by Emerson Rose
“That’s what you do to me.” I feel the same way. If he weren’t recovering from brain surgery I would not be leaving this bed.
I grab my robe, slip it on and make my way to the mini pharmacy set up on the dresser. After he’s had his meds, and I know that his pain will be relieved soon I return to bed. This time on my own side with my robe pulled tight around me. He is lying on his side, as I’ve noticed he does when he is in pain. I mirror his position and press my palms together in a prayer pose under my pillow.
“So, we were discussing ropes and handcuffs.”
“I think I should start by admitting something.”
Oh no, maybe I don’t want to have this discussion after all, “Admit what?”
“I remember everything from before the accident. When I woke up from surgery, all of my memories were there.”
“Like, everything?”
“Yes. A lot of it I wish I hadn’t, but there are things I am grateful to have back.”
I’m shocked. I never considered that he might regain his entire memory. I just wanted him to be my Marcus and not the dark punishing Marcus.
“I used to live a lifestyle that I don’t think you know much about.”
“A lifestyle? Like what?”
“Have you ever heard of a Dominant Submissive relationship?”
I think he’s talking about BDSM. I’ve heard of it, but that’s about it.
“You… you hurt women?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbow.
“Yes, with their consent, most of the time.” He lowers his eyes to the space on the mattress between us.
“What do you mean ‘most of the time?’” I put my finger under his chin and bring his eyes back to mine. I need to see what’s going on in there.
He sighs, “I mean that I wish some of my memories would have stayed lost.”
“Oh.” Now I lower my eyes. “So, I’m confused. You don’t want to remember, but you want to have that kind of lifestyle with me?”
“No, not at all. You’re my wife, and I adore you, I cherish you. I would never hurt you. I used to be a monster to the women I was involved with. I never had feelings for any of them. I used them up and threw them away. Except Megan, she was different.”
A pang of jealousy stabs me in the chest and I feel stupid. She’s dead, there is nothing to be jealous of.
“How was she different?” I’m curious; even if it hurts, I need to know. He tucks a wild stray of hair behind my ear and traces my jaw with his finger. When he reaches my mouth he stills on my bottom lip before dropping his hand with a thump onto the bed.
“I raised Megan. I was a sort of a father figure to her until, well, until she fell in love with me. I told you before, I should have never touched her, but she disobeyed me and I went crazy. I wasn’t used to anyone challenging me. No one would dare question me in business, and my subs, of course, were always compliant with my rules.”
“Subs?” I’m pretty sure I know what he means, but I want him to explain it to me anyway.
“A submissive is a person who gives up control of their body and their life in return for protection and shelter, or that’s how I perceived it then. I mistreated them terribly. I craved power like a drug and they gave me anything I wanted.”
“Like slaves.”
“I guess you could say that. They did what I said, and I punished them if they didn’t.”
“Do you feel that way now? I mean is that kind of control something you need?” My stomach is churning with panic. It shouldn’t surprise me. I know what kind of man he was before I met him.
“The only thing I need is you, baby. If you want to play and explore in the bedroom, I would love that. But if you’re not comfortable with that I’m perfectly content with what we have now. Perfectly.”
I slump back onto the mattress and blow out a puff of air, relieved with the knowledge that I’m not married to a masochist.
“Did you ever wonder about the name of my business?”
I think back to the moment when I Googled my gorgeous mystery patient. “It crossed my mind for a second when I first heard it. I thought it was a funny coincidence.”
“It’s not a coincidence, the clubs promote the lifestyle.”
I let that sink in a little. My husband is filthy rich because of BDSM. Shit, how do I feel about that? The food he serves is out of this world fantastic, though, he would have been successful with that alone, but still.
“I married a sadist?”
He looks at me with glassy eyes. The pain medication is kicking in.
“What do you think, baby? Am I a sadist?”
“Well, no, not the man I know.”
“There you go then.”
I scoot over and turn my back to him so we can spoon while he sleeps. Lord knows, I’m not going to be able to now. My mind is working overtime conjuring up all sorts of images and scenes.
I’m glad he isn’t expecting me to be his submissive. I don’t think I have it in me. My past still haunts me. I’ve come a long way in my relationship with Marcus, but my painful memories are still occupying their own little corner of my mind, as they always will be.
Ninety
It’s four in the morning. The digital numbers are reflected onto the ceiling by a clock on Marcus’s side of the room. I’m exhausted and I want to sleep but I’m unwilling to move from his arms to get my sleeping pills.
My mind has been wandering all night. I can’t stop thinking about Marcus’s past, the way he lived his life before his accident, the things he did with women, to women.
At first, I couldn’t imagine him that way, but after a while of deep contemplative thought, I realized he exhibits a lot of dominant personality traits.
He’s bossy for one, something I rather like most of the time. He apologizes for nothing, thanks no one for anything, and expects nothing less than perfection and total loyalty. He likes to lead in the bedroom, another thing I’m partial to.
Maybe I am more submissive than I thought? Well, it doesn’t matter; I’m not labeling what we have. God and law bind us, and that’s all that counts in my book.
