In My Desperate Time

If it were anyone else, I wouldn't be afraid to miss his/her calls.

But he is Frances Louis.

He won't call me if there is nothing of particular importance. Two missed calls illustrate the seriousness of the matter.

After all, he is the patron. After a while of hesitation, I call Frances Louis back.

It rings several times before he answers the phone.

“Come to my room, now.”

Then Frances Louis hangs up.

My heart is beating severely. His wife and he live together, if I go to his room, I would be a sheep who sends itself to the tiger's mouth.

But Frances Louis speaks in such a decisive tone that I don’t have the courage to refuse.

Steven Song only knows that I called Frances Louis, but he doesn’t know what I said to him. After he sends me to the hotel, he goes upstairs alone.

When I get out of the elevator and pass 306, I find the door is unlocked.

I have already got an idea in the car. If I ran into Whitney Jordan, I'd say I come here to discuss with her about her works. Anyway, I watched yesterday's show carefully, and it is easy to select a topic about it.

I knock softly twice, and the voice of Frances Louis sounds from inside.

“Come in.”

I walk in, don’t dare to close the door.

Frances Louis is sitting at the head of the bed. His fingers are rapping on the computer, apparently, he is dealing with business.

room. The bathroom light is off. It looks like she

your wife?”

the computer and gets out of bed.

is in front

sudden approach. I step back a little bit. Until there is no room for me to retreat, and my body sticks on the

in the morning,

I remember what he said to me. It’s not my turn to ask about his business. So,

do you

ask him

to

at me, his eyes

surprised. I don’t remember I tell him that I’ll go to the hospital,

smell of disinfectant.” He reads

sensitive

at the show and then you went

close to me, and his breath has filled all

thinks I am pregnant.

throw up casually. Otherwise, there would be

flatly, meeting his eyes.

say, he doesn’t believe me.

got preparation.

show him the results of my blood test, “It’s just the sequela of a mild concussion. It's not pregnancy as

while and looks not happy, but I

scrambling for

not going to conceive your child. Every time we have sex, I take pills. I'm not the kind of woman who would blackmail you with a child. I know who I am and I'm not going to embarrass you.

sharply. His face is

“Get out.”