Adam & Eve- a Tale of Obsession

by Shantel Davis

  It’s because you’re not worthy.

  “Shut up,” I yelled and shook my head violently, trying to make the voice go away.

  The fucker. It was always at times like this when it would come into my head. Taunting me, fucking with me to make me think I was crazy. I was not fucking crazy.

  She was crying harder. I didn’t understand. Why was she crying? I wanted to yell at her to stop. She didn’t cry. That wasn’t how she dealt with problems in her life. But I refrained from doing so. I bit the inside of my inner cheek so hard I drew blood. I could taste it, but the pain calmed me a bit.

  For the first time since I was thirteen, I wished I had taken my medicine. The meds made it easier for me to focus, to seem normal. I didn’t want her to see me like this. The thought of her thinking of me as crazy physically hurt my heart. Closing my eyes, I resisted the urge to claw at my own chest. I counted the breaths I took and concentrated on feeling more stable. It worked. The voice stopped, and I focused all my attention back on her.

  “What on earth is wrong with you?” she asked, the tone in her voice told me she was perplexed.

  That simple question sent me down the rabbit hole. For a while, only one thought assailed me: Why did she hate me? I bit down on my bottom lip as I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The pain, the blood I drew kept me from grabbing her and snapping her neck.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Professor?” she murmured.

  She stared up at me. Her big hazel eyes cloudy, but just beyond the surface, I saw a bit of defiance.

  “Call me Adam,” I said gently.

  She frowned at me, turned her lips down in such a way that drew my gaze to them. In an instant I was turned on. I imagined my cock between those thick plush lips. She was speaking, but I was too distracted to hear her. My mind was flooded with sensual images of us together. I could see, feel and hear it all like it was happening in real time. Her tight pussy wrapped around my cock. Her soft dark body against my pale one… Her thick legs wrapped around my waist as she pulled me closer, calling for me.

  The images were so vivid, so encompassing that my knees felt as if they would buckle. On auto pilot, I made my way to the other side of the room. I stopped at the red chaise I’d put in the room especially for her. It looked identical to the one she had in her house. I’d watched her for years so I knew she sat on that red chaise and read for hours.

  Often, I imagined her bent over it with her firm round ass in the air while I moved in and out of her. In my dreams, she begged me to fuck her harder. I sat down, just me and my thoughts lest I got ahead of myself and did something stupid.

  T W O

  I stared straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with the crazed man in the corner. I had to calm down enough to get my wits about me in order to see a way out of the predicament I was in. I’d known something was wrong as soon as I woke up. The bed had been too soft. The energy in the room hadn’t felt right. But God knew I hadn’t expected to wake up tied to some deranged man’s bed.

  No way could this be real, I thought.

  I had to be dreaming. I’d hoped I was dreaming; however, it took no time at all for me to realize I had not awakened in a nightmare. It was real. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My luck had been shit since the day I’d been born. Everybody I loved had died. My father had abandoned me. It seemed that no matter how many obstacles I overcame, or how many hurdles I jumped, another just popped up. I felt like the world would continue to fuck with me until the day I died and being kidnap was part of the “fuck Eve” plot.

  Breathe, Eve. Just breathe, I thought.

  Only seconds had passed before I chanced a glance in his direction again, but not for long. I didn’t need him to catch me watching him. I was surprised that in spite of my steadily rising anxiety and anger, I was able to remain calm. Well as calm as I could be. How do I get out of this? Why me? Taking a moment, I ran all he said through my head.

  Why didn’t you see me?

  That question in particular taunted me. The logical side of me screamed, of course I’ve seen you. I’d have to be blind not to. He stuck out like a god among mortals. He was beautiful but dangerously so. Every time I’d seen him, his gray eyes always held a glint of malevolence in them. I knew I was the only one who noticed because I had to look beyond his perfections to see it. Most people wouldn’t and didn’t do that. I’d heard many of my female peers allude as such.

  I remembered running into him often around campus. He tried to engage me a few times, but instinctually, I knew to stay away. I’d made it a point to start avoiding him. Which made me to think the question he kept asking—why didn’t you see me?— wasn’t literal. It was something deeper. Figuring it out may have been my only way to get out of here.

  I thought about what his question could mean so hard for so long that my head started to hurt. I’m going to die here, I thought. I was not usually the pessimist, but the entire ordeal was playing out like some fucked up version of Misery.

  Was that going to happen to me if I don’t get out of here?

  No, that was not going to happen to me. Why? Because there was just no way any of what was happening could be real. I just needed to wake up. I closed my eyes, wishing, praying and hoping God or any other deity would answer. When I opened my eyes, I’d no longer be in this nightmare. I’d be home, in my own bed, back to reality.

