—Cary Grant
Chapter Nine
‡
The weather continued to warm. Claire could now sunbathe in her new bikinis. Each time she stepped through the door onto the deck of the pool, she felt like she was entering a resort. She could eat at one of the umbrella tables or read in a lounge chair or swim in the tepid water. The Iowa sunshine resulted in a beautiful, golden tan. Her hair, which was always brown, now shimmered with golden highlights contrasting the normal chestnut shade.
It seemed impossible, but Claire actually felt busy. She would wake, work out, shower, and eat breakfast. Then, if Tony were out of the house, the possibilities were numerous. The pool remained a good option; however, Claire preferred that in the afternoon. What she enjoyed beyond anything was exploring the woods. The land around Anthony Rawlings’s estate extended for miles in most directions. One evening, she asked if walking in the woods was permitted. Tony explained that she could probably walk hours and not reach the property line. He never ventured into the woods, but he had flown over in a helicopter to survey the land, determining the best location for the house. This made her feel better about exploring. He didn’t want her leaving his property without him or his permission, but she could wander and roam and still follow the rules. The fact that even Tony hadn’t been out there made it more appealing.
Claire wanted to learn all about the land. To do this she decided to go different directions each time she ventured through the trees. She discovered areas where the trees were so dense there was no ground vegetation and it remained cool even as the temperatures of summer increased. She also found spontaneous clearings usually filled with flowers. The earlier in the morning Claire went into the forest, the more flowers she would see. There were morning glories blue as the sky above. After the sun’s warmth caused those to close, the white daisies and yellow mustard flowers would fill the void and create a multicolored canvas. With flowers came insects. Claire watched the bees busily pollinating and the multiple kinds of butterflies fluttering about. She decided to check Tony’s library to see if he had a book that would help her classify the different species.
Catherine expected Claire back for lunch each day, so she tried not to venture farther than an hour and a half in any direction. During her past life, she walked for exercise, sometimes at a gym but more often around her neighborhood in Atlanta. Walking on sidewalks and through a nearby park she measured distance by time. One mile took fifteen minutes. Lately, her adventures took her along the path less traveled. It wasn’t unusual for her to climb over fallen trees or up steep embankments. Due to these obstacles Claire estimated that one mile took closer to twenty minutes. With those calculations she traveled approximately four miles away from the house on each adventure.
One morning, she happened upon a den of foxes. Initially frightened, she watched them from a distance. There were two large and three small foxes. The small ones ventured away from the den, but the larger ones would always be within sight. It reminded Claire of camping with her dad. It filled her with warmth and a reassuring glow of protection.
It seemed like more recently she thought about her childhood and not her pre-contractual adult life. Perhaps it was a compartmentalization thing. Childhood was the past. It couldn’t be changed, only remembered.
Her life before March 15 was actually present—or should be present. She should be in Atlanta, tending bar at the Red Wing and trying desperately to find another job in meteorology. She should be going out with friends and drinking so much her head hurt the next morning. She should be talking to her sister on the phone or e-mailing her and learning about her and John.
Currently nearing the end of June, Emily would be out of school for the summer. John was a busy associate in a law firm. Before Claire disappeared, Emily mentioned visiting Claire. “You know I’m off work in the summer and John is busy. I could come spend some time with you in Atlanta.”
“Gosh, that would be great, but it gets really hot here in the summer, and I have to work, so you would probably be bored.” Claire now felt bad that she hadn’t been more encouraging. Honestly, she worried that Emily would disapprove of her tending bar or something else. Claire hadn’t wanted to listen to her advice. Now she would love to hear her advice or even her voice. Claire sighed and wondered about Emily, did she wonder where Claire had gone? Had she tried to contact her? Soon she realized the wooded scene in front of her was blurry and tears were spilling over her lids onto her cheeks. Claire decided to avoid those thoughts. Put them away in that compartment labeled later. Childhood provided safer thoughts and memories.
Tony explained that his land was virtually pie-shaped. The front of the property was where the drive met the highway, then the house, and then the land fanned out from there. Claire felt as though she was getting a handle on the layout of the property but it was taking time. Luckily, she thought that is the one thing I have plenty of, because there’s a lot of land to explore. Of course, that followed with thoughts of the mysterious timetable. When would her debt be considered paid?
One cool morning, Claire sat on her jacket at the edge of a beautiful clearing and watched a magnificent wildlife performance. First, she saw deer run across the open field. With each jump their white tails caught the sun like bright white powder puffs. The longer she sat the more deer she saw. They would slowly approach the clearing, run across, and slow again once in the safety of the trees. There was no threat to them at that time, but instinct told them that the trees held security. Claire wondered where her security was, or perhaps, this was a lesson in instinct?
Claire contemplated talking to Catherine about packing a lunch so that she could stay out in the woods longer. Then she decided that might be something to do when Tony was out of town. She didn’t want to get lost and not be back to the suite by 5:00 PM. She hated his rules, but following them made her life more pleasant.
