It pauses for a minute for me to enlist whatever else. Flickering and squinting against the daylight, I hear the squeak of my calfskin bonds moving against their tie. Recollections gradually float into my brain as the betray influences unsteadily around me. Recollections of gunfire, haziness, orders woofed at me by a man in a dull hood.
Also, Katana’s dad.
Wrong place at the wrong time, obviously he accepted that I was in on it. No time for clarifications.
A cloud shifts and the sun warms the tissue of my stomach. My stomach holds, not having any desire to acknowledge what that implies. With my arms tied over my head like this present it’s troublesome, however I battle to look down. Somebody has stripped me bare. Unharmed, to the extent I can tell, yet that is more terrible. My heartbeat thunders. I’ve heard the stories. I comprehend what comes straightaway.
Appendages hurting from being extended for so long, I compel myself to turn. Mexico clean extends to the skyline, peppered with scanty prickly plants and outcrops of shake. Behind me, a plain stucco mass of an old building. I know this place. Katana brought me here. We had intercourse and viewed the dusk. It’s remote. Regardless of whether I yelled, no one would hear me.
“All things considered, well, what’s this?” For a moment, I don’t perceive her voice. It sounds unique. Lively. Lively? “My dad disclosed to me I would be satisfied.”
“Katana.” With my body extended as it seems to be, it’s hard to get the word out. “I didn’t… ”
She snickers. “I know, Juan. So does my dad. He instructed me to thank you for your faithfulness.”
Alleviation surges through me. He knows I didn’t sell out him. In any case, that doesn’t bode well, with me being tied like this. “At that point why am I-”
As she comes into see, that idea dissipates in the Mexico warm. Katana is wonderful. No, that word doesn’t do her equity. She’s beginning and end. Since the minute I met her, some other excellence has been lessened. Her long, dim hair, her opal eyes, her perky bosoms. Indeed, even in my present circumstance, my heart stops as I see her, my look slides over her body, exposed aside from dim leggings and a suspender belt.
My cerebrum scans for a type of sense in what’s happening, yet there is none. It must be a fantasy. Some place, in reality, I’m broken and oblivious from the beating I’ve gotten. That is the main clarification.
“You appear somewhat lost for words, sweetheart.” She smiles and undulates, gnawing her lip as she touches an areola, squeezes it to blush the skin, and looks down at my rooster. Automatically, I feel it solidify under her look.