Red Rose For Love

Carl had come back the next night, alone this time. He had invited her over to have a drink with him during her break. She had refused, as the club rules said that she wasn’t to mix socially with the customers. She had been grateful enough for this stipulation when she first went to work at the club; a lot of the places she had worked in in the past had treated her as little more than a call-girl. And yet she had been attracted to Carl, had wanted to be with him, had been regretful at having to turn him down.

He had finally realised what the problem was and had arranged to meet her away from the club, although he usually managed to get into the club to see her for a few minutes each evening when she was working. That first evening they had gone out for a late supper. Carl had got her to talk about her family, about her dead parents, the godparents who had brought her up since their death. He had seemed genuinely interested in her life, although he revealed little about himself, except that his name was Carl Prentiss, and that he had a business in the City.

Eve had been naïve, naïve and totally stupid, infatuated with a surface charm and the way he received only the best service wherever they went together. His affluence was something he took for granted, but something that in her naïveté she had been impressed with.

When he kissed her goodnight he never took advantage of her eagerness, another clever move on his part, she now realised. She would have run a mile if she had known of his true interest regarding her.

She could still remember that last painful scene between them, when she had learnt exactly what Carl wanted from her.

They had been seeing each other for about two months by this time, meeting one or two evenings a week. Carl often took her to dinner after she had finished work. By this time she was so much in love with him, with his confidence, his maturity, that when he had told her he had a present for her, a surprise present, she had instantly thought of an engagement ring, of marriage.

‘I’ve found you an apartment,’ he told her once they were out in his car, a Porsche, its sleek lines telling of its price. Carl told her he had had it custom-built, and she could believe that; the car was the last thing in luxury.

She had blinked up at him dazedly. ‘An apartment?’

‘Mm,’ he nodded, his smile at its most persuasive, his handsome face flushed with pleasure. ‘Somewhere we can go to be alone.’

‘But——’ she frowned, her disappointment about the engagement ring very acute, ‘I already have an apartment.’

‘With four other girls!’ he scoffed. ‘I said somewhere we can be alone, Eve. And I do want to be alone with you, darling,’ his hand came out to grasp her thigh, his fingers lightly caressing through the thin material of her skirt. ‘Completely alone,’ he added throatily.

‘But I can’t afford an apartment of my own.’ Surely he wasn’t suggesting they moved in together! It might be prudish, and totally out of fashion, but she believed a wedding should come before she lived with any man.

Carl turned to smile at her. ‘The rent’s very cheap, darling,’ he assured her. ‘And it means I’ll be able to visit you there whenever I can get away from the office.’

‘And when I’m not at work myself,’ she put in worriedly, a little overwhelmed with the speed with which things were moving. So far she had only received goodnight kisses, and now it seemed Carl intended spending a lot of time with her in the privacy of an apartment he had found for her.

Nevertheless, she had been delighted with the apartment, with its location overlooking the river, with the furniture Carl assured her came in with the modest rent. The rent had finally been the deciding point, that and the way Carl had made love to her more intimately than any other man. She had made an embarrassed comment about the size of the bed that occupied the only bedroom, and Carl had wanted to demonstrate that it was only just big enough—for the two of them.

She had only panicked when it seemed he wasn’t going to bring an end to their caresses until they had made love fully, and she pulled out of his arms to get up from the bed. Carl had laughed throatily, lying back on the bed to watch her with taunting eyes.

She should have realised then, should have known his intention was to share the apartment with her when he could get away from his wife.

She had had no knowledge of Carl’s being married, had been shocked to the core when he had arrived at the apartment a couple of days later informing her that he could spend the evening with her as his wife had gone to her parents’ and taken the children with her.

Eve had been aghast, horror-stricken with the easy way he told her of his wife and children.

‘But I thought you loved me,’ she choked. ‘I thought you wanted to marry me.’

His mouth turned back in a sneer. ‘Marry you?’ he scorned. ‘Men like me don’t marry girls like you.’

‘Girls like me…?’ she echoed faintly.

‘Oh, come on, darling,’ he smiled mockingly. ‘You knew what I was after from the first, you just held back because you wanted more for what you’re about to give me.’

‘Get out of here!’ she screamed at him. ‘Get out and don’t come back.’ She turned away, deep sobs racking her body. Married! Carl was married!

He swung her round, his handsome face now an ugly mask, his blue eyes scornful. ‘If anyone goes, Eve,’ he snarled, ‘it will be you. This happens to be my apartment.’

