“Huh… because you were too busy fingering yourself in the shower, Iz. I saw, don’t worry!” There’s no gentle introduction to this conversation. He attacks me—straight for the jugular.
“Please, Phil. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“Then why did you do it? You didn’t want any last night.” His voice is filled with anger, his posture giving away his own agitated state.
“I just… I needed to. My body, I… I wanted to come, and I like doing it to myself.” I cast my eyes down and hope the uncertainty in my voice masks my indiscretion. You’re not lying to him. You do want it. You wanted to make yourself come.
“I could have done it. Or better yet, you could have had sex with me last night.”
“I didn’t want to have sex with you last night. I’m not a switch that you can flick on and off, and besides, I was angry with you last night.” As the words escape my lips, I realise that I’ve opened this up to a much bigger fight.
“What do you mean, you were angry with me?”
I inwardly take a deep breath and steel myself for this. How did he not know that I was angry? It was as plain as day and I couldn’t have made it any more obvious after the way he acted at Jackson’s.
“You took me to a party where I knew no one. You promptly abandon me at the door. You didn’t care to introduce me to people you were clearly ‘friends’ with, and you allow some girl to paw all over you. We drove home in utter silence and then you expected sex? Really? And you can’t imagine why I was angry?” I can’t keep the acidic tone from my voice. My nerves settle and anger builds when I remember how I felt watching Sophie with Phil.
“She wasn’t pawing at me, Iz, and I did introduce you. You’re so sensitive.” He shrugs it off.
I’m not prepared to let this go. Not now. “I introduced myself, Phil and she was pawing you, and you clearly didn’t have a problem with it!” I shout. I suddenly want to vent all my fear, my hurt, my need for more out of our marriage, out of my life, at him.
“Iz, come on… She’s just a friend. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you earlier. That’s all, Iz. I promise.” He sounds nervous. I’ve hit a nerve.
“You know what’s sad? I’m not particularly bothered about Sophie and you, Phil. Are you sleeping with her?”
“Don’t do this, Iz. We’re supposed to be talking about why you don’t want me to touch you, but you’re perfectly happy to do it yourself. I’m not discussing a simple friendship with another woman.” Phil stands abruptly. “You really are a bitch, you know.”
“Don’t storm out again, Phil. We have to sort this out.”
“I’m not listening to you anymore. You can keep your dirty little fantasies. Don’t expect me back tonight.” With that, he storms out of the room.
The slam of the door echoes around the house. My meagre attempt to stand up to him has failed, and I’m left reeling from my surge of frustration and anger. I know he’s being unfaithful. It was clear from Sophie’s reaction to me that my suspicions are valid.
He’s not the only one, though. I have been unfaithful, too. I’m just as much to blame. I drag myself up from the sofa and head upstairs to the bedroom. It’s too early to go to bed, but right now that’s all I want to do—fall asleep to escape my thoughts and feelings. Everything is supposed to look better in the morning, isn’t it?
My mood hampers my speed as I get undressed for bed, but I finally manage to pull the covers up to my chin after I climb in. I reach over for my phone and notice a couple of new text messages.
You’re meant to be my wife, Izzy. Phil
As I read his words, a tear escapes and runs down my cheek. The word ‘wife’ rings in my heart and I’m sad that I don’t feel it. I haven’t felt like a wife for a long time.
It takes two to make a marriage. You haven’t been a husband to me in a long time. Izzy
I pull up the un-opened message on my screen.
Izzy, I’m worried. You haven’t texted back and it’s late. What’s happened? S
And what am I supposed to say to that?
It’s just been a bad day. I’m sorry.
As I put the phone down on the side table, it rings. It’s Seb. Can I do this? Can I talk to him now? But I’m already answering his call, desperate to hear his deep voice. I hope it can soothe me and help to arrange my thoughts into some form of rational order.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself. Now what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself all day and I can tell, so think before you try to lie to me, Izzy.” His authoritative tone immediately makes my body relax, even though I don’t think I can emotionally deal with an explanation. He’s taken charge by simply stating what he expects, how I should react. The way I’m feeling now—caught between turmoil and confusion—it’s amazingly seductive. So why can’t I just tell him what’s on my mind?
