She had read about incidents where a drug like that had been used. It was called the “date rape drug.”
That was what he had given her. The talk about wanting her advice had been a ruse.
And like a fool, I fell for it. She had no recollection of going to the airport, flying to Chicago
or checking into this seedy hotel room with Tibble. And worse—no recollection of what had happened in this room.
I’ve got to get out of here, Ashley thought desperately. She felt unclean, as though every inch of her body had been violated.
What had he done to her? Trying not to think about it, she got out of bed, walked into the tiny bathroom
and stepped into the shower. She let the stream of hot water pound against her body,
trying to wash away whatever terrible, dirty things had happened to her.
What if he had gotten her pregnant? The thought of having his child was sickening.
Ashley got out of the shower, dried herself and walked over to the closet. Her clothes were missing.
The only things inside the closet were a black leather miniskirt, a cheap-looking tube top
and a pair of spiked high-heeled shoes. She was repelled by the thought of putting on the clothes, but she had no choice.
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