Learning to Trust: Limits

After a restless night of tossing and turning,
I awoke with a
raging headache
, my brain feeling like a transplant that my body was entirely rejecting.
Damnit!
I had allowed myself to drink far more than I should have. Honestly, I wasn't a very good drunk, so I was always taking
a risk when I did such things—
especially since I was currently in the
professional
business of keeping secrets.

Nobody was in the room with me, a fact that startled me
. For some reason I thought that Roland had stepped into my room and woke me. I figured he would tell me to get dressed and that it was time to go. I'd reluctantly crawl out of bed and get dressed and—

No, nothing.

I rolled over and
checked my phone and saw that while I had slept in later than usual, it was still early in the day.
Shower
.

The
hot water
felt especially good and
it helped to calm the pounding in my head. I had made a routine out of staring at myself in the mirror before and after I got out of the shower, looking over the details of my transformation from
dirty
to
clean
.
Today, it seemed more drastic than usual. It went far deeper than just physical cleanliness.

It was always my face in the mirror, always that same Marisa that I'd known forever. However, inevitably I always started to see someone else, someone troubled and conflicted, someone that possessed more
evil
than old
Marisa ever had. No, I hadn't directly done anything bad that I knew of—but just being around it made
me feel like I was absorbing
a little at a time
,
like the fluoride that we all consumed via drinking water.
Trace amounts could really add up over time
, even if it didn't ever seem like much in the moment.

I walked out of the shower in my robe and noticed a hand-scribbled note stuck to the inside of my door.
It hadn't been there earlier.

Pet,

Business calls, so wear your sexiest and best business attire. If I can't resist you, I'll know you've chosen right. I'll see you downstairs when you're ready.

-Roland

I immediately knew what route I would take—I went for the same blouse/skirt combo I'd worn early on in my interview with Roland,
sealing
the deal with the fancy high-heels he had bought for me to wear with the dress he had picked out.
The skirt was high and the blouse was low, the perfect amount of sexy. Today, I wouldn't worry about body image or anything else.
Per Roland's words,
I had a purpose to serve, and in my current state, I would definitely serve it. My cleavage was nice and soft, ample enough to cause a distraction if I neede
d one. And then there were legs and my butt and—

After applying some subtle make-up—just some
eye shadow
and blush seemed adequate for today—I headed downstairs to meet Roland. He jumped out from around the corner and hugged me something fierce.

"Roland! Geez, you scared the hell out of me!" His lips met mine and gave me a few quick kisses.
I kissed back instinctively, not necessarily because I wanted to.

"I couldn't resist pouncing on you, my pet! I'm the hungry lion and you're my prey!" I understood the visual, but that certainly didn't make it the most comforting choice
of words. He was
wearing jeans and a black dress shirt; I had expected him to be dressed up as well for some reason. It always made me laugh when I thought about him riding in a limo wearing jeans for some reason.

"Real nice, Roland," I said. "You've got coffee for me? You made me drink way too much last night. I don't get how you're so energetic."

"I've already had coffee
,"
he said, his growing smile affecting the timbre of his voice. "A lot of coffee. Plus, I'm excited about my pet. You're going to do such a good job today!"

"I hope so," I said with reluctance.

"You look positively
delicious
," he said. He nuzzled the swell of my breasts and planted a
deep
kiss there.

"Okay, okay," I said, gently pulling him away. "I thought we had business to do."

"Oh, right. I'm glad I've got you here to keep me on track! I get so distracted sometimes." His eyes drifted right back to my cleavage and then he straightened up and led me toward the kitchen.

Roland fed me and gave me coffee
—he still didn't trust any of the domestic workers to make the coffee and still insisted that he always do it himself—and then told me that we'd be leaving soon.

"What am I supposed to do again?" I asked.

"I haven't told you yet," he whispered. "It's a secret. I'll tell you in the limo." That familiar smile
broke out across his face. He ran a hand through his silky hair
and took a deep breath. "I'm just so excited! You'll do so well."

His giddy excitement was a little troubling to me, even though I think he meant for it to be inspiring. I still had no idea what the hell I was going to do, so I just played along.
Patience, Marisa.
A short while after, we were in the limo, driving toward the heart of the city.

