by Sinden West
Chapter Ten
I awoke feeling sick but felt better after vomiting. As I leaned over the toilet, I remembered the plans that I had made the night before. I had to go see Oliver. That was the only thing to do. I was older now, stronger without my mother’s influence. I could do this. All I had to do was ask where Nathan was from the safety of the doorway. That was it.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that I headed out. I dressed in a sweater that engulfed me and jeans, added protection against the elements and Oliver. I walked past his apartment building three times before I gathered the courage to go in. And I had to get out on his floor because there were other people in the lift who had seen me press that button and they would have thought that I was weird if I didn’t. I lifted my head and marched out, taking a breath. My hand formed a fist, and I rapped on the door. I exhaled after I’d done it, and thought about running away before he came to the door. But it swung open before I could move.
Oliver looked just the same, better in fact. We just stared at each other for a moment, and then his face relaxed into a smile.
“Greta. How are you? Come in.”
“No. I—“
But he was walking away. “Sorry, I have something on an element. I don’t want to burn the place down. Hurry up and close the door, sweetheart. You’re letting the cold air in.”
“I—“ But he had disappeared into the kitchen. I peered inside cautiously and swallowed before crossing the threshold. The apartment was neat and tidy, but a far cry from the luxury had Oliver had experienced with my mother. I’d learned from David that he’d made a few bad investments, losing a lot of what he had received in the divorce settlement.
“He’s not as smart as he thinks he is,” David had crowed, grin wide as he told me the news.
Oliver returned, a bottle of wine in one hand, while two wine glasses dangled from the fingers of the other. What was he doing?
“Close the door. Have a seat.”
But I didn’t, instead I took a step back. His grin faltered. “Listen, Greta. I always meant to apologize about last time. I was drunk; I must have misread your signals…”
“My signals?” I squeaked out.
Oliver gave me a smile that was almost pitying, sadness in his eyes. He set the wine and glasses down on the coffee table, before taking a seat. “Greta, it wouldn’t be unusual for a girl like you to have a crush on her stepfather, would it? You’ve never had a father figure. I was the only one who ever stood up to your mother for you…” Did he? David had, but Oliver…?
He must have noticed the confusion on my face because he patted the seat beside him. “Sit down. Please?”
When I didn’t move, he sighed. “I talked to her you know, about the way she treated you, the horrible things she said. I never made a scene about it because I didn’t want her to take her anger out on you.” He gave a slight laugh. “We all knew how nuts she could be. Instead, I was trying to work on her quietly, talk to her when she was in a good mood…but I’m afraid I failed you there.” He grimaced. “I don’t know why she had it in for you, I really don’t. You wouldn’t be the first kid whose parent couldn’t stand them. Hell, I could tell you some stories about my old man…” He poured his glass of wine, gripping it before taking a long drink like he was trying to dull old memories.
“She—she did like me,” I managed to stutter out. But it was a lie. No one had ever spelt it out like that before, and tears started to threaten, pricking at my eyes painfully.
“Greta?” He was up and moving toward me. “You look sick. Sit down for a minute.”
“No.” My voice started to crack with unshed sobs.
“C’mon.” He was taking my arm and pulling my gently toward the couch. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I can’t let you leave this upset.” He guided me down before sitting next to me. “Here. Have a drink.” He pressed a glass of wine into my hand that was shaking. I brought it up to my mouth and took a gulp. It should have tasted disgusting and made my stomach heave after last night’s indulgence, but it didn’t. I gulped it down like water.
“What did my mom say about me?” I rushed out before I lost the nerve.
“Greta…”
“Tell me!”
Oliver straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Well, just that she was disappointed in you…” This wasn’t news, but it hurt all the same. Oliver reached over and wiped a tear from my cheek. “But you know what I think? I think she was jealous because you’re so pretty.”
“I’m not pretty.” That was fact. I’d never been called pretty my whole life. Oliver refilled my glass, and I gulped that down too. He watched me drink then he reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.
“You are pretty, Greta,” he said, softly. “And you’re sweet.” His arm was wrapping around me and pulling me close. I stiffened at first then relaxed into his touch. It felt so good to be held by someone that I found myself gripping onto his arm in case he decided to let me go. His hand stroked my hair, and I lifted my head to thank him for taking care of me, for holding me…but his mouth came down on mine as if it were natural. And for some reason, my mouth and tongue cooperated. It was like something fuzzy came down over my brain and malfunctioned all coherent thought because time passed, and somehow we were naked, and then time jumped again, and he was on top of me, kissing me as he pushed his penis into me.
And it didn’t feel bad. It felt good even though it was wrong. My craving for touch was being satisfied in the most screwed up way. And then it was over, and he was holding me in his arms and stroking my hair, and murmuring things to me that were nice, like how good I felt, and lovely I was. How perfect, he called me perfect.
Then reality dawned, and I reached for my clothes. Suddenly, I was aware that I was naked and put an arm over my breasts as I reached for my bra. Oliver sat up beside me.
“Don’t go.”