On days Tony stayed home, exploring wasn’t an option. He required her to stay near in the event her services were needed. She was often told to stay in his office where she would read, sitting on the soft leather sofa until he summoned her. There were days when he never requested her services, yet she wasted the entire day in his office. Claire knew it was more of the continued power play. He controlled her time, her body, and her life.
To continue her busy days, after lunch Claire sunbathed by the pool or read on the sun porch. She also had the library that could captivate her for hours at a time. If it rained she might opt for a movie in the theater. There were so many things to do. The addition of an occasional evening out with Tony was the biggest change to Claire’s busy schedule. It started with the symphony. Since that time she accompanied him to a few other events. None as formal as the symphony, and all charity related, different foundations having dinners or cocktail parties or benefits. Each time Tony would tell Catherine that Claire needed to be ready for a specific event. She liked getting out away from the estate, but an invitation instead of a mandate would be nice. Apparently, companionship to events had now been added to her job description. Claire believed she did well at each turn and felt confident as long as Tony was near her. He would handle any situation that came her way.
At an event to honor donors of the University of Iowa’s Children’s Hospital, Claire stood dutifully at Anthony’s side while he spoke with a gentleman to whom she’d been introduced. Another man began to speak to her. It started innocently enough, “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I’m not sure if you remember me? We met a few weeks ago at the Quad City Symphony.” His volume was low—to either lure her away from Tony or not be heard by him. Claire believed she remembered him. She tried to remember names as well as Tony, but she could only recall his face. He then introduced himself, “Charles Jackson,” and made small talk about the symphony. He started asking her about her place of residence, did she live in the Quad City region? Chicago? What brought her to this area? The entire time Claire stayed steady to Tony. She didn’t want to interrupt Tony’s conversation, but her instincts told her this
wasn’t good. She successfully avoided direct answers, but he persisted beyond political correctness. She decided she needed to get Tony involved before this man dragged something out of her she wasn’t allowed to divulge. She lightly placed her hand on Tony’s arm. At first, he didn’t respond, so she squeezed it a little. When he excused himself from his conversation, he turned to Claire. She hated that she interrupted him, but she wore her mask and politely motioned toward the gentleman.
“Anthony, this is Charles Jackson.” Anthony turned to Charles and shook his hand. Charles appeared uncomfortable. It was not an emotion shared by Tony. “Mr. Jackson has been incredibly inquisitive. I thought you might be able to be of assistance to him.”
Claire stood back a half a step, still holding Anthony’s arm, and watched as he turned to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. Anthony’s voice was one Claire recognized immediately. It was not his chatty social voice, “Mr. Jackson, I’m very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It’s not my practice to converse with members of the press. It is my policy to allow my publicist to discuss such matters. I recommend that you speak to her, not my companion.”
Mr. Jackson didn’t have difficulty distinguishing the tone or the meaning. He apologized profusely to Anthony and then to Claire and made his way out of the event. Claire felt ill. She honestly didn’t know how she would have handled it without his help. Tony placed his hand on top of Claire’s as Mr. Jackson walked away.
“Tony, I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation. I just felt uncomfortable.”
Leaning down to her ear and squeezing her hand, he whispered, “It’s fine. You made the right decision.” She exhaled with relief.
Her current job passed its three-month anniversary. She still felt trapped and hated that she was there, but she didn’t hate every day. She thought of each day as a new possibility, and like everyone else in the world, some days were better than others. She knew the difference with her life was that her barometer was not her. It summed up her dependence on Anthony Rawlings. The tone of her life depended totally and completely upon his frame of mind.
He traveled a few days a week every couple of weeks. While she was secluded to her suite, he’d been in Europe, which apparently happened with some regularity. These momentary freedoms upset her. Instead of relishing them, she felt lonely. There would be some evenings that he had business obligations and wouldn’t dine with her or even come to her suite. Some of his ideas for her job requirements didn’t settle well, but she came to prefer that to being alone.
June came and went. Since Claire chose to not watch television, she didn’t know that the entire country was enduring a heat wave. She just knew that the outside air was heavy and within minutes could feel the perspiration dripping between her breasts and down her back. If a breeze blew it felt sticky and oppressive, not refreshing. Even being at the pool was uncomfortable unless early or late.
One evening, Catherine told Claire that Mr. Rawlings wouldn’t be home until late. Claire didn’t like vague terms like late. Normally she would wait in her suite to see if he came to her, but the day was scorching and she knew late could mean not at all. With the sunset, she decided to take a swim.
Walking to the pool, Claire realized she rarely ventured out of her suite at night. The house seemed eerily quiet, like a museum after closing. The staff were mostly retired to their rooms and the lights were low. Her flip-flops echoed as she stepped onto the marble floor at the base of the staircase. After four months, Claire didn’t need lights, she knew her way through the arches and into the sitting room. She paused at the windows and looked out to the pool. The water changed from pink to green to yellow to purple to blue to clear and back to pink. The deck lights were off, creating the illusion of a colorful abyss engulfed in complete darkness. She considered turning on the deck lights and decided against it.
Stepping into the summer night, the air sat heavy and still. The contrast from the air conditioning reminded her why she stayed indoors all day. Looking toward heaven she knew she made the right decision about the lights. The velvety sky glistened with a million stars. The water enveloped her body as she walked down the steps, its temperature barely varied from the air and she quickly submerged herself. After swimming a few laps she floated on her back, watching the sky and thinking about constellations. Suddenly, Claire froze.
