It's surprising how good a sandwich tastes after sex that made my toes curl so hard I thought they'd snap off.
"This is really good," I say, taking another bite of the simple turkey and cheese Irina made after our shower together. Water still clings to the ends of her long black hair, darkening the shoulders of her silk robe.
Irina barely acknowledges the compliment, staring into her coffee cup like it contains the secrets of the universe. Her fingers tap an irregular rhythm against the ceramic mug, something I've never seen her do before. She's usually so still, so controlled.
"Are you okay?" I ask, setting down my sandwich.
She looks up, those gray eyes focusing on me as if just remembering I'm here. "Fine," she says automatically, then seems to reconsider. "No. Not fine."
I swallow hard, anxiety rising like a tide. Did I do something wrong during the stream? Was I not enthusiastic enough? Did I miss some spot that would have driven her wild? The possibilities race through my mind, each worse than the last.
"Do you want some coffee?" she asks, already reaching for the pot.
"It's like 2:30," I point out. "If I have a cup now, I'll be up all night."
She pours me one anyway, the dark liquid steaming as it fills the mug. "Well," she says with a sigh and a frown I've never seen before, "you might need to be up all night."
My stomach drops. That doesn't sound good. At all.
"What's going on?" I ask, wrapping my hands around the hot mug without drinking.
Irina motions toward my untouched coffee. "Drink. You'll need it."
I take a tentative sip, the bitter liquid burning my tongue. Irina watches me, her expression unreadable.
"I have..." she begins, then stops, reorganizing her thoughts. "My business model was designed..." She trails off again, shaking her head.
"Listen, Matthew." Her voice softens unexpectedly. "I like you."
Heat rushes to my face, and I stare down at my coffee. "Okay."
"I like you a lot," she continues, her accent thickening with emotion.
"I like you too," I admit, surprised by how true it is despite everything.
Irina closes her eyes, my words seeming to cause her physical pain. When she opens them again, there's a hardness there that wasn't present before.
"Before you, the streams weren't incredibly lucrative," she says flatly.
"Alright?" I respond, confused where this is going.
She takes a deep breath. "My main source of income was actually renting the merchandise out... to other women. I would use the streams as an advertisement."
My stomach drops as I start to see where this conversation is heading. "You're going to sell me," I say, the words feeling hollow in my mouth.
"No," Irina says quickly, raising her hand. "No, Matthew. Not selling."
She composes herself, running fingers through her damp hair before continuing in a steadier voice. "Selena is paying me to... to take you for a spin, as they say."
"Oh." The word comes out hollow, empty.
"I've also accepted money from two other clients," she continues, not meeting my eyes. "They haven't scheduled their appointments yet, but they were quite excited after watching our streams."
Reality crashes down on me like a collapsing building. The shock collar around my neck suddenly feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, digging into my skin with each breath. I was an idiot to think I was anything more than a commodity to her. All those moments that felt special, the gentle touches, the conversations over mac and cheese, just maintenance for her expensive toy.
I set down my coffee cup, afraid I might drop it as my hands start to shake.
"Are they going to hurt me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"No," Irina says firmly, her spine straightening as she sets down her coffee cup. "I set the rules. No one hurts my prized stud. That's non-negotiable."
Relief washes through me, but it's short-lived. I'm still being rented out like a piece of equipment. "When am I meeting Selena?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Tonight." Irina doesn't sugarcoat it. "She's coming at eight."
"Okay." The word feels inadequate, but what else can I say? It's not like I have a choice. "What if she tries to kidnap me? Take me back to that soccer hellhole?"
Irina's eyes flash dangerously. "She wouldn't dare cross me. Selena knows exactly who I'm connected with." The confidence in her voice is absolute, leaving no room for doubt.
"Okay," I repeat, but suddenly the kitchen feels too small, the walls closing in. My chest tightens, each breath becoming more difficult than the last. I have zero control over my life, my body, my future. I'm a trafficking victim. Not just lost in some parallel universe, but actually being trafficked.
My vision starts to tunnel, black edges creeping in as I gasp for air that won't come. The sandwich I just ate threatens to make a reappearance.
"Matthew?" Irina's voice sounds distant, underwater.
I try to respond but can't form words. My hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as I struggle to breathe.
Suddenly, Irina is beside me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. She pulls me against her chest, one hand stroking my hair while the other rubs circles on my back.
"It's okay, baby," she whispers, her accent thicker with emotion. "I know you're afraid. I understand."
I should push her away. She's my captor, my owner, the architect of this nightmare. But her touch is the only comfort I have in this upside-down world, and I find myself clinging to her like a drowning man to driftwood.
"You're afraid I'm going to let you go," she whispers against my hair, her voice so soft I almost miss it.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. "Kind of."
She pulls me closer, her arms tightening around me like she's afraid I might disappear. She presses her cheek against the top of my head.
"Just these three," she murmurs. "Then no more, okay? I promise."
I pull back slightly, needing to see her face. "Really?"
Her hands move to cup my face, thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. Our eyes lock, and something passes between us, something electric and terrifying. Her gray eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.
"As long as we keep making money…" she starts, then stops abruptly.
The silence stretches between us as she stares deeper into my eyes. I feel naked under her gaze, more exposed than during our streams.
Without warning, she kisses me hard, her lips claiming mine.
When she breaks away, her breathing is ragged. "Yes, I'm sorry. I promise."