It was supposed to be magical. When a man was with a woman in the most intimate form, there was something special to it. The carnal desire fueled the passion that dictated every word, every movement. This magic was the perfect distraction from the real world, it occupied the mind as pleasure coursed through the veins with every heartbeat.
And yet, there was nothing magical about it.
After the club closed for the night in the early hours of the morning, the two headed back to his apartment around the corner. It was a nice enough place, appropriately decorated for a nightclub manager. The faint scents of cigarette smoke and whiskey lingered in the air, yet she barely noticed. After you're exposed to something for so long you get used to it. As per routine, he put a record on, usually in a smooth jazz or piano ballad to set the scene. He poured himself a drink, knowing she'd refuse one of her own yet still intoxicating her with his whiskey tasting lips.
Their kissing became more passionate as their bodies pressed together. One by one they would take turns undressing each other, the straps of her dress, his suspenders....Sometimes they made it to the bedroom down the hall, however she had a feeling this wouldn't be one of those times as he steered her towards the sofa.
They never spoke during. Although her heart wasn't in it the way his was, she knew what was expected of her and always performed admirably. On some level she did care for him, yet she was uncertain in describing such affections of love. After all he was the one who had taken her in off the streets and given her a job. She knew that as long as she was with him and obeyed his every command that she would be safe. He would protect her, give her what she needed in return for a price.
She was barely aware of the fact that he'd pulled out of her, and instead was focused on the trail of soft kisses his lips had left from the side of her neck down to her hips. "Well done." He whispered breathlessly. She pulled the blanket up over her naked body, ashamed at herself that this was how she had managed to survive. She gathered the sheet around herself and stood, making her way to the washroom where she hoped to desperately remove any and all of him from her body.
His words echoed in her mind as the tub filled with water. She suppressed a gasp as she climbed in, the warm water soothing her sore body. This was the only time she had to herself it seemed, where she could be alone with her thoughts. As she water lapped around her her eyes pricked with tears and she clutched her legs, bringing her knees to her chest. With trembling breath she gave in to her emotions, carefully quieting her sobs as to not reveal herself to him. If he knew how she truly felt that would be the end of things.
The end of her.