Authors: Anne Conley
Text copyright © 2014 Anne Conley
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Laura Hidalgo with BeyondDEF
Edited by Tiffany Tillman with BeyondDEF
Special thanks to J.L. Thomas, for writing the lyrics to The Female Deity
This book is dedicated to all the young women who aren’t given choices. And to the people who have devoted their lives to helping them.
Special thanks go to all my readers, Suzanne, Fabie, Mike, Lisa, Kelly, and the rest of my street team. You guys are super awesomesauce, and I appreciate every damn thing y’all do for me. In the immortal words of Hillary Clinton, “it takes a village.” Thank you all.
My mom and husband, who both had a hard time getting through the first chapter, also get super special shout outs.
And to my fans, who have stuck with me and supported my journey thus far, thank you all.
Hey, I’m Les. You may have met me before, and Ms. Conley has been kind enough to write my story (finally). Some of you may have been looking forward to something funny, as I’m a pretty funny guy. But for the most part, my story is only funny where I’ve done stupid stuff to mess everything up.
Usually, I’m pretty happy, satisfied with my lot in life. Lately though, looking at all my buddies, and seeing their happiness has made me want more than just my job, my music, and fun with friends. I want to have a family, and by family I don’t necessarily mean kids. I want to
someone like air. Or water. I want my other half.
And I think I’ve found her.
But her story’s not pretty. She hasn’t had the life I’ve had, the family I’ve had, the friends I’ve had. None of it. And she’s managed to make it and be stronger for it. And I love her for that.
This is our story. It’s not always pretty, but if I know anything, it’s that life isn’t always pretty, wrapped in a bow and served with a side order of chocolate.
And it’s not always something we want to see.
Two percent of human trafficking victims are rescued.
The phone woke Charlie at two-thirty in the morning. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for it only to hear heavy breathing. She knew who this was. It excited her in a way that she hadn’t felt in years, making her feel dirty and shameful. She had to admit she liked it, the way some women liked rape fantasies. She’d never in a million years admit that, but the pleasure was there, nonetheless. Her response was almost Pavlovian.
“Are you wet?” The guttural tone of his voice forced her to respond. It always had, even
she figured out who it was.
“Um…you’re late. I have to get up in half an hour.”
Sounds of hoarse breathing met her protests. She was usually up for this guy’s games, but he didn’t usually wake her from a dead sleep. She’d give it a shot tonight though. Impulse control had never been a strong suit.
She sighed. “Okay, no I’m not wet, I was asleep. Give me a minute.” Charlie rolled over on her back and slipped her fingers inside her panties and started rubbing. “Talk to me, I need to get in the mood.”
The calls had started about a month ago, soon after Les had started ordering stuff from her. Les’s voice sounded a lot like her dirty caller, low and rough, like something grinding across her skin. She assumed they were one and the same, even though Les’s voice was smoother when he called her at work. But the caller whispered, and it was rough, and familiar. A voice she reacted to with a visceral desire she couldn’t control.
When he’d first started calling, she’d hung up. But he would call back, cussing her and calling her names. Names that brought back memories she didn’t want to revisit. So when she decided to play along, and the caller had gotten a little less aggressive with her, she’d realized she sort of liked the attention. Her therapist would say it was inappropriate, but whatever.
“You know what I want to do to you?”
She rubbed a little faster, trying to get off. Lord knows she hadn’t done it with Justin in a while.
“What do you want to do to me?” She played along, breathlessly.
“I want to wrap your pretty hair around my fist with you on your knees sucking my cock.”
Okay, it was working. “I’m wet now. You gonna get off?” His gasping pants and the sound of skin slapping met her ears.
“Oh yeah, baby. After I come all over your face, I’m gonna stick my big dick inside you and pound that pussy…” He sucked air in through his teeth, and Charlie could hear he was close.
“Hey, slow down, I’m not there yet.”
“You touching yourself for me?”
“Yeah.” She was a little breathless, but not near where he was.
“That’s so fucking hot.”
Her fingers were working her clit, dipping down inside to spread her juices up around it while she rubbed furiously. Finally, it was working.
“You coming for me?” His whisper was hoarse and she heard the slapping noises, louder.
“Yes…yes, I’m coming.” Her muscles spasmed around her fingers as the climax swept through her.
“Fuck… yeah…” Grunts and slapping along with hissing air met her ears through her cell phone, and then he hung up abruptly. Just like always.
“What, no pillow talk?” she asked the dead air of the phone line. Sighing, she rolled out of bed, and got into the shower. She might as well get up and start her day. Charlie looked at her clock. Two a.m. With the run tonight, she had a long day ahead of her.
Charlie dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and twisted her long blonde hair on top of her head before putting on a black cap and grabbing her knapsack. Driving to the motel, she thought about the necessary steps in her head before she got there. She compartmentalized herself, removing herself from any sort of personal aspect. In her mind, this was a job that had to be done.
She tried to prepare for every eventuality, but there was always something that could go wrong. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be one of those times.
The first time she’d done this, she’d nearly lost it as soon as the door shut behind her, trapping her in the motel room with the girls. She’d been transported back in time, and was no longer free to come and go, nearly ruining the girls’ chances of rescue. She’d gotten better at shoving those memories into her pit of repression since then and hadn’t had any trouble.