“I can’t, Shane . . . I just can’t,” I whispered as I bucked, working to shed his body from mine, I pulled open my car door and got in. There was no way I was going hiking with him tomorrow, I just couldn’t. I shoved the keys into the ignition, I didn’t look over at him. I didn’t want to give him a chance to stop me from driving away. I just needed to go. I was good at shutting off to the rest of the world while I gave my body over to some slimy fuck who didn’t give a rat’s ass about my feelings or how I was falling in love with Shane.
Truthfully, Shane had just moved way too fast for me. I felt him and how he got under my skin. The way he’d find ways to touch me, when he looked at me, or even acted around me. It wasn’t just at the laundromat, but anytime we talked on the phone or met at restaurants. He had become too comfortable for me, a habit I ached for. I knew this would lead me to nothing but pain.
I couldn’t let whatever it was, this thing we had built between us, take any more of my attention. It had become familiar flashes of Mr. C all over again. There was no way I could deal with another heart break like that. Everything with Shane was gonna come crashing down, I felt it in every cell of my body. I just knew it, call it a premonition, or whatever, but I just couldn’t be in the middle of it. I was better off alone.
Another “gift” had come from Garrett Chadwick, aka Mr. C. Like clockwork, every three weeks he would send me a package and I knew it was his twisted way of staying under my skin. Like a drug, or a high that had me hating myself every time I’d go back for more, I struggled to stay clean from his influence.
Painstakingly he built a strong case for hope, he knew it would be the best way he could control me and the driving force that destroyed me. Three days, that was all it took him to make me believe I was more than what I saw in the mirror, all defeated within seconds. He created so much doubt in my memories of having someone who taught me to feel loved beyond my shitty expectations. Memories that I’d thought I had buried away with my broken heart. All it took was Shane pushing for more and another package from Mr. C to hurl me into a downward spiral that weakened the grip I had on my past.
I slid the package under my bed with my foot, giving it a place among the cluster of other unopened packages he had mailed me. Memories of us together twisted across my thoughts. That day, the day my idea of who I was and what my body had meant to me before I had met him. They had torn me open to believe maybe I wasn’t the piece of shit I had always thought I was.
PAST
THE MORNING SUN blazing fiery against my closed eyes. My hair tickles against my shoulders as the forced air blows chilling cold waves across my chest. The thin soft bed sheet, twisted down across my stomach does nothing to warm my body. Mr. C, a name he demands I don’t call him, sets up the expected behaviors and rules for our time together.
He didn’t touch me last night. Instead, he made me strip naked and he told me that when I’m in the hotel room, and he’s with me, I’m expected to be completely nude. I admit, it’s a little uncomfortable at first, walking around in stilettos and nothing else. Sure, I had dates who liked to watch me undress and even watched me masturbate, but they never just pay me to walk around their hotel room butt naked. But Mr. C, he’s different; so, after a couple of hours of being completely nude around him it wasn’t so bad. His eyes drag across my body, but he never reaches out to grope me when I walk by. It’s so foreign to me, seems almost strange, but to each their own.
Harmless in his demands, this morning, he makes my task clear by his actions. I’ll be rewarded if I make him hard . . . without touching him. So, I make it a game, games are easy and they always have rules. Most of the time those rules only apply to me, but nevertheless, they are rules. I already know what he’s packing in his pants and what he did to me with his fingers that first time in his suite, I know he has skills most of the dates I’ve been with didn’t have. My reward, besides the money, is his touch and my pleasure . . . at least that’s what he keeps telling me.
Mr. C shuffles over and sits next to me on the bed already dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a white T-shirt. Pulling the sheet down my body, I push up off the bed. I need to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. His eyes follow my body as I walk across the room. With my hips swaying against the sunlight falling between the curtains, he drags his arms up behind his head, curling the tip of his tongue up against his lips, he dampens them to a glisten.
“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna freshen up.”
“Take your time. And Rose?”
“Yeah?” I quipped.
His eyes grew large.
“Answer me properly.”
“Huh?” I asked.
His eyes instinctual, scorching my skin, his lips press into a tight line, he’s lighting me up. Springing from the bed he grabs my wrist and pulls me around into his chest. My ass against his erection, his mouth presses tight against the curve of my face. His warm earthy aroma subtle as it lingers around me. He holds me tight across my chest, his other arm is pressing across my stomach, tightening his hold he faces me to the full-length mirror at the end of the bed.