Beginning Again Ch. 05

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Author’s notes:

Thank you again for reading. Your feedback has been welcome and greatly appreciated. This is the fifth of six chapters.

Any medical and/or legal details in this story should not be considered factual.


Mac woke to the buzzing of his alarm clock, and for a brief moment was surprised to find a warm body pressed against him. The disorientation passed and he smiled contentedly. Even after a month, waking up next to Nadja hadn’t lost any of its appeal; it still filled him with a mix of delight and wonder. In six weeks he’d gone from sharing a cell with a shaggy car thief to sharing a bed with a pretty girl.

He silenced his alarm and rolled on his side, facing her, then slid his arm over her and rubbed her bare stomach. She responded almost automatically, turning away and pressing into his bare chest, snuggling closer and wiggling her hips in a silent invitation. She slept nude, always available to his hands.

He leaned in and kissed the back of her neck and she sighed happily in response. She hadn’t been a fan of kissing at first, but the last couple of weeks she’d come around. She still didn’t initiate kisses but seemed to enjoy receiving them on her neck and shoulders, though not the face.

His thumb and index finger sought and captured her left nipple and gently pinched and rolled. Her hand came up and stroked his forearm. He loved the intimacy of touching her this way, loved the notion that her body was his to enjoy. They lay together for a few minutes, breathing and touching and enjoying the closeness.

How could waking up at five in the morning feel so good?

Soon enough, he decided he wanted more – there was a long day of work ahead, so why not get it started on a high note? He rocked his hips forward, nudging her ass with his semi-hard cock. She knew what he wanted and wiggled again in response. Her hand left his forearm and slid between them, closing over his shaft and gently stroking it to full erection.

He wished he could just pull her against him and slide into her pussy from behind, but he knew the preparation required for that kind of sex would be too ambitious for so early in the morning.

Instead he lay on his back, kicking off the bed sheet and comforter in the process. The apartment was cool but not uncomfortably so given how hot he felt.

Nadja rolled out of bed and stretched; he could barely make out her slim silhouette in the darkened room. She crouched briefly next to the bed, then climbed between his knees, nudging them gently apart so that she could kneel between his thighs.

He felt her hands on his cock, warm and slippery – she’d dipped them in the bowl of olive oil that was left over from the massage he’d given her the previous night.

He enjoyed giving her bed-time massages as much as she liked receiving them, and the rub-downs were becoming a welcome fixture in their nightly routine. When he had his hands on her, his stress and aggravation melted away. Her presence seemed to dissolve his headaches. She was better than Tylenol.

She slid both hands up and down his shaft, knowing exactly how hard to grip, how fast to go, when to caress his scrotum and when to smooth her palms over the sensitive head.

He’d always thought that hand jobs were the lowliest of the sexual acts – the consolation prize – something you got when you didn’t get what you really wanted. Not so with Nadja – the pleasure he felt from her expert touch was intense and exquisite. His orgasm was coming on fast. His breath was rapid now. His body burned with arousal.

“Tell me when,” she whispered, the first words spoken that morning. Somehow she could tell when he was getting close.

He didn’t want to come. Not so soon. He wanted to stay in bed, naked and spread as she knelt over his cock, her fingers working their magic, sending throbbing waves of ecstasy through him. But before long the need for release became undeniable. He felt his core tighten. He couldn’t keep his hips still, they lifted, thrusting into her hot hands.

“Now,” he gasped.

She bent and took the head of his cock into her mouth while her hands continued to squeeze and caress his shaft. Her long hair fell forward onto his stomach and he slid his fingers into it, delighting in the softness.

He felt a tightness, a clenching at the base of his cock and he groaned as his orgasm hit hard. He thrust upward, trying to bury himself in her mouth. In response she took him in deeper, her lips tight around his shaft, her hand still pumping, squeezing, milking. She sucked and stroked and swallowed, prolonging his pleasure.

Even as his spasms began to fade she kept him engulfed, her hands and tongue gentle now, guiding him down from his climax. Only when he’d regained his breath did she release him from her mouth and kneel back on her heels.

“How was that?” she asked. She knew he loved it, but she liked to hear it said out loud – his pleasure made it good for her, too.

