Adam & Eve- a Tale of Obsession

by Shantel Davis

  “Are you in one of my classes?” I asked.

  Instead of answering verbally, she nodded once. When she switched her backpack from one shoulder to the other nervously, I noticed the blade in her hand.

  “Were you going to use that on him?” I asked.

  She shoved the weapon she wasn’t supposed to have on school grounds into the pocket of the baggy navy-blue basketball shorts she had on. She wore a light blue wife beater and flip flops the same color as her top. Although she was dressed like many of the girls on campus, it looked a lot different on her voluptuous body. The men’s wear did little to hide her curves, large breasts, and slightly rounded stomach. I had a nice view of her nice, plump, round ass. It was noticeable even in the baggy gym shorts.

  Some part of me thought she would cower and lie, but she didn’t.

  In a sweet, southern accented voice she said, “I would have gutted him and left him bleeding out if he hadn't left me alone.” Then she gave me an easy smile, innocent and lethal.

  Admitting that she’d been about to commit a violent act so boldly caused my dick to harden. I shifted my laptop bag in front of me, so she couldn’t see the evidence of what her words had done.

  “Oh, I see.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  I hadn’t expected honesty from her. She had to know that me reporting her could got her expelled, but she didn’t care. Why?

  “Excuse me, she said then side stepped me as if in a rush.

  “Wait.” I’d shouted louder than needed. I didn’t want her to leave. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” I blurted out when she continued to walk away

  She paused, just outside of my reach. She turned then stared up at me long and hard. It was as if she could see through me. I saw the change in her eyes when she caught a glimpse of the monster behind the mask. I thought her response to seeing the real me would be fear or revulsion, not morbid curiosity. She tilted her head as if studying me.

  But in the end, I guess her sense of curiosity couldn't override her sense of self-preservation. Instead of questioning or exploring what she saw, like I knew she wanted to, she dropped her gaze. She took a tentative step back.

  “No”, she said. She then turned and damn near jogged away without a second look in my direction.

  In silent disbelief, I watched her until she was out of sight. I wasn’t accustomed to rejection. I was never without attention because of my looks, education and money. Women threw themselves at me. Men wanted to be me, but none of those things mattered to her. She’d walked away from me without a second glance—like I was one of the boys on campus. I was furious, then perplexed. I knew then she was special.

  After that day, I couldn’t let the thought of her go. I replayed our first encounter over and over in my head that weekend. What had she said to the boy she’d threatened? What had she seen in me?

  Even when my fiancé, Jenny, had dragged me from one society event to another, droning on and on about our wedding, my thoughts never drifted far away from her for long. I didn’t even know her name at the time, but she was all I could think about.

  When I fucked Jenny, it was Eve I’d imagined. I used Jenny’s body like I’d never done before. For years, sex with Jenny was a once or twice a week obligation, always missionary, with the lights off, the boring ‘make love to me’ bullshit women like her craved.

  However, that Sunday night, I bent, twisted and touched her in places and ways I was sure never crossed her prim and proper mind. When I was done with her, she couldn’t meet my eyes. I knew she was afraid they’d give away the fact she’d liked the dirty things I’d done to her.

  Girls like Jenny had been taught to be ashamed of anything that wasn’t vanilla. Life to her was all about what would be acceptable to her peers. She was depriving herself for no reason, having no idea about some of the kink the people she dealt with daily were into. I didn’t feel it was my responsibility to tell her.

  I left her curled up on the bed we shared, looking confused but thoroughly fucked. Afterwards, I drove to the condominium I kept for when I wanted to be alone. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to sleep. Instead I sat up drinking Scotch, and for the first time, I thought about what married life with Jenny would be like.

  She hadn’t been my choice. I would have never chosen a woman like her. My parents had introduced us at eighteen. They’d told me that she would be my bride. An arrangement between our parents had taken place before either of us were born. Old money married old money. That was how it was in my world. We allowed ourselves to be bred like animals.

  From the moment I met Jenny, I disliked her. Everything about her was straight and typical. Blond hair, blue eyes, model like figure, large fake breast. If asked, I would admit that she was very beautiful, but did beauty really matter when she looked like everyone around her and lacked substance?

  The way she spoke, dressed and fucked were boring. She had no goals for her life. She’d been trained to be subservient, obedient. To not want more than she’d be given. That night I’d began to loathe her and the thought of attaching myself to that way of life. She was too much like my mother. Growing up, I watched my father cheat on and disrespect her. No matter what he did, she took it with a fake smile. Her lifestyle was paramount to her dignity. She had no respect for herself and for that I hated her, and women like her.

