Hate Feels Just Like True Love

It was a late autumn Friday afternoon; saccharine aromas scented the air. The sky dyed hues crimson and fuchsia. Beyond the pines which gauntlet the warehouse, the chirps of cicadas and passerby cars hummed.

Outwardly, the warehouse appeared abandoned and nondescript. Elijah lounged within. He lax on a burgundy couch with a cut-glass of liquor nursed between his fingertips. He’d manicured nails and scarred, dark brown hands. His amber eyes mirrored in the cognac glass and Elijah drank the liquor to its dregs. He’d get thoroughly soused till dusk. His more epicurean customers arrived only during the witching hours of the night.

He watched The Boys from a flatscreen TV which hummed a blue hue in his loungeroom. Elijah’s gaze averted to the room’s sole window. Canary light sliced the blinds and illuminated three black teardrops beneath the crescent of his right eye. He watched the parking lot.

It was a vacant flat, dusty and unkempt. Fallen green tree leaves, red dirt and dust floated in the afternoon air. It was junky and college students’ hours at 7:00 PM. A magenta pink sedan careened into the lot and its chrome black rims spurred debris. The engine purred to a stop and a raven-haired belle exited the driver side door.

Elijah’s eyes squinted; her features were obscured by the gleaming sun. He thought. Her silhouette alone could seduce him; she sashayed effortlessly in a little black dress. Eli nibbled his bottom lip. He texted the bouncers:

Allow her passage. Take her phone and get the tags on her car.

He had plans for this one.

The drive to the city outskirts was beyond an inconvenience for Lillian. She preferred to avoid this side of town; she’d only ventured here on the merits of her boyfriend, James. James had recently injured himself sparring and now was unable to get weed for himself... alas... James found a workaround to this conundrum.

Lily reluctantly agreed. She was always amicable, a people pleaser, even when she was glum. Her mother would scold her saying: “Lillian, be sure you save some of that kindness for yourself.”

She dressed meticulously in the mirror. Curling her eye lashes as she bent nearer the vanity, she’d alabaster skin and a permanent sun kissed blush. Her lipstick and garments were black; Lillian wanted to look good today. Not for James, he was probably icing his knee while flaming loser teammates on some video game. She just wanted to feel sexy.

When she’d finished, she loved her look. Her fingers flitted across her cheek; she’d bought red contacts. They’d allowed her a sense of anonymity. Like she could be someone else, someone different, maybe that’s why she cosplayed.

She left her house around 6:00PM. The colorful sky made her feel better; she adored the sunset. She drove her pink Acura. It had been her gift for graduating college last year.

From the interstate, she veered into the shoddy lot. Her car tires churned the graveled terrain. The ramshackle warehouse loomed in the background. She exited her car and her eyes searched the crumbling scene for any signs of life. James warned her Elijah, the dealer, could be a bit eccentric. He was a foreigner. He’d been described as tall, dark, brooding and of course, his place of business was secluded, sylvan and off some interstate.

Lillian’s black heels crunched unsteadily amidst the pallid landscape. There was an eeriness to this place; her instincts screamed flee. That debate died when she saw a text alight the phone in her purse. It was James, reminding her which strain of weed he wanted. She eye-rolled then took a readied step towards the two doormen. One was tall, gaunt and the other wide and burly.

“No phones inside the building.” The oaf’s voice was gruff. He proffered his large palm.

She reluctantly agreed. “You better not lose it!” Her heels clacked impatiently pass the olive, rusted door. Lillian’s eyes panned the derelict building and the exit clanged shut behind her.

The frigid draft brought goosebumps to her exposed shoulders and she’d suddenly felt naked in her evening gown. The doormen shuffled behind Lillian and to her left and right were murky hallways who’s ends she could not discern. Glass and debris crowded concrete floors and the sharp scents of cigarettes and iron stained thin air. Lillian strengthened her posture. Her carmine eyes found no comfort in this dim lit interior; Lillian’s snowy complexion possibly the brightest hue in sight.

Lily’s left heel retreated backwards and the doormen nudged her forward. She crinkled her nose. They led her to who she presumed Elijah. He sat on a burgundy couch with a half-bottle of Grand Marnier on a low-rise table. The sun was setting in the window and its fading rays shimmered gently off his dark skin.

Elijah rose from the couch to greet Lillian. He’d a sinewy frame; all his muscles taut beneath a crisp white button up and black slacks. Lily’s neck craned as he approached and the sunset stretched his shadow to engulf the room.

Elijah flashed a pearly, macabre smile and asked. “What’s your fix?”

She crossed her arms and asserted. “White Widow, J-James wanted White Widow.” She’d stammered. Frustrated, Lillian turned her gaze to the flatscreen TV.

Lily’s lithe body writhed restless beneath her black dress. Elijah glimpsed her furtive nipples. Lillian puckered her jaw and swept her black hair over her shoulder. Tingles crept cross her pale skin; she could feel his lewd attention. She couldn’t escape the feeling—the sense of prey unnerved before its natural predator.

Brusquely, she cleared her throat and their eyes crossed.

Eli amused. This was James girlfriend? He was a good guy, sure and one hell of a fighter. Did drugs socially; played basketball at the Rec Center on Sundays. This woman, though. Elijah could see it in her doe-eyed expressions. She adored gazing up while on calloused knees. He could see her orgasm blush lips around his ebony features right now. Elijah disciplined. He should savor his quarry.

