Chapter 74. Knife

ZHIVARGO

I sat down, just to think and h*pped up when I realized I was sitting on a pair of white period panties with what looked like oil or something black soaked in them. Was that dried shit on the toy? Where was I? I was getting more and more nervous by the second.

"Where am I?" I found myself asking silently.

"Do you always go around hitting women?"

"I didn't hit you...I just slapped your hand out of my face!"

The breath caught in my throat. Two images shot through my skull, rendering me silent.

I remembered South Beach. And a woman riding me in a hotel room, her name was Jamaica.

And just like that the images were gone, leaving me vulnerable.

Just as my breathing returned to normal, a startling, blood-curdling scream, from behind me, constricted my pulse (stalled my heart) into a deafening pause that kept me nailed to the badly― brown and beige―tiled floor. I knew the look on my face without knowing the current state of my eyes.<