Wrecked (The Blackened Window)

by Corrine A. Silver

  The embarrassment faded and she realized she was alone with me, and got scared. Her eyes widened and she glanced behind me at the door. It wasn’t the sexy, fun kind of scared.

  “Go put some clothes on.” She was wearing a robe and I didn’t want her to feel unsafe. Clothing would help. I turned away to give her space. Gave her my back as a sign that I wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t register it consciously, but the animal brain would be comforted a bit. I watched her from the corner of my eye and she stood considering me for a moment then turned toward the back of the apartment, and her legs started to crumple under her, her face going blank. I lunged for her and caught her shoulders, walking her to the couch. I settled her down next to me. “How long was your ride?” Little girl, you’re gonna be mine and I take care of mine.

  “I don’t know, about three hours or so.”

  What the fuck? She’d said it so nonchalantly. “Three hours, what the fuck, Leda! It was almost a hundred degrees today. Are you trying to die, or some kind of extreme sports freak?”

  Her eyes flashed with a touch of temper, despite being washed out and exhausted. “I am going to interpret that like you aren’t yelling at me and are, instead, concerned about my well-being.”

  It was both of those. But I softened my face a little so she knew she wasn’t in too much trouble. But it didn’t last long. If she was mine, I would have put her over my fucking knee.

  “I got lost and couldn’t find my way home. It took a while. I think I’m dehydrated, and was actually really sick when I got home, puking and just feeling terrible. I took a cool bath and it seems better. I’m just really cold now and I still feel completely exhausted. I think I’ll just have some more juice and go to bed.”

  “You need more than juice. Your electrolytes are probably all fucked up. You need something like Gatorade, watered down, or I can make you some homemade ORT.” I mumbled the last bit, triaging in my mind, if she needed IV fluids or if I should go get her some oral rehydration fluids. She looked confused.

  “ORT?”

  “I’ll tell you all about Wilderness Medicine once you’re dressed in more than a robe and have some sodium and potassium working their way back into your system. Do you have anything like Gatorade?” You give me what I want, and I reward you.

  “No, that stuff is gross.” She scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue.

  Such a little. “Okay, how about some salt and honey?” She nodded at me. “Go get dressed and I’ll make it.” I stood, moving to the kitchen.

  I watched her as she went to her room, but she seemed steadier. I got some water boiling, feeding it salt and honey. I could have added some juice, but this wasn’t supposed to taste good. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  I pulled it out and answered, “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “Good lord! You answered. I didn’t think you would on a Friday night. Why aren’t you out having fun?”

  “Who says I’m not? Maybe I just wanted to talk to you.” I smiled. As much as my mom could be annoying and pushy, she was a victim of a machine she was dependent on, and I loved her. She had my back, one hundred percent, and I knew it.

  “Okay, fair enough. Good son points. I’m calling because we’re reserving rooms for the fundraiser already and we’ll need to buy our tickets. So, I wanted to know if you were coming or not?”

  “Shit—”

  “Language, Xander. I’m still a lady.”

  She was so funny. The drink was done brewing. I filled a cup with ice and poured some of it in the cup.

  “No, Mom. I don’t know about coming to the fundraiser. Do you even think it would help him? I doubt it.”

  “I want you to come. And I think most people have moved on. It’s not like you used a cigar to fuck an intern and got caught then lied, under oath, while in office.”

  “No.” I bit back the laugh in my throat. “I know it has been years, but he’s probably still pissed. Look, I have to go. I’ll call on Sunday.” I hung up as Leda walked into the kitchen. I handed her the drink.

  “What was that about with your mom? Fundraiser sounds fancy. And secondly, this is the worst cocktail I’ve ever had. It’s a good thing you’re going to be a doctor, because you’d be crap at bartending.” She smiled, humor in her eyes and her color returning a little.

  “It’s not intended to taste all that good, just save your life when you can’t get something better. Now you owe me.” I smiled and winked at her, liking the playful flirting. I walked toward the couch to draw her to her rest. She sat and a look of relief crossed her face. I sat at the other end of the couch, saying, “Now, you just need to sit and rest. Wanna watch a movie?”

  She looked at me, a little confused, but I wasn’t about to leave her alone. She responded, “Sure, but I’m pretty tired so I may not last through the whole thing. Really, I am feeling better. You don’t have stay here and babysit me.”

  Tsk, tsk, girlie. Nice try. I picked up the remote and flipped the TV on, found Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. It came out when I was in high school and I remember getting stoned with my best friend, Jason, and thinking it was the highest level of comedic genius. After a little while, she stretched out and put her feet up on the couch. I picked them up and sat them in my lap, so I could be touching her. I started rubbing her foot, another little reward.

  “You may start getting some muscle cramps.” It was true, but probably would have already started if it was going to. She didn’t need to know that just then. About an hour into the movie, her eyelids started to droop and she laid her head back. I lightened my touch on her feet, just letting them rest in my lap.