After mulling Marcus’s past for hours, I switch to imagining our future together and the wedding that he’s promised me.
Since I was essentially tricked into marriage, even though I would have gone willingly, I want a ceremony. I don’t want anything lavish, just close friends and family at the house in Seattle, possibly in the garden this spring.
It’s the perfect place for a wedding. The flowers are naturally provided, and there is a path for an aisle with a beautiful gate at the end to say our vows in front of.
Although, saying my vows in front of the gate Marcus fucked me against last fall might be a little distracting.
I smile into the darkness and switch topics several more times to pass the time. I think of the kittens and how much I love them, my problems with Elijah and Mr. Black, and how easy it is to be taken care of by Maria.
Then thoughts of Megan and how Marcus raised her and then punished her for being independent and loving him, are the ones that disturb me the most. I was jealous of her earlier, but when I think of how messed up her life was I feel sorry for her instead.
He was the only male role model she ever had and they weren’t blood relatives. I’m not surprised that she fell for him. He was a gorgeous successful man who was kind to her and gave her shelter and an education. Of course she loved him.
But in the end he was her poison and now she’s dead. He loved her. I don’t understand it but I can feel it.
He picked her up off the street and helped her to make something of herself. And she defied him like most teenagers do but instead of being grounded or having her cell phone taken away he punished her with a cruel confusing adult relationship.
He is full of so much guilt and regret for manipulating her into being his lover as punishment. It’s just one of the demons that haunts him from his past. And now he remembers them all.
I can’t imagine how he must feel
knowing he was a sadistic monster. No matter who he is today that man used to reside in his body and he is responsible for what he did.
I have to stop. No more thinking, I’m getting up. It’s almost time for his next round of medication. Slowly turning onto my back I shrink out from under his heavy arm.
He doesn’t move so I scoot off the bed and stretch while blood flows to every numb area of my body.
I pad into the bathroom and close the door halfway so I can hear if he calls out to me. I step out of the bathroom a few minutes later with freshly brushed teeth and hair.
“See why I need the handcuffs?”
I jump when I hear his gruff voice accusing me of being a deserter again and drop my head back to look at the ceiling.
“I was coming right back.”
“That’s not the point, baby. I don’t want you to leave in the first place.”
“I had to go to the bathroom.”
“You were going to sneak out again while I was asleep, weren’t you?”
I’ll admit, I was going to look for Yes and No. “Where are the kittens?” I ask.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I was going to look for them before I drug you up again. Why aren’t they in our room?”
“Maria grew fond of them while we were away. She wanted to keep them in her room for a night.”
“Oh.” Well, that solves that.
“So, if all of your curiosities have been satisfied you’re coming back to bed, right?”
I groan and flop my arms against my sides, “I haven’t slept, I’m restless, and you need your meds.” He considers me thoughtfully.
“You need a vacation.”
“Huh?”
“A vacation, you’ve been working night and day taking care of me, cooped up in hospital rooms and bedrooms with nothing to stimulate your mind. I’ll have Elijah make plans.”
“You can’t travel yet, doctor’s...”
“Yes, yes, doctor’s orders,” he says, interrupting me. “I’ve heard you say that before. Have you forgotten what we did a few hours ago right here in this bed? That was against doctor’s orders, too, and I’m still alive.”
“Yeah, well, we got lucky, and you were in pain after.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, baby.” He bends his knees and drapes his arms over them. “I’ve had a headache for years. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t had to deal with pain. So, I’ll trade the incredible pleasure of fucking you for a migraine any day of the week.”
What am I supposed to say to that? “Yeah, but…”
“No buts. Grab my meds and your sleeping pills. We need to rest up for our vacation. Chop, chop.”
Fucking hell, he’s bossy, and I love it. I stomp for dramatic effect to the dresser and drop his pills into a med cup. I also grab mine and return to bed.
“Can we take the kittens on our vacation?”
“Of course, whatever you want, baby. Where we go, the little fur balls will go, too.”
I smile and crawl across the bed to pass him a bottle of water. We take our pills and sleep.
The next afternoon I wake rested from several hours of dreamless peaceful sleep. I can’t say the same for Marcus. The duvet is on the floor, and the sheets are a tangled mess around his legs. I am curled up in in a ball with no covers in the center of the huge bed and Marcus is sprawled everywhere. The sunlight glimmers off of the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard and pang of guilt stabs me in the chest for allowing things to get out of hand last night.
Marcus moans in his sleep drawing my attention to him. He is clutching the messy sheets in one hand and a thin sheen of sweat covers his skin.
Something is very wrong.
I reach out to feel his forehead and he’s burning up. He is lying on his back murmuring, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
I scramble off the bed and throw on a sweatshirt and a pair of old jeans. When I check on him again I find him on his side still talking senseless gibberish. I kneel down and place my hand on his arm.
“Marcus, hey, can you open your eyes?” No response. I shake him gently but he doesn’t move at all.