  I made the mistake of opening my eyes. Oh, why did I open my eyes? What I saw staring back at me caused any feelings of hope to quickly dissipate. All the air in my lungs escaped, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The professor’s stormy gray eyes were locked in on me. Only, it was as if he was looking right through me as opposed to at me.

  He was truly crazy. Certifiable. He was the kind of crazy for which he had papers to prove it I was sure.

  Don’t freak out, my mind screamed.

  The urge to try to get loose from the ropes again overwhelmed me. Don’t do it, I chastised myself mentally. Let the professor stay focused on whatever was going through his twisted head instead of on me.

  I realized fighting against my restraint was a waste of energy. I could use that time to figure out how I would escape if I ever did get loose. I took another deep, calming breath as I searched the room for anything that could tell me where the hell I was. However, all I saw were the foot of the bed I was tied to, a large oak dresser and the chaise he sat on. The walls were white. There were no windows and two closed doors. Panic tightened my chest. There was a lot of empty space in the huge room.

  I kept telling myself to stay calm and breathe, but that bullcrap wasn’t working. Anxiety prickled at my skin and made me feel like thousands of ants were crawling over me. Inhaling didn’t help. The familiar smell of patchouli oil and vanilla in the room enveloped me and disturbed me all at the same time. It smelled just like my home. The scent usually relaxed me, but now it made me nauseous. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  All clues led to this being planned. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The world around me stilled and I choked back the scream threatening to break free from somewhere deep within. So this would be how I would die?

  My chest tightened, and it got hard for me to breathe. It hurt holding back, but I wouldn’t disturb the loony toon across the room. This was a nightmare I’d never imagined for myself. There was no scenario in my head where any of this turned out well. I was a criminology major. I’d read about things like this. He was going to rape, torture and kill me. No one would know because there was no one to report me missing or to miss me.

  My mom was dead. I never knew my dad. I had no friends, and my few acquaintances would think I’d dropped out of school and disappeared. It would be plausible. I’d acquired massive debt trying to graduate on my own. The money from my grandfather’s life insurance and savings was almost gone. I had nothing and no one. We’ll that wasn’t exactly true. Michael crossed my mind, giving me a modicum of hope. I latched on to it, but it was fleeting. The insecure little person in
me had always thought that he was too perfect—too right— and it made me wonder if he had something to do with what was happening to me. Something about him had always seemed off. He was the reason I was in the hotel when I’d gotten taken. That shit couldn’t be a coincidence, unless….

  What if he was—

  Fear, an emotion I was not accustomed to, rushed over me. What if Michael was somewhere lying in a ditch, hurt or dead because of me? I began to hyperventilate. Trying to breathe past the lump in my throat became hard.

  All of a sudden, I heard a harsh, “Stop screaming. Why the fuck are you screaming?” Professor Adam loomed over me. His eyes frantically roamed over me as if he expected me to be hurt.

  “Did you kill him? Is he dead?” I blurted out the question before I could stop myself.

  If he had, did I really want to know?

  His brows furrowed. “Who? Did I kill who?” He regarded me in confusion.

  “Never mind,” I said quickly.

  I wished I’d never brought him out of his lala land. He looked happy there. When he realized what I was talking about—who I was talking about— the look he gave me made every hair on my body stand on end.

  Eyes narrowed, face twisted, he lashed out. “You mean him? You care for him,” he accused. “You do,” he answered his own question before I could.

  I watched as a range of emotions played across his handsome face. Anger, insecurity, envy. It was almost comical. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so thoroughly horrified at the possibility that he would admit that he’d actually killed Michael.

  “He shouldn’t matter. Not when you have me,” he spat through a snarl.

  He looked downright evil, like he was ready to cause me pain. And again, I wished I would have kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t scared to die, but I didn’t want to be tortured for days before I was killed.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” I began but closed my mouth when he sat on the bed beside me.

  His posture was rigidly straight. His khaki pants brushed my leg. The feel of the rough material against my skin drew my attention from his cold eyes to my leg.

  Alarm riddled my senses. Where were my clothes? What had he done to me? I panicked at the thought of all the things he could have done when I was passed out. He’d obviously drugged me since I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there. Mentally, I focused on the space between my thighs. Nothing felt different. No soreness. I was relieved but distracted. I didn’t register him leaning in close, but I did feel the pain that followed when he pinched a large amount of fat on my inner thigh.

  I snatched my thigh away. “Don’t touch me,” I yelled at him.

