CHAPTER 23 – The Show Must Go On

[M rating, sex references, sexual abuse]

Wow, this chapter was really tough to write. I'm planning to update again next week. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and messages about this story so far. I really do appreciate it so much and it's great to know you're enjoying it!

I've been living with Alan for two weeks now. Two glorious weeks. All is simply wonderful. I wake every morning in his arms feeling like a blessed woman. We spend nights with glasses of wine snuggled on the sofa followed by glorious sex; in his office yesterday was delicious. The phone kept ringing and people left messages which only heightened our pleasure as my ankles were locked around the back of his legs sat on top of his desk. He knows every way in which to please me, a man motivated entirely by the way he makes me feel instead of being consumed by testosterone, for his own quick release. Oh to be with an older, experienced man; one so caring and gentle that will hold me in his arms and call me 'darling,' simultaneously fucking me senseless like some silver sex God.

Alan's work ethic has been rubbing off on me, and I'm pleased to say I've made a good start to my play script. I just didn't expect to be writing it on a brand new laptop that he had purchased for me. He simply would not accept my refusal and insisted I accept the gift. The following day he gifted me with a beautiful expensive looking notebook handed to be in a Harrods' bag. Needless to say – though I did – he needn't have gone to such an extortionate store to purchase a bloody notebook.

"This is not for phone numbers and telephone doodles, this is for your brilliant ideas. Use it."

His kindness and giving nature I didn't take lightly. Though I was beyond grateful, I was adamant that I pay my own way even toward petrol for all the times he'd dropped me off at work, to which he laughed and told me, "you must be bloody joking," but the last thing I wanted whilst I was getting myself back to a somewhat normal way of life was that Alan would think I was sponging off him. Every time I mentioned it he reminded me of the hardworking person I am.

The play, 'Perfume,' Alan is directing is now on its second week running and is sold out almost every night. It was on the way back one evening when he suggested that I should perhaps think about working in theatre again, and two weeks later; here I am, working in the West End as a theatre dresser. I can't quite believe it myself. I was reluctant at first. Scott's words ate away at me in the back of my mind as if I were using Alan to pave the way for a career in theatre. Alan had simply 'put in a good word' for me, enough to hire me on the spot apparently, but I refused. I wanted to go through the interview process just like every other applicant to prove not only to myself, but to know I had the capabilities of being hired in this field. I wanted to know that if I got it, it would be because of me. It was sad to say goodbye to Pellicci's since I had been there for three years, but it was time to move on.

Redhead and I believe it or not have become somewhat talkative. 'Friends' is a push, but she seems ok. I found out she has a boyfriend, which eased my mind a little. It hasn't stopped the explicit goings on behind Alan's dressing room door however. Last night before we left the theatre, he sat me atop his desk and gave me the kind of oral sex that left me purring all night. To be partnered with a man whose sex drive is as high as my own despite our age difference is exhilarating. The fact he is older and knows exactly what I want as a woman, equally. It makes me want to please him with every chance I get. I've lost count of how many times I've gotten to my knees and undone his expensive suit trousers to suck his dick. Somehow he even manages to make that seem classy. Perhaps it's his voice that strums harmoniously at my core, melting me like warm, sweet syrup as his fingers bury into my hair. I love to tease - though I want to suck relentlessly - but prolonging the act rewards us both, him with the built up pressure resulting in a hard orgasm, and me to drink him in and listen to him come. Believe me when I say there is nothing quite like hearing Alan come.

It's approaching mid January, two weeks into the Perfume production. Tonight is my night off, but I decide to attend the theatre none-the-less just to spend the time with Alan. We have a table booked afterwards at a fancy Japanese restaurant nearby and in the meantime, I use the time backstage to get some writing done on my script. After typing out a scene I have struggled for days to perfect, it finally comes to me. Yes! I hit the full stop button beaming and sit back in my chair to re-read my hard work. Delighted in the way it sounds, I decide it's time for a coffee break.

I head for the door but right there, standing in the shadows is an ominous figure. I freeze dead in my tracks as if being struck by a bolt of ice, heart pounding furiously, battering behind my ribs.

Scott.

My fists ball to my side, my eyes protrude from their sockets. How can this be? Am I seeing things? How did he get here? How did he know?

His calculated steps forward result in mine backward, my breath shakily leaving my nose.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I demand.

"Bloody hell Beck, you don't need look so afraid," he smiles. "Or is it that you think I've risen from the dead since you tried to kill me."

"I didn't try to kill you. You imprisoned me! I left…and how the fuck did you get backstage?"

"I came to congratulate you."

"You're a piece of shit. You need to leave or I'll call security. How the hell did you get past them anyway? You aren't allowed back here."

"How's your man, Beck," he looks around the room with his hands in his pockets. "Swanky dressing room, I like it. Everything going well is it? Got your perfect little life now have ya? It's amazing what you can do when you open your legs. Just never thought you were the type."

"How fucking DARE you!"

My tone raises and Scott launches for me, throwing a hand across my mouth. With all my might my elbows jab back in his ribs but he rams me in the back with his knee until I'm screaming against his hand. Though my sound is muffled, I don't give up, security, anyone, someone must be there outside in the corridors! My adrenaline has me desperately trying to free myself from Scott's grasp, but his strength overpowers me. One of his hands reaches frantically up my skirt and violently tears at my knickers. Tears streaming, I try to bite his hand, claw at him, anything. It's only when I duck and desperately contort in any way possible that I hit him between his legs and have a chance to scream like my life depended on it, and I was sure it did. Scott throws himself on top of me on the couch and rips the buttons open on my top exposing my breasts, his fingers are tight around my throat thrusting me against the sofa and he sits on my legs

"I gave you everything! Everything!" he screams, gritting his teeth in anger as he rips open his pants.

