Saving Aurora

Chapter 6

Aurora

The floor is freezing on my bare feet as I make my way into the cold

ultra-modern tiled bathroom. I am more than happy to wash the gunk

off my face as the man ordered. The caked on makeup feels dirty and

gross, and I’m always happy when I can finally remove it. The door closes with

a soft click and I move to turn the lock on the door handle—but there isn’t one. I

only have the illusion of privacy; the man could come in at any time.

Through the door, I can hear him on the phone speaking English—a

language I actually understand. I can’t make out the words, only the man’s

angry tone.

Stepping onto the plush bathmat in front of the vanity, I don’t recognize the

person staring back at me in the mirror. The bright red lipstick, liberal use of

mascara, heavy dark eyeliner, and sparkling blush has me looking

unrecognizable. Usually, I’m a chapstick and natural-colored eye shadow kind of

girl. My perfectly manicured nails are the only things I would’ve chosen to do

myself.

I unbutton the shirt, pull it off my neck and chest, and push the sleeves up

my arms, not wanting to get them wet. I then turn on the sink, drowning out the

little I can hear of the man’s conversation, and splash the warm water on my

face. Reaching out, I unwrap a small bar of floral smelling hotel soap that is

sitting on the counter. Working the soap into a lather, I begin to scrub my face.

As I begin the process of wash, rinse, repeat, my thoughts are on the man in the other room.

None of what this man does or says makes sense. He acts nothing like I

expect and I find myself perversely intrigued by him.

There is nothing about this man, who pays for women at a Hong Kong

brothel, that I should find attractive. Yet, I find myself craving his touch and

wanting to lose myself in him, in the pleasure he’s offering, and in his firm

gentleness and strength. I can’t explain why, but with him, for the first time in a

long time, I feel safe. And I don’t even know his name.

I had been psyching myself up to be stripped of the little clothing I was

wearing, tossed on the bed, and f****d. The last thing I expected was for him not

only to offer me food, but ask me what I would like to eat. I may have eaten my

fill of crab cakes, but the thought of a real hamburger has my stomach growling.

Then the man did something even more confusing by handing me his dress

shirt to put on. Allowing me to cover up.

Rinsing my face for the final time, I look up and finally recognize the person

staring back at me. I feel like I have a little portion of myself back as well.

I slowly button the shirt back up. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the spicy

scent of his cologne on the collar, very different from the noxious lingering Axe

that men I know from school wear. I carefully adjust the sleeves, unrolling and

then rolling them up so they are perfectly equal. I know I’m procrastinating, and

I can’t stay in the bathroom indefinitely. Making this man angry by hiding from

him doesn’t seem smart.

“It’s now or never,” I tell myself as I slowly open the bathroom door and

rejoin the mystery man