Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - Sex and Violence

The pink gloss slid slowly in the tubes as Sam shifted them around, trying to decide which shade went best with the yellow floral print sundress she was wearing. Her eyes narrowed. She wanted everything to look effortlessly perfect. Even such a minor detail like this could not be decided haphazardly.

Finally, she opened the tube and dragged the applicator of the strawberry lemonade gloss across her lower lip. She smooshed her lips once, twice, three times, and then pouted at her reflection to gauge whether she'd need another coat. Her luscious cupid's bow lips were tinted pink and had just the right amount of shine.

Sam smiled, satisfied. Turning her attention to her curly brown long bob, she teased it until it was a masterpiece of careless rings. She shook her head back and forth to get an idea of how the wind outside would affect the styling and then laughed at herself for being so vain.

A glimmer of self-loathing flickered in her emerald green eyes. Deep down, Sam knew that no matter what she wore or how much she primped, it wouldn't change the truth of her existence.

Still, Sam shook it off, straightened her back, and turned to grab her purse. For tonight, it didn't matter that her breasts were fake and she had an extra appendage between her legs. Her armor was impeccable, and she looked damn good.

Shooting herself one final look in the mirror, she decided everything was in order and made her way out the door. There was a happy little bounce in her step as she headed to the elevator.

It was going to be a good night. As if to prove that point, the elevator dinged, signaling its arrival as soon as she pressed the button.

'Nothing's going to slow me down!' Sam grinned and spun in place, enjoying how her skirt flared and swished.

The doors opened.

The moment she turned back to face the elevator, she sucked in a cold breath as the smile vanished from her lips.

"I see you're still running around dressed like a whore," a low voice growled. Anger and aggression laced the words like poison, and Sam felt her hair stand on end.

The voice belonged to a man who could only be described as average: average height, average build, average face. The only thing that made him even the least interesting was the mop of brown curls on top of his head.

The same chestnut curls that Sam had inherited from him.

"Hey, Dad," she said with a sour smirk, doing her best not to show fear. Whenever that man sensed her fear, things went from bad to worse. "Nice to see you too. I really must be going. Let's do this again, never!"

She shot him a dark look, pretending nonchalance as she turned on her heel to leave, but her father grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back hard. She nearly fell to the ground when one of her heels snagged on the carpet, but fortunately, she regained her balance.

Sam felt her wrist pop in the older man's vice-like grip, and he twisted it painfully. Her father was almost a head taller than she was and had a great deal more muscle, making any attempt to escape a foregone conclusion.

"Where do you think you're going?" her father challenged sharply. His voice sent an ice-cold shiver down Sam's spine, stirring up a myriad of less-than-pleasant memories. "I'm not done talking to you yet, boy."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Sam murmured through clenched teeth. Her shoulders were tensed and her eyes were furious but she kept them meekly trained on the tacky orange carpet of the hall. She knew better than to act up in front of her old man, especially when he was in a mood. In a small voice, she pleaded, "Please let me go. I have an appointment."

Her father sneered, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Bullshit, you have an appointment. You're going out to slut your way around town the way you always do. You're such a damn disappointment. A fucking disgrace. If your mother saw you dressed like thi-"

SMACK!

'Ho-holy shit! Sam, you idiot!' she screamed internally staring wide-eyed at the red palm mark that now adorned her father's pale cheek. 'Stupid, stupid. Stupid! He's gonna kill you for sure this time!'

Fortunately, Sam wasn't the only one startled by this turn of events. The surprise had caused her father's grip to loosen, allowing Sam to flee. She ran toward the stairs, kicking off her heels as she went so they wouldn't trip her up on her way to the ground floor.

She didn't even pause to look over her shoulder. Her footsteps echoed as she raced down the metal stairs, a dull thudding that matched her heart, beat for beat. Combined with her labored breathing, it was too loud to hear whether or not she was alone on the stairs and she was much too afraid to stop and check.

Instead, she raced down the seven flights of stairs and out the door in one go. In her panic, she didn't stop to catch her breath until she was a full block away from her building.

The surging adrenaline made her feel jittery and on edge as she collapsed onto the metal bench of the bus stop. She panted heavily. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she pressed down all the negative emotions spinning around in her mind.

She was an adult now.

She was safe.

And she for damn sure would not let that bastard ruin her make-up!

Besides, her father's accusations weren't completely baseless. Sam did spend a fair amount of time "slutting around town," and she was lying when she said she'd had an appointment.

But so what?

It was none of his business if Sam wanted to go to the club and find some beautiful stranger to hook up with for the night, and he had no right to slut-shame her. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions, none of which had anything to do with him.

A woman has needs. It wasn't that she was particularly proud of her promiscuity, but she was far from ashamed of it, and she refused to be bullied into being someone she wasn't. Maybe one day she would find the fabled "one" to settle down with, but, frankly, Sam doubted such a person even existed.

While silently fuming, she used a rideshare app to call for a car. The Poison Apple, her favorite hunting ground, wasn't far from her apartment, but all the running earlier had worn her out, and she needed a break to gather herself and tidy up the mess that man had made of her emotions. Fortunately, the driver who came to pick her up seemed to sense her unwillingness to engage and only spoke to confirm the destination.

When the car pulled up out front of the club Sam thanked the driver and stepped out. She closed her eyes, squared her shoulders, took in a deep breath, and reminded herself that the only person who could control Sam Conners was herself. Then she let out her breath and, head held high, strode into the club.