I couldn’t look at him; instead I fumbled trying to hook my bra at the back. My hands were shaking so much that I couldn’t do it. He had to do it for me. I managed my panties and the rest of my clothes by myself, ever conscious of his watchful eye. Then I had my bag in my hands, and I was heading to the door.
“Greta,” he called after me, but I managed to close the door before he said anything else. I pushed the button for the lift rapidly, and when it arrived, I jumped in, closing the door in haste as if closing the door to the part of my brain that would allow this memory to linger.
It wasn’t until I was home that I realized that I hadn’t asked about Nathan.
Chapter Eleven
I hid in my room, away from the shame. Damien and Emma were still holed up her bedroom, whispering and laughing. I only ventured out the next day as someone banged on the door. Emma poked her head out at the same time that I opened it. A delivery man stood there with a beautiful bouquet of red roses.
“Emma. It’s for you,” I said, without even looking at the card as I took them from him and closed the door.
“Oh. Really?” She stepped forward to take them from me. “Damien! You’re so sweet.”
“What?” Damien appeared in the doorway, rubbing his sleepy face. “They aren’t from me.”
Emma’s brow furrowed as she opened the card, then she gave a wide smile. “Greta! They’re for you. They are from —“ She stopped short, frowning. “Greta, what the hell is this?”
I stayed silent, my heart beating.
Her eyes darted up to mine, narrowing. “Oliver? Please tell me this isn’t the same asshole stepfather Oliver.”
I found my voice. “It’s, um…”
“Why is he sending you red roses?” she demanded.
“He’s just being kind,” I muttered.
“Red is for love. You don’t send red roses if you’re being kind, Greta. What the hell is going on? Have you seen him?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I ran into him,” I said quietly.
Her eyes were like needles drilling into me. “And? I hope you told him to piss off an
d go fuck himself.”
Damien gave a giggle. “Who’s Oliver?” Then seeing the fury on his girlfriend’s face promptly shut up.
“Oliver.” Emma’s voice was filled with disgust. “I’ll tell you who Oliver is. Oliver is a revolting man who married Greta’s mental mother for her money, helped that bitch to tread on the teeny weeny bit of self-esteem that Greta actually had. And then he left that psycho and she killed herself.” She breathed hard. “Oh. And that wasn’t before he made Greta do…something so revolting I can’t even tell you.” Her mouth twisted like she was pained.
The way she actually dared to voice out loud those facts stung
Her eyes bored into me again. “I’m telling David.”
“Telling David what? Who’s David? And how do you know something happened just because this douchebag guy sent Greta some red roses?” Damien’s voice was filled with confusion. He obviously hadn’t realized yet that Emma had some kind of sixth sense or unusual perception that meant she could pick up on these things. Or maybe it was just with me.
“Greta, did he come onto you? Did you sleep with him? What happened? Tell me?”
I blushed deeply, my shame rising like the blood to my cheeks, I couldn’t look at her. That was all she needed.
“What is wrong with you?” she breathed, horror on her face. I flinched from her words.
“Hey, Em. Calm down,” Damien said, stepping forward to place his hands on her shoulder. There was rage and disgust within her, and it was directed at me. It unsettled me to the point where I wanted to cower away from her,
“You need to mind your own business. I’m going out,” I said shortly, eyes to the floor, grabbing my bag which sat beside the door. And then I was out of there. I hurried outside and down the street, without any real idea of where I was going. The air was cold, and I hoped it would cool my face from the embarrassment I felt, and the stupidity.
I ended up at Rick’s apartment because, well, I didn’t have many other places to go. It was stupid. I fully expected to see Pamela there, beautiful and lust satisfied. Maybe she would be naked, stretching out on the sofa like a supermodel posing, superior in every way…
I knocked on the door anyway.
Rick opened it, towel wrapped around his waist and hair wet. For a second, I just stared at his chest with its defined muscles and tattoos, remembering what it was like to touch them…
“Greta?”
I was brought back to reality. “Hi.”
He waited. I didn’t know what to say. The silence was deafening.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked, eventually.
“Okay.”
I found myself sitting on his couch, and there was no sign of Pamela, naked or otherwise, anywhere.
“You wanna beer? It’s after twelve, it’s okay,” he said with a grin.
“Okay.”
I drank the beer, and briefly wondered if I was becoming an alcoholic because I was sucking down the liquid like it was essential to live. Rick just watched me from where he sat beside me, sipping at his own drink. I finished my beer before he was halfway through his.
“Another?” he offered.
“Okay.”
I drank that quickly too.
“Are you okay?” he asked after watching me like I was something interesting,
I nodded, drinking still. Then that drink was gone and I placed it down on the coffee table.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
I felt tears start to prick at my eyes. “I just had a fight with Emma.”
“Oh. Do you want me to call Damien, ask him to talk to her something?”
I shook my head. “Can I have another beer?”
He studied me then said, “Sure.” He got another one for himself as well. Neither of us were talking, and I felt like I should make some kind of conversation since I was drinking all of his beer.
“Why do you have two phones?” I nodded to the two phones that sat on the table, one was a smart phone, and the other an older style flip phone.
