As she struggled, seemingly in vain, against the weight of his body, her mind raced through the events of the last hour. Laying there now in the semi-darkness of the hotel bedroom, her memories seemed detached – almost like scenes from a bad movie being projected into her mind’s eye. She watched them play out, unable to intervene, knowing what would happen to the players before they realized it themselves.
It had started innocently enough at the bar of the Polo Lounge. The handsome Russian had offered her a drink scarcely a minute after she walked into the room. Getting a free drink had never been a problem for her. But getting drunk was not why she was there, not tonight. Her only goal was to get him alone, get him naked and then get him to regret ever laying eyes on her.
The first two had been easy. But almost as if it were a cruel plot twist in the movie of her life, the regret was now hers.