Denial (19 page)

“But I do it anyway, don’t I?” he growls, pushing away from the table. “Do not for a second delude yourself that my disdain for Luke comes from a position of moral superiority. I’m not better than him.”

“He gets off on messed up shit.”

“He does. That’s his kink, but it’s not him. It is me, though. My entire life. I do it for money. Approval. And I do get off on a lot of it.”

“But you liked last night better, didn’t you?”

“Novelty has that effect on people.” His words stab me in the stomach. “I used to like the fucked up stuff a lot more than I do now.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I’m tired of being in the dark about who I’m really sleeping with. “You don’t know me. Because I do.”

“Maybe it would be better if you knew, then this bullshit puppy-love crush you’re clinging to would disappear,” he snaps.

Don’t cry. “That was cruel.”

“Well, you had better get used to it because I’m going easy on you.”

“You sound like a different person right now.”

“No, sweet little Maya, I was a different person last night.”

“I liked him a lot better.”

“Well, he isn’t real.”

“Then where did he come from?”

“I…” That unsure look flashes across his face for a fleeting instant, then this new mask he’s been wearing returns, this scary, cold face filled with disgust and hatred that twists his features into a stranger’s. “I’ve choked women. Slapped them in the face, and everywhere else. Bruised them. Cut them. Laughed while they cried real tears.” This is yet another new voice. A very loud, very frightening one. “Whipped them until they passed out. Held them down, used them any way I wanted while they begged me to stop and I kept going even though I
knew
they were too afraid to say red. And Maya, sometimes I truly enjoyed it. I love power and I need control, just as much as Luke, if not more.”

I think my heart just stopped beating. Holy shit. This man was just inside of me a few hours ago. He was so sweet, tender, and lost. And now he’s terrifying. I know everyone has different sides to their personalities, but how could one body contain such polar opposites?

“Maya. I’m sorry.” And just like that, his voice is almost childlike again. The contrast is chilling. Who the hell is this guy?

Luke
has never screamed at me like that and never would. It was just one scary outburst, but now I’ll always have it in the back of my mind, forever competing with the Isaac that couldn’t stop kissing me last night. I hope a lot of what he just said was bullshit to push me away. It worked.

That’s right, I had a life 48 hours ago, one without the shockingly gorgeous, funny, and apparently tortured sex god. Yeah, Isaac is hot, spectacular in bed, and sweet, but he’s also clearly other things too. Including a human being, who makes mistakes and who right now looks incredibly distraught. People aren’t born like this. Well, if they are, they stay that way. I want to ask him if he knows why he’s like this, but it’s not an appropriate question for someone I don’t know that well. Even though I know I should be terrified, I’m not. But I am out from under his spell.

I walk up beside him, making sure to get very close. He stiffens as I reach down to grab his empty plate. I can feel him watching me as I walk into the kitchen. His eyes are wary as I come back to sit across from him at the table.

“I think it would be best if we just pretend that didn’t happen, Isaac.” Staring at him, I wait until his gaze finally meets mine. “So last night…” We both straighten up. “You said there are tricks. That submission is a frame of mind.”

“There are. It is.”

“And this inferior housewife shit… That’s really all he wants?”

“Not exactly, but it will go a long way. And it’s not that hard.”

“Yes it is. For me.”

He runs his hand through his hair and exhales loudly. “Well, that only makes it more meaningful.”

“I never really thought about it like that.”

“You can look at it like it’s not much different than being a maid, but that won’t help unless you’re into that sort of thing, which you aren’t, obviously. It’s better to view it from a different angle.”

“Which would be?”

“It’s not about the chores. Or being inferior. They want someone to take care of them. It’s a form of love.”

“I don’t think that’s how
Luke sees it.”

“Maybe not consciously.”

“I always feel like I’m just feeding his ego.”

“You are. Some things have more than one meaning.”

“I suppose that’s true.” We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s just a game.”

“I know. I played last night.”

“Maya,” he croaks. “No, we didn’t, not like this. But it’s the same idea. That’s one of the tricks.”

“It’s not a game to him. That’s not how he looks at it. Not at all.”

“But you can see it that way.” He finally gives me a hint of a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal, really. Most of it is stuff you do anyway. So you prance around doing the Betty Cocksucker thing to get your boyfriend hot. At the end of the day, he’s all wound up and makes it worth your while.”

I glance up to see him staring through me. “That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s the overtones that bother me.”

“Ignore them. To you, it’s just roleplaying. Same thing if he tells you what to wear. Or eat. If you can’t take it as a sign of love, you just have to look at like a game.”

“I am sort of a clean freak,” I grumble.

“Me too.” We look at each other nervously. That was too close to normal conversation. “In the beginning, to help you look at it that way, it helps to go overboard. Clean the house naked, or just in heels. Vacuum while wearing nipple clamps and a butt plug. That sort of thing.”

My eyes widen as I visualize it. As much as I hate to admit it, that sounds kind of hot. “You just want to see me naked more,” I joke, instantly regretting it.

“I’m not going to deny it.” There’s just a bit of cockiness to his tone. He’s coming back.

“So now what?”

“Now we’re going to shower.” My cheeks flush. “Separately, of course. You can go first.”

“Thank you.”

“That was missing something.”

“You don’t like it.”

“It doesn’t matter. The timeout is over. Say it.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“After you’re done, get dressed.”

“Obviously.”

“Maya.” His voice is so distant, so cold. “That is strike one. Literally.”

I gulp as heat spreads from my cheeks until my ears are burning. “Now?” Shit. “Sir?”