Shit, I need a thermometer and some medical supplies so I can start an IV, and I need to call Doctor Lorenzo but I can’t leave him like this.
I grab my phone and dial Elijah and as always he answers on the first ring. “Imani?”
“Elijah, where are you? Something is wrong with Marcus. I need some things to start an IV and I need Doctor Lorenzo,” I say, a little more frantically than I intended.
“I’m here already, call the doctor and I’ll bring you what you need.”
“Okay. Elijah?”
“Yeah?”
“Hurry.”
I hang up and go to the bathroom to soak some towels in cool water. I don’t waste time wringing them out. I carry them dripping to the bed and pack them around his body. I have to get his temperature down.
I see Elijah in the reflection of the mirror when he breezes into the room with a duffle bag and dumps it on the bed. He goes right to work sliding his arms under Marcus’s shoulders and behind his knees to move him up in the bed.
“Marcus, Marcus... open your eyes.” He readjusts the towels and gently shakes his shoulder. His head lolls to one side and he moans.
“Here, he’s burning up, put these on him,” I say, handing him more wet towels. Elijah is focused on Marcus. He hasn’t even spoken to me. He grabs the towels and places them on his legs, neck, and under his arms.
I unzip the duffle and hand him a thermometer while I grab tubing and fluids for an IV. “His temp is 104, respirations 110. He’s septic, Imani. We have to get him out of here.”
Fuck. How could I let this happen? “Let’s get his IV started here and move him downstairs. I know he doesn’t want to go back to the hospital, if we can fix this here we have to try. Here’s my phone, look up the doctor and call him while I do this.”
“Are you sure, Imani? Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“No, I’m not sure, but I know he’ll kill us both if we don’t try to keep him here.” He nods and steps back from the bed to make the call while I hang the bag of fluid from the bedpost next to the handcuffs. Shit. There’s no way Elijah could have missed that. Now he’s going to know Marcus and I have been going against the doctor's orders and putting his life in danger.
I peek over my shoulder to see if Elijah is watching me. He’s already talking to the doctor. I snatch the cuffs off the bed and stow them in the bedside table.
Marcus lifts his heavy eyelids. I don’t think he’s aware of what’s going on but I tell him everything I’m doing in case he is.
“Hey, baby, you’re sick. I’m going to help you out here a little until the doctor gets here, okay?” I’m met with a blank stare but I continue talking for his sake as well as my own.
“We need to move him, I’ll go get a gurney Mr. Black. You should probably put the hand…” he glances at the headboard, “Never mind.”
Well, that answers that question. He saw the handcuffs. Elijah is upset but beyond that he is hard to read. He keeps his feelings under wraps so well I can’t tell if he’s hurt, worried, or angry. And if he’s angry, is he mad at Marcus or me?
I can’t think about it, we have work to do. By the time I’ve taken his vital signs and given him some oxygen Elijah and Black are at the door with a gurney, followed by a panicked Maria.
Black and Elijah work efficiently together and within five minutes we are moving down the hall toward the elevator.
“What happened? He looks so sick,” Maria asks, wringing her hands together.
“He’s going to be fine. He has a fever. It’s probably caused by an infection. The doctor’s coming,” I explain and rub her back to comfort her like I have done a million times for my patient’s family members.
I wish someone would comfort me. Wave after wave of guilt pummels me like waves during a storm. This is my fault. I should have bee
n stronger, more insistent more… domineering.
When I think about it in that respect, I realize that nothing I said or did would have made a difference. He was going to do what he was going to do and if I hadn’t gone along with it, he would have figured out a way to make me. He might not live that kind of lifestyle anymore but he’s a natural DOM.
Doctor Lorenzo is already waiting downstairs for us. Damn he got here quick. He must have been near by to make it here that fast. He falls into step with us and begins asking me questions, quizzing me on his activities, medications and any possible reasons for the infection.
I admit that he’s been overexerting himself. I tick off every medication he’s taking and when he last had them. And I make sure he knows Marcus hasn’t had any signs of infection until his morning. He hums and nods his head as he listens to my report.
“He should be at the hospital, you know?” he says.
“Yes, I know.”
“I understand why you didn’t call an ambulance, he told me never to take him back to the hospital.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s spent a lot of time in them.”
“Did you draw some blood for lab work?”
“Yes, when I started his IV. I’ve got it here somewhere.” I search the pockets of my sweatshirt for the tubes of blood and hand them over.
“Does he have any lab equipment?”
Elijah answers, “He has everything you’ll need aside from a CT scanner.”
Doctor Lorenzo looks surprised. “Impressive and obsessive.”
Yep, that pretty much sums him up in two simple words.
“You can say that again.”
Ninety-One
We get Marcus situated in the hospital bed, where he should have been all along, and Doctor Lorenzo starts working on his labs.
“You should call Elena and Enrique. Do you want me to call them?” Elijah asks, placing his hand on the back of my neck. Before Mr. Black told me how Elijah feels, I wouldn’t have thought twice about him massaging my neck. We’re friends and friends comfort each other in times of crisis. But now that I know the truth the gesture feels too intimate.