The bouncer knew her by sight and waved with a smile as she blew past, making her way directly to the bar. She needed a drink, desperately. The bartender, a skinny guy named Mark, gave her the usual, a dirty martini, extra dirty with two olives. Sam gave him the usual flirtatious banter, but they both knew there was nothing to it. Mark was happily married with a baby on the way, and Sam wasn't interested in being a homewrecker.

Across the bar, a tall voluptuous blonde met Sam's eyes, sending her a look filled with lust and the promise of a good time. Sam quirked up her eyebrow and smirked, but rather than accepting the clear invitation, she turned away and let her eyes wander the dancefloor.

Although Sam wasn't picky about the gender of her partners, tonight, she was craving the feeling of a hot throbbing cock in her mouth. No matter how sexy the woman at the bar was, chances were good that she would be unable to satisfy that desire.

The thumping bass resounded in the club, and the dance floor was a sea of bodies bouncing and swaying to the rhythm, bumping and grinding against each other with no regard for personal space or boundaries. Although there were a few prime specimens, Sam wasn't in the mood for a grope fest, so all she could do was make her way to a booth and wait for them to emerge on their own.

A waiter came over, and Sam ordered another drink, enjoying the ethereal atmosphere created by the dancing lights and fog machines. As she drank and watched the dimly lit mass of bodies undulating provocatively, her mind wandered back to the hallway and what that man had said.

It was a low blow to bring up Sam's mother.

Although they had never really gotten along, and the older woman certainly did not support Sam's lifestyle, the need to gain her mom's approval was carved into her bones. A lost cause like her father would never allow for anything less than complete surrender and obedience, but Sam still clung to the dream that one day her mom would be able to see her side of things and accept her for who she was.

Unable to let go of her inner turmoil, Sam grudgingly got up from her seat and felt around in her purse for her pack and a lighter. She may as well go out for a smoke and chat up whoever else was taking a break from the foggy heat inside.

As she made her way back to the bar she noticed an underaged and visibly drunk kid hitting on the beauty who had tried to pick her up earlier. The woman was being quite obvious, but the boy didn't seem to understand he was being rejected.

On impulse, Sam walked up behind the kid and whispered seductively in his ear, "Hey, why don't you ditch the ice queen and come play with me instead?"

The boy jumped at the sudden feeling of hot breath tickling his ear. Rubbing at the itchy sensation, he quickly turned his head. Suddenly he found himself face to face with a pair of deep, alluring green eyes. He felt his face heat up, and only part of it was the alcohol.

Sam smiled. So cute. It was a pity he wasn't just a few years older. She would have liked to gobble him up, but she was very clear about the line between too young, and old enough. She had no interest in defiling young boys.

Sam took him by the hand, not waiting for the kid to answer, and went out the front door. The boy followed behind, docile and obedient as she led him outside.

Once they were a comfortable distance from the club, she let his hand drop and turned to face him with a stern expression.

"What are you thinking?" Sam scolded, her emerald eyes narrowed as she glared at the boy. "I don't know who sold you the booze, but drunkenness is no excuse for stupidity."

The kid gawked at Sam in shock and indignation, but she didn't give him a chance to respond. "Tsk, tsk. Going home with a stranger. What if I was some kind of pervert or a human trafficker, huh? Then you'd really be in trouble."

Even though it was somewhat hypocritical of Sam to scold anyone, having done far worse at that age, she still tried to keep others from going down the same self-destructive path. "How old are you, anyway? Seventeen? Younger?"

"Who are you? My mother?" The kid glared at Sam, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips turned down into an adorable pout.

"If you agreed to go home with me thinking I was your mother, then boy, you've got problems," Sam quipped, snickering at her own joke.

"Huh?" The kid stared at Sam, confused for a second before he realized what she was implying. Then he flushed and stammered, "N-no! You're too young and pretty to be my mom!"

'So cute,' Sam thought, flattered, but even if she was only barely an adult herself she didn't do delinquents, so, smirking, she replied, "You're sweet kid, but I'm no pedo. Call me in a couple of years when you grow up."

"I'm an adult!" the boy asserted without a trace of maturity evident on his pouty face. After fumbling around in his pocket he eventually produced a wallet and handed Sam his ID card. "See? I turned 18 last month."

Sam turned the card over in her hands, giving it a cursory glance. Either it was an excellent fake, one that a kid who was so oblivious should have no way of obtaining, or he was telling the truth. Besides, there was no point in getting a fake ID that wouldn't even let you buy smokes or booze, so she decided to believe him.

'Kyle Greenaway, huh?' She looked him over again.

Well, he wasn't bad looking for a baby-faced kid, and if he was 18...

Still, she couldn't help bullying him just a little bit more. "I don't know, Kyle. This could be fake. Are you sure you're not 16?"

"Seriously?" the kid, Kyle, whined. Huffing, he snatched his card back and stuffed it and his wallet back into his pocket. "If you don't want to fuck me, then fine, but I didn't come out here to be made fun of."

'Honestly,' Sam thought. 'This guy is like a puppy wagging his little tail when he's happy and nipping ineffectually when you tease him.'

Suddenly she couldn't wait to get a taste.

"Hush, puppy," Sam soothed, gently ruffling the boy's hair. "I believe you. So, do you have your own place, or do you want to find a hotel?"

Kyle swatted her hand away irritably before her change in attitude sunk in. Then his eyes lit up. He looked pensive for a moment before shyly stammering, "M-maybe... Could we go to your place?"

Putting a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, Sam chuckled. She thought to herself, 'Ah, this kid really is just too cute.'

She tapped her fingers against her lower lip in contemplation. Then a peculiar notion entered her brain, and, grinning wickedly, she stated, "Actually, I have a better idea. Come with me!"