Chapter 1: CHAPTER 1 – TO A NEW WORLD

Claire Ortiz sighed out her partner's name as she dipped low to steal another kiss.

His body wrapped deliciously around her, their legs entangled, unwilling to part.

The signs of their earlier coupling drenched the apex of her thighs, dripping and coating her inner thighs.

"Mhm…" the man groaned as his hands skimmed across her lower back and rested on her ass. "What a lucky man I am."

His gruff voice tickled Claire's ears.

Lifting her head, she chuckled. Her fingers played with his dirty blonde locks, twirling and twirling like his tongue earlier on.

Claire Ortiz was a secretary during the day and a part-time escort at her acquaintance's bar at night.

She had been seeing one of her clients, Mark Sutton, for the past few months.

Resting her forehead against his, she gave him another quick, fleeting kiss. "You say that every time I take you to bed."

With a raised brow, Mark grabbed her buttcheek and squeezed. "Oh? Don't you mean every time I take you to bed?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. Men.

He pressed her body to his growing manhood, and he slowly grinded, using their earlier slick as a lubricant.

"I'm serious, Claire," he panted.

Biting her lip, the heat of lust bloomed in her gut.

He rolled his hips, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"I'm serious. I want to be with you. I want my life with you."

Claire wanted to laugh, but instead, she gave him another quick, fleeting kiss. "I think you should wait until after sex to talk about my future, babe."

Mark halted his ministration and sat up from the bed.

Naturally, her legs fell to his side, and she straddled him.

She observed his sharp brown eyes and thin lips stretching into a grimace.

The sirens blared outside of their dingy motel. Red and blue lights flashed across the small room. They sat face to face on the double bed, the mattress lumpy and the pillows too thin.

The residue of stale cigarettes clung to the walls and the carpet, completing the picture of a man and woman looking only to have a good time, no strings attached.

At least, it was supposed to be no strings attached.

"Hey, hey," the tip of Mark's finger gently caressed the side of Claire's face. "I mean it, I do."

Slowly, her eyes trailed up to his eyes. His eyes never left hers the first moment they had met at the bar. His eyes darted away when she looked back, and only a shy smile was evidence of his action.

Claire's hand touched his left hand and grazed his ring finger. Their bar was known for extramarital affairs left, right, and center. But Mark was different.

He was honest from the start. He told her that he was married before but divorced his wife when she began to whittle away at his self-confidence and sanity.

He was kind and respectful. Maybe awkward, but he had a good heart.

Her arms looped around his neck.

He had a good heart that she couldn't help but want a piece of. But, she wondered if he was genuinely willing to give her his whole heart.

Claire's hands trembled, but she pressed her chest against his. Then, finally, she lifted her hips, lined up with him, and sank into him.

Mark's eyes rolled back as a small groan flittered out from him.

"Wh-what would my life be like with you?" Claire whispered into his lips.

"I would, ugh," he grabbed her hips, guiding her up and down. "I would ask that you quit your night job."

She stopped, feeling the entire length of him inside of her. "Ask?"

Panting, he let out a slight grin. "Yeah. If you want to keep working, I won't stop you. I just thought with you working full time at an office, maybe you would like a break?"

Claire leaned forward; a slight grin formed. "And what shall I do with my free nights?"

His brown eyes turned dark, almost black. "Spend it with me," he whispered before greedily taking kisses and breaths away from her.

The rest was a blur.

Claire wasn't sure if she was saying "yes" to his proposal or "yes" to his body.

All she knew was that every "yes's" felt right when it was with him.

They left the motel with linked arms. The night cooled her flushed skin. Her heels clicked against the unevenly paved parking lot.

Mark fished out the keys, and as his car's headlight flashed, a pair of bare white legs stood in front of his car.

They stopped.

"Shit." Mark pushed Claire behind him.

"W-what's wrong?" Claire tried to peek over his shoulder, but the dark parking lot made it difficult to see. Instead, she could see a petite dark figure walking closer to them.

"Come home…Mark." A hoarse woman wailed. "Come home. Come home. Please, come home."

The woman had frizzy dark hair and sunken cheeks. She clutched her worn-out tote bag as if she was ready to whip it at his face.

"I told you this before, Irene," Mark said in a quiet calm voice. "We are through. We signed the papers. Let's walk away peacefully."

The woman sobbed as she shook her head. "But I love you. I love you so much; I love you, I love you!"

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A chill crept up Claire's spine. She wanted to get away from this woman. She looked so unhinged, ready to attack anyone within distance.

She pinched the back of Mark's black coat, tugging it lightly.

He took a small glance and gave her a slight smile. His arm rounded around her waist, and he held her tight. "It's alright. I'll just talk to her. You go wait in the car, babe."

With a small kiss on her head, he dropped his keys into Claire's hands.

She looked between him and his ex-wife before slowly nodding. "Alright…"

A cackle pierced the dead air. Mark's ex-wife doubled over, and tears dripped down as her mouth was wide open, producing a horrifically mutilated laughter.

"So, you left me for her? You left me for a younger woman?"

"No, I left you bec-"

"Shut up." His ex-wife lolled her head to the side. A wide manic grin etched permanently on her face. "I understand now. I do. I do. So, for you, I will do anything. My darling." She sing-sang her words and rifled through her tote bag.

Claire furrowed her brows. A part of her thought that the crazy woman would attack her, but another part of her thought perhaps she was over-reacting.

The moment she saw the light catch the metallic object, Claire turned around and ran.

It happened so fast.

In a span of a second, Mark's voice, sheltered by a loud bang, echoed in the empty parking lot.

Claire gulped. Her vision was growing fuzzy.

Mark's car was right there, but she wasn't walking any closer.

She winced. Her side was hurting. Why was her side hurting?

Her hand pressed against the origin of her pain. Warm and wet met her hand immediately.

Oh.

She slowly raised her hand.

Oh.

Her legs numbed.

Oh.

There was ringing in her ears.

Hands.

Those were Mark's hands.

Soft hands. Loving hands.

She was cold, but his hands were warm.

There was ringing in her ears. She couldn't hear Mark's words.

His hands were trembling.

She wanted to warm them, but her hands refused to leave her side.

There was ringing in her ears.

Her vision grew dim.

As if she pulled the plug of a TV producing white noise, silence penetrated her.

 

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The next time she opened her eyes, white walls greeted her.

She slowly sat up, wincing from the sudden sharp pain in her head.

Confused, she got out of bed and assessed her current situation. 

Someone dressed her in a simple sheer nightgown. Her pink nipples peaked and strained against the fabric.

"What the-?"

Where was she? She tried to recall how she got here, but sharp pain jabbed her brain. "Ugh, ow."

BEEEEEEEP.

Her shoulders jolted, and she looked up to the tiny white speaker above her equally white door.

Now that she looked around her room (was it her room?), her furniture and the decoration were devoid of any colour.

It was cold and clinical.

"Attention. Attention. Graduates, you are to proceed to the main foyer in thirty minutes. I repeat. You are to proceed to the main foyer in thirty minutes."

"What the hell is going on?" Claire muttered.

As if the world heard her question, a status screen popped up.

"That still doesn't answer shit," Claire said as she read over the status that suddenly popped up in front of her.

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