His eyes followed my gaze. “One belongs to a friend.”
He moved closer to me, resting an arm around my waist lightly. “Greta, why are you so..sad? What did Emma do?”
“She didn’t do anything. I did something really awful. She’s right to be mad at me.” I sniffed and took another drink.
“I can’t imagine you doing anything that bad.” His fingers gently rubbed at my skin, comforting me, and I found myself leaning in toward him, desperate for that touch. “What did you do?”
I bit my lip then said it. “I slept with my stepfather.”
Rick’s eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t expecting that. Why?”
“I was upset and…” My lip twisted as I tried not to cry. “He started saying nice things to me. And I’m an idiot.” The tears were flowing freely now, and Rick pulled me into his arms so I could cry against his shoulder. He held me tight, stroking my hair.
“It’s okay. We all make mistakes,” he murmured.
Finally, I pulled back, wiping my face. “I should go.”
“No.” He took hold of my wrists gently. “Stay.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, and then my mouth softly.
But I didn’t want soft. I wanted hard.
I kissed him back with all my pent up emotion and it manifested into a vicious kiss where I nipped at his lips, wanting him to hurt me back. He didn’t hurt me though. But he met my needs with frenzied kissing, pulling at our clothes violently, and then fucking me from behind as I bent over the coffee table. I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust willingly as I reveled in the uncomfortableness of this position. It was like a penance. I felt better.
After he came, he still kneeled behind me, panting, and I could feel his hard chest moving behind me. “Fuck. That was awesome,” he said, breathlessly. He kissed my neck, and it made me feel beautiful, desired. “Who knew such a good girl could be so filthy.” He sucked on my shoulder, leaving a red mark on my white skin.
Chapter Twelve
I liked how Rick said “fucking” during sex and then later would refer to it as making love. We spent all day in bed, then all night, taking breaks for drinks and food we’d ordered in. With him, I felt like I was someone else; someone bold and sensual. I explored his body with a confidence that was practically unknown to me, tasting him and touching him. I loved his reactions; it evoked a power within me to know that I could affect him in such a way.
And it was fun. We laughed, and I talked with an ease that was reserved for only certain people, like Emma and David. Under the sheets with him, it was easy to forget everything that had come before, to forget classes and nastiness and mistakes. But the next day I knew that I had to go home and deal with Emma.
Rick gave me a ride home, one hand constantly seemed to touch part of me as he drove. Whether it was my thigh or hand, his long fingers were always moving on me like he couldn’t be away from me. That made me want to squeal with delight. He even walked me up to my apartment, but before I could go through the door, he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me hard. When we broke apart, I giggled.
He followed me in which I surprised me, but I was glad of the support in case Emma was still mad. But she didn’t look mad as she sat on the couch next to Damien, drinking coffee. The person who did look angry, however, was David. All eyes turned to me. I could see an apology in Emma’s eyes, but she didn’t have time to speak as David got to his feet.
“Please tell me this crap about Oliver is a joke?”
I swallowed. I hated the thought of him being disappointed in me. Especially since he had always protected me, he had always gone beyond the call of duty as a lawyer. He’d spoken up to my mother when she’d started with her vitriolic spouting of how stupid I was, and he handled my trust even though that wasn’t really his field…
When I didn’t answer him, I saw the sadness mixed with anger in his eyes. “Are you serious? The bastard seduced you?” He shook his head and sat down again like he was tryin
g to gain control on the anger within. Rick hand was holding mine, and that gave me some comfort. David’s eyes darted to our hands, before swinging back to me. “Oliver’s trying to get his hands on your money. You know that, right?”
Of course I knew that. I knew that mortifying fact with every embarrassed and shamed bone in my body.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then why the fuck would you let that degenerate into your pants? Are you fucking stupid?”
David’s words hurt. And I tightened my grip on Rick’s hand, he squeezed it in response.
“Hey! Whoever the fuck you are. You don’t talk to Greta like that.” Everything about Rick was rigid, he was pissed.
“Rick—,” Damien started, but Emma cut him off.
“David’s just mad that Greta would let that…person take advantage of her. I’m pissed too.” She shook her head at me sadly. “Did he make you have sex with him? Is that it?” There was a small amount of hope in her voice, like rape would have been better than me being so pathetic to do anything with him willingly.
“He didn’t rape me,” I said in a small voice. “I was just stupid.” I straightened my back. “I’m going to my room now. David, thanks for coming, but this isn’t any of your business.” Then I directed my gaze to Emma. “Thanks for caring, but I don’t need you to give me a hard time.” I led Rick to my bedroom and closed the door behind us before either of them responded.
He sat on my bed, and I sat beside him. He still hadn’t let go of my hand. “Your friends are pretty protective.”
I sighed, lowering my head. “They think I’m too naïve and pathetic to look out for myself. They think I’m stupid.”
“Hey,” his fingers lifted my chin to look at him. “You’re not stupid. I think you’re brilliant.” To punctuate the fact, he kissed me on the lips. We ended up making love on my bed, oblivious to who was or wasn’t outside.