Seven Days In Cell Block 7

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

A week later…

Director Munson stopped by Olivia’s office … “Just on my way home for the night, thought I’d see if you’re ready for tomorrow,” he smiled, rather thinly—he hadn’t much experience smiling in his working life. The subject matter of his job was always too grave for light-hearted banter and the usual niceties that keep an office a pleasant place to work. But for Olivia Bennington he made exceptions. Not only was she exceptionally pretty—and he dearly loved redheads—she had the kind of determination and spunk that he admired in ambitious women. What set her apart from most driven females, Olivia managed to combine her forthright manner and solid skills with enough femininity to keep from being too harsh.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Olivia smiled with confidence.

“Then you be sure to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll sleep like a baby,” she promised.

For just a moment, she batted her lashes flirtatiously, just the kind of confidence that Munson like to see. It secretly pleased her knowing she could have the man in bed with a few well-placed comments. He might not have been bad either, for an older guy, but she wasn’t in the business of breaking up a marriage, and though Munson’s had plenty of cracks, she refused to be responsible for a break-up.

Munson’s visit was followed a few minutes later by Bob Thurgood doing his usual job of checking in on the young attorney and offering his help.

“I have a few things I need yet to do, Bob, then I’ll be going home to sleep.”

“Big day in court tomorrow,” he said, as if he, too, needed to remind her.

“Just one of many,” she gave him a perfunctory smile.

“But tomorrow is critical.”

“Yes, it is. But we are going in prepared, right?”

“Right.” He gave her a nod and a smile and walked out.

Olivia could feel the fear in both men—if not fear, then it was caution, concern and probably a little excitement regarding the prosecution of Sonny Sanchez. And yet, oddly, she could feel very little of her own. Even though the papers were full of incendiary comments from the swaggering Sanchez who promised to beat the rap, it was for Olivia just another day in court—well, almost another day in court.

Finally, with the office clear of gossiping secretaries and anxious attorneys scrambling helter-skelter, Olivia was able to take a breath. She liked the office best in the evening when there were few people on the floor—even after the incident of the previous week, she was rarely rattled about being alone. After all, the police station was so close that she could open the window and holler for help if she needed it. At this point in the case, the quiet would be a soothing balm to help her focus clearly on the day ahead.

She worked for nearly thirty minutes, going over the court documents and her files for the next day’s cross-examination. A sudden pang of hunger gripped her belly. She hadn’t eaten since she downed a banana that morning and by then she was absolutely famished. She grabbed her purse, intending to grab Chinese takeout from the Oriental market down the street. She headed for the elevator, pushed the down button, then waited impatiently as the lumbering engine slowly crawled toward the fifth floor. Not atypical for the old lift.

When it seemed the elevator was doomed to remain idling on the second floor, she muttered to herself annoyed, “Oh forget this!” and headed for the stairs. She took the fourth floor staircase in a flash, then moved briskly to the third floor. Rather than a continuous series of staircases moving from one floor to the next, each one ended with a heavy metal fire door—a real annoyance when you had to get someplace fast. Moving into the 3rd floor stairwell, she found the light inside the cement structure strangely dim and flickering erratically. A glance at the fixture, she saw the bulb fluttering as if it were about to go out. For just an instant, she paused at the top of stairs fighting off a wave of vertigo that made her grab for the rail. Something was not right, and a terrified feeling settled into her bones. Just as she was about to head down, she saw from the corner of her eye a figure emerge from the shadows and move rapidly her way…too fast to push away… too rapidly to scream.

This was no dream—and there were no drugs pumping through her body and turning back her will to fight. But another sudden wave of vertigo threatened to send her plunging down the staircase and before she could gather her wits and move out of range, the man’s large body had established a firm position behind her. His hands were frighteningly real as they reached around and held her in an imperious grip. For several rough seconds she put every effort into throwing off the beastly thug, but he worked much too fast for her to thwart. In less than sixty seconds, her body was stripped of her blouse and a rag was stuffed in her mouth. Binding her hands behind her back, the humongous black shape of her assailant claimed her body as his prize.

The same assailant from the previous week? She had no way of knowing. The first had been more a presence than a real human being, but there could be no arguing over the immense physical strength of this man or his brutal aims. He smelled of leather and cigarettes, enough to arouse and choke her at the same time. When he bent down to bite her neck, she smelled his breath—a thick and aromatic scent hot enough to burn her skin.

The bite of his teeth left a bruising sting on her throat; the bite quickly followed by a sharp smack to her ass.

Olivia seized up instantly, realizing that in his scuffle for control he’d torn away her skirt and was smacking her naked ass and mauling the cheeks till she thought he would rip the flesh from her body. Then like that previous night, the invasion of her body began, fingers shoved inside her cunt first, and then her dry ass. He rammed them home like he would his c**k, leaving Olivia to hope that he went no further with the rape.

