Back in the hotel room, Leslie powers up her computer and flips on the TV as well. She wants to see what the press is saying about the disappearance of Rose, if anything. On the face of it, one random disappearance doesn’t get much air play, especially if the victim isn’t a pretty young white girl. However, with Rose’s connection to Senator Robertson (however tangential), Leslie has a hunch that the local news will at least pay lip-service to the case. She is right. The news gives the bare bones of the situation and hint that the disappearance may be connected to the murder of Amy Robertson, daughter of Senator Robertson, roughly a year ago. None of them offer any evidence of such a connection, but nobody cares about facts these days. Ratings were all that mattered, and a senator’s daughter’s murder added ratings to any story.
“The chief,” Leslie murmurs to herself. She would like to follow him, but she knows better than that. Even though the Chicago players don’t know of her existence, they would be bound to notice an Asian woman paying close attention to them. Besides, Leslie does not think the chief is her top priority, so she shelves him for now. She focuses instead on Jonah Bronson. She has to admit it’s purely prejudicial as she hates child molesters with a passion. She knows it’s in large part to her own history, and she hates how her experiences with Mr. Liu has permanently marked her. Even in a healthy, loving relationship such as the one she has with John—had, she reminds herself sternly—she had not been completely free from her past.
“Oh, John. Fuck me harder!” Leslie gasped, grabbing John’s ass so she could pull him closer to her. She needed to fill every inch of his cock—and more—in order to stave away the demons. They had been swarming around her mind for days, and the best way to rid them was, well, to have sex.
“Like that, Leslie?” John thrust his cock in as far as he could, and then he pushed it in a bit further. Leslie gasped as he hit her sweet spot—one she hadn’t even known she had before John. “Is this what you want?” John grabbed Leslie’s shoulders in his hands so he could get better purchase. Instantly, Leslie froze as she flashed back to a time when Mr. Liu had done just that.
“This is the proper way to get fucked, Leslie,” Mr. Liu said, his fingers biting into Leslie’s slim shoulders. “Open your legs wider.”
“I can’t!” Leslie was crying, but that only seemed to excite Mr. Liu even more.
“Do it!” Mr. Liu shook Leslie by the shoulders until she forced her legs even wider apart. Mr. Liu wasn’t very big, thankfully, but it still hurt like hell every time he fucked her as he didn’t care too much about preparation.
“It hurts!” Leslie wailed as Mr. Liu paused in his movements.
“It’s supposed to, you little minx. That just makes it feel better for me.”
“Ok, you two,” my mother says firmly. “You need to rest. Go home.” Lyle and I begin to protest through our tears. The last thing I want to do is leave Paris. “Go! You need real sleep—not an hour here and there. Take Lyle’s truck and crash at Rainbow’s. I’ll stay with Catherine. I have my car if I need it.” When my mother decides on a course of action, the best thing to do is to follow it.