Deep in thought and enjoying the stars, she realized Tony was standing at the edge of the pool. He’d been speaking, but her ears were submerged and she couldn’t hear him. Seeing his silhouette from the lights of the fountain startled her. She lifted her head out of the water to clear her ears and began to tread water.
“Tony, you startled me. Catherine said you wouldn’t be home until late.” She couldn’t see his eyes. She waited for him to respond. He stood in silence for a moment. As she debated about talking, he walked to a chair hidden in darkness. When he returned she could only see his silhouette, but knew he was now nude.
Still not speaking, Tony dove into the pool. He swam up to Claire and wrapped his arms around her. Within seconds, Claire’s bathing suit disappeared. His actions were fast and rough. Their mouths united as their tongues searched wildly for one another. He moved from her lips to the nape of her neck and all places in between. The pool depth allowed Tony to touch but not Claire. She wrapped her legs around his torso, allowing him to support her. He continued to nuzzle her neck, lifting her body so her round supple breasts found his lips. His kisses became nips and he gently bit the tips of her hard nipples. Claire groaned with pleasure.
His hurried movements caused his bristled face to scratch her soft skin; however, the pain of his beard was quickly forgotten as the pleasure from his touch filled her consciousness. His mouth tantalized and his hands explored. Claire’s back arched as she pressed her breasts toward his mouth and wrapped her fingers in his wet hair. Though the night was hot, Claire’s arms and legs cloaked with goose bumps. In the silence of the country night her moans echoed as her body convulsed.
Tony eventually led Claire out of the pool, onto a chaise lounge. He resumed his exploration; however, not with his hands. They still hadn’t spoken. Claire’s mind teetered between the cognizant he doesn’t seem upset and the unconscious ecstasy. His actions slowed—became more deliberate and sensual—causing sensations deep inside of her. She held on to his massive shoulders and accepted everything he had to offer.
The carnal heat intensified by the night’s humidity instigated perspiration. Claire tasted the amazing salty, sweat, and chlorine potion as her lips and tongue seduced his neck. When he finished they were both moist, more from one another than the pool.
Panting, they lay still, listening to the cicadas and crickets. Finally, with a grin, Tony spoke, “Good evening, Claire.” His eyes were soft suede brown. “I wasn’t happy when you weren’t in your suite.” Claire started to speak but stopped as Tony’s finger lightly touched her lips. “But your idea of a swim on this hot evening was much better than what I planned.”
Claire smiled. They moved back into the water to cool off but found that even in the water they had problems staying cool.
Later that night in Claire’s suite, Tony brought up the situation at the University of Iowa Children’s Hospital Event. He told her it hadn’t been a planned test; however, had it been, she would have passed. He believed she could be trusted with more responsibilities and independence. Therefore, on her table was a wallet containing her ID—her driver’s license and a new credit card. The card was on his account and was for her use when he wasn’t around.
“What do you mean when you aren’t around?” Her voice didn’t hide her fear. Tony smiled at her trepidation.
“You’ll only leave the grounds without me, with Eric, and my permission, but I’ll need to travel to Europe for at least a week next month. You’ve behaved well.” He smiled and ran his hand over her bare thigh and buttocks. “Very well, and you’ve followed instructions much better than
I would have given you credit for a few months ago.” His hands roamed; Claire’s eyes closed as her body responded. Tony’s voice was both masterful and playful, “As a matter of fact, I believe right now you would do as I say.”
Opening her eyes, she gazed into his, and answered, “I would.” Her voice yearned as her body mindlessly obeyed, responding to his touch.
“I think we should continue to test that theory,” he said with a devilish grin. “But first I believe you have earned the ability to do some shopping for yourself.”
Claire’s first thought was, she didn’t want to be by herself. What if someone like Mr. Jackson approached? But then again, wasn’t that what she’d wanted since she arrived, to be out, away, alone forever? She would need to file these thoughts, compartmentalize, and think about them tomorrow.
Tony was testing his theory. She needed to hear his every word. The directives for this test were proving playful and exciting. Claire knew she could pass.
Life is not what it’s supposed to be. It’s what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.
—Virginia Satir
Chapter Ten
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Standing at the rail of her balcony, Claire stared at the scene in front of her. The rays of moonlight illuminated the yard and tops of the trees, changing the familiar objects to unfamiliar colors. Under its brilliance, the trees appeared black and the grass silver. The multitude of stars glistened as she listened to the sounds of coyotes in the distance. This noise worried her. She thought about the smaller animals in the woods and hoped for their safety.
Although she hadn’t been outside long, the humid air caused her to perspire. She could feel her hair stick to her neck as droplets of sweat rolled down her back. Claire received word—Mr. Rawlings wouldn’t be home until after 10:00 PM and she would dine alone. This was the third night in a row. Last night, he hadn’t come to her suite at all. The night before, it’d only been for a few minutes to touch base. Apparently, things had been extremely busy.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 10