‘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.
He gave a tight smile. ‘That a little wildcat scratched me? I think she’ll guess that. It wasn’t a very wise thing to do, Eve, Helen’s family have some important connections. I’ll have to do penance for weeks to make up for this.’ He sat down on the bed, lightly touching her cheek before she flinched away. ‘It probably means I won’t be able to see you for a few weeks, just until the hue and cry dies down.’
Eve recoiled from his touch, her disgust for him evident in her eyes. ‘You mean you—you intend coming back here?’
‘Of course,’ he laughed throatily. ‘You were a bit rough tonight, Eve, but I liked it.’
‘I was rough?’ she gasped.
‘Okay, I was too,’ he shrugged. ‘But you started it.’ He kissed her hard on the mouth before standing up. ‘I’ll call you when I can manage to get away. Take care, hmm?’ He walked confidently out of the room.
‘Carl…?’ she called after him, but he seemed not to hear her, and the door closed quietly as he left.
How long she lay there in frozen silence she never afterwards knew, and then suddenly she began to cry, deep pain-racked sobs that shook her whole body.
And her humiliation hadn’t been over either; there had been much more to come, humiliation of another kind this time.
She had finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, just too weary to leave at that time, confident in the knowledge that Carl wouldn’t be back tonight. She had been woken by the insistent ringing of the doorbell, and pulled on her robe and went to answer the door. It couldn’t be Carl; he would never ring, she had discovered yesterday that he had his own key.
A delivery boy stood outside, a huge bouquet of red roses in his hand. ‘Miss Meredith?’ he asked brightly.
She clutched her robe to her, aware of how bedraggled she must look, the cut and swelling on the side of her mouth making it look as if someone had punched her, bruises on her arms and throat.
‘Yes?’ Her voice came out husky, her throat sore from all the crying she had done during the night; she seemed to have cried even in her sleep.
‘These