Roland sat across from me, cradling a briefcase in his arms like it was a
baby
.
Oh,
a
briefcase
.
It had been sitting in the car, waiting for him.

"You're my delivery girl today," Roland said. "You're meeting a very famous man, a very rich man."

"Oh, so I—" He cut me off.

"Pet, allow me to explain all at once, all right?" A dash of seriousness suddenly entered the mix.

I gave an exaggerated nod.

"You're meeting a Mr. Von Williams. Well, Marcus Von Williams to be exact. He's a very famous oil and gas man, amongst other things. You'll call him
mister
, however." His fingers scraped along the leather surface of the briefcase as he talked.

I nodded again.
I had heard his named tossed around when I originally did research for my interview with Roland. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember much in that moment and it bothered me.

"I'm providing him with a peace
offering." He clicked open the briefcase and lifted the lid. It was filled to the top with perfectly sorted stacks of one-hundred dollar bills, the kind you always saw people dealing with in movies.

"Holy shi—"

"It's ten million," Roland said. I wasn't about to count it, so once again, I nodded. "He controls some territory that I'd like to do business in. Hopefully this will put us on
good terms
again."

To say I wasn't suspicious would be a total understatement. I was about to deliver a briefcase with ten million dollars in it to some presumably sketchy guy that Roland wanted to do business with. However,
it looked like just
money in that briefcase. The bills looked freshly printed and were wrapped in those labels that declared the value of each pile. I had never seen so much money before in my life.

Roland hadn't said anything in a minute, so I spoke up. "So I just need to give this to him?"

"There's something to add." He closed the briefcase
and flipped the latch back into place. "Mr. Von Williams loves woman. He's also kind of a
womanizer
."

"What?" I asked. The news seemed troubling, obviously. He was already prepared for my response.

"I told you you'd have to be brave. You don't have to do anything except resist him. Drop off the briefcase, be polite, and leave.
I know you're strong enough.
"

"He's not going to hurt me, is he?"

"He will probably make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry about him in advance. He's kind of a
sleaze
." Roland hung his head down, trying not to make eye contact with me. "Men with money are like that, sometimes. They think that with money, they can do absolutely anything they want. In some cases, that's true."

I felt both numb and excited. It made it difficult for me to sensibly convey my thoughts. "Yeah," I said.

"You'll be fine, okay?" Roland smiled again. "I can't show up there, not now.
I'd go myself if I could. I'm just not sexy enough.
"

"So I'm just part of the offering then, huh?" It was a little insulting to learn why I had dressed up so well. For a moment, I put my hands across my chest, shielding
my
cleavage from his eyes.

"This is business, pet.
It takes guts to do this, especially after I've already given you so much information. I'm positive that you'll do just wonderful. Believe me, please."

Despite my internal conflicts—the last time Roland had paraded me around sleazy rich folks it obviously hadn't gone well—I realized that this was exactly what I needed to do. I was certain that some element of this was highly criminal; I just needed to keep the gears of the organization turning one way or another. I knew
Ramón
was encouraging it, and that helped me with my decision to cooperate. This was just a transaction, right? Money changing hands. Simple, effective. I was just acting undercover, and sometimes people undercover had to get their hands dirty.

Roland saw me thinking. I was thankful that he couldn't entirely read my mind. "Pet, you'll be fine. Just be you. Be bold."

I took a deep breath. It was literally
now or never
. "I can do it, Roland. I can. I dealt with you at the beginning, right?"

He smiled with sincerity. "That's right. I knew I could count on you."

"So where is this taking place?" I decided that it might be nice to forward the information to
Ramón
.

"A
restaurant
," Roland said. "We'll drop you off down the street and then pick you up once you come out. You'll tell them that you're there to see Mr. Von Williams on behalf of Roland Starland. Very basic."

Obviously, he was keeping it vague enough to keep me guessing.
So much for that plan
. There would be no backup if something went wrong, a thought that simultaneously empowered and horrified me. I had to be ready for this, to roll with the punches, to
improvise
.