She dug in her purse for her cell. Michael could have called while she was out. Suddenly she needed to hear the safety of his voice. But there was only one message. Vivian was surprised to find it was from her neighbor.
“Hey, I thought maybe we could hang out since Michael’s out of town. I don’t have classes tomorrow, so I rented a bunch of movies and made popcorn balls. Come over, or call.”
Vivian looked at the dash. It was eight thirty. She pressed the button to return the missed call.
Jewel answered on the third ring.
“I need something of greater substance than popcorn balls. Order us some Chinese?” Vivian’s anxiety had spiked so high her brain was sending fake hunger signals.
“Sure. Where were you?”
“Shopping. See you in a few.”
Vivian disconnected the call before Jewel could ask further questions. She got home as quickly as she could and changed clothes, including her underwear. She couldn’t stand to keep on anything she’d worn for Anton.
The mirror over the whirlpool tub proved too hard to resist. Her eyes widened as she took in the dark purple marks from the cane. They would be bruises soon. She ran her fingertips over the raised welts, then flipped her cell phone open and dialed Jewel’s number.
“I might be about forty more minutes. I’m going to take a quick bath.”
“No problem. I’ll keep your food warm.”
She’d had a long bath before going to Dome, but she felt so dirty. It was an emotional kind of grime that seeped to the outside.
“What’s wrong with me?” she said into the empty room. Her brain remained silent, refusing to supply an answer, despite the question ringing around for the millionth time.
Anton had humiliated her and hurt her. When he’d lain across the bed with that pompous smirk on his face, fully expecting to see her on Tuesday, she’d been so furious. But was she furious at him, or because her pussy had responded like a wind-up doll?
Most disturbing of all was the idea that he believed he held so much sway over her, she would return to him again. That the orgasm that rocked through her when she’d finally had his cock straining inside her walls, had been so amazing she’d forget or ignore the pain and humiliation he’d put her through.
Before she’d realized what she was doing, she’d pushed the button for the jets and pressed her clit against the spray. Vivian held onto the side of the tub as the pulsating water moved her toward another orgasm. And God help her, but she was thinking of Anton and the caning when she came.
The three yapping Yorkies greeted Vivian when she arrived at her neighbor’s house. With any luck her frenemy-turned-sanity-net would be able to distract her from thoughts of Anton and Tuesday looming on the horizon.
Jewel shooed the dogs away and ushered Vivian into the house.
“Your plate’s in the kitchen. I got extra egg rolls.”
“Thanks.” If she put on fifteen pounds maybe she could get Anton to get rid of her. If he told her never to come back, surely she hadn’t yet reached the level of stupidity to beg him to keep going.
She sat on the red leather sofa in the living room while the Yorkies became deathly still and quiet. They sat at her feet, staring at the plate on her lap. Waiting.
“Your dogs are fucking eerie.”
“I know. They’re shameless little beggars. You want me to lock them in the bathroom?”
An image of herself handcuffed in Anton’s bathroom only a few hours before, leaped into her mind.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just ignore them.”
“They won’t jump on you or try to eat off your plate. At least I managed to train them that well.”
“What are we watching?”
“Okay, don’t judge, but I’ve been wanting to watch this movie forever. It’s about a legal secretary who gets spanked by her boss and . . . other things.”
“Umm . . . ”
“I said don’t judge.”
Vivian was sure her face was beet red. Had she been living in a bubble of denial? Was she surrounded by freaks? If so, I’m a freak, too, her inner voice chided.
Somehow she managed not to do or say anything to embarrass herself while the movie played. She shoveled the lo mein and egg rolls into her mouth without realizing she was eating them, her eyes glued to the screen.
When the credits rolled, Jewel sighed. “I would so be her.”
“Really?” Vivian tried to look nonchalant.
“Oh yes. Do you think Michael would ever do that sort of thing with you?”
“Hell and no are the words that come to mind.”
Jewel giggled, but Vivian couldn’t bring herself to smile. She would have been that girl too. She was becoming that girl. Maybe she’d always been that girl.
Maybe that was why, after the initial thrill of her relationship with Michael had worn off, her libido had completely shut down, and why it woke again at the most inappropriate times, with Michael, with Anton, even with the doctor.
“Are you okay?”
Vivian looked guiltily at the other woman, unsure how much of her inner turmoil her face had telegraphed.
“Fine. Look, can we call it an early night?”
“Sure. You’re sure you’re okay? The movie didn’t weird you out?”
Vivian shook her head. “I’m just tired. All the shopping.”
Jewel looked as if she’d push the issue. She was entirely too perceptive, and Vivian worried the cogs in her neighbor’s brain might start turning in a direction that would end far closer to the truth than she wanted to deal with.
8
By Saturday, Vivian could no longer cope with the jumbled mess her mind had become, and took a trip to the bookstore to buy a journal.
She had to get out what was inside her head. Every sordid detail. Every thought. Every fantasy. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have room in her brain for any normal thoughts. By Tuesday the journal was half-filled. She read what she’d written, then took a match to it and burned all the words away as if by doing so she could change her internal circuitry.
As Anton had requested, she masturbated every day while she thought about the caning. Each time it was easier to get off on the memory as she became more distanced from the emotions of the event. The fantasy became just one of many of the guilty, dark fantasies she’d indulged over the years. Much more frequently since going to Dome.
She could come in under five minutes now, though she’d developed a habit of dragging it out to make the orgasm stronger. Each time, the fantasy became more elaborate, went darker. It started with the caning, but it never ended there.
She found herself wondering how many of the things she fantasized about, Anton might actually do to her if she went back. Suddenly her world was filled with the
twisted possibilities of the things he would do and the things she’d submit to, to come just a little harder.
She’d given up the idea that she wasn’t going back. Whatever happened in that room, Anton would let her go when they were finished. When Michael returned, she’d end it.
Fuck the blackmail. She’d decided to leave her husband because the more she thought about the cane across her ass, the more she knew it was meant to be there and that Michael couldn’t give that to her.