  After watching my parents and their friends, I had no belief in the sanctity of marriage. It was a piece of paper to me, the combining of fortunes. Wasn’t it?

  I chuckled at the fact that a girl I wouldn’t usually notice simply walking away from me made me question what I’d never questioned before. She was ordinary compared to the women I was accustomed to. Pretty and curvy. Nothing special. Exactly like hundreds of other girls on campus. But some unnamed, undeniable force drew me to her. She felt it, too. The awareness between us the first time we met had been tangible. I needed to know more.

  The very next day I learned her name. Eve. For weeks after, I watched her, gaining insight. At first, only in class, or when I just happened to see her around campus. Then suddenly she was everywhere I went, or I was everywhere she went. I wasn’t sure which. She pretended not to notice me. That made me wonder if our meeting had the same effect on her as it had on me. It must have.

  I started following her. She was a study in contrast. She was a loner but knew everyone. She had friends, but none were close. Men approached her, but she turned them all down. She never drew attention to herself. On the weekends, she never went out, and there was always melancholy in her eyes. To most, she looked to be an introvert, but I knew she was hiding. From what? I’d wondered.

  After a while, watching wasn’t enough. I made my presence known. I’d purposely run into her too many times to count during her freshman year. She was always polite but detached. I’d start up a conversation, and she’d find a way to participate without saying much. She’d answer me in one or two words then she would scurry off. I didn’t like it. I’d wanted to pry the words from her mouth. I wanted her to tell me why her eyes always looked so sad when nobody was watching. She was an enigma, my enigma. I had to figure her out.

  Just before Christmas I decided to go through with my wedding. I wouldn’t cause myself undo stress because of a girl when I didn’t even know what I wanted from her. When the announcement was made, a few of my students wanted invites. I couldn’t invite everyone, and I couldn’t pick and choose.

  I organized a contest of sorts for my English Lit students. The class with the best research papers on obsessive love in gothic literature would be invited to my wedding. Eve’s class would win of course. It would allow me time to interact with her outside of classes. What happened that day would cause my curiosity for her to cross the line.

  On my wedding day, instead of being focused on my bride, I watched and waited for Eve to enter the church. I didn’t care about the harpist or the fact that everything was beautifully decorated in white. I didn’t even care about how good Jenny looked in her fifty-thousan
d-dollar dress. I searched for Eve and was beyond disappointed that she hadn’t shown up.

  An hour into my reception, I was incensed. Why hadn’t she come? I stood up to leave, and that was when I saw her. She was out on the dance floor. There had to be a hundred people crowded around, but my eyes easily zeroed in on her. She stood out in a black wrap dress that hugged her curves and stopped mid-thigh. The black pumps she wore elongated her thick, shapely legs. She was smiling and dancing to the classical music like she’d been trained to do so.

  Her body swayed sensually. Her spirit called to me. Mesmerized, I couldn’t have stopped watching her if I’d wanted to. Then suddenly her haunting eyes connected with mine. She blessed me with a warm, bright, rare smile. The first she’d ever directed at me. She’d killed and revived me with that simple gesture.

  A quote from her report on Jane Eyre came to mind: “I have little left in myself -- I must have you. The world may laugh -- may call me absurd, selfish -- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

  At that very moment, I felt my world shift. I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without her. If she’d have promised to look at me, smile at me, stay with me forever, I would have given it all up. My birthright, the money, the cars, the women, my very being.

  Sadly, I knew I had to walked away. I couldn’t have her, yet. She wasn’t ready for me. I wouldn’t force myself into her life because I’d stain and break her. Men like me dirtied pretty things like her. She’d end up like one of the women I despised. She was too young, too pure. She needed to live, to experience and to find herself before I exposed her to me. I wanted her so badly. To realize I had to let her go caused my heart to ache.

  Was this what love felt like? I asked myself.

  I’d never been in love before. Didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t love her, but I could honestly say I’d lie, cheat, steal, maim, and kill for her. All because of that smile. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I left my reception after our eyes disconnected

  When I returned from my honeymoon a month later, she’d changed. Her body language was different, so was her smile. She was happier than I’d seen her in prior months. I wanted to know why. Three days later I saw her with him. I found out after some snooping that his name was Davis.

  Davis was a fucking cliché, even more so than I. Tall, literally dark and handsome. His looks rivaled my own. He excelled academically and in sports. Girls swooned at the sight of the campus football star— the all-around, wholesome, progressive black college man—rising above adversity. Ask anybody and they’d tell you he was going to be something when he graduated.

