The three men looked at each other. The heavyset one grinned lecherously. “What’s a fifteen grand? We’ll buy it.”
They knew that paying for a ‘clean’ girl’s first time could easily cost a ten thousand, and that was just for one man. This was a bargain.
The skinny man grabbed three bottles from the bar.
“Let me open them,” Jessica said.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why so cooperative all of a sudden?”
Jessica lowered her gaze demurely. She tightened her grip on the neck of a Martell bottle and beckoned with a finger, her voice a seductive purr. “Do you know the most exciting way to open a bottle of Martell?”
The man leaned in, inhaling her scent. “No, tell me.”
Jessica smiled.
Then she raised the bottle high and brought it crashing down on his head.
Glass shattered. Liquor and blood sprayed across her face. The man’s body crumpled to the floor.
The other two men froze, staring in horror as their friend lay unconscious, a bloody mess on the floor.
Jessica’s throat was tight. She scrambled to her feet and bolted.
She burst through the door, her legs giving out from under her. All her strength had been spent in that single, violent act. She ran, her limbs weak and shaky. As she rounded a corner, her knees buckled as if the bones had been removed.
She fell forward, bracing for the hard floor.


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: On the Ruins of His Regret I Soar