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It matters because it’s the decent thing to do.
For all of a second, I looked away.
Watching her put the dress on when she was obviously hurting from bending this way and that, was an exercise in agony. My hands itched to do something. When the hem fell in place, it only grazed the back of her thighs, revealing a hint of butt, same as the previous dresses. Damn she was pretty. I’d never get tired of looking at her, whether perfect or blemished. Besides, some of those marks were mine. Some of them when she’d screamed through those orgasms.
No man could forget that. It had left an imprint on my mind.
The door rattled.
Jaz flinched enough that even her face twitched. She backed away and crawled onto the bed, then curled up near the wall.
“Breakfast! Here, Pieter, boy.”
Mocking me seemed to have become a sport. They thought me safe, but I went obediently to be manacled. Getting angry was pointless. I needed to be good. The manacles clicked on.
Jaz had perched on the bed and was absentmindedly swinging her long legs. A nonchalant act, perhaps. I was beginning to know her. Like anyone, she got scared. She just hid it well.
I went over to the far wall, as they let the cleaning lady in. Same woman, plumpish, with dark curly hair at neck length. She never did more than glance at me though with Jaz she sometimes smiled or exchanged a word.
Three guards out there covering the door. Breakfast had arrived with the lady. She bustled about doing a perfunctory clean and changing the sheets. Jaz helped her with that as if this was some family place and an aunt was fixing the bed linen in our room.
The paper plates held a fried mix of meat, tomatoes, and potatoes, and an apple for us each. They fed us, though not enough. I’d lost muscle mass.
After eating, with me sitting on the floor and her on the bed, I washed off my plate and dried it. This one was a keeper. I needed it.
I’d boiled my strategies down to me rampaging through this place killing people after somehow, miraculously, getting out of the room, and then of course I’d die.
Or there was me and her somehow escaping the room and then reaching the jungle, or a vehicle. Or, last and best, getting word out to my friends who were ex-military and here in PNG for the same reason as I was – looser country borders and policing, less chance of being arrested for past crimes. Some of the cops here were bought. My friends were not.
“Let’s play spin the bottle.”
Jaz lowered her head and peeked at me. “What? There’s only two of us.”
“It’ll be fun, and I get to probe you for all your dirty secrets.”
The cogs were turning. I’d bothered her. “We...don’t have a bottle.”
“We have this.” I twisted the plate into a long curled mess. “It’ll do as a pointer.”
Sitting down in front of her on the floor annoyed her. Her mouth twisted and there was evil in her glare, but she shrugged.
“Fine. No kissing though, or anything, as prizes.” She drew her legs up and crossed them. “Not sure I have any dirty secrets.”
“No? We just have to answer a question.” I lifted my brows. “We all have dirty secrets.”
Some of mine were so dark I’d not tell her in a million years, but some of the others, I was strangely looking forward to spilling. A fact landed ker-thud in my head. It wasn’t likely we would ever leave here. Bleak but true. I wasn’t giving up but I knew the odds and they were poor.
She snorted lightly. “I guess.”
At the least, I wanted to get to know my pretty roommate. More of her than I did now. I might know the color of her nipples, but I wanted more, before we came to whatever end Gregor planned for us.
“Mm-hmm. Scared?” I grinned.
Jaz had this little blank expression that flitted across sometimes, like now. What did a librarian have to conceal? I flipped that. Maybe she was just scared. As if that was new.
Watching her making the bed and exchanging little smiles with the lady had brought back memories of me and Elenor, back when I had a home...back when I had a wife who would smile at me or, when I got too silly, throw pillows at me.
I missed that so much.