  I could imagine their future together, living in a cute little house with a white picket fence, two or three kids. He’d go to work and control the finances, therefore controlling her. She wouldn’t like that, but would stay, because she was loyal. She’d raise perfect little replicas of them both. Happy content children, with bland personalities. She’d be happy, somewhat. Without me. He was perfect for her. Just the thought made me want to snap his fucking neck.

  For days I watched them, trying to decide my next move. They looked good together and that bothered me. Made me feel insecure and lonely. I wasn’t familiar with either of those feelings, and it nearly drove me mad. At the very beginning I promised myself I wouldn’t interfere too much in her life, but I had to make sure that relationship didn’t last long. I gave it three months; the longest three months of my life. I knew that she needed the experiences she shared with him to help her grow. My meds helped me stay calm. For the first time in years, I took them regularly. They held the demons at bay.

  When the public displays of affection went from playful, sweet, and teasing to sexual and heated, I knew he had to go. It was only a matter of time before she gave herself to him. Her body first then her heart and soul would follow. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I wouldn’t lie and say I was ashamed of what I did next. I was not. Bianca was expensive but turned out to be worth every penny. She was an exotic Dominican beauty with a body built for sin. Black waist-length hair, big tits, a small waist and a large ass. She was enough to temp the devil himself. She was perfect.

  The agency I found her at charged two-thousand an hour for her services. I offered her double. She had no problem with approaching Davis outside the locker room after a game. I watched as she pretended to be his biggest fan. When she offered to fuck him, he sent Eve home without hesitation. He didn’t blink an eye as he lied to her. She was too trusting. She suspected nothing.

  I followed him and Bianca to a hotel. That night she fucked him in positions and ways only a professional could. She’d taken pictures and recorded the encounter, like I’d told her to. As I watched him betray Eve in the footage with a whore, I thought about snapping his neck. How could he do that to her? The only thing that stopped me was knowing he would be out of her life soon.

  Three days. It took Bianca three days to convince him to confess his sins to Eve. Bianca had stood at his side with her arms wrapped around his waist dressed in jeans and a university t-shirt. She really did look the part of a college student instead of a whore; an Oscar worthy performance.

  Without shame, he introduced Bianca as his girlfriend like he hadn’t cheated on his actual girlfriend with her. Eve stared at the both them for a few seconds, pushed past them and walked off without a word. Five days later, when I stopped paying Bianca for her time, she quickly disappeared from Davis’ life.

  It took no time for him to run back to Eve. He begged and pleaded for her to come back. When he asked for another chance, she’d told him to kiss her black ass and walked away. I stood on the second floor of the library eavesdropping. At the exit, she’d paused and turned as if she’d felt someone there—like she’d felt me there. She searched for me, her gaze immediately finding mine. There was a question in her eyes as if she’d wanted to know how much I’d seen and heard. I turned away before she could see the truth. When I turned back around, she was gone. I fell deeper into my obsession with her.

  When I came back to the present, Eve was watching me with a look of disgust on her face.

  “What are you grinning at?” she barked.

  “You. You’re everything I expected,” I said while I rubbed her saliva into my skin.

  Her look of disgust deepened.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I bet you are.”

  I didn’t wait for her to answer. She didn’t have to know that I knew she was hungry by the growling in her stomach. I also knew exactly what she would want.

  I turned away from the bed and walked over to the bedroom door. I slid the security panel back, dialed my pin code which activated my intercom. My maid, Ava, answered immediately.

  “I’d like a steak, fried Cajun shrimp, a baked potato with sour cream and unsalted butter with a side of broccoli, steamed. Water with crushed ice and lemonade with fresh strawberry slices.”

  I’d ordered all Eve’s favorites to show her just how much I knew about her. I turned back to ger to gage her reaction. I got none. She turned away from me, disgust no longer written across her features.

  F O U R

  My emotions were all over the place; one moment I was okay with knowing I was probably going to die in that room, and the next, I didn’t know how I felt. He knew my favorite meal? I wondered if it would be my last.

  What else did he know?

  How long had he been watching me?

  I’d always been a bit morbid. That was one of the reasons I was majoring in Criminology. I’d read countless books on serial killers and psychopaths, spent hours researching. I was so well-versed in the criminal mind I could get away with murder. That was how I knew for a fact that I was dealing with a sick individual. I couldn’t handle him with my usual head-on approach.

  Again, I ran all the times I’d actually seen him through my mind. It was easy to remember once I tho
ught about it. He always seemed to be there; in the library, the cafeteria, outside the grocery store, even once during the summer in Atlanta when I visited home.

  My most vivid memory was his wedding day. He’s married, my mind screamed. Where was his wife? Instead of adding yet another question I couldn’t answer to the millions that were already in my head, I came right out and asked him.