“I never wanted it to end.”

“Maybe I’ll slow it down poker oyna next time? Make you beg for it?” her voice was teasing and he chuckled.

Nadja had come a long way in just a month. She had opened to him fully – her wariness was gone and new aspects of her personality seemed to emerge every day. Her growth was welcome and gratifying.

“I’ll beg now if you want. A down payment for next time?” he said.

“No need to grovel,” she replied, “although I should mention we’re out of ice cream. If you wanted to stay in my good graces…”

“I’ll pick some up on the way home.”

“Good boy,” she said, planting a series of hot kisses on his softening cock, then sliding out of bed. “We’re getting low on milk, and we’re down to half a dozen eggs, so if they’re on sale…”

Nadja walked through the darkness toward the kitchenette to put the kettle on. She’d eagerly seized control of the household duties – not that he’d put up much a fight. She helped him in so many ways.

“Ice cream, milk and eggs. Anything else?”

“Olive oil. You’ve been getting more of it on my body than in your mouth.”

He laughed, then pulled himself out of bed and headed for the shower. It was time to begin what promised to be a busy day.


Hannah’s Hope was a support group that met in the evening twice per month in a sterile but well-appointed boardroom on the second floor of the Central Library. Its mission was to provide education, friendship and resources for women in the sex industry.

It had been one of the organizations that Brenda, a nurse at the STI clinic, had recommended to Nadja during her checkup. The results of those tests weren’t available yet, but in the meantime Nadja wanted to attend the support group and see what it was all about – and how it could help her.

Mac didn’t know what to expect from the gathering as he led Nadja to a seat around the huge oval desk that dominated the middle of the room. Part of him had expected to see hard-bitten street walkers and sleazy, jaded strippers but the truth surprised him – the dozen or so women who gathered for the meeting wouldn’t have looked out of place at a shopping mall or a restaurant. They looked like…normal women.

“I’m sure you’d be welcome to stay,” Nadja whispered as she removed her winter coat.

“Maybe,” he said, “but I’ll grab a book and wait outside. I want you to be able to speak freely.”

“Okay. I think this finishes by eight-thirty. If we go long, come and get me…we don’t want to miss your curfew.”

He left Nadja there, wandered out into the library and found a nearby magazine rack. He picked out a few sports magazines and found a seat where he could keep an eye on the boardroom. He was probably worried over nothing, but he couldn’t shake the idea that if her former pimp was looking for Nadja, this might be someplace he could turn up. If that happened, help would be close by.

Mac’s feelings for her had only intensified over the past month, and he got the sense that she felt the same way about him. They’d never discussed it – Nadja shied away from displaying a lot of emotional intimacy and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by broaching the subject with her. In any case, what was the rush? Neither of them was going anywhere in the near future; they had time to let things develop at their own speed.

The meeting lasted ninety minutes, enough time for him to read through three sports magazines, the world news and four National Geographics. When he started to see people filing out of the room he got up and made his way back inside.

He was surprised to see the normally reserved Nadja standing up at the front of the room with three other young woman, deep in conversation with a twenty-something man in a suit and tie. He decided to hang back rather than intrude on their privacy.

“Can I help you?” a nearby woman asked, politely but also pointedly. He guessed she frowned upon strange men hanging around the proceedings, and he couldn’t really blame her for that.

“I’m just waiting for Nadja. I can wait outside…” he said and turned to leave.

“Mac, come over here,” Nadja called, obviously having recognized his voice.

He reversed course and joined her at the front of the room. When she felt him next to her she quickly found his left hand and held it. He found the gesture surprising – Nadja rarely initiated anything so…romantic?

“This is Bob Gordon. He was the guest speaker tonight. He’s a lawyer,” she said.

Mac dutifully extended his hand and the lawyer shook it. Inwardly he groaned – he’d dealt with lawyers plenty over the years and he’d yet to meet one that did him any good at all.

“Bob, could you please tell Mac about what you were discussing?” Nadja asked.