  I was seething, so angry the emotion caused my body to quake. How dare he put his hands on me. I was furious. But I was smart enough to realize I was at a disadvantage and couldn’t attack him like I wanted. I settled for cursing him out in my head, hoping the words didn’t slip from my lips. Pain hadn’t ever been a friend of mine, and I didn’t want to give him a reason to inflict anymore.

  Several seconds of silence passed between us before he spoke up. He bared his teeth at me like an animal. “You’re asking about him when you’re lying in my bed. Why would you do that to me, Eve?” His tone dropped to menacing, barely above a whisper tone. “Why are you being so disrespectful?”

  Was he for real? I found his eyes only to realize he was serious. Not only was he serious, but he was expecting an answer from me. He had me tied to a bed and he was acting like a jealous boyfriend?

  I wanted to curse him to hell. I wanted to tell his mentally inept self to get out of my face with his asinine questions. But I knew better than to aggravate the situation any further. I turned away from him and bit my tongue so hard, the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. It kept the nasty words that I was dying to say from escaping. I’d have to learn to keep my mouth shut.

  He wasn’t okay with my silence. Suddenly, his weight shifted on the bed. He grabbed me roughly by my chin and then snatched my head to face him. He leaned in so close our noses touched. So close the heat radiating off his body warmed my cold skin.

  “Don’t fucking turn away from me when I’m talking to you, and when I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer. Do you understand me? In this relationship we don’t ignore one another,” he said coolly.

  What? I was so confused. What relationship? I refused to play into his delusions. Instead of replying, I moved my attention to his eyes. I caught a glimpse of the crazy in them. I didn’t know what my chances were of getting out of here, but I knew I needed to stay alive and pain free for as long as possible. Logically, I was probably going to die. I knew that. However, I was not about to die begging and crying, pleading for my life.

  That gave me a new perspective and a new idea. I’d survived the death of all my immediate family, foster care, heartbreak, beatings and sexual assault. I’d been fighting since I was a child. I’d never been a victim. From the very beginning, I’d always fought back. I’d fought them all—foster families, bullies, perverts, anybody who’d tried to harm me, and I’d come out on top. This time would be no different. I’d gone through and survived too much in life to cower now.

  “What I’m not going to do, Professor, is pretend with you. Fuck you. You are freaking insane.” I gathered as much saliva as I could into my dry mouth and spit directly in his face.

  Most of it ricocheted back into my own. My first instinct was to wipe it away. The burning of ropes against my skin when I tried brought me back to my senses. Acting irrationally when I was pissed off had always been one of my faults.

  I realized that in my current situation, it may cost me my life. I was in no position to defend myself after my little tantrum. I was at his mercy, and if someone had spit on me, I’d want to draw blood. With those thoughts in mind, I braced myself for the violence I knew would follow.

  I closed my eyes and waited…and waited. Nothing came. I slowly opened my eyes and found him standing next to the bed. He stared down at me with what could easily be mistaken for pride. Or was that lust? I had no idea what was looking at me from behind that man’s eyes. That was even scarier. I didn’t know what he was thinking. That not only annoyed me, but it left me confused.

  T H R E E

  Her defiance re-thickened my softening dick. That was my Eve, the one I knew and had grown to love. There was the fiery hot-tempered woman who had gotten my attention four years earlier. I remembered it like it was yesterday…

  My Friday noon class had just finished. I was walking across the campus to my car when I heard her for the first time. Her voice was thick and sweet like honey with a hard edge.

  “Thank you. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the compliment and the offer, but if you ever touch me again…”

  Usually I would have kept walking, let campus security handle it, but her threat gave me pause. I turned to find her back to me. I watched as she raised herself onto her toes and whispered into the boy’s ear. His face turned ghostly pale. She cocked her head to the side and laughed when he took a step back. I closed the distance between us, some unseen force drawing me to her.

  Before I reached them, he was walking away. Distracted I bumped into her. She stumbled a bit. I grabbed her arms to steady her. Her soft, round ass brushed against my cock and it came to life. My skin prickled. I was surprised by my body’s immediate reaction. I hadn’t even seen her face, and I wanted her. The smell of chocolate and vanilla invaded my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled. She smelled divine.

  “Excuse you,” she snapped. She spun on me with her fist clenched, poised to attack.

  The hostility in her voice made me smile. The sunlight at her back made her look as if she was glowing. I nearly commented on how beautiful she was. It was hard not to.

  She was a tall girl, but at six-foot-five, I still towered over her. She shaded her eyes then looked up so she could see my face clearly.

  “Oh! Professor, I’m sorry,” she said before backing up, putting space between us.

 
I wondered how she knew I was a professor. I hadn’t seen her in any of my classes, and I was often mistaken for a student. I didn’t look like a twenty-eight-year-old and was younger than all my colleagues.