By 1:00 PM, Claire was exhausted. She purchased a few dresses, some shoes, a few new lingerie items, and sunglasses. She successfully spent over five thousand. It truly seemed ridiculous, but she was determined to make Tony proud. She didn’t want to shop anymore. She stopped at the Trump Tower, less than two blocks from her pick-up destination, for lunch. She’d been there before and remembered the Trump Café. The people and beauty of the glass caught her attention as she entered the atrium, but her mind focused on food.
In the past four months she hadn’t made one decision about food. Now, she salivated at the idea of ordering anything she wanted. There were even desserts. She took a few minutes wandering around the cases—so many choices. The aroma from the grill caused her to think of hamburgers in the summertime. She could almost taste the foods as she inhaled their delicious scents. She silently debated her options.
Claire found a table near the window and ate her spinach salad, iced tea, and yogurt. It was still her choice but eating healthy made more sense. She ate and watched. New York had always been fun, and even today, by herself, she found it fun. She glanced at her watch, 1:40 PM. She finished her lunch and walked toward the Plaza Hotel. Tony wouldn’t be waiting, but Eric would, and she didn’t want Eric to tell him she was late.
When Eric pulled the car to the curb, Claire was ready; however, she waited for Eric to park, get out, and open her door. She’d learned to perform her part well. Once back on the road, he inquired as to the next destination.
“I believe I’m tired and would like to go back to the apartment. Oh, did you pick up my purchases?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eric replied, and continued to explain that they were in the trunk. He would have someone take them to Mr. Rawlings’s room immediately upon arriving at the apartment.
Claire sat back, closed her eyes, and let herself be taken back to Tony’s apartment. It wasn’t until she was almost back that it occurred to her—Emily and John were only three hours out of the city. She could get there by train. If she had Eric drop her off near a station, she could get to their house and be back in the span of a day. She used to ride the train all the time. No one would ever know. She couldn’t do it today, but excitement brewed as she began to work out the details in her head for tomorrow.
Napping soundly on his large bed, late in the afternoon, Tony’s voice brought Claire back to reality. “We did it! The deal is complete.”
She pushed the sleepy fog from her mind and tried to concentrate on his words. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“I believe a celebration is in order!” Smiling at his enthusiasm, Claire began to get out of bed.
“Where are you going?” His intimidating tone narrowed her focus.
She watched his accomplished expression quickly morph into a new menacing gaze. Claire felt a chill, despite the warmth of the blankets. “I thought you wanted to celebrate. I need to dress.”
“Yes, you do, but first, you need to undress.” Tony removed his Brooks Brothers suit jacket and silk tie, allowing them fall to the floor, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Our celebration will begin here.”
Claire hadn’t expected him to return this early and was napping in shorts and a camisole. Her instincts told her the vigor and energy acquired from his successful business dealings would be unleashed here and now. Thankful she’d napped, she obeyed and removed her shorts and top.
Apprehensively, Claire watched as Tony approached. His clothes created a trail from the doorway to near the foot of the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she beheld his completely nude body. She’d been groggy when he first entered the room, but something about his demeanor alarmed her, like the warning rumble of thunder indicating an imminent storm. Now, fully awake, her body quivered. Coming toward her, she beheld his wide chest, defined, and covered with dark hair, his trim abdomen, his narrow hips and waist. There was a light trail of hair, leading to where…Claire could plainly see he was ready to celebrate. Everything about his presence said power.
She steadied herself as Tony pushed his body against her petite form. Moving fast and rough, he pulled her into his embrace. Forcibly engaging her lips, she tasted coffee and attempted to slow his actions—trying to control his explosion of energy. It was a matter of momentum. Claire was helpless to slow this force of nature. Her only defense was to move with it. Anticipating his actions, she expected to be lifted onto the bed. Instead, he turned and pushed her to the bed. Her cheek felt the softness of the satin covered, down comforter. His plans were unexpected, and he hadn’t prepared her. She stifled the urge to cry out in pain, as her fingers gripped the cover, forming fists. Dominating, Anthony Rawlings showed no meekness, only total control.
His voracious need was only momentarily satisfied; he instructed Claire to kneel, held her head and dictated her movements until he was ready again. Insatiable, the afternoon went on and on. He took his time. His authoritative tone resumed, as did instructions and directions. Eventually, he led her to the shower. They needed to get ready to go out. The soap, the multiple shower heads—he continued.
Finally, gratified—Tony took shampoo and began to wash Claire’s hair. After ravaging her body, he reverently caressed her chestnut trusses. Suddenly, his movements were tender and gentle. Outwardly, she responded appropriately, but inwardly she burned with loathing. One day she wanted to help him, to be with him, the next he treated her like a whore. It made her furious and her heart ache, but she stopped the tears. He’d already taken too much. She wasn’t giving him those too.
