“What’s your name sweetheart?” Another man asks. He’s sitting on one of the couches, drink in hand, staring me up and down like meat.
“My name’s ah, Faye.” Fuck should have given a fake name.
“Oh well Faye, that’s a very pretty name, why don’t you come over here, have a seat.”
His words have me scared out of my mind and I freeze.
“I um, I wasn’t meant to come in this room,” I clamour.
“What do you mean?”
“I was just trying to charge my phone.”
Two men are seated on couches, one is in the corner on a call whilst this is happening. The man that originally spoke to me is pouring himself a drink. He turns around now. I realise how good looking he is, tall, broad shoulders, sharp features. I’m biting my lip in anticipation of his answer.
“Well maybe we did forget to call a girl then,” he sounds sombre. I am about to turn on my heel to leave when his eyes hold me in place. He rakes his gaze down my body, and I feel as if I am being fucked without him so much as touching a hair on my head.