“Sure. There’s legislation called the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act,” Bob said, “and the purpose of it is to empower victims of sex trafficking and give them options for escaping from that life…”

“I could get a Visa, Mac!” Nadja interrupted, the excitement obvious canlı poker oyna in her voice.

“Yeah? How does it work?” he replied, trying to match her enthusiasm but falling short. He knew from experience that the law usually worked against people who didn’t have money. More than that, once the government learned that Nadja was in the country illegally she’d be at the mercy of a bunch of faceless, merciless bureaucrats. Not an enviable position for a poor blind girl.

“There’s not much to it, really. Nadja would need to send in a couple of forms explaining who she is, how she came to be in this country and outlining why being deported would represent an extreme hardship. Her visual impairment would work in her favour, actually,” Bob explained.

“Nice. What’s the catch?” Mac asked, hoping he wasn’t being too discouraging. But with lawyers there was always a catch, somewhere.

“No catch, although it certainly improves her chances if she can get a declaration from a law enforcement agency. For that to happen she’d have to present herself to the police and make a complaint against her traffickers. The police would fill out a supplemental form…”

“But…what if I can’t identify my traffickers?” Nadja asked, and Mac could hear a healthy skepticism creeping into her tone.

“Well…the more information you could provide, the better it would look for you. The police would ideally like some sort of evidence to support your claim that you were the victim of trafficking. In any case, the police declaration is just one factor in the overall decision to grant a Visa.”

“Is there a time limit for applying?” Mac asked.

“No specific limit, although the application is usually looked on more favourably if it’s done sooner rather than later…”

One of the other women interjected with a question of her own, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction. Mac supposed that having free access to legal advice – even for a few minutes – was an opportunity that no one would want to pass up.

“Do you have a card?” Mac cut in.

Bob continued to speak to the other woman but fished a business card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to Mac.

He put the card in his pocket and helped Nadja bundle up for the chilly walk home. It was fifteen minutes to curfew and he didn’t want any black marks on his record for being out late.


“What do you think about applying for that visa?” Mac asked.

They were back in the apartment. Nadja was naked and lying on her back on the bed while Mac – also naked – straddled her hips. Her arms were stretched above her head, her long, dark hair splayed out on the pillow. Half-lidded, blue-gray eyes looked up at him languidly. How had he ended up with such a beautiful woman?

He ran his hot, oiled palms side by side from her navel up her abdomen and between her small breasts, feeling the soft ridges and contours of her ribcage and sternum beneath his fingers. She was still a little on the thin side, and maybe always would be, but over the course of the month she’d put on a little weight.

When he reached the base of her neck his hands went their separate ways, following the lines of her collarbone to her shoulders, then down the outside of her ribcage at a leisurely pace until he reached her hips. She rewarded him with a quiet, satisfied sigh, and his hands began all over again.

“Mmm. Something to consider. What do you think?” she said.

He slid slippery hands over her breasts, feeling her nipples under his palms. It was hard to resist the urge to pinch them; instead he focused on applying firm, even pressure against her skin. Patience and attentiveness were the main ingredients in a good massage.

“I think you should do it. And soon, like the lawyer suggested,” he said.

“But if I apply and get turned down…” she let the thought hang there.

She didn’t need to finish it – he knew what the stakes were. If they gambled and lost, she’d most likely be deported. There was no way he’d have the money to fight her deportation in court. And since the terms of his parole required him to stay within the city limits, he wouldn’t even have the option to accompany her. Well, not legally in any case. Nadja was a woman he’d consider breaking the law for.

“I was thinking we could hire Bob to help with the application.”

“How much would that cost?” she countered.

“A lot,” he conceded, “but we could cover it. I have some savings…”

“Mac, that’s all the money you have.”

He smiled to himself as he continued to rub slow hands over her torso. Even a few weeks ago she wouldn’t have dared disagree with him, let alone engage in a debate. But now she seemed comfortable speaking her mind; he read no anxiety in her face, only a relaxed enjoyment of his touch. He found her trust gratifying.

“I think this is something worth spending the money on.”

“You’re going to insist, aren’t you?” she sounded resigned but not upset.

He didn’t reply immediately, instead internet casino pushing his hands up along her armpits to her shoulders, biceps and triceps, focusing on her body while collecting his thoughts.

