Sabra hated being in that position. John had stayed true to his word. She had called Aadolf, the man from the parking lot, and promised him his money. John had gone with her that afternoon, paying off her debt. Then he had taken her shopping and bought an ultra short, silver dress for her that stopped just below her ass. She literally couldn't bend over without showing everything.

She looked like a prostitute, and that was the point of it all. John had said he wasn't expecting that, that being sex, as a payment, but close. She looked at him nervously, feeling the walls of his hotel room closing in on her. He wanted a striptease. That was all. She could do this. Get out of the dress that hardly was a dress anyway, and her underwear. Give him a show, let him see the goods, get out of his room, and forget this ever happened.

"Let me set the mood," he said.

He pressed play on his phone and put it on the nightstand. The song "Toxic" by Britney Spears started. She hated pop music, but she couldn't start complaining about it. She just had to get through the song, and then she was done. Her debt would be paid, and they would never speak of it again.

She kept the strappy, silver heels on. She doubted he was interested in seeing her feet anyway. She had never stripped before, and as many stripper rookies, she was out of her dress and underwear before the song had even gone through the first choros.

"Very nice," John palmed his crotch and smirked. "I knew you would be delicious to look at."
"Thanks," she mumbled without meaning it.
"How do you feel?" He asked.

He jumped up from the bed fast, wrapping his arms around her naked body, trapping her in his arms while groping her ass.

"John, stop!" She placed her hands on his chest.
"Just a little bit," he hissed in her ear. "You owe me!"
"I gave you what you wanted! We had a deal!" She yelled.

She pushed as hard as she could, and managed to get out of his arms.

"We had a deal," she repeated in a normal voice.
"Do you honestly think I'll settle with a striptease?" He asked.

He grabbed her and threw her on the bed. She landed on her stomach, and he straddled her thighs. He held her down with a hand between her shoulder blades while his other hand opened his slacks. She cried out in pain as he forced himself inside her.

"You're nothing but a washed up drug addict. A dirty, little whore. Randy's so fucking ashamed of you already. Imagine if he found out about all of this. What you did, and what I had to do to bail you out. You're fucking useless. The only thing worth anything on you is this cunt I'm tearing up. Might as well get used to working it around here. It's the only thing anybody would ever want from you. An easy fuck. Because you are fucking easy, aren't you? You've done this before, haven't you? You've given your body to less deserving people than me, and now you wanna pretend to be all saved and holy?"

She didn't know what hurt the most, the rape or his words. She had never done what he said. Yes, she had done drugs, but not once had she sold her body. She had kept that dignity intact all through her life, yet it felt like she was nothing but a dirty whore like he said. He grunted in her ear and rolled off her. At least he was done within a minute.

She rolled off the bed and grabbed her dress. She didn't even bother looking for her underwear. She couldn't stay in his hotel room for another second. She quickly put on the dress and stormed out of his room. She ran down the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

The doors opened just seconds later, and she came face to face with Roman. His face dropped to one of concern, and she realized how she had to look. She was crying like crazy, and she stumbled into the elevator.

"Sabra? What happened?" He asked.
"Nothing," she answered.

He placed a hand on her upper arm, but she pushed it away. She turned around and threw up in the corner. She had forgotten all about the short dress and no underwear, and everything was on display for him as she stood there bent over with her ass towards him. He wasn't concerned about her being naked though. He was concerned about the blood that had run out of her and smeared on her thighs.

"Sabra?" He placed a hand on her back.
"I said it was nothing!" She yelled.

She stood up and stared at him.

"You're bleeding. Did someone..." He had to swallow. "Rape you?"
"Oh god, Roman!" She cried.

She threw herself into his arms, and he held on tight. The elevator stopped on his floor, and he gently moved her out of it. It didn't seem like she noticed they were moving. She kept holding on to him and crying.

"I made some bad decisions in life. I'm a screw up. I stole Aadolf's drugs. Like his entire stash. I owed him 80.000 dollars for that shit," she rambled.

He unlocked the door to his hotel room and got her inside.

"Aadolf? Was that the guy in the parking lot?" He asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"Did he do this to you?" He asked.
"No," she answered.
"Then who did?" He asked.

She moved out of his arms, looking down ashamed.

"Who did this to you?" He asked.
"No one. It's nothing. I'm fine. I just need to get back to my room," she said.
"You're not fine. You're crying, bleeding and shaking. Where's your purse? Do you even have your keycard on you?" He asked.

She hadn't realized she had left her purse in John's room until that second. She couldn't go back to get it, and she sure as hell couldn't send Roman either, or he would figure it out.

"Shit!" She hissed.
"I'll say," he said. "We should call the cops."
"No!" She yelled. "No cops!"
"Okay," he hated agreeing with her on that." Let's get you cleaned up. I got some clothes you can borrow."

He went over to his suitcase and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with strings, so she hopefully could manage to keep them up on her smaller frame. He handed her the clothes and gently escorted her to the bathroom.

"Do you need my help?" He asked.
"I'm fine," she answered. "Go to bed, Roman. I'll be out when I'm done."
"I'm right out here. Don't hesitate to call if you need something. Anything at all," he said.
"Thank you," she said.

She closed the door behind her, and left him to his own thoughts. He let out a deep sigh when he heard the water being turned on. He stripped down to his boxers and sat on the bed, hoping it wouldn't scare her to sleep next to him after what she had just been through. He wasn't sure what exactly she had been through. Of course he could figure out what, minus the details, but who was another question. Not that it mattered. Whoever it was needed to be put in a wheelchair for good.