After finishing with the toilet, she splashed some lukewarm water on her face, longing for a hot shower to loosen her muscles. But she’d join Genevieve for breakfast before washing away the stickiness of last night’s lovemaking—or rather the raunchy sex they had together.
She wiped her face with a white washcloth, eyeing it, wondering why Genevieve loved the color white so much, from the towels to their bed and even the carpet. She’d be wearing her white silk robe and slippers. For some reason, she’d worn the complete opposite color last night: a tight black leather number that brought a dominatrix to mind.
Shaking the thought away, she opened the vanity mirror and took out a clip to pull back her tousled hair. Gen had enjoyed brushing her hair after they took their morning shower, right before yoga at one o’clock.
She gave the mirror a quick glance. Red splotches covered her chest and parts of her neck, as well as a black-and-blue bruise near her collarbone. She never got the chance to return the favor last night, something she would remedy, perhaps when they both relaxed in the sauna before dinner. Genevieve would be spread out naked on one of the wooden benches, her pink pussy lips on display, Deborah lying between her thighs, sucking on the inside of her leg, or perhaps her breasts where she would be the one to leave a mark this time—
The ding of the clock on the wall in the bedroom brought her out of her daydream, and she walked to the dresser and chose a rose-colored cotton pajama set. On Mondays, she always wore some type of red or variation of the color, right down to her underwear. She put on her outfit, twisting from side to side, enjoying the cracking of her bones. She spotted the black dildo and anal instrument lying on the bed next to the half-empty bottle of lubrication and Gen’s unopened gift. She threw the sex toys in the goody drawer, not wanting Teresa embarrassed when she came up later in the day to set the room to rights. She’d clean them later. The small jewelry box went in the bottom drawer to wait until the right moment to give Gen her gift.
As she walked down the hall, a soft sigh left her mouth as her back and thighs stiffened. She stopped by the window and looked out to see Patty talking to her brother in the driveway.
She smiled at the twins. She always enjoyed her talks with the sweet girl about books and school, giving her advice on her studies.
Whistling softly, she walked down the stairs and to the other hallway to go to the library. There she would find a few more books to give Patty the next time she came to clean the pool.
A small pile of hardcover books sat on a desk. Her eyes brightened when she picked up a copy of work by the poet e.e. cummings she’d read when she was in high school. She was so involved in reading, she barely heard the library door close.
When she felt she was no longer alone in the room, she glanced up at Genevieve, who wore her white satin robe tied with a matching sash around her waist. She curled her toes in the rug as Genevieve strolled over wearing white slippers that showed off her red-painted toes.
“Hello, Mrs. Murnay. You look well this wonderful Monday morning.” She flashed a grin and closed the book.
“When I first woke up this morning, I thought the same.” Gen sauntered to the other side of the desk. She tapped one of the books then rested her hand on top of a silver paperweight shaped like a globe.
She stepped back, holding a book up to her chest. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would you think anything is wrong? Do I look upset?” Gen lifted the paperweight.
“I don’t know. You look…displeased. Did you hear bad news?” Goose bumps rose on her arms, and the temperature in the room suddenly dropped.
Genevieve snorted, and her lips twisted in an ugly way. “Displeased? Why would you think that? Speaking of news, you have a new friend and failed to inform me of the fact.”
“Fr-friend? I don’t know what you’re—”
“Yes, your fr-friend, Debbie.” Gen pronounced her name with such venom, Deborah backed away farther.
“Um, who do you mean? Y-you know everyone I-I—”
“Shut up and cease your stuttering,” Gen barked, moving the paperweight back in forth in her hands.
Oh please, don’t… Her stomach churned, and she was almost up against one of the stacks when Gen released a loud laugh.
“Imagine my surprise when that twit Patty told me how you lend her books from my library, very expensive first-edition copies, and how you two have had more than a few friendly chats. Why, even allowing her inside our home, where you both were enclosed in this room for almost a half hour at a given time.”
“Gen, nothing happened other than Patty borrowing the books. What’s the harm?” She tried keeping the tremors out of her voice.
“The harm?” she bellowed, causing Deborah to flinch. “Are you that stupid, or don’t you care what we have? I know you want to fuck the little airheaded slut and probably have right under my nose!”
“That’s not true at all! You’re jealous—”
She screamed, and the paperweight flew at Deborah.
She ducked but nearly not fast enough, and the rotund missile struck the side of her head. She cried out, pressing her palm to her temple, when Gen rushed over and backhanded her across the face. She went down, falling into one of the stacks, causing books to tumble on top of her. She landed on her side and rolled into a ball as Gen slapped her again.
“You little tramp! After all I’ve given you. How dare you go behind my back and fuck another cunt!” she screamed and rained punches on Deborah’s head.
She sobbed, trying to talk through her tears but couldn’t find the words, her lips numb as Genevieve continued to hit her. And when she punched her low in her stomach, she wheezed at the loss of air and hacked deep in her throat as she choked.
She continued sobbing while Genevieve’s rage finally died down. Her harsh, painful gasps filled the room, and she flinched when a glob of something wet dripped down her cheek. Genevieve had spit on her.
Stop. No more, she prayed in her arms that covered her head as Genevieve rose to her feet. Gen stood over her, her breathing coming through very clear as Deborah waited for the next attack.
“I’ve decided to cancel our yoga class and instead will go to town for a massage. You will clean up the mess in here and in our bedroom without the aid of Teresa. I expect those rooms to be neat and orderly by the time I return. Do you understand?” Gen asked in a soft voice.
She nodded and whimpered, “Yes,” in response to her wife’s orders.
“Good. Now get off the floor. It’s embarrassing. You always overreact when we have one of our arguments.”
As Deborah slowly balanced on her shaking elbows, Gen opened the door and left.
Sometime later, she sat up and stared at the doorway. She heard the distant clicking of heels on the marble floor, some muted conversation, then the sound of a car driving away. She rose to her feet, went to the leather desk chair, and slowly lowered her aching body into the seat, holding her head in her hands as the room spun.