  While she slept, I took a visual inventory of her apartment. It was generic, basic—beige carpet, couch and modest TV in the living room. Her little dining nook was co-opted by her computer desk and bookshelves. I respected that. Her kitchen was functional. It was all clearly temporary, the place to stay in until she could leave. Until she moves in with me, my full-time baby… What the fuck am I thinking right now?

  At the end of the movie, I reached for the remote on her coffee table, and she woke.

  “Let’s get you in bed. It’s late, little girl.” I placed her feet on the floor and pulled her hands until she stood. I kept my hands near her, but she was steadier now.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  Her voice was weary. There was no way I was leaving. “I’m staying.”

  Shock crossed her features, followed quickly by wariness. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine and just get some rest tonight.”

  Why do people always fight it when someone else knows what is right for them? God, I’m a cocky dominant motherfucker. I laughed internally, but kept my face stern for her. “No, Leda, you were significantly dehydrated tonight, if not experiencing heat exhaustion. Someone needs to be here in case you need something or you get sick again overnight.”

  She held her ground for a moment or two, but I could see how much she just wanted to give in. I saw the debate crossing her expression. But I knew she would give in as soon as she didn’t immediately deny me.

  “Okay, but…”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Tonight. “Let’s go.” I walked her to her bedroom and I understood how uncomfortable it must be. New dude in her room, clearly we had an attraction, but we barely knew each other. I got it, as much as I wanted to snuggle in next to her and stroke her hair till she fell asleep. Not yet.

  I settled her into her bed. She had an antique-looking off-white comforter and a wrought iron headboard, painted white. Probably the same stuff she’d had since she was a teenager. God, a total little. She sat up and braided her hair, with no explanation, like it was her routine. She looked so young, so soft, so sweet. I just wanted to touch her, and knew if I started, it would be even harder to stop.

  “I am sleeping on the couch,” I reiterated it more for myself than for her, but, added as I looked back at her, “if you need anything.”

  I glanced at the clock on her bedside table as I walked out of the room.
It was almost midnight. Sometimes, you could tell a lot about someone by what was on their bedside table. She had a glass of water, a novel that I couldn’t see the title of, a pack of birth control pills, a few medical text study guides, ear plugs, a few hair ties and a kind of frilly white lamp.

  * * * *

  In the morning, I left Leda a note and met Jason for our usual Saturday morning sparring session. Jason had been doing MMA for years and had decided to focus on his ground work more right around the time I moved to Texas. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu had become a way that we could get a work out in, catch up, shoot the shit. Whatever.

  When I walked in, Jason glanced at me, then did a double take. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks, asshole. It’s a fucking girl. I just met her and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  I heard him whoosh a big breath out.

  I’d known he’d be surprised, but I didn’t want him to start analyzing me. “Let’s do some groundwork.”

  He gave me some side eye. “I don’t know, man. You look a little…out of your usual tight-assed control. I don’t want a broken face. I’m too pretty.”

  I laughed. “All right, show me something new so I can practice it, or let’s get some gloves and headgear and box.”

  “I’m not fucking boxing with you until you decompress. Come here.”

  He stepped onto the mat and I followed. He proceeded to take me through three or four techniques that were new to me. One involved a new way of breaking a guard. I liked it. We went through it a few more times.

  Once we settled into a routine, he asked, “So, what’s the deal with this girl?”

  I tried to explain. “She’s a first-year Med student. She’s cute as hell. And she’s in my tutoring group.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. Why are you so fucked up about it?”

  I felt like a fucking douche bag asshole even as the words came out of my mouth. It was the shit that fake Doms used to isolate new girls in the kink scene. It was how they justified their sexual assaults, their consent violations. “She is a complete sub—a real natural submissive. I mean, moves before she consciously registers what I said.”

  “What the fuck are you having her do?” He smiled, wide and dirty.

  “You know, just sit down, come here, whatever. She does it.”

  “You vet her yet with Rodriguez?”

  “Yeah, well…sort of.”

  He gave me a ‘what-the-fuck’ look.

  “I don’t want the whole report. I want to learn her step by step instead of cheating. I have a threat assessment pending and knowing him, I’ll get it within the next few days.”

  He paused, holding a reverse crunch for a moment, thoughtful. “So, what’s your plan?”

  “I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night.”

  “You wanna go to the Window tonight? I’m sure someone there would love to have the unattainable Xander treat them.”

  “No.” I rolled my eyes at my own bullshit before I launched into it. “You know how I am, man. Dating? Like, actually dating a chick. I just don’t do it. It always goes all sideways and shitty.”

  “Does it?”

  We were into the part where he was going to start figuring my shit out, even though he’d do it with leading questions and would never just tell me straight out what he thought.

  “With me? Yeah, it does.” I’d had enough crappy experiences with women to know I wanted to keep the emotional factor out of my sex life. Jason had been around and seen it.

