penis: the first penis she has ever seen in her life. He is going to hurt her with this part of his body, this erect pink instrument. She shivers at the thought of it inside her, splitting her open. She tries to clamp her legs shut, but he is pulling her thighs apart, his fingernails scratching her flesh. She closes her eyes, knowing now there is nothing she can do to stop this from happening. He is too strong for her. Better to just block it out and wait until it is over. Better to pray that he won’t hurt her more afterwards.
It happens so quickly. One minute Douglas is pressing against her and she can feel his hands pulling her legs apart, his penis against her thighs, on the edge of entering her, and the next minute he is wrenched away from her. She opens her eyes, gasping in shock and relief as she sees another man punching Douglas in the face. Douglas falls down. The stranger kicks him, again and again. Douglas is groaning, pleading, but the stranger is merciless. Maria is paralysed. She sinks to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. She watches the stranger kick Douglas unconscious.
‘Stop!’ She croaks. ‘You’re going to kill him.’
She squeezes her eyes shut and licks her lips.
A hand is placed on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and the stranger is crouching front of her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks in a heavily accented voice.
Despite the darkness, he is so close to her that she can make out his face. And what she sees stuns her: a man so beautiful that, despite her recent assault, she feels herself melting beneath his gaze. She nods, unable to speak.
‘Let me help you.’ He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it. A warm, strong hand grips hers and pulls her up. Her clothes are all ruched around her. She pulls down her dress, and looks over at the prostrate form of Douglas.
‘Is he dead?’ she says in a hoarse whisper.
‘No, no . . . I would like to have killed him. But scum like him are not worth the trouble. I think that, when he wakes up, he will slink off back to the sewer he came from. Don’t worry about him.’
‘But he knows where I live.’ She raises her hand to cradle her stinging cheek, where Douglas had slapped her.
‘You live here? In this house?’ the man asks her.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, so do I,’ he tells her, to her utter surprise. ‘So you have nothing to fear. If he ever turns up again I’ll deal with him.’
She begins to walk down the alley, shakily. All she wants is to get inside the house now. Lie on her mattress in her tiny cupboard room and breathe normally again. She feels dizzy, as if she is wading in mud, as if the ground is going to give out beneath her.
‘Let me help you; you’re in shock,’ the stranger says. He slips his arm under hers so easily.
‘And, miss,’ he says, taking something out of his pocket. ‘These are yours.’ He hands her the torn knickers.
She gives a little hiccup of distress and, before she can help it, tears begin to stream down her face.
‘It’s all right,’ the stranger says gently, guiding her out of the alleyway and round to the front of the house. ‘You’re safe now.’
They climb the steps and her rescuer takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the front door. They enter the hall with the flickering light bulb.
‘You’re still shaking,’ the stranger says to her. ‘Would you like some brandy? I have some cognac in my room.’
‘No, thank you; I just want to go to bed,’ she whispers. ‘I want to forget what happened.’
They start to climb the stairs. She hesitates on the second landing. He is still behind her. She turns to him. Now she can see him even more clearly in the electric light. He is older than she initially thought, but he is still extremely handsome: tall and powerful, black hair peppered with grey, and strong espresso eyes.
‘Please don’t tell anyone about this,’ she says, looking down and blushing.
‘Are you not going to tell Mademoiselle Mournier?’
Maria shakes
It happens so quickly. One minute Douglas is pressing against her and she can feel his hands pulling her legs apart, his penis against her thighs, on the edge of entering her, and the next minute he is wrenched away from her. She opens her eyes, gasping in shock and relief as she sees another man punching Douglas in the face. Douglas falls down. The stranger kicks him, again and again. Douglas is groaning, pleading, but the stranger is merciless. Maria is paralysed. She sinks to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. She watches the stranger kick Douglas unconscious.
‘Stop!’ She croaks. ‘You’re going to kill him.’
She squeezes her eyes shut and licks her lips.
A hand is placed on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and the stranger is crouching front of her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks in a heavily accented voice.
Despite the darkness, he is so close to her that she can make out his face. And what she sees stuns her: a man so beautiful that, despite her recent assault, she feels herself melting beneath his gaze. She nods, unable to speak.
‘Let me help you.’ He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it. A warm, strong hand grips hers and pulls her up. Her clothes are all ruched around her. She pulls down her dress, and looks over at the prostrate form of Douglas.
‘Is he dead?’ she says in a hoarse whisper.
‘No, no . . . I would like to have killed him. But scum like him are not worth the trouble. I think that, when he wakes up, he will slink off back to the sewer he came from. Don’t worry about him.’
‘But he knows where I live.’ She raises her hand to cradle her stinging cheek, where Douglas had slapped her.
‘You live here? In this house?’ the man asks her.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, so do I,’ he tells her, to her utter surprise. ‘So you have nothing to fear. If he ever turns up again I’ll deal with him.’
She begins to walk down the alley, shakily. All she wants is to get inside the house now. Lie on her mattress in her tiny cupboard room and breathe normally again. She feels dizzy, as if she is wading in mud, as if the ground is going to give out beneath her.
‘Let me help you; you’re in shock,’ the stranger says. He slips his arm under hers so easily.
‘And, miss,’ he says, taking something out of his pocket. ‘These are yours.’ He hands her the torn knickers.
She gives a little hiccup of distress and, before she can help it, tears begin to stream down her face.
‘It’s all right,’ the stranger says gently, guiding her out of the alleyway and round to the front of the house. ‘You’re safe now.’
They climb the steps and her rescuer takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the front door. They enter the hall with the flickering light bulb.
‘You’re still shaking,’ the stranger says to her. ‘Would you like some brandy? I have some cognac in my room.’
‘No, thank you; I just want to go to bed,’ she whispers. ‘I want to forget what happened.’
They start to climb the stairs. She hesitates on the second landing. He is still behind her. She turns to him. Now she can see him even more clearly in the electric light. He is older than she initially thought, but he is still extremely handsome: tall and powerful, black hair peppered with grey, and strong espresso eyes.
‘Please don’t tell anyone about this,’ she says, looking down and blushing.
‘Are you not going to tell Mademoiselle Mournier?’
Maria shakes
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