Without prompt, Eli began feeling her up. His palms caressed her shoulders, taut waist and hips. Elijah’s expression steadfast. “I’ve got to frisk you, first. Company policy. But I know James. Good guy, great actually. Are you a good woman?” Eli teased without a smile.

Instinct screamed her to flee. Lillian’s eyes and body gestured towards the door. Her lips motioned to speak until she’d felt Elijah’s touch; his fingertips curiously exploring her body. Naturally, she’d flinched. Obediently still, she raised her arms. She protested in silence.

“Fucking pervert...”

She admitted. His touch was soft. She could make out the subtle scars, yet, supple skin gliding down the fabric of her dress. Their eyes met again as he knelt to her hips. His amber gaze was insidious, as if, merely meeting Elijah’s eyes inculpated one into his schemes.

A slight cry escaped her lips as his fingertips swept her inner thigh; she blushed. Her emotions a tangle of embarrassment and anxiety. She’d been shamed. “I’m a good girl,” Lily mumbled. “I just want to get my boyfriend’s weed and leave.” She rolled her eyes.

From outside her dress, Eli lodged his finger beneath her panty and popped it against her lower back with a satisfying clap. Lillian gasped and tears swelled at the crescents of her eyes. Elijah's face bore no amusement; he rose to his full posture. Elijah looked Lillian top-to-bottom and said, “Follow me." He knew she couldn't run in those silly heels.

“Did I make him mad? This isn’t good.”

Lillian's body gestured towards the long hallway she'd arrived from; worry began to mar her brow. The doormen crowded her peripherals and the three of them ushered her along. The innards of the warehouse were clean but disused. Its walls discolored and peeled from antiquity.

The dark hallway led to somewhere that didn’t feel right at all. No one spoke and the walk lasted around five minutes. They stopped when Elijah halted in front of a matte black door. She could feel dread seeping from her pores. “Should I wait out here or...” Lily trailed off questioningly.

Elijah ignored her inquiry and gestured her to enter; his henchmen crowed her toward the door.

Swinging the door open, the room did not hide its purpose. It had a singular wooden table, two chairs opposite and an overhanging lamp with black iron handcuffs and fetters attached to the floor. A single opaque black window leered towards the outside. Eli flicked the light switch and signaled Lillian to sit.

Eli closed the door and paced to the opposite end of the table. He set his gun on the table and placed both palms on its flat surface. His lupine eyes studied her. He spoke. “Who do you work for?”

Lillian felt a shiver run down her spine. Her eyes widened.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gun in my life.”

She stammered again. “W-What do you mean? I work at the library if that’s what you’re asking...” The two men seized her arms, forcing her into the chair. “Agh- ah! No one. I’m James' girlfriend!” She pleaded.

Elijah’s voice crooned. “You see. I know James. You’re not even his type.” He examined her. “You are not a natural noirette, are you? You’re squeamish.” Eli grimaced. “You writhe when groped by strangers and that shrill voice. Honestly, if this conversation weren’t necessary. I’d have you gagged.” Eli popped his neck “Now, are you going to play the fool, or do I need to make you look the part, too?”

Eli reclined to the chair opposite of Lillian and locked eyes with her.

**DISCLAIMER**

((The following scenes feature Nonconsensual and corruption themes.))

“I’m not playing fool!” Her voice quivered, telling the sheer truth. “I’m just here to pick-up some weed and go. I swear.” Her eyes locked with Eli’s, pleading wordlessly for mercy. She fumbled for her purse and realize her phone was taken.

Lily looked at the two grinning men and then back to Eli. She’d spotted the opaque window and a series cameras in the rafters. “Wh-what is this? Is this a prank?” She smiled sheepishly, almost relieved. Impatient, Eli rose from his chair. His black Timberlands thudded hollow against the concrete floor.

Elijah whipped a switchblade from his pocket. He twirled it dexterously before pressing its silvery edge to the bottom of her black dress. He locked eyes with Lilian; observed the anxiety and anticipation building in her torso. He glanced at her rising and falling chest.

He’d felt her heart flutter, her body’s heat and saccharine scent. He indulged in her rhythm and fright. Gracefully, he dragged the knife vertically against the length of her attire. Its serrated edge pressed cautiously into her thighs as it tore the dress’s seams apart. He sheathed the pocketknife with a click and admired his work. Her violet panties and breast revealed.

He expressed no joy. “Taking me serious, yet?”

Eli flashed a picture with his phone and then showed it to her.

“Discard the dress and put your wrists on the table.” Elijah tucked his phone. “In the organization, we call this the Viewing Room. You’re today’s view.”

Eli handcuffed her left and right wrist.

***Welcome to Hate Feels Just Like True Love, formerly titled The Viewing Room😇

This is quite a dark tale. Filled with psychological suspense, trauma and crude but emotional sex. This was originally a one shot smut but Lillian as you do not know her, yet. Became a living and breathing character with desires and dreams. I hope you enjoy it. I hope you hate it. Whatever you feel, let me know! I am not sensitive and as an aspiring writer your input, no matter how small, means a lot.