Rebeka – 1. chapter

She dropped her bag, her heels, her blazer. On the way to the kitchen, she left her phone on the table and opened the fridge. Jack Daniels. Absolut. Salads and fruit. After a deep inhale and exhale, Jack won. One more fancy whiskey tumbler, a Davidoff, a lighter, and then slowly out onto the balcony.

She blew out the smoke, took a sip of the dark drink, and glanced at the branded glass.

You’re one of those stupid idiots who drops two hundred on a few letters, she thought.

She topped up the glass and checked the view. The small capital city showed off its night lights, tempting people into the streets. Her mind brushed past the bag, the files, the people. Then the text from the bank passed through her mind, informing her that her potential one hundred percent bonuses had, oh, how exceptional, climbed to nearly one hundred fifty percent. She returned her attention to the city lights. Another exhale. Another swig.

Suddenly, she set the glass and cigarette down. Still on the balcony, she pulled down her skirt. On the way to the bedroom, she stripped off everything else and opened the closet.

What this needs is people, she thought. Company.

She knelt by the bottom shelf and pulled out a stretched old T-shirt. Jeans. Old sneakers.

What this needs is sex, she told herself later, already sitting with a drink in a randomly chosen bar.

She scanned the room. A man in a suit at the bar. Bikers at the tables. A lone intellectual with glasses. A group of guys debating football. Two couples in love. She looked around once more, ordered another drink, and stared out the window.

“Hi, I’m Erik,” a voice said suddenly, right beside her.

She flinched in surprise and sized up the attractive man standing there. Suit trousers. A white shirt with the top two buttons undone. Sleeves rolled up past his elbows.

God! Fuck me, now! The thought flashed through her mind.

Without answering, still wondering where he’d come from, she swept her gaze across the pub. Everything was as before, except that at the spot by the bar, instead of the man, there was now a jacket draped over a chair and a tie on the floor.

She smiled at the man still standing there.

“You lost your jacket.”

“It was turning you off,” he said, sitting down next to her. He didn’t need her questioning look to keep going.

“Your nails cost about fifty euros a month. Your perfect makeup and hair, what, three hundred? And yet you’re wearing a T-shirt and sneakers that, together, are worth maybe ten years and maybe ten euros.”

He waved the waiter over for another round for both of them and returned her confident, calm look.

“You didn’t even glance at me.”

He lifted both glasses as the waiter set them down, waiting until she hesitantly took hers.

“You’re here for sex, and suits turn you off.”

She needed a few seconds to process that. Then she clinked her glass against his, tipped the alcohol back, and set the glass down.

“Do you have condoms?” he asked bluntly, reaching for her hand.

Two more seconds to decide. She nodded and gave him her hand.

He stood, waited for her to walk around the table, then gently pulled her somewhere behind the bar, winking at the waiter. Her body was already realizing it was about to get what it wanted.

He opened a door and gallantly let her go in first. She expected mops and the smell of bleach. But a couch and a table?

She spun around and ran straight into his white shirt.

“I just know the owner. Relax,” he said softly.

He took her hand, pulled her over to the couch, and waited while she hesitantly lay back. Then he pulled her jeans down and lay over her.

“I want your phone number.”

The request startled her enough that she immediately rattled off ten digits.

“What’s your name?” he asked, pressing his hard bulge against her.

Both annoyed and pleased, she spread her legs.

“Rebeka.”

He pressed his lips to her neck. She felt him smile.

“Really? And can you be a rebeka?”

Only when he licked her skin did she sigh.

“I can, when I want to.”

For fuck’s sake, stop talking. Just fuck me. Rough. Make it hurt!

He shoved her T-shirt up over her breasts. She noticed he already knew not to expect a bra.

“And do you want it often?” His voice was soft, but his hands pulled her panties off sharply enough. She moaned, pleased.

“More often than I’d like to.”

He reached into his back pocket and pressed a condom into her palm.

“I don’t understand that,” he breathed, watching her rip the wrapper open with her teeth and slide her hands into his pants without answering.

Her palms were still warm. The thin material closed around him. He held her tight, guided himself with the other hand.

The thick fullness arched her back and forced her mouth open. A gentle pull back and a rough thrust back in… And then again, only a few times, hard strokes in and out, until she screamed…

————————————————————————————————

He planned to use her phone number on Monday.

Just as expected, meetings and lectures dragged on endlessly. Words kept repeating. Changes. Crisis management. Layoffs. Loss.

He decided this was the moment to redirect his attention and pulled out his phone. After a few edits, he sent:

“Are you planning to be difficult again today, even though you don’t want to? 🙂 Erik”

Blood rushed into his pants at the memory of her wetness, how yielding she had been, her tightness. And especially her scream.

“My name is Rebeka…” Her clear voice echoed in his ears.

He snapped back to reality when he realized it hadn’t been just in his head and sharply lifted his gaze to the person speaking on stage.

He froze.

“…Langsfeld, and I’m a crisis manager,” she continued confidently, with clear superiority.

“I am the embodiment of everything you’ve been listening to since this morning. I’m among the top in my field, so I can assure you one hundred percent that within three days at the latest, you’ll be using a vulgar word about me. After a month, you’ll be amazed by how wide your range of dirty words and insults has become.”

As she scanned the audience, her eyes finally caught his stunned expression. She held his gaze for just a second longer than necessary, but otherwise gave no sign of recognition.

Then she lifted her chin and her voice.

“So, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Rebeka Langsfeld. And I am your worst nightmare.”hlas a predniesla:
„Takže, vážení, volám sa Rebeka Langsfeldová a som vaša nočná mora.“