“Seb, I’m tired. I had a bad day. Couple of days, really, and…” Shall I tell him I’ve failed? That I couldn’t complete my homework? Will he be disappointed in me? “And, um, I’ve not done my homework.” I want to feel valued, part of something, and Seb is offering to help me with that. I’m so tied up in knots. I should be sorting my life out without Seb needing to rescue me. But he is rescuing me. And I’m throwing it back in his face.
I wait for his response and hope that I don’t have to deal with another argument.
“Why did you fail, Isabel? I thought you were enjoying your homework from your text message yesterday.” His hard tone is not quite telling me off, but it’s not too far from it.
“I’ve just… I had a fight with Phil, and it’s sort of filled up my day. I can’t just drop everything to fit it in. Sometimes life gets in the way.” My answer is defensive, reactionary. Again, I wait for his response.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Those words from Seb are both the best and worst thing he could say. When I’m looking for support, he’s the one offering it to me.
“Why would you offer me that? Surely you’re not interested in hearing about it?”
“I am interested in everything that concerns you, Izzy, this especially so. You confided in me before we ventured down this path. I know you are struggling in your marriage. I want you to feel comfortable talking about these things with me, even if they are hard and painful. If anything, it’s more important now. I told you about having clear and honest communication—clearly something we need to work on. Now, talk to me.” Those last words are laced with authority, and I’m warming to him, wanting to share my feelings without the fear of rejection or humiliation.
“It’s… I was… Phil caught me playing with myself in the shower. He wasn’t really happy with it.” I pause to see whether he will say anything or expect me to continue. He’ll want more of an explanation. I breathe in a little to see whether he’s going to interject, but nothing. His patience is frustrating, but forces me to continue. “And he didn’t like it because I didn’t want to have sex with him the previous night.” I rush the last few words on my exhale.
“Why didn’t you want to have sex with him, Izzy?” His calm tone confuses me more.
“That’s what you want to know? I… I don’t know, Seb. I couldn’t. Look, it’s been a really long day. I need to go to sleep.”
“Don’t do that, Isabel. Don’t run away from me. I want to help. The type of relationship that we have… it’s not just about what happens when we’re together. I said that I would hold your hand every step of the way. That includes helping you come to terms with your feelings.” His voice is strong and sure. The shivers that run up my spine tell me how affected I am by this man and how he seems to understand what I need before I do. Can I deal with Seb, Sebastian, knowing everything to do with Phil?
“I’m sorry I failed at the homework. Am I still going to see you on Friday?”
“Yes, Isabel. I still want to see you on Friday. Very much so. I have something in mind that might help you.” He almost purrs the last words, and despite how awful I feel at how I don’t seem to be able to expr
ess my feelings the way I want to, I’m desperate to see him.
“Okay, so I’ll see you on Friday.” I try to finish the conversation even though my body is already warming to his voice and his words.
“Okay then, Isabel. You clearly don’t trust me enough yet to completely open up. But you will. Don’t forget what I’ve said, especially about being honest. I expect that from our relationship, so I’m giving you a little more time. This is still all very new to you. But remember, this conversation isn’t over, and you did fail on your homework. There will be consequences.” Although his words are hard, his voice softens the blow. Perhaps there is even a hint of a smile in his voice at the mention of consequences.
“Goodnight, Seb.”
“Goodnight, Izzy. Sweet dreams.”
Thursday
After how utterly dreadful yesterday was, I wake and hope that today can be an improvement. Yes, today is going to be better. I pull myself out of bed after silencing my phone. Wandering into the bathroom, I put the shower on and wait for it to get hot before I climb in and let the water submerge me in my thoughts. I can always think clearly in the shower, and I attempt to order the chaos that is my mind and emotions.