All colour left her face. ‘Y-Yours? But I—I pay the rent. I——’

His mocking laughter cut her off mid-sentence. ‘Rent! You call that pittance you pay rent?’

‘Well, yes. I——’

‘Grow up, Eve,’ he scorned. ‘An apartment in this area, this apartment, would cost ten times what you’re paying.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘Don’t be difficult, darling,’ his lips were at her throat. ‘Let’s not waste any more of the evening arguing——’

Eve struggled to escape from the arms that were suddenly repugnant to her. ‘That woman——’ she breathed. ‘The one you were with that first evening——’

‘My wife,’ he said impatiently, his hands pulling at the blouse she wore with a black flower-print skirt, ripping the silky material in his haste.

Eve felt sick, swallowing down the nausea. ‘Let me go!’ she pushed at his arms ineffectually, feeling her blouse rip even further as Carl became increasingly angry with her. ‘Let me go, Carl!’ she choked, deathly white.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ He suddenly thrust her away from him. ‘You knew the score the day you decided to move in here. Oh, I know you like to keep up an act——’

‘Act?’ she repeated faintly, slumping down on to the sofa, pulling her torn blouse over her lace-covered breasts, colour flooding her cheeks as Carl clearly mocked the action.

‘The act of the sweet little virgin,’ his mouth twisted. ‘The Miss Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth act,’ he scoffed.

Eve looked up at him with pained eyes, wondering how she had ever thought herself in love with this monster of a man, a man devoid of all sensitivity, a man who cared nothing for her as a person but only wanted her body, inexperienced as it was.

‘How can you say that?’ she gasped. ‘I am a virgin.’

‘I know that, Eve,’ he taunted. ‘But you weren’t exactly backward in coming forward the last time we were here together.’ He sat down on the sofa beside her, pulling her determinedly towards him. ‘You’re a passionate little thing,’ he mocked, ‘and after a few more lessons from me you might be able to please me as much as I please you.’ He laughed softly, standing up to lift her effortlessly into his arms and walk purposefully into the bedroom. ‘I think it’s time you had another lesson. You might be less prudish afterwards.’

‘No!’ She pushed at him, his arms tightening like steel bands about her. Carl was surprisingly strong, well muscled, and kept that way by a work-out in a gymnasium three times a week. Now he exerted that strength, throwing her down on the bed and swiftly following her, holding her down with his leg over hers, his arm across her breasts as his mouth plundered hers.

Eve felt nauseous, fighting him for all she was worth. But he wouldn’t stop, and his hands quickly dispensed with her clothes, much to her shame and embarrassment. When his mouth moved to her breasts she knew she couldn’t stand it any more, and her nails dug into his back. Carl stiffened, groaning in his throat, finding pleasure in the pain she was inflicting.

‘You’re learning,’ he chuckled throatily. ‘I like that,’ he moaned. ‘Do it again, little wildcat.’

She felt like screaming, almost hysterical by this time, and her hand went up to scrape her nails down his tanned cheek.

He sprang back in pain, his hand going up to his face. ‘You little bitch!’ His face contorted viciously, his hand coming away from his cheek covered in blood, four livid scratches marring his skin, blood still slowly seeping down his bronzed cheek. ‘You little bitch,’ he repeated, and his hand came out to land painfully against the side of her face.

‘Carl…!’ She cringed back against the pillows, terrified of the burning anger that tautened every muscle of his body.

‘Yes—Carl,’ he snarled. ‘How the hell do you suppose I’m going to explain these scratches to my wife?’ He took her by the shoulders. ‘You stupid damned bitch! Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ He flung her back against the pillows. ‘Well, you’ll pay for it now!’

What had followed had been the most humiliating experience of her life. Her body had been subjected to Carl’s lovemaking in the most brutal way possible, her brain numbed, the bruises on her body and mind not felt until much later.

When he had finished with her he stood up to dress, not even looking at her as she huddled beneath the sheet, her body bruised all over from his rough treatment of her.

He knotted his tie with meticulous care, once again the debonair man he had been when he arrived an hour ago. God, she thought, had it only been an hour! It had seemed like an endless nightmare, leaving her with her body violated. But the scratches she had given him made him a marked man.

He seemed to think so too, as he studied them in the mirror, a dark scowl to his face. ‘Helen will give me hell about this,’ he muttered furiously, turning to glare at Eve. ‘What the hell am I supposed to tell her?’

She was sobbing quietly, feeling as if her body were unclean. ‘Why don’t you tell her the truth?’ she said dully.