Swimsuit Read Free Page A

gloves.
    He lifted something from a nail in the wall, a mask of some sort, and when he put it on, his features became distorted. And
very
scary.
    “What are you doing? What are you doing?”
    Kim’s screams ricocheted around the small room. The man said, “That was
great.
Could you do that again? Are you ready, Kim?”
    He walked around to each of the cameras, checked the angle through the lenses, turned them on. The bright lights blazed.
    Kim followed the blue gloves as they whisked the satin sheet away from her body. It was cool in the room, but the sweat immediately
     beaded up on her skin. She knew.
    He was going to rape her.
    “You don’t have to do this,” she said.
    “I
do.
”
    Kim started keening, a whimper that rose to a cry. She turned her face away, stared toward the closed windows, heard the nameless
     stranger’s belt buckle hit the floor. She began sobbing without reservation as she felt the drag of latex running over her
     breasts, the feeling in her groin as he opened her with his mouth, the blunt feel of him pushing his way in, her muscles tightening
     to stop him from entering her.
    His breath was soft against her face as he spoke into her ear.
    “Just go along with this, Kim. Just go along. I’m sorry, but it’s a job I’m doing for a lot of money. These people watching
     are big fans of yours. Try to understand.”
    “I want you to
die,
” she said. She bit down on his wrist, drawing blood, and then he hit her, slapped her hard on each of her cheeks. Tears made
     her skin sting.
    She wanted to pass out, but she was still conscious, very much under the blond stranger’s body, hearing him grunting, feeling
     —too much. So she did her best to block out everything but the sound of the waves and thoughts about what she would do to
     him when she got away.

Chapter 6
    WHEN KIM WOKE UP she was sitting in a bathtub of warm water, leaning with her back against the sloping rim, her hands tied
     under the suds.
    The blond stranger was on a stool beside her, washing her with a sea sponge as naturally as though he’d bathed her many times
     before.
    Kim’s stomach heaved, and she vomited bile into the tub. The stranger stood her up in one powerful swoop, saying “Alley Oops,”
     and she noticed again how strong he was. This time she heard a hint of an accent but couldn’t place it. Maybe Russian. Or
     Czech. Or German. Then he pulled the bathtub plug and turned on the shower.
    Kim swayed under the spray, and he held her up, supported her body as she cried out and hit at him, trying to kick but losing
     her footing. She started to go down, and he caught her again, laughing, saying, “You’re a little something special, aren’t
     you?”
    Then he wrapped her in very plush white towels, swaddled her like a baby. When he settled her on the closed toilet seat, he
     held out a glass of something for her to drink.
    “Take this,” he said. “It will help you. Honestly it will.”
    Kim shook her head, said, “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”
    “Do you want to remember this evening, Kim?”
    “You’ve got to be kidding, you effing pervert.”
    “This drink will help you forget. And I want you to be asleep when I take you home.”
    “When are you taking me home?”
    “It’s almost over,” he said.
    Kim raised her hands toward him, noticing that the rope binding her wrists together was different now. It was dark blue, possibly
     silk, and the pattern of knots was intricate, almost beautiful. She took the glass from him and emptied it down.
    Next the stranger asked her to bend her head forward. She did, and he towel-dried her hair. Then he brushed it, making tendrils
     and curls with his fingers, and he brought bottles and brushes out of the long drawer of the vanity surrounding the sink.
    He applied makeup to her cheeks and lips and eyes with a deft hand, dabbing a little concealer at a raw place near her left
     eye, wetting the brush with his tongue, blending the foundation in,