That is, I used to be able to think clearly before I started making myself come in the shower. Just imagine how it would feel if Seb was in here with you. Rushing through the usual routine, I grab a towel and dry off.
My daydreaming doesn’t stop, though, and Seb’s words from last night drift back to me. He was concerned, genuinely interested in hearing what was wrong, and even offered to help me through it. I wanted more, and he’s given it to me. I wanted him to be gentle and guide me into this darker side of my sexual desires, and he has. What else do I want from him? Can I give him something in return, or is he just having fun? No. He wouldn’t want to deal with my marital issues if that’s all he wanted. He’d just fuck me and leave.
My mind is still filled with confusion over Seb. He said he wasn’t finished with the conversation, that he wanted to help with my feelings. A huge part of me wants to trust in that. So far, Seb has known what I needed before I have. Will he be right again? I trust Seb—it’s almost an automatic response. But have I opened up to him on an emotional level? Fully? My actions say otherwise. Perhaps I’m not ready to let him behind every wall. It isn’t easy, after training myself to be quiet and not speak my true feelings for so long. Enough! Get dressed and get on with your day.
I listen to myself and diligently finish getting ready for work.
I descend downstairs into the quiet of the house. It’s always quiet. Phil usually leaves before me, but this morning, knowing why he isn’t here, the silence seems worse.
Our marriage is not working. Should I give up so quickly? Will this be what it’s like? Living in quiet with no one to share my life with? Should I admit defeat and end things?
The silence does nothing to ease my thoughts about the future, and I decide to get to work as quickly as I can.
Work is a busy and welcome distraction. My mind clearly hasn’t been focussing on what it should have been lately, and my workload is piling up. I open up my inbox and try, hard, to keep my mind on the screen in front of me. My fingers drift across the keys and click the mouse, but a very small part of my mind is still with Seb and Phil. God, even thinking about them in the same sentence seems wrong. Before long, my phone buzzes with a new message.
How are you feeling this morning, Izzy? I want to make sure you’re better today. S
Before I can even stop them, my lips smile and my mood lifts.
Better, thank you. How is your day going? Izzy
Well, now that I know you’re okay. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. S
So am I :)
I’ve pressed send before I consider what I’ve typed. I am pleased to be seeing him tomorrow. My body craves his, and being around him brings me a sense of ease. I’m able to put my desires in his hands without worry that they won’t be fulfilled. It’s freeing—a weight lifted from my chest. That’s what you need, Izzy, and don’t beat yourself up about wanting it. You can have it. You’ve had it handed to you on a plate by an incredibly strong and handsome guy who does things to your body you’ve only dreamed about. How many girls get to say that?
Remember your homework, Isabel. S
Shit, really? Still?
I don’t think I can, Seb. I’m sorry.
Of course you can. You’re at work now, aren’t you? You need this, Isabel. Trust me. S
Trust you? Of course I trust you, and that’s what’s scaring me.
I don’t reply. It’s nearly lunchtime, and I grab my coat and bag, walk down the stairs to the lobby and into town, snug in my coat as the cold air swirls around me. Autumn is definitely here. I’m not looking forward to months of cold to come. The season seems to mirror my marriage—things are dying. A cold wind is replacing the sun’s warmth. With my shoulders slumped, I lift my face and let the wind wash over me. Izzy, snap out of this.
All I seem to be doing lately is telling myself off in my own head. I know that even without Seb, I would be in the same situation with Phil. Before I met Seb, things weren’t right between us. I want Seb. I want what he can show me. For once, can I do something for myself? No one else but me?
I am the one who always has to make the decisions, to take the lead, to say how it needs to be. I don’t want the burden anymore. I want the freedom that comes from allowing someone else the responsibility of making the decisions in my life, or at least in the bedroom. I want to be able to trust that my emotional needs and my sexual wants will be met. I want to experience the satisfaction of being the focus of someone else’s concern.
Seb does that for me. And it’s fantastic! Without even meaning to, I build a vision of him in my mind—his voice, his words, his hands on my bum as he spanks me.
With the image of Seb spanking me over his breakfast bar rooted in my mind, I walk quickly back to the office. I nearly run up the stairs and head straight for the toilets. As I lock myself in the cubicle, I waste no time pulling my trousers and knickers down. My hand knows exactly what to do, and I dip my middle finger between my lips to touch my clit.
I bask in the physical sensation as it pulses through me. I feel naughty and aroused all at the same time. That I’m obeying Seb’s commands adds to the high. I push my finger inside myself, teasing myself, working myself up before returning to my needy clit.
I didn’t realise how much I wanted to come until I started. I’m desperate to feel that release, that point where every nerve ending in my body sings with pleasure and everything else disappears. I rub harder and tap my clit until my orgasm breaks free. My hand thrusts out, pressing against the cubical wall for balance. I sigh as my eyes close, and I submit to the wave of heat that floods through me. I take a breath in and open my eyes. Nothing has changed. I’m still in the toilets at work. If I’m going to experience everything that Seb is prepared to offer me, I need to trust him with my feelings as well as my body. With that realisation and my silent commitment to hold true to it, I pull out my phone.
Homework complete. At work. Do bonus points make up for yesterday? Izzy
No, Isabel, they don’t, but well done. My place, tomorrow at 7 p.m. S
Can’t wait. Izzy.
As I text him, I realise that it’s true. I can’t wait. Something has shifted. Maybe the internal back and forth of conversation in my mind has finally paid off. I am going to go after what I want.
I wake up, a giddy sensation radiating through me. It’s Friday morning, and despite the last few days being an emotional rollercoaster, I feel as if I’m waking up on my birthday, unable to contain my excitement and joy at getting to unwrap my presents. I rush my homework, taking no time to bring myself to climax with thoughts of Seb, vivid in my mind. I continue getting ready for work and arrive in record time.
Seb said seven o’clock , and I want to be ready before I head over to his place. I plan to leave work early tonight to ensure enough time to make every
inch of me as ready as possible.
The hands on the clock are my personal torture devices. I spend the day clock watching and flicking between checking my emails and text messages. I still haven’t heard from Phil, and I feel that I need to make the first move.
I hope I’ve given you enough space to cool off. We can’t let this carry on. Will I see you tomorrow? Izzy
I nearly end it with my customary ‘I love you’, but think better of it. Do I still love Phil? I don’t know anymore. Perhaps it is more the memory of love, but that isn’t enough, not now that I’ve experienced the depth of real feeling from Seb. God, only a taste and I can’t wait for more. Submitting to Seb has been liberating.
Before I get drawn into my own internal debate over right and wrong, what I want and what I have, I take a deep breath and focus on how my body feels. Since stepping across that line with Seb, my body has come alive. Putting my faith in that surely won’t lead me astray. I practically burst into the house—I’m that eager to go upstairs. Stripping as I enter the bathroom, I jump straight into the shower. I wash my hair and grab the body scrub to make sure I’m buffed as smooth as possible. I make a mental note to check when my next waxing appointment is, actually eager for once to make sure I am hair-free now that it isn’t just for my benefit.
Finishing quickly, I dry off, wrap the towel around me and go to my underwear drawer. As I slip into the lace and silk, I peek at myself in the mirror.
Apart from the fact that my boobs are too small for my body, I don’t look too bad. My pale skin looks like ivory contrasted against the black lingerie. My legs look long and shapely in the thigh highs. My wardrobe doesn’t scream ‘sex appeal’ but I do have a few dresses that I think flatter and suit me. I choose a short, fitted dress—again, black—and pair it with some high heels. This is where I can have some fun. My shoe collection is my extravagance and I won’t give it up.
The Izzy and Seb Collection: The Evermore Series Books 1, 2 and 2.5 Page 12