Chapter 7 Bail

• *Sylvester’s POV*
• Allowing her to walk ahead of me, I found myself captivated by the graceful movement of her body. Enthralled by the swaying, I almost collided with her when she abruptly halted.
• "Here is your room," she gestured towards the closed door.
• “Send someone to change the sheets," I requested, casually toying with the keycard.
• Her brown eyes met mine, and she replied, "The sheets are already changed."
• Her meticulously tied-up hair appeared to yearn for liberation. My focus was fixated solely on her slender neck, captivating my thoughts. That slender smooth neck.
• Edging closer, I whispered, "Will you lie on them to assure me of their cleanliness?" I acknowledged I might be pushing my luck, but she had kept me on edge throughout the entire month. It was time for my satisfaction.
• Her eyes scanned the floor and then flicked towards the door. "The sheets were changed," she insisted. "Unless you lie on them, I'm not convinced," I declared, opening the door. "Where's your customer service?"
• She nearly pushed me aside as she entered my room. With the door now closed, she proceeded to remove her shoes and climbed onto the bed. "There, happy now?"
• "You're on top of the sheets, just so you know," I remarked, attempting to mask my amusement. "People usually sleep between them."
• As she shifted positions, kneeling to access the inner sheets, my self-restraint nearly waned. "Look away," I instructed myself, but my gaze remained fixed on her, the position was perfect.
• "Sly, don't do this," she softly implored.
• "Do what?"
• "Play this game."
• Walking to the edge of the bed, I observed her with my hands in my pockets. "One night. That's all I need to prove to you that you don't need a heart."
• She stood up, ready to share her thoughts, but thankfully, my phone interrupted. Turning my back, I answered, "Father."
• Anticipating she might take her leave in my momentary distraction; I was surprised to find her still there when I concluded the call. Facing her, I remarked, "I take it, it's a yes then."
• I never believed in coercion; personally, women tended to fall over me, and I selected at my leisure. Yet, when Sandra headed towards the door, I caught her arm. I couldn't exactly be furious at her for showing loyalty to a cream puff, but I desired what I desired.
• Pulling her towards me, we locked eyes. I waited for her to speak, but she remained silent. "The words “give in to me," they waited to be released, but my pride held me back. Who was she that I should beg?
• My heart quickened with a tinge of nervousness, yet my eyes maintained their composure. I sensed the tension in her gaze as she tried to defy me. The first one to crack would lose. She blinked twice, and in my imagination, she was on my lap.
• The third blink formed her mouth into an oval shape. "Dammit, Sandra, just give in," I silently urged her in my mind. She stood her ground, obstinately refusing to say anything. I yearned for her loyalty to be mine.
• My father's call served as her reprieve, prompting me to release her arm. I walked to the window, concealing my anxiety. The door closed as I engaged in the call, leaving me with a sense of defeat. Cathy was never this resistant, not even when I repeatedly broke her heart.
• Leaving the bed and breakfast to tend to business, I walked out, casting her a quick glance filled with malice to keep her on edge. Upon my return in the evening, I found her heading out. A daft usurper attempted to corner her around the bend.
• Approaching the scene, I heard her terrified scream as she pleaded with him. The sound of her clothing item tearing unleashed my fury, and I unleashed a series of punches on him, oblivious to the approaching police. The imbecile lay on the ground, blood spewing from his mouth.
• Unbelievably, I found myself arrested for her. As they shoved me into the back of the car, my eyes remained on her. "Officer, ensure she safely reaches her dorm," I instructed, making no attempt to resist arrest.
• Another squad car arrived, and as I was driven away, I counted the streetlights on our way to the station. Now, I needed to decide whom to call for bail, with Uncle Sam topping my list. While contemplating what to say to my uncle, my mind involuntarily conjured images of her.
• Despite the gloomy atmosphere and the pervasive smell of urine in the waiting cell, a grin flashed across my face.
• "Ingram," the officer called, "You're out on bail."
• I hadn't made any calls; who bailed me out? Turning to the officer as he opened the gate, I inquired, "How much was the bail?"
• "5k. Pays to be a rich kid, huh?" he taunted.
• As I scanned the room, trying to identify my benefactor, I spotted her seated quietly in the corner, waiting for me. I walked up to her, standing tall. "Are the tips that good?" I jested.
• She stood up. "You have no idea."
• While we faced each other with an awkward smile on my face, she softly said, "Thanks."
• Rubbing the back of my head, I struggled to maintain my composure. "A kiss on the lips would have also conveyed the same message," I stumbled through my words. Offering to buy her something to eat, I called a cab to take us back to the bed and breakfast.
• I handed her a hoodie to wear, but our plans to leave were thwarted by a sudden downpour. Standing beside her on the balcony, we watched as the rain fell. She grabbed the cigarette out of my hand, "How can you be so stingy? I have to smoke my trauma away," she said.
• It took every ounce of self-control not to make a move. As I watched the smoke slowly escape her soft lips, I felt a weakness inside. "She's just a girl with soft lips," I reminded myself, even though I didn't quite believe it.
• Eventually, we sat on the couch and shared my whiskey, a bottle of bourbon borrowed from my father's storehouse. The brown liquid flowed generously, tipping into the realms of our brave sides, casting all pretences aside.
• I never anticipated a girl could possess such delightful laughter or craft such humorous jokes. She comprehends my sense of humour, introducing words into our conversations that I never considered including.
• For instance, she remarked that papercuts resemble teases of pain—a perspective I wholeheartedly appreciate.
• When she eventually gave me her account number, I impulsively sent her fifteen thousand. What possessed me to try and impress her like that, I couldn't quite fathom.
• I enjoyed observing her as she drifted into slumber. Not even halfway through the bourbon, and she resembled a melting wax doll. Recognizing her need for a sense of security after the ordeal she had endured, it seemed only logical to act as a protective shield, offering her the comfort she sought.
• A damsel in distress often requires such care, and I find satisfaction in playing the role of a hero.