do you need a reminder?"
"No, not really. I'm ready."
Aisha pointed at the door with her right hand and seconds later, Sam pulled a key out of his left pocket. When they walked inside the house, the sight of the extremely tall ceiling stunned her. It had to be at least thirty feet tall, with a massive chandelier in the middle. The walls were entirely made of yellowish limestone. There was a big staircase to the right and a 10-by-12ft arch shaped door to the left, more than forty feet away from where they stood, across the staircase. The spotless, hardwood floor was shining under the ample, chandelier light. On the right side of the white wall, two, big, oil paintings, one depicting a sunset on a sandy beach. There was a mountain range on the other, with some snow on each peak. On the left, two more paintings: A replica of Picasso's "Guernica" and Da Vinci's "Joconda". The detail on each painting was extreme. Those were not cheap fakes by any means.
"My sister's wardrobe is the second door to the right. About that drink?"