“I will never, ever force you to do anything you don’t want. You know that, right?”

She gave a warm smile and tried to find his eyes with hers. “I know, Mac. Thank you for that.”

There was another easy silence.

“I do have a concern with keeping things as they are now. Your legal status, I mean.”


“If something happens to me – if I fuck up and get sent back to prison, or get hit by a bus – what happens to you?”

She didn’t respond, but he could read in her expression that she was working the scenario through in her mind.

“If you had this visa, then you’d have options, social services that you could turn to for help,” he continued, “You could even go to the cops if you had to.”

“I see what you mean,” she said quietly, sounding far from convinced.

“As it stands now, you’re in a vulnerable position – a heartbeat away from being back on the streets.”

“But even if I wanted to apply, we’d never be able to get the declaration from the police, and Bob said that was an important factor for getting the visa.”

“I think we could get the declaration,” he said.

“We can’t make a complaint against Aden. We have no idea where he is. I don’t even know his last name,” she protested.

He felt her tense up at the mention of her former pimp, and her fear of him was easy to read on her face. Mac worked his fingers over her shoulders and neck, determined to erase that tension.

“I know where he lives,” he said, “Or at least, I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Your memories came back?” she sounded surprised.

“No, that night in the alley is still a total blank. But I think I’ve figured it out just from what you told me about it.”


“Well, that evening I left the apartment to get some Tylenol. It was raining, I was in pain and it was almost curfew, so I would have taken the most direct route to the drugstore.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“You told me you fled down a metal fire escape from the fourth floor, into an alley that had garbage cans in it. So a while back, on my way home from job hunting, I checked out all the alleys between here and the drugstore. Only one of them had the fire escape and the garbage cans.”

“You never told me you tracked him down.”

“I know Aden’s your least favourite topic, so I never brought it up. There didn’t seem to be a point. But now…”

“So that means…you know what building he lives in?”

“Yup. We know the building and we know the floor. And I bet we could find the room number, maybe even his last name.”


“The front door is secure access…there’s a two-way intercom system where you can call up to the apartment in order to get the door unlocked remotely. So I figure we could use the com system to call each apartment. Eventually you’ll hear Aden’s voice, and at that point we’ll know the apartment number and maybe his last name too. Depends what’s listed in the directory in the lobby.”

“And then we go straight to the police,” she finished, “Not bad, Mac. It might work.”

“Well, FIRST we hire Bob and get him to represent you, THEN we go to the cops and get the declaration.”

She lapsed into silence, her expression pensive.

“Would I have to testify against him or anything like that?”

He could tell from her tone that this was just about the last thing she wanted.

“Well, maybe. But there would be cops everywhere in court – believe me, I know. It’s not like he could do anything to hurt you.”

Another silence followed. He ran his slippery thumbs firmly up the undersides of her forearms, certainly in no hurry to bring the massage to a close.

“I suppose…it couldn’t hurt just to find him. Just to figure out where he is,” she said, sounding very tentative.

“We’ll locate him, and then we can decide what to do next. You’re calling the shots here. We can go as fast or as slow as you like,” he assured her.


“How about Friday, after burger night?”

Working at Maria’s Grill had none nothing to diminish his appetite for hamburgers. He was their dishwasher AND their best customer.

She thought about it for a while.

“We can go in hats and scarves, right? So even if he sees us, he won’t recognize us?”

“Absolutely. We’re not going to leave anything to chance. Safety first,” he replied, with conviction.

“Okay, let’s do it…just find him, nothing else, okay?”

“Nothing else. In and out, fast. We’ll keep it nice and simple, so nothing can possibly go wrong,” Mac said.

“Now you’ve jinxed it,” she joked, and her smile returned.


“This is it. I recognize the smell,” Nadja whispered.

It was a dark, unseasonably cold Friday evening. The two of them stood in the tiny vestibule of the Millbank Estate apartment building, wrapped from head to toe in winter clothing. Nadja clung to his arm fiercely; her body language wasn’t difficult to read. The less time spent there the better. It was where Aden lived; where she’d spent four awful years.

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