Free Lust by K.M. Liss Page B

experienced before? Or is it my state of embarrassment at my wanton behavior? Or maybe just the huge fact that I've been badly assaulted? It all adds up to a heavy dose of emotional battery.
    I hear the front door click shut quietly a few minutes later.
    With a deep sigh of regret and acute sense of loss of his physical presence, I turn the light off, roll on my stomach, and with a loud sob, I cry myself to sleep.
     
     
    I wake at seven the next morning, with light flooding into my room through the window. I lay there for a while staring blindly at nothing, thinking.
    Did I dream it all?
    I quick touch to my shoulder tells me, no, I definitely didn't. The tender skin still smarts at my touch. I press the end of my injured finger and it throbs. I look down at my scratches and seethe.
    How dare they do this to me?
    In the cold light of day I'm thinking I might change my mind and report the bastards to the police for their vicious attack. But then I remember, I don't want Sean to get in trouble. Would they charge him with assault? Probably not, but I don't want to take the risk.
    It's much too early to call Charlotte. I want to explain what happened last night. To clear the air To tell her the real reason I went home. But I don't dare to wake her. Charlotte doesn't get up very early on her day off and she won't want to chat at seven.
    As I swing my legs out of bed, I see my dress lying on the floor, where I'd stepped out of it the night before. I pick it up and put it on a hanger and finger the parts Sean mended. A sense of understanding races through me, as I remember all that happened last night, here in my apartment. The way he left, so resolutely, has demonstrated the moral side of his character. The way he wouldn't take advantage of my delirious emotional state. He could so easily have stayed the night. I almost begged him to make love to me. But he didn't. He knew it was wrong, even though we both wanted it like nothing else. He surprised me so much last night, in almost everything he did. I can't quite process it all.
    I'm dying of thirst and I get up and go through the living room toward the kitchen.
    En route, I see a note on the dining table table and walk across to pick it up. A big smile rises to my face as I read it.
    “Lissa,
    I found it so hard to leave.
    I wish I could have stayed.
    But it wasn't the right time.
    Call me as soon as you read this.
    Sean
    x”
    His cell number is written in large numbers and underlined twice with an arrow pointing to it.
    I get my cell out of my bag and quickly scroll through the latest stuff on there. The usual friends messages and my mom. Nothing urgent.
    It's a bit early to call Sean. I don't want to wake him, if he's sleeping. So I send him a text.
    - Thank you so much for looking after me. I'll never forget your kindness, ever. x x
    In the kitchen, I pour myself a large glass of orange and mango juice and then go back to my room, and climb back in bed for a while.
    My cell bleeps about a half hour later.
    - Looking after you was a real pleasure. Be ready at 12.00, I'm taking you to Ai Fiori for lunch. Dress up nice. xx
    I'd forgotten about his lunch offer. The one which I'd tried to turn down last night in the bar. I'm now very keen to go. I've not been to a swanky restaurant before, and I'm pleased to be asked on such a beautiful date. And even more pleased to be going with him.
    I laze around for a few hours, in a varying range of moods. I'm excited, nervous, angry, elated, tearful and now and then, a little nauseous, as details of my assault flood my memory.
     
    I finally drag myself up and out of my emotionally induced ennui, at half past ten.
    I put Charlotte's forthcoming reaction to my date, to the darkest reaches of my mind, as I send her a tentative text.
    - Happy birthday! How are you?
    A reply comes back a few minutes later.
    - Completely fucked. Trying to sleep. Spk tomorrow.
    I'm sensing a frostiness in her unwritten words. A brush off. Or maybe she's got