Hispanic-looking, his head was shaved and his features were heavy. He wasn’t good looking in the conventional sense, but there was something about him … he radiated power, a menacing authority that translated into charisma. At his feet, two dogs – big, meaty looking brutes – were settling back down, growling softly. Guard dogs, Dionne realised, not pets.
She forced herself to hide the hatred in her eyes as she looked straight at Dash, drawing herself up to her full height and trying not to seem like a schoolgirl who was way out of her depth and nervous as hell. Then she caught sight of a handgun lying casually on the chair beside him and seriously considered running straight out the house and abandoning this whole crazy idea.
“Whatcha want, Dionne?” Dash asked finally. He gazed at her with dark, stoned eyes.
Dionne swallowed. “I wanna speak with you. In private,” she added, with a pointed glance at the hangers-on in the room.
“If you think you’re getting those pictures back, it ain’t happenin’,” Dash warned. He gestured towards the table, and Dionne saw with horror that amongst the mess of cigarette butts and blackened aluminium foil was a thick pile of glossy photos. She could just make out the image on the top one: her naked body, dark-skinned and curvaceous, reclining on a shabby chaise longue. The other guys sniggered as they saw the expression on her face, and it was all Dionne could do not to throw up right there on the carpet.
But instead she managed to smile, holding Dash’s gaze as she spoke. “Keep them,” she shrugged airily. She paused for a beat, letting her next words have maximum impact: “But why look at photos when you can have the real thing?”
Instantly, the room fell silent, as the others registered what she’d just said. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and the tension hung thick in the air.
Dash looked at her suspiciously. “What you sayin’?”
“What I’m sayin’,” Dionne began, her voice low and seductive as she took a step further into the room, “is that maybe you should take a closer look at what you bin dreamin’ about over there.” She dipped one shoulder so that her jacket slipped down a little, tossing back her hair to give him an unobstructed view of her cleavage. Her body was knock-out and she knew it.
Dash took his time weighing up the options. He took another long drag on his spliff, watching as the smoke curled towards the ceiling, then dropped it in the ashtray beside him.
Without saying a word, he got up from his chair and walked towards her. Jabbing a finger into the centre of her stomach, he forced her backwards, out of the room. Then he turned and beckoned for Leroy to come with them.
“What the—” Dionne began, as Dash pushed her into a room across the hallway. Her heart was thumping, her eyes darting anxiously between the two burly men as Leroy shut the door behind them, trapping her inside. He didn’t lock it, Dionne noticed, and the thought calmed her. But he remained standing in front of it as though to keep guard, his arms folded and his chest puffed out like a nightclub bouncer.
Dash flicked a switch and a dull light flooded the room, a bare bulb overhead swinging dangerously on a frayed wire. The room was just as grimy as the rest of the house, everything dirty and neglected. Piles of clothes were strewn all over the floor, beside a filthy mattress stained with God alone knew what.
Dash grinned, showing a diamond stud in his front tooth. Slowly, deliberately, he unbuckled his belt, letting his jeans drop to the floor, followed by his underwear. Naked from the waist down, he was instantly erect. Dionne looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to make her do this.
“Ain’t that what you’re here for?” he asked cruelly. “I seen those photos. I know you’re a big ole whore, just like your momma,” he chuckled.
Dionne burned with hatred, white-hot anger running through her veins. She longed to tell him to go screw himself and walk right out of that hell hole. But she’d come too far now, and there was still a chance she might get what she wanted. Besides, she realised, with an anxious glance at Leroy guarding the door, she didn’t think she could leave now, even if she wanted to.
“Take off your clothes, Dionne,” Dash told her.
Dionne hesitated for a fraction of a second. She knew she didn’t have a choice. Biting her lip, she slipped off her jacket. Dash grinned. Dionne lowered her gaze so she didn’t have to see the look on his face as she removed her dress, her bra, her panties.
It doesn’t matter, she tried to tell herself. Plenty of people used their looks or their bodies to get ahead in life. Just this once, and then it would all be over.
“Get down on your knees, bitch,” Dash sneered. Dionne did as she was told, taking him in her mouth as he pushed his way between her lips and began to thrust. He held her head steady, his fingers digging into her temples as he forced himself deeper, hitting the back of her throat. Dionne’s eyes started to water, choking sounds escaping from her as she struggled to breathe. Mercifully, it was all over quickly. She felt him go rigid inside of her, then her throat was filled with thick, foul-tasting liquid. It made her gag, and for a horrible moment she thought she might vomit. She tried to swallow but her body protested; unable to help herself, she spat out the contents of her mouth on the floor beside her.
Dash laughed as he pulled up his jeans. “I need to take a piss.”
Leroy stood aside as Dash left the room, while Dionne remained helplessly on her knees, furiously wiping at her mouth as she tried to get rid of the vile taste of him.
What the hell was she going to do next? This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go, Dionne thought, her brain working foggily as she tried to focus. She needed to be alone in the room, not have this goddamn ape watching every move she made.
Warily, she glanced up at Leroy. It was a mistake: the second they made eye contact his face lit up, that leering grin creeping over his features. He lumbered across the floor towards her and grabbed her roughly by the arm.
“Get off me, you piece of shit!” Dionne screamed, genuinely terrified now. Frantically, she tried to escape, twisting her body away from him in an effort to break his grip. Stark naked, she felt horribly vulnerable and exposed, turning her back on him to try and hide herself.
Then the door burst open and Dash ran back in.
“Take your fucking hands off her, man,” he yelled.
Dionne looked up, startled, as Leroy dropped her wrists and jumped away from her, breathing heavily.
“Now get the fuck out,” Dash swore. Leroy curled his lip, but did as he was told. Dash turned round and glared at Dionne. She had the weird sensation of being grateful to him, wanted to thank him for what he’d just done. But before she could say a word, he snapped: “Hey, bitch, get dressed and get out.”
He stalked off, and Dionne realised she was shaking. Instinctively, she pushed the door closed to give herself a little privacy then scrabbled on the floor for her clothes, her hands trembling as she dressed hastily, keeping one eye on the door the whole time. She didn’t want any more of Dash’s Neanderthals coming in. But no one seemed to be around.
Pulling on her jacket, Dionne realised she was alone. This was what she’d been waiting for, her whole reason for coming here. And she had to do it now.
Ears straining for any movement in the corridor, she crept over to the bedside table and opened the top drawer. She rifled through it quickly but …