But she wouldn’t be so lucky this time.

He began with her p***y, with his large member slipping neatly inside her slick hole and banging away until he demanded the tighter hole above. She wanted to scream when his gloved fingers began to probe her ass again, and yet his skillful technique made the penetration a good deal easier than she imagined possible. He’d obviously lubed her using the copious juices leaking from her sexy slit.

Her gut wrenched with s****l anguish as the man probed deep; but more importantly, the terrifying truth of her own desire was impossible to ignore. She’d been a sucker for anal s*x ever since Tony first began toying with her nether hole. Adding to her misery, she could smell the scent of her s*x rising up from her crotch, a clear indication that what seemed to be a brutal rape was turning into something altogether different.

Was it possible that on some level she was actually enjoying this?

She fought back against her rising arousal, but was quickly losing ground.

Her ass was filled, and suddenly her body was responding enough to wipe away her fears, at least momentarily. “Yes, yes f**k me!” she wanted to scream!

Again, she pushed her desires back, though she had little hope of defeating them. Already, she could feel her arousal gaining steam.

Did her body give away her lust? Did her grunts and groaning sound too much like pleasure? Was her physical response that of a sexually turned on female? A thousand questions battered her brain as the rape went on, as she tried to square the idea of this evil assault with its stimulating effects. Only when she thought to open her eyes did she realize that her assailant had her flung over the staircase rail—odd angle that it was—and his two hands were firmly gripping her ass cheeks as he pounded her asshole from behind. Her continuing vertigo made her grab for the lower railing. Even so, any second she expected to fall forward into the abyss below.

More of the pistoning action threw her thoughts into a tailspin. Her body was already headed for a climax even though she was determined not to go there. Then, just as she was certain the thug would spill his seed inside her, he pulled out and threw her to the side. As she lay sprawled out in the dark corner of the stairwell, he ejaculated his cream against her face. The fact that she was gagged might have made the end result a little easier to tolerate, but within a second, he ripped out the gag, pulled her face into his crotch, and spilled the last of his spunk down her throat.

“What a fuckin’ slut you are,” were the first words the man uttered. The last being, “Compliments of the boss.” The familiar message from the familiar voice was enough to confirm him as the same man who assaulted her the week before. A cold chill of fear darted up her spine. At least she could hope the rape was over and he’d make a fast retreat. But those grand conclusions were premature. Once his c**k was back inside his pants, she saw him withdraw a vial from his pants, and leaning in close to her, he up-capped the cork and poured the contents into her mouth. She was too startled to react, and half the substance was sliding down her throat before she could think to spit it out. By then, enough of the drug was in her system for the lights to dim on her conscious mind and send her reeling into darkness. She didn’t see him step away, or hear the stairwell door open and close. The next thing she remembered was the pounding in her head when she awoke, and the cold feel of cement seeping into her body from the floor below.

It was nearly eight o’clock when the drug wore off enough for Olivia to awaken from her drugged sleep. How she’d managed to avoid being found half dressed in the stairwell had to have been her good, or bad, fortune depending on one’s point of view. Olivia considered herself lucky to have been spared the embarrassment and uproar that would follow should she have been discovered. Although the explanation for her subsequent behavior might have been a whole lot easier to explain had it been known that Olivia Bennington was raped the night before she went to trial.

Had she been thinking straight, she would have stumbled into the police station and reported the crime. She could have called 911 on her cell and made sure the stairwell was processed as a crime scene. But there was nothing in her make-up that would allow her that kind of vulnerability—not on the day she was to appear in court as a self-sufficient and aggressive attorney for the prosecution. The only thought in her mind was to escape the building unseen and make a fast trip to her apartment for a shower and a change of clothes. Even then she’d have to return to her office for the files she needed in court. Time was not on her side.

Needless to say, the zealous prosecutor that Director Munson counted on to nail Sonny Sanchez’ henchman on the witness stand did not appear in court that day. Though Olivia Bennington was there, it was a strangely befuddled female who cross-examined the witness, stumbled over questions, and failed to drive home the half dozen points she herself had carefully outlined in her notes. An aggressive defense attorney made mincemeat of her conclusions, and before court adjourned for the day, Olivia could already read the doubt on the faces of the jury.

When the media reported her curious state of mind, no one was surprised to see the critical review of her performance, not Director Munson or Bob Thurgood or her ex-husband, who’d made a brief appearance in the courtroom that morning. When court recessed for lunch, Munson immediately ushered Olivia into a private conference room and, after a rambling and befuddled appraisal of her cross-examination, he announced that Thurgood would be taking over for the remainder of the day. By then, the drug had worn off enough for Olivia to understand what a total mess she’d made of her case. But it was too late for her to admit the truth about her night in the stairwell. Even she understood that it had been reckless for her to go into court at all.