“No. I’m going to let them accumulate until after dinner. Then I’ll probably have to deduct some so that I don’t destroy that fabulous ass of yours. And don’t worry about adding ‘sir’ to a question. Clarifications will be instant timeouts, which will end when I answer you.”

“Should I just say timeout otherwise?”

“Yes. You will use those
very
sparingly or this isn’t going to work.”

“What should I do after I get dressed, Sir?” This is going to get old fast.

“Actually, I have a special assignment for you. One that doesn’t involve cleaning.” My eyes are down, but I can’t bring myself to say it again, so I just wait for him to finish. “Did you bring your photos?”

“I think so. He packed it. I haven’t looked yet.” Isaac exhales loudly and waits. “Sir.”

“I want you to look at them for a while and remember why you’re here.” He strolls over to me and runs his hand through my hair. I shudder as a kiss lands on the top of my head. “You’re doing well.” His normal voice, it’s so comforting. “Now go wash off last night, so I can do the same and we can start over.”

Before I can answer, he’s walking down the hall. A shower does sound pretty good. As I’m walking to get my soap and shampoo, I hear him whispering in his room. A phone call. That’s better than crazy talk. I try to listen for a second but I can’t make anything out and I don’t want him to catch me eavesdropping when he doesn’t hear the shower come on. The curiosity is killing me. He sounds upset. Who does he call when he’s upset?

Bathing can make all the difference. The hot water soothes my aching muscles and the suds wipe away the grime so I can emerge refreshed for whatever lies ahead. I absolutely adore a good shower, especially when I’m this dirty. This one is a little different. I find tender spots that are sure to bruise on my arms and every time I touch them, I can feel Isaac’s hands and what he did to put them there. My slit it tender and swollen. It stings when I wash myself. My poor nipples. Their pathetic condition reminds me of the things that he can do with his mouth and they harden. It really hurts.

None of it stops me from feeling amazing afterwards. The door to his room opens as soon as mine closes. He didn’t tell me what to wear, so I’m going with my own comfy yoga pants and a long sleeved shirt of extremely soft fabric. I bought them myself. A bra is out of the question. I find
Luke’s album as I’m rifling through my suitcase.

It was an assignment and it can’t hurt, so I steel myself and open it. The first picture was taken a few days after he told me that he loved me and we look so happy because we are. All of the best shots were taken those first two months after the big talk, but even the ones in the first year bring back a flood of memories.

Luke used to be so nice to me. He was never a romantic, cuddly guy, but we used to have so much fun. I was extremely shy when we first got together, I never would have come out of my shell without him. He was always a sort of a jerk in bed, but other than that he was great in the beginning. Now he’s frustrated with me all the time because I can’t give him what he needs.

I can’t believe he put this together by himself. A lot of these pictures are new to me, so they must be from his personal collection, something I didn’t know he had. There are pages with movie stubs and playbills, even a few notes that I wrote when I’d left his place before he woke up. To my knowledge,
Luke doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. I guess the things I don’t know about him aren’t all bad.

The last page is a handwritten note.
I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I love you. No matter what. –Luke

Maybe Isaac is right and it’s not just his ego. Maybe embracing the concept of domestic goddess makes him feels loved and cared for. So what if he’s a kinky guy. I’ve discovered that I’m not exactly vanilla myself.
Luke is the first man I’ve been with that didn’t carry a lot of baggage. Frankly, he was starting to get a little boring until he went all I’m-your-Master on me. He’s safe, stable, a good decision and I wanted to start making good decisions when I met him so even though the heat level wasn’t quite as hot as I like it, I stuck with him hoping it would get hotter. Eventually it did.

As I’m looking at these pictures, I’m struck by the way
Luke looks at me when we aren’t smiling toward the camera. Maybe we won’t be over if it turns out I can’t do this. He keeps telling me it doesn’t matter either way, but I haven’t been able to believe him. Now I think I do. It feels like my neck is missing something. It’s not the same with the other girls. It can’t be.

There’s this one thing that I know
Luke wants that Isaac didn’t mention, probably because he doesn’t think I can handle it. For all I know, he’s right, but that shouldn’t stop me from trying. After he’s out of the shower, we’ll see if he has any more tricks. This one sure worked.

I’m waiting for him in the living room. The shower goes off and I’m counting the seconds before the door opens, even though I know he’ll probably want to get dressed before I hit him with another barrage of questions. My jaw drops when he appears in the doorway.

“Timeout!” I startle us both with the ferocity of my voice. “Isaac, holy shit. Did I do that to your shoulder?”

“Of course. Who the hell else would have bitten me last night?”

1
6

“Oh my God.” I know the lights were low and I was a little out of it towards the end, but what the fuck? How do I not remember this? I step forward to examine the pattern of small purple bruises that match my teeth and the pricks of blood where my canines tore his flesh. My stomach churns as I reach out and touch it lightly. The skin is hot, very swollen, and obviously quite tender because he shudders as my finger make contact. This hurts. I lean forward and press my lips against the hot flesh and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Maya.” He seems surprised at my concern. “Though I’d prefer it if you picked a different spot for each bite next time.”

“How many times was this?” I look closer and see that each little tooth mark is blurred around the edges and probably bigger than it should be.

“Three, I think. Don’t you remember?”

I’m transfixed by the pattern. It’s fascinating. When did I do it? Isaac’s skin is completely bare. The hair, attitude, style, age, definitely the occupation, it all screams tattoos, and it seems like they’re missing. Now there’s one small but obvious bite. From me.