That night, dressed in a sleek black strapless dress with black heels, Claire was escorted by Tony to Daniel, a four-star restaurant in Manhattan, located on the Upper East Side. It was known for its elegant ambiance and delicious French cuisine. En route, Tony reminded Claire about his rules: do as she was told, keep up appearances, and the severity of punishment for public failure. Perhaps he sensed her unspoken revulsion and her overwhelming desire to flee, and he felt the need to reiterate the consequences if she tried.
When they arrived to Daniel, they went to the lounge where Tony ordered cocktails. They sipped drinks while Tony chatted about his amazing rescue of this sensational deal. Claire felt like she was spending the evening with two different men. He could chastise her in one breath and be refined and charming in the next. While talking about his deal he said he didn’t like to talk about money, but today he made more than most people do in an entire lifetime, quoting, “Hell, more than most families do in their lifetimes.”
When the maître d’ informed them their table was ready, they moved to the exquisite dining room. Again, Tony ordered their meal. Claire’s attention was completely centered on him. He required that—maintaining appearances. That evening, Claire discovered Tony spoke French. Since she did not, she didn’t know what was said to the waiter. When the bottle of wine arrived, after sipping on cocktails, Claire tried unsuccessfully to hide her surprise. Tony explained, “This is a special occasion.”
The waiter poured a small amount of wine into a glass and offered it to him. He approved and two glasses were poured.
If the prelude hadn’t been so tempestuous, the dinner would have been more pleasurable. Claire remembered Tony saying he didn’t approve of alcohol because it diminished the senses. Currently, feeling her body, head, and heart ache, she welcomed the diminishing effects. Of course, she didn’t show her uneasiness with the return of the Anthony Rawlings she’d known. She obeyed the rules and remained the perfect companion.
On the way back to the apartment, Eric drove them around Manhattan to enjoy the lights, sights, and sounds. New York City was truly spectacular, and it had been so long since Claire had experienced so many people and so much energy. If Tony weren’t running his hand up her thigh—it would have been more enjoyable.
Tony informed her they would return to Iowa in the morning. As they were about to fall asleep, he asked about shopping. Her body exhausted, her head spinning from the alcohol, she replied, “It was nice…may I please show yo
u the purchases in the morning?”
They both fell asleep.
We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.
—Sir Winston Churchill
Chapter Eleven
‡
His alarm sounded, and Mr. Rawlings called for the car. It would be ready to take them to the airport at 6:00 AM. Claire knew she’d rather be back in her suite, waking at 8:00 AM, working out, eating, and being on her own schedule. When she worked at WKPZ, she needed to wake before 3:00 AM every morning, but back then, she went to bed much earlier and most importantly—alone.
A little before 5:00 AM, she sleepily entered the shower. Turning her face to the hot spray, she desperately tried to revive her senses and dull the aches in her body. The water began the process, but the real awakening came as she heard the glass door slide, and saw Tony enter the steamy stall. His only expectation was to get clean; however, the act—the sharing of this personal space non-sexually—was more intimate than Claire anticipated or desired.
Once on the jet, she asked about his associates. Tony explained that Mr. Simmons and Mr. Field stayed behind to complete the contracts, and Ms. Michaels had left on another company jet, yesterday. During the two-and-a-half-hour flight, it was only the two of them in the cabin. Tony busily read his computer screen while Claire watched the clouds under the plane and contemplated the trip—disappointing and short. She thought pensively about her missed opportunity to contact Emily and John. She hadn’t spoken to anyone from her past for almost four months. Did anyone wonder what happened to her? Were they concerned she’d dropped off the earth? But then she thought about Tony. He’d taken her out and introduced her to the world. She couldn’t be a missing person or the police would have gotten involved. She wasn’t sure how this publicity thing worked. Maybe Emily knew she was seen out with Mr. Anthony Rawlings. Claire berated herself. She’d worried more about not disappointing Tony than thinking to contact her sister.
Suddenly, Tony broke the silence. The domineering man from the night before was gone. His tone was friendly and inquisitive, “Now, tell me about your shopping trip.”
Claire did her best to respond with the appropriate tone and inflection, “It was amazing. New York is such a bustling city. I wasn’t worried about people, or should I say reporters, approaching me.”
“That concerns you?”
“Yes—after that scene at the benefit, I’m terrified someone will approach me. I know how much appearance and privacy means to you.”
Satisfied, Tony smiled smugly. “Very well, that’s interesting. Go on, what did you buy?”
“Well, first I went to Versace and found a couple of dresses and some shoes. I think you will like them. I made my way along Fifth Avenue and bought some sunglasses. Oh”—she pulled the glasses out and put them on—“they’re here in my purse.”
*
Tony smiled and removed them from her green eyes. He liked her eyes and didn’t want them covered.
Claire continued chattily, “I also found some lingerie”—she smiled coyly—“which I believe you’ll like.”