  He scoffed and taunted me with a ‘come-at-me-bro’ wave. “That’s enough of that self-pitying bullshit.”

  I laughed, but my pride stung some and I stepped toward him, feinting into his reach. When he grabbed the collar of my gi, I fired my arm against his wrist, breaking his grasp and pulling him down to the ground.

  He landed with a grunt, but aimed his shoulder into me and caught my lip. I tasted my blood almost immediately, but took our momentum and guided him into the mat. I locked his arm up and kept a foot on the back of his neck until he tapped out.

  When I released him, he came up laughing, laughing harder when he saw my bloody lip. “Dude, you always make it fun.”

  Chapter Six

  Leda

  Justin Timberlake, FutureSex/LoveSound

  When I woke in the morning, he was gone. There was a note on the coffee table.

  Hey Little Girl

  Left at 6. Things to do this morning. Call me if you need anything.

  Will pick you up at 8 tonight. Call me if you feel too shitty to go out.

  —X

  It was almost nine o’clock. I was still feeling a little worn out, but a lot better than the night before. I went to the fridge for some juice and there was the jug of his ORT, with a note telling me to finish it. Bossy. I filled up a glass. It still tasted like shit, but I felt better after I drank it.

  I camped out on the couch for the day to catch up on studying, breaking a few times to eat, stretch and make some procrastinatory texts, Facebook updates and Twitter checks. Nothing too exciting was happening in my electronic network of acquaintances, friends and family. I kept my snacking light, knowing that I’d probably drink something heavily caloric that night.

  Around six-thirty that evening I started to get ready and felt the beginning of a sweet, excited anxiety about seeing him again. I took a shower and went through my usual ‘going out’ routine. My cell dinged to indicate a text around seven.

  Hey Little girl—how are you feeling? Still up for going out tonight?—X

  I feel almost 100% back to myself. I must have had a really good doctor taking care of me last night. I’ll see you at 8. —Leda.

  Good girl.—X

  A little rush of pleasure and butterflies ran through me at that text. Good girl. I wanted to hear him say those words to me, wanted to feel his breath on my neck when he whispered them in my ear.

  As I finished getting ready, my phone rang. I answered, not looking at the name, expecting it to be him, but smiled when I heard my mom’s voice instead.

  “Hey, Leeds! How’s it going?” She was extra perky.

  “Hi, Mom. Good.” I paused, the small bubble of Xander-excitement bursting as I thought about the reality of what school was like. My voice fell some when I answered her in full. “I mean, school sucks. It’s hard. I’m exhausted and it’s too much. But…” I trailed off.

  “But?”

  I didn’t want to tell her about Xander. I wasn’t sure why. I told myself it was that it was just a first date and didn’t really mean anything yet, but I knew it did. I knew there was something…something spicy, electric, confusing and amazing waiting there. I didn’t want her to try to talk me out of it. I didn’t want her to know yet. I wanted it to just be mine.

  “I think I love it. It’s hard, but it’s cool. I don’t know.” I changed the subject, “I went out riding last night and got lost though. Kinda miserable.”

  I heard her smile in her voice. “Just be careful. Get some rest tonight then.”

  “I’m actually going out with some people from school.”

  We spoke for a few more minutes, with her admonishing me not to stay out too late, and me being noncommittal and vague on that subject. It was still great to hear from her and I locked my door with a smile and another blossoming wave of excited nerves when I left.

  I was waiting outside, in the balmy fading heat, at eight when he pulled up. When he got out of the car and walked around the front, he looked like something from a magazine, tall, lean and thick all at once, stubble from the day on his face. His broad shoulders just strained his black, slim-fit T-shirt, and his dark jeans fit beautifully. He had some sort of black lace-up boot that disappeared under the perfect break in his jeans. I was distracted by that— Are his jeans tailored? They just fit too perfectly.

  As he got closer, and his face was better lit by the streetlight, I saw that the left side of his lower lip was raw and bruised, a little swollen. Alarmed, I completely forgot how hot he looked an
d rushed up to him, stumbling into his chest. He steadied me, a hand on my lower back.

  “What happened to your face?” Shit. Really smooth, Leda.

  He chuckled. “Hi, good to see you too. Glad you’re feeling better. You look nice.”

  That said, I had put in the effort to bring it—hair up in a twist, dangly earrings and a clingy, but not tight, gun-metal gray jersey dress with some strappy heels. The dress stretched across my chest asymmetrically. I had to be careful, with a chest like mine, anything low cut went from sexy to skanky in a half inch of exposed skin.

  “I’m sorry! You look great, hi.” I stretched up and kissed his right cheek, the one without any bruises. “Seriously, what happened? You were unbruised last night.”

  “No worries. One of the things I had to do today was my training session. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. We do a lot of sparring work. You should see the other guy.” He smirked at me. “Let’s go.