Make him happy they said, but they never really explained what I was up against.
Though the room was bare concrete except for the observing glass the first thing I notice is him. They never told me he was handsome or that he was young. I expected a toothless monster standing in front of me ready to pull me apart by each limb. His dark brown hair hung just below his ears. His blue eyes they darted from mine kept me more captivated than I'd like to admit. My hands wrung in front of me. I smiled but the hands gave away my nervousness. He barely looked at me. Turning his head he frowned. I paused. Having no idea what to say or do I was frozen. The fact that he hadn't acted immediately took me by surprise. I thought he was the one who was looking for a companion.
His bare chest rose and fell. A slight snarl formed on his lips. I felt my own part with fear.
"Why are you here?" He asked.
My mouth opened more to answer but only a slight squeak came out.
He was there before I knew it. He slammed me against the concrete wall. His arm they had warned me about held my throat. The cold of the steel arm that he wore startled me. As well as recognizing the fingers only formed the shape of my throat but put no pressure on my skin.
His blue pained eyes searched my own for an answer.
"Let me go?" I asked softly.
The doors burst open and he jumped back away from me. He moved as far to the wall as he could. The men entered holding a stick of electricity made to keep him calm. He hadn't done anything. I found myself rushing in between the men and the man I was ordered to "keep happy".
"Don't!" I shout. "He didn't hurt me!" I pleaded with them. Is this what they wanted? Would this make them as well as him happy? A threat of a step forward from one of the men cause me to flinch and he was then in front of me. His stance was ready to defend me if need be. I found myself wrapping my arms around his strong waist and weaving my arm through his human arm. I tugged him back gently knowing there was nothing I could do to really stop him. He was too strong. I had been warned.
The men backed away and I released my grip on him. His body eased and the sound of the door locking us in echoed through the room. I stood only a few steps behind him. He looked up and sighed. I imagined his eyes were closed and he was regaining his composure. The muscles in his back flexed. I knew what they had asked of me and it was undesirable but he was desirable.
He turned to me again. "Why did you do that?" He asked accusing
"I didn't want them to hurt you. I know they do." I answer
I see his lips move and realize this is where I will find all that he needs to tell me. The movements of his mouth would let me know if he was happy or pleased or sad. His nostrils flared.
"Why are you here?" He asked again
I move to the bed in the room.
"I have been asked to keep you happy." He has been isolated. He is not stupid. I sit on the bed.
A huff of air flows through his nostrils. He turns from me and paces the room. Fists clenched. I watch him and study him. Nothing about his movements makes me feel as though I should be ready to defend myself. Everything I have ever been told about him makes me want to. I know that is part of the problem with his life. No one trusts him not to strangle them at any moment. He stops and looks at me. Really looks at me. He sees that I am wearing a white mini halter dress that is low cut all the way to my midsection. I wasn't sure how my breasts hadn't come flying out as of yet. White spiked heels were on my feet. I had to take some time to learn to walk in them. My blonde hair is not pulled up but is styled in an old fashioned way. They said he would like it. I felt like they were wrong.
He walks quickly and gracefully to the bed. My heart pounds. He stands close to me, so close I can feel the heat radiate from his bare skin.
"Are you a hooker?" He asks
The innocence in his question almost makes me giggle. I stop myself. He doesn't deserve to be made fun of. I clear my throat.
"I have been asked to make you happy whatever that may be." I respond
"You're being forced?" He says. I'm not sure if it's actually a question or a statement. My heart pounds harder. I am not doing what I was sent here to do. This is not working.
"I….I am not being forced." I push out the answer. It was a terrible lie and I couldn't have lied to the sadness in his eyes if I tried. He knew. His top lip curled and his nostrils flared. He gently grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door. I stumble surprised by his actions.
"Go away!" He says and pounds on the door.
Fear sears through my body.
"Come take her away!" He shouts and pounds again.
I fall to my knees in front of him and grab his belt loops.
"Please I'll do anything. Anything you want. Don't send me out there." I beg.
He pulls me up to standing eye level with him. Quicker than I see it his arm is around my waist. He lifts me and pushes me against the wall. His breath is warm on my neck.
"Will they hurt you?" He asks in my ear.
I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in the crook of his neck.
"Yes." I answer.
He pulls back. He wants to see if I'm lying. A tear spills over my cheek.
"Turn me around. Please? Or they'll know." I plead
He does slipping his hands under my bottom holding me perfectly steady. I wipe the tears away and place my hands on his shoulders. His jaw is clenched. He is angry that I'm sad and they are using me like him. I touch his face and he flinches slightly but moves in to the touch. He closes his eyes and sighs.
"I haven't felt a gentle hand for a long time." He says.
I want to cry for him. To cry about what they are doing to him and to cry for what they are doing to me. I trail my fingers from his chin to his chest where I let them linger longer than I should. He frowns and put me down. He strides to the glass and with his metal arm he punches with so much force it shakes the room. I rush to him and grab his hand pulled him away.
"Stop!" I plead
I force him, but know he lets me, into an embrace.
"They'll make me leave." I whisper. "I don't want to."
He snorts. "You're just saying that."
"Give me a chance?" I ask.
His metal arm touches the small of my back and I shiver. It was already cold in the room. He pulls away. I'm afraid he's angry again. I follow closely. He moves to the bed and picks up a plain white t-shirt. He hands it to me.
"Put this on. You look like a hooker." He says
I scrunch up my face, but the slight upturn of his lips lets me know he's teasing. I take the shirt and pull it over my head messing up the hairstyle. The t-shirt is big but it feels better. I pull the skirt lower closer to my knees. He sits on the bed and runs his fingers through his hair. I sit on the bed with him but give him space. I don't want him to have any other correct assumptions about me. I was a whore and was living out the life of a whore. I would be sleeping with him right now if that's what he wanted. I look away from him ashamed of myself. I see the glass is now cracked but not broken. I sigh and move my eyes back to my troubled comrade.
I kick off my shoes revealing freshly pedicured toes and I see he notices. I don't make a comment about it though just wonder if he's ever seen it before.
I cross my legs and try to relax. What was I going to talk about with a 95 year old man?