His eyes were soft, and he was fully focused. Her excitement amused him. “It sounds like you did well. Do you mind telling me how much you spent?”
Claire’s eyes dropped to the floor. Tony gently lifted her chin to resume eye contact. Her emerald irises shimmered as she flashed a smile and spoke, “About five thousand.”
He laughed.
*
His reaction surprised her. She waited to see if it was a laugh—leading to something else, but no—it was just a laugh. Finally, he responded, “Good job, Claire. You may get the hang of this yet. I look forward to my private fashion show tonight when I return to the house.”
It bothered Claire that he could treat her in such a demeaning manner in the bedroom or wherever he chose and then turn around and act like nothing happened. She needed to work on compartmentalizing the sex away from the rest of her life—a much more difficult task than it sounded.
Once they arrived back to Iowa, they entered Tony’s waiting car and Eric drove them back to the house. Tony needed to get a few things before heading into the office in Iowa City. He would be leaving tomorrow for ten days in Europe, and he had some loose ends which required his immediate attention.
After the car entered the gates to the estate, they took the long winding drive approaching the mansion. Claire usually saw the house from the back. Although, she rarely left the property, when she did, it was usually at night. Now seeing it in daylight, the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick, combined with the Romanesque style architecture, gave her a new appreciation. Tony had told her he’d built the house about fifteen years ago, but it looked older. It didn’t look outdated or antiquated. It looked as if it had been designed for an earlier time. Claire couldn’t help but ask, “Tony, you said you built your house about fifteen years ago?”
“Yes,” he answered as Eric came around the front drive. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not used to seeing it from the front. It’s beautiful!” He thanked her. She continued, “But, it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”
“I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.”
Claire knew he’d lost his parents and didn’t want to stir up bad memories, but her curiosity got the best of her. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a house like this?” They were now getting out of the car.
“It was my grandfather’s, not my parents’. My father was weak; however, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.”
Claire wasn’t sure what that wealth of information meant. Catherine told her that Mr. Rawlings didn’t allow many people to get close. She was sure this family history had something to do with that. As they walked to his office she tried for a little more information. “It truly is amazing. Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”
“Mostly, I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.”
Claire considered what he was saying; he meant every inch of the perimeter. He was stopping someone from getting in who wasn’t supposed to be there.
Standing behind his desk, punching some buttons on his computer and rummaging through papers, Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”
Claire’s knees wobbled, and she needed to sit down. “You mean my suite is under surveillance? Like there are cameras?”
Tony looked up from the papers and met Claire’s eyes. Seeing the repugnance he smiled. His words slowed, adding malice, “Yes, of course. It’s all video recorded and saved.” Claire sat on the nearest chair. Suddenly, making the most of her newfound discomfort, he added, “Perhaps we could have a premier viewing, critique, and work on revisions.”
She detested his existence. “Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”
His vile smirk gave spark to his darkening eyes. “But, my dear Claire, I am not. Now the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed—only I have that. They do have view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without you seeing them.”
“But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”
Tony picked up his needed papers and a flash drive and moved to leave his office. “Because I can—I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” He started to walk toward the hall doors.
Thinking her legs couldn’t support her weight; Claire stayed seated. The thought of him watching them
—of her watching him with her—made her physically ill. She seriously believed if she stood she wouldn’t be able to control the revolt currently occurring in her stomach.
Tony reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” He watched as she sat motionless and heartlessly added, “And in case you were wondering—yes—this room, too, is under surveillance—except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He nastily grinned and gestured to the setting of one of her worse nightmares. Something she’d pushed away. Now, she knew he had it on video and watched it! “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair, now.”
Absently, she stood, thinking only about keeping her breakfast down. Claire tried desperately to keep all other thoughts out of her mind as she left his office. Before she knew it, she was back in her suite. Her head spun. She wanted to flop on the sofa and stop the thoughts bombarding her consciousness, but he could see her. Was there anywhere he couldn’t see her?
That night they dined on the back patio. It was shaded and the night air felt warm. The yard looked picture perfect. Even with the recent heat wave which had been accompanied by a drought, his lawn was lush and green thanks to the marvels of a sprinkling system and ground’s crew. Tony was doing what she despised, talking about his trip to Europe, the time in New York, anything except the cameras and videos.
Claire couldn’t understand how he could behave one way, say something, and then act as if it never happened. She, however, was having difficulty thinking of anything else. Her appetite gone, she barely ate any of her dinner.
Once they were done dining, Tony led Claire to the movie-theater. It was her retreat—a place to escape and watch singing and dancing. Tonight, Tony didn’t intend to watch a musical. He programmed the video system and entered a passcode. Suddenly, the screen was full of dates and locations, such as 2010, May 05, S.E. suite. He had the ability to scroll to different dates and different locations. It wasn’t just her room. There were locations like: garages, kitchen, foyer, stairs, theater, pool, S.E. 2 floor hall, S.E. 1 floor hall, etc.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 12