Contract Flames

The first thing Aurora heard when she pushed open the apartment door was Leo’s soft laugh. That sound always hit her right in the chest and made the exhaustion fade for a second. “I’m home, baby,” she called, kicking off her worn-out shoes. Her feet were killing her. Leo was on the couch, sketchbook on his lap, oxygen tube tucked under his nose. He looked up with that bright, gap-toothed smile she loved more than anything. “Rory! Come see this.” He turned the page proudly. It was a cartoon of her wearing a cape, punching a giant needle that said “BILLS” in big letters. Underneath he’d written: My sister is a superhero. Aurora laughed even though her eyes stung. She dropped her bag and pulled him into a careful hug. He felt warm. Too warm again. “You’re supposed to be sleeping, little man,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I wanted to wait for you. Jane said you had the night shift at the club.” He looked up at her with those big eyes. “Did you eat dinner?” She smiled and lied. “Yeah, I ate. Don’t worry about me. You take your medicine?” He nodded. At ten years old, Leo already understood too much. Sickle cell had turned his life into hospital visits, daily pills, and pain that came out of nowhere. The hydroxyurea helped reduce the crises, and the penicillin protected him from infections since his spleen didn’t work right, but it was never enough. One bad episode could land him in the ER fighting for air. Aurora would do anything — anything — to keep him smiling. She got him settled in bed, read him a few pages of his comic, and kissed his forehead. “Jane’s coming to stay with you tonight. Be good for her, okay?” “Be safe, Rory,” he mumbled, already half asleep. “I always am.” The club was the same nightmare as always. Loud music, thick smoke, and men who thought her body was part of the service. She tugged her short skirt down for the tenth time and kept moving, tray in hand. She was nice to the decent customers, but the handsy ones got the sharp side of her tongue. “Touch me again and I’ll break every finger you own,” she’d whisper with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. She was almost free at eleven-thirty when Mr. Harlan blocked the staff door. “VIP room. One last table.” “Harlan, I’m finished. Leo’s waiting at home.” “Rich guy asked for you specifically. Three hundred cash,” he said with that ugly smirk. “You turning that down?” Her stomach twisted. Leo’s next prescription refill was due soon. She swallowed her pride. “Fine. One table.” The VIP room felt colder. Dim lights. Leather seats. Three men. The one in the middle made her skin crawl instantly. He had a heavy gold signet ring he kept twisting on his finger, yellow teeth flashing when he smiled, and cheap cologne that hit her before she even reached the table. He waved the others out like they were nothing. “Pour me a drink, beautiful.” Aurora poured the whiskey with steady hands even though her instincts were screaming. When she handed it to him, he pushed another glass toward her. “Drink with me first.” She didn’t want to. But she took a small sip. Then another. Fifteen minutes of his sleazy conversation and constant refills. Then the heat started. It crept up her spine like liquid fire. Her head felt fuzzy. Her skin became hypersensitive. Her heart raced for no reason. “I… I need to leave,” she said, voice thickening. The man stood up fast. “Not yet.” His meaty hands grabbed her waist hard. “Come here, baby. Let me taste you.” Aurora didn’t think. She smashed the whiskey bottle against the side of his head. He roared in pain. She shoved him backward and ran. “Get that b***h!” he bellowed. The hallway spun. Doors were locked. Footsteps pounded behind her. Her body was on fire — a sick, terrifying heat mixing with the fear. One door finally opened. She burst inside, slammed it shut, and locked it with shaking fingers. A tall, muscular man sat up on the couch, startled. Sharp jaw, dark hair falling across his forehead, and intense eyes that seemed to cut right through the dim light. Even half-awake, he carried himself like someone used to being in control. “What the hell?” His voice was rough. “Please,” Aurora gasped, back pressed to the door. “Someone’s after me. He drugged me… don’t open that door.” Her legs were shaking. The heat was getting worse, making her thighs press together. She staggered forward and grabbed his shirt to keep from falling. He smelled clean. Safe. Adrien stared at the beautiful, terrified woman in front of him. He was a little drunk from the drinks Joel had pushed on him, but not gone. “You’re safe here,” he said, voice low and steady. “I won’t let anyone in.” She looked up at him, breathing hard, eyes glassy. For a moment she fought it — biting her lip, trying to step back. But the drug was winning. Her body was burning. She kissed him first. Desperate. Needy. Adrien pulled back slightly, searching her face. “Wait… you’re not okay. We shouldn’t—” “I need this,” she whispered, voice shaking as she held his face with both hands. Her eyes met his for a clear second. “Please. I want this. Make the fire stop.” That was all he needed. He grabbed a condom from his wallet. Clothes came off fast. He kissed her deeply, his hands gentle but hungry as they explored her body. She moaned softly when his mouth moved to her breasts, arching into him, her fingers lost in his hair. When he finally entered her, she gasped at the feeling of him filling her completely. They moved together with raw need — her hips rolling desperately against his, then him taking control, thrusting deep while she held onto him tightly. The room filled with their heavy breathing and soft cries. She came hard, trembling in his arms. He followed soon after, groaning against her neck. Afterwards, she collapsed on his chest, completely spent. Adrien held her, heart still pounding. He spotted her name tag on the floor — Aurora Vale — and slipped it into his pocket. He covered her with his jacket and let her sleep. When he woke up later, she was gone. Almost 2 a.m. Aurora quietly entered the apartment. Jane was asleep on the couch. Leo was tucked safely in bed. She stood at his door for a long time, watching him breathe. She didn’t even know the man’s name. And some small, secret part of her didn’t regret that night at all.