Suffocating in fear, I struggle to breathe. I can do nothing but hold on to his wrists and look into his eyes in a last desperate plea for him to stop what he's about to do.

"I fucking love you Beck! I love you!"

Scott's head turns in his violent tirade when a pound on the door overpowers his commotion. It all happens in seconds. Behind the blanket of black that is my hands, I howl, shaking all over. The intensity of the noise has me covering my ears. My head that falls stays that way blocking the screaming and shouting from three men wrestling Scott to what sounds like the floor.

"I love you Rebecca! It didn't have to be this way! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! Rebecca look at me! LOOK AT ME!" he screams.

I hear the sound of Alan's deep baritone fill the room like heaven sent and look up to see him horror stricken at the scene. Our bodies collide in wrapped arms as his hands frantically but gently touch my face, inspecting for harm. He says nothing, but one look in his eyes tells me everything. He sees my ripped shirt and pulls me close into his chest facing away from Scott and cradles the back of my head in his hand. My hands grip the back of Alan's shirt in sobbing relief for his presence, the security of his arms.

Scott, who is laying on the floor begins to laugh. "You…fucking…bastard," he cackles.

"Scott is it?" Alan sneers, standing calm but with a powerful presence above him. "You're a fucking…disgrace. Inhumane piece of SHIT if I ever saw one for all that you've put this woman thorough."

"Woman?!" Scott growls, "She's a fucking whore!"

Alan holds me tight to his chest.

"She's more wo-man than you could ever handle. You think a real woman is ever going to show her true colours to a vile scum bag like you? Someone who wallows so deeply in his own self-loathing that he succumbs to violating a woman. You're nothing but an abominable coward."

"Oh fuck off old man!

"Extensive vocabulary I hear. Wouldn't have expected anything less."

"Look at me Rebecca!" Scott demands through obscene words to the security pinning him down.

"You don't deserve to look at her," Alan interjects, "to even be in the same room with her. The only room you should be in should come with padded fucking walls. Let me tell you, this is the very…last time you'll ever come into contact with this woman. You…ever….lay a finger on her again…"

"Fuck you!"

"Says the one laying there with their fucking zipper undone…The only one you'll be fucking is yourself."

I can hear Scott struggling, muffled to the ground when in run the police. Alan pulls me tightly to his chest muffling out the sounds of Scott brutally screaming my name when the police lock him in handcuffs and run through his rights.

"REBECCA! THIS ISN'T OVER!"

A cry bursts from my gut soaking Alan's shirt, the sound of Scott's brutal shouting fading down the corridor that is backstage to follow.

"It's ok darling, it's ok…" Alan's hands cradle my head, my face, cocooning me in his arms. It's only then I realise just how much I am shaking.

Alan takes off his suit jacket and places it over my shoulders to cover my ripped clothing, and by the back of my head, he nestles me close again. I don't think I have ever needed his arms more. I cry so gutturally that I'm unaware of a woman police officer standing by our side who gently expresses her concern for my welfare. I give her a rough account of what happened, but she is keen to hear more and wishes me to express it on tape at the police station, offering me a private room to do so.

"Your welfare is my concern," she says with kind eyes. "If it's better for you, we can take a fuller statement in the morning. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?"

"She does indeed," Alan says, rubbing my shoulder.

The police offer nods politely.

"What happens to him now?" I ask shakily, watching her pen speedily scrawl over a piece of paper.

"He'll be taken into police custody, searched and questioned. We'll then get a full statement from you at the station tomorrow. This time – is it ok?"

"She'll be there," Alan says, taking the card and putting it in his pocket. "I presume I won't be allowed to accompany her?"

"During the statement, no, but you will be able to go with her to the station."

"Alan, you don't ha-"

"Sh-shh. Of course I'll be there."

The officer bids us goodbye, and Alan and I are alone. I take one look at him, hot tears blurring my vision.

"C'mon darling, we're going home."

And we do – a silent car ride. Every part of me is exhausted, unable to speak a word; my eyes fall as heavily as the weight I carry against the dark glass of the car window. Tiredness inhabits my limbs, takes over my entire self until, physically and mentally beaten, I nod off with Alan's comforting hand on my leg.

We arrive home, and despite waking from a heavy sleep, all I can think about is ripping off my clothes, throwing them out and scouring myself in the shower. I scrub myself until I am red raw, determined to rid myself of any spec of Scott's vile self on my body. Alan, being the wonderful man he is, wraps me in his arms on the sofa and lends an ear to my every thought, every tear, every ounce of fear that pours out of me and ensures me he will do all in his power to ensure Scott is locked up.

"This is your time to gain back control. You are strong my darling, look at me…You're going to go into that station tomorrow, you and I, your head is going to be held high and you're going to tell them everything."

My tears fall inevitably, but I nod fiercely in affirmation. With the thought of this turning to the courts, the last thing I want to do is to look into the eyes of my perpetrator but in order to take back my life, I am willing to do whatever it takes.

Thanks for reading! Another chapter coming soon!