His Hostage(Mob Ties)

Risky business

I had not had a moment alone during our excursion to my great disappointment. It was fun though, I had to admit. I can't say I hated the company I was in, but I knew this would get old quickly. I needed to look out for my own well being. Max pulled me up into the train car, which I had half expected to be gone at our return. How was it still stationed and waiting? They must have stronger connections that I had imagined. We were all merry after our day, and we settled to the main car. Sasha found a guitar and began serenading the car with old Soviet tunes. We all knew them by heart, and I felt the nostalgia stuck in my throat. I felt at one with my people. In this moment I felt that the men on this train car were indeed my people. My family is made of the same cloth, lower class working people bending the law just to get by. The ruling government gave us no other options. I'm no better than they are. I hope my family isn't going crazy over my absence, but I knew that they were probably besides themselves. I was very lucky that Max took a liking to me. Now instead entertaining the strange men around me, I'm only responsible for Max's "entertainment". I'm not naive. Sex trafficking is not a rare trade here. While I wasn't jumping for joy at the prospect of being Maxims toy, I knew it was an upgrade from what might have been. Sasha finished his song, leaving us all in a pensive sort of mood. Sadness is a sort of Russian condition of life. We view it quite differently than other countries. Melancholy is respected, valued and shared. The men dispersed, and Maxim led me back to "our" room. It will soon be my third day as his hostage and I was feeling so conflicted and worried for my future. I felt weak, exhausted both physically and emotionally.
Max stripped and turned on the television, sound turned low. He lit a cigarette and the smoke soon filled the room, having no where to escape to. I leaned over him and grabbed the box and lighter. I deserved a cigarette after the two days I'd just had. The way the smoke warmed my insides reminded me of my waitressing days. I had picked up smoking for a year before quitting both cigarettes and that horrendous job. Max turned down the volume on the television even further before turning to me. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't smoke" I rolled my eyes. "Valeria, come to me" he said his lazy eyes meeting mine. I hesitated, weighing my options. Oh wait, I have none. I crawled over to him, and straddled his body. He smiled blowing his smoke right into my face. He thought he was funny, huh? I put my cigarette out on his chest. He groaned, "please behave yourself svetochik". "Why should I?" He chuckled. "You probably hate me" "that does tend to happen when you kidnap people..." he pushes me off of him. " no really, do you hate me?"he asks taking a more serious tone. I'm not sure what he expects me to say. " Not yet" I answered surprising myself with my stupid words. Why was I being nice to him? Max sat up and faced me. He pulled the tshirt that he had given over my head and threw it to the floor. He took in what he saw. He pulled me close to his chest and unlatched my bra sliding it off my skin. His warm hands kneaded my body, as he kissed my skin. I didn't know what to do or how to react. I wondered how he would react to being pushed away, would he get angry? Id seen him angry before, was it worth risking? Would he even listen? Did I want him to stop? I felt distant from myself. Like i wasn't even in my body, but watching from the outside. He pulled me down on top of him. And his lips circled my breasts and his hands forcefully held me tight to him. I gasped as he bit down on my nipple, then my belly. His breaths were short and shallow, as he grinded his hips into mine. "Valeria" he moaned taking my lips to his. "Look what an animal you've made of me" he groaned accidentally knocking his ashtray off the bed stand. " I can't help myself around you" I was still uncertain of my compromising position, the power dynamic and Max's intentions. I did like him, in a romantic type of way. But it's become clear to me in life that men don't love women in a romantic way. I am just 15 minutes of enjoyment to him. I don't want him in my head, clouding  my judgment even if his warm arms are a pleasure.