Falling into Exposure

by A. Zavarelli

  Falling into Exposure

  A. Zavarelli

  Falling into Exposure © 2015 A. ZAVARELLI

  Cover Photograph © 2015 Dollar Photo Club/Aarrttuurr

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  Slipping out the front door, I scroll through my iPod and pop in some earphones. I have exactly fifteen minutes to get to the courier’s office, and I need some hustle music.

  I’m running late because Alanna insisted I give her all the gory details of my night with Gabriel. I gave her as brief a rundown as I could manage without giving too much away. Like the part where I told Gabriel to use me as he pleases, for example.

  The morning goes by quickly with only a couple of deliveries to be made. After work, I walk around the city snapping some photos, and I’m reminded how much I wish that I could stay. I like New York. This place makes me feel alive. With the exception of my paranoia on the street that fateful day, I feel safe here. There are always people milling about, and it really is the city that never sleeps.

  Maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part, but it gives me a sense of security to know that there are always people around me. I know that Alanna likes it here too. She’s going on her third date with the financier tonight, and that’s a record for her. She actually seems happy. We have friends here, and somewhat decent jobs. It just feels right.

  But at the end of the day, it’s just a dream, and that’s all it will ever be. I know we can’t stay on the run forever, but I also know we can’t stop now. It’s too dangerous. We have a plan, long term. We’ll save up enough cash to leave the country for good. We haven’t really decided on a place yet, we’re still trying to work all of that out. But even as I think about it, the idea doesn’t sound nearly as appealing as staying right where I am. I squash down the anger that threatens to ruin my bubble of happiness and change the lens on my camera.

  ***

  I make it to Doctor Sherry’s office at exactly four. The receptionist has me fill out an entire questionnaire of my life’s history before I go in.

  Dr. Sherry is a nice woman in her mid-forties with red hair and glasses. She sits me down and goes over my medical history with a fine-toothed comb before turning her gaze to me. And I have to admit, she looks a little surprised for some odd reason. She starts yattering off some standard run of the mill questions about my history first. But when she asks how long Gabriel and I have been together, I’m a little taken aback.

  “Do you know him?” I ask.

  She cringes as though she’s been busted, and I realize what I probably look like to her.

  “Oh God,” I mutter. “This is so embarrassing. He probably has a whole train of women come through this office, doesn’t he? Sends them all to you for the same thing.”

  I feel sick, and I’m sure I look it too. Dr. Sherry gives me a sympathetic glance before releasing a long sigh.

  “Well, if that were the case,” she says softly, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you due to doctor-patient confidentiality. But that isn’t the case, so that rule doesn’t apply.”

  I stare at her in confusion, trying to figure out what she’s saying.

  “So you mean I’m the first he’s sent to you?”

  She gives a stiff nod as though she’s given away too much already before sliding some paperwork across the desk.

  “Here are Mr. Maddox’s test results. He wanted me to provide them to you so you can rest assured he’s clean. I’ll send yours off today and they’ll be expedited, so you should hear back soon.”

  I stare at the paper which is just a jumble of words to me, noting that everything says negative. Dr. Sherry snaps on some gloves and sits me up on the table to give me the shot. She’s fast and efficient, I’ll give her that much.

  When I leave the office, I stick my ear buds in and walk around the city for another hour trying to figure out what all of this means. I guess I can’t really read too deeply into it. I mean, for all I know he could have sent all of the other women to any old doctor who was available. But Dr. Sherry seemed to know him personally, which I find strange. I make a mental note to ask him about it the next time I see him.

  That evening as I lay in bed, I can’t help but think of Gabriel. His gorgeous smile, that deep sexy voice, and the unique scent of him that I wish I could bottle. I curl into my pillow, inhaling the lingering notes of his cologne. As I drift off to sleep, I do so with a smile on my face.

  ***

  Eleanor invited my friends over again. They came, of course because they think she’s so much fun. She talks to them about grown up things and acts like a kid around them. They all think I’m crazy for not liking her. But they can’t see what I see.

  She tells them that we should play a game, and they all agree. Then she whispers something to them, something I can’t hear. They giggle and stare at me nervously before shrugging their shoulders. And then they pounce. Hands on me everywhere. I kick and scream and panic as they pick me up and drag me down the hall.

  The bathtub is full of water and I’m confused. Why are they doing this to me? I beg them to stop, but it just seems to encourage them. I’m wearing my brand new shoes, the shoes that I begged my father to have. The water is ice cold as they throw me inside, laughing as if it’s all so funny. My muscles seize up and my lungs burn for air. Eleanor is standing over them, watching in amusement as I struggle against their hands. Finally, they pull me from the water, exhausted and freezing.

  The back door. They push me out onto the porch and lock it, leaving me there in the dead of winter. I can hear them laughing from inside, but it isn’t funny. The tears freeze on my cheeks as I pound on the door. They don’t come. I can vaguely hear Eleanore saying something about making them lunch. And then the laughter drifts down the hall, away from me.

  Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. My eyelashes are frozen together. I’m a human icicle, and I can’t find it in me to cry anymore. I walk to my dad’s workshop and grab his hidden key. It freezes to my palm and I have to peel it from the skin as I put it inside the lock. I go to my room and shut myself in, sinking to the floor as I mourn the loss of my new shoes. Somehow I know Eleanor will tell him this is my fault.

  Just as I suspect, Dad comes home angry. Eleanore told him I ruined the shoes and that I’m a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate anything. He doesn’t understand why I can’t just be good. What happened to me? What have I become, he asks. He shakes me for an answer. An answer I don’t have.

  The shaking grows harder, and then a voice. An angel’s voice.

  “Victoria, wake up!”

  “Mom?”

  I feel the heaviness lift off of me, and the cold is back. I wiggle my toes. Bed. I’m in bed. I open my eyes slowly, staring up at a frightened Alanna.

  “Toto!” she crushes me in a tight hug. “Are you alright? I couldn’t get you to wake up! I had to take off the covers.”

  I rub my eyes sleepily, taking in my surroundings.

  “I’m sorry, Alanna. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Victoria, that’s the last thing I care about right now. I just want to know you’re okay. You haven’t had a nightmare in a long time. What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I was happy when I drifted off to sleep, so I don’t know why I had it.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Gabriel? Was he rough with you last night? Because I swear to God…”

  “No Alanna,” I reassure her. “He wasn’t rough at all. I just had a bad dream, it has not
hing to do with him I promise.”

  ***

  The following morning I wake with a headache. When I roll over to check my phone, it’s already 8:30 am, and I’ve missed the morning deliveries. I grumble to myself as I walk to the kitchen to make some coffee.

  Ten minutes later, Alanna bursts through the door excitedly. She’s carrying a large gold box in her hand.

  “Good morning,” she sings out, doing a little spin around the room.

  “Ugh,” I mutter. “You are way too energetic for this time of day.”

  Alanna hands me the box as I plunk down on the couch. “This was sitting outside the door for you, sleepyhead. You’re lucky it didn’t get stolen in this neighborhood.”

  I look over the box curiously before taking the note card from the top. Inside is more of Gabriel’s impeccable handwriting.

  My place. 7:00 pm.

  Paul will pick you up.

  Wear this

  Gabriel

  Short and to the point. Just like I asked for. Still, I can’t hold back the grin on my face. I’m dying to know what’s inside, but there’s no way I’m opening it in front of Alanna. Somehow I just know she doesn’t need that visual.

  “What is it?” she asks impatiently.

  “It’s just a gift from Gabriel. Some lingerie, probably. I’ll open it later.”

  She scrunches up her face and laughs. “Okay, that’s probably for the best. I love you, but I don’t need to picture you wearing whatever that is while he ravages you.”

  I roll my eyes. “You always put things so eloquently, don’t you? Enough about me anyways, I want to hear all about your date last night.”

  For the next thirty minutes, she regales me with tales of her sexual adventures with Nathan the financier. Apparently it isn’t just Gabriel who’s a kinky bastard. But Alanna isn’t nearly as embarrassed as I am to talk about her kinks. I envy her that.

  Chapter Two

  Victoria

  When I arrive at Gabriel’s apartment, he’s sitting at the breakfast bar working on his computer. He doesn’t even bother to look up when I step inside the cracked door, and the atmosphere feels a little icy.

  It’s a far cry from the last time I was here when he surprised me by pulling me into his arms and kissing me until I was gasping for air. I stand uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot while I wait for him to acknowledge me. Finally, he glances at me with mild disinterest before gesturing down the hall.

  “Wait for me in the room,” he orders.

  I have half a mind to tell him to get stuffed, but this is what I asked for. So I walk down the hall, trying not to let my insecurities get the best of me. He’s acting like he doesn’t even want me here, and it’s hard not to let it get under my skin.

  I do a couple laps of the room, taking in Gabriel’s rather impressive collection of sex apparatuses. Then, naturally, my mind begins to wonder how many other women have been in this room before me.

  Before I can come up with an imaginary number, Gabriel’s in the doorway. He looks none too pleased with my prying eyes.

  “Get on the floor,” he says in a low voice. “As I instructed you to do the last time. Bare yourself to me.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes and sink down to my knees. I already hung my coat up, and I’m wearing nothing but the black sheer chemise that Gabriel sent me. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination as it is, but when I bend forward and lay my head on the floor, I know he can see everything.

  “Very good, Victoria. This is how I want you waiting for me from now on. Now you may kneel.”

  I sit back up on my knees as he strokes the naked flesh along my shoulder, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. My eyes dart to the large bulge inside of his gray sweatpants, every muscle inside of me clenching with desire. He watches me with amused eyes as he moves his hip forward, rubbing his erection against my cheek.

  “Do you see this?” he grips his thickness through the fabric. “This is what you do to me.”

  I moan at his words, and I can’t remember ever feeling so pleased with myself. But then his voice shifts again, growing colder.

  “Now that you know how this works, I expect you to come straight to this room. Don’t wait for me, don’t even look at me. Just come in here and get on the floor like I told you. Do you understand?”

  I start to nod and then think better of it. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Yes, what?” he demands.

  I flinch at his bitter tone. “Yes, Gabriel.”

  He soothes the sting of his coldness by slipping his hand between my legs and stroking my wet folds. He plays with me casually in light teasing strokes, pushing in and out like he has all day. It doesn’t matter how he touches me, it always gets me there. Every. Single. Time. It’s only Gabriel that can do this to me. No one else.

  I feel the pressure building, so high I could free fall into oblivion right now. But just as I’m about to, he pulls away. I let out a whimper as he leans forward to whisper in my ear.

  “Let me make one thing clear,” he says. “You are here to please me.”

  I want to punch him. I’m sure he’s getting a real kick out of this. Seeing me lapping up his attention, bringing me to the brink of pleasure and then stopping. He pulls out a blindfold and wraps it around my eyes, effectively plunging me into total darkness.

  I don’t know what’s going to come next, and it’s both scary and exhilarating. I can hear him moving around, undressing I think, but I can’t be sure.

  He reaches for my hand and wraps it around his hard cock.

  “Stroke me,” he murmurs.

  I move my palm up and down his soft velvety flesh, growing needier with every stroke. It feels enormous in my small hand, and I like that. I like seeing how much bigger he is, knowing he could hurt me, but trusting him not to.

  He groans out his pleasure and I desperately wish I could see his face. To see what I do to him too. I want to give him more, give him everything. Without thinking, I bring his cock to my lips, needing to taste him.

  He freezes as I take him inside of me, sucking him hungrily. I know this might result in punishment, but I don’t care. I need this. I want to show him how much I want to please him. He says nothing for a few moments and I think I can feel him relaxing beneath me. But I’m wrong.

  He wraps his hand around the black pearl necklace at my throat, using it to pull my mouth into him.

  “You want to suck my cock?” he says harshly. “Then you will, Victoria.”

  He rolls his hips into my face, shoving his cock deep into my throat. I gasp for a second, trying to get my bearings, but there isn’t time. He grips the pearls tighter, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm as he fucks my mouth relentlessly.

  I can hear him grunting and panting above me, his hand cupping my head to hold me in place. His balls slap against my chin and spit dribbles out the sides of my mouth. He is being extraordinarily rough, and still I’m throbbing for him. For this.

  “You like that?” he rasps. “My little fuck toy. You like it when I fuck your face?”

  A small moan escapes my throat, vibrating against his cock. He pauses, just for a moment, but long enough to let me know he didn’t expect it. And somehow, it only seems to piss him off more that I’m enjoying this.

  He fucks me harder, gripping my hair painfully as he brutalizes my mouth. And that’s when I realize, he’s trying to prove a point. I said the words. I told him to treat me like his fuck toy, and that’s exactly what’s he’s doing. But I won’t let him win.

  I suck long and deep, stroking his balls with my hand. I grab his hips and pull him further into my mouth. He groans as I suck harder, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. He strokes my hair appreciatively for a moment, forgetting himself. And then he tenses inside of me.

  I caress the tip of his shaft with my tongue before sucking him all the way back in. He explodes inside my mouth, grunting as his heat floods my throat. I swallow everything he has to give me like the greedy little fiend
I am, lapping it all up while I moan against him.

  And then he just stands there, his cock still stuffed in my mouth, panting hard. He isn’t touching me. Or saying anything. And I can’t see his face. But I feel his absence when he pulls away from me.

  “Stand up.”

  I rise on shaky legs and he guides me across the room with a hand on my shoulder. He folds me in half, my belly resting against the bed while my legs remain standing and upright.

  The familiar tearing of foil is the only sound he makes before rubbing his cock against me. He’s ready for round two, and I’m aching for my release. There is no soft gentle entrance this time. He pushes into me like a man possessed, taking what’s his.

  His thrusts are hard and forceful as he grabs my hips to hold me in place. It’s exquisitely brutal, his flesh slapping against mine, and I love every minute of it. The pressure builds inside of me again, growing each time he ravages me with his cock.

  But just as I’m on the edge again, he grabs me by the hair and thrusts one more time, his cock jerking inside of me. He collapses against me and I’m nearly in tears. I need so badly for him to make me come, but I know he won’t. He’s doing this on purpose and I can’t understand why. I thought he wanted to be rough with me, and I gave him that. I gave him permission to treat me however he wanted, and now it feels like he’s punishing me for it.

  He pulls away from me slowly, redressing himself. The room is eerily silent, and it all feels wrong. So wrong.

  “You can go now,” he says finally.

  His voice is cold and distant, and that’s it. My breaking point.

  “Fuck you,” I snarl, tearing the blindfold from my eyes.

  I can’t even look at him. I don’t want him to see these pathetic tears on my cheeks, and I try not to sniffle as I gather my coat. I only make it as far as the hallway before a sob erupts from my chest and I start to cry in earnest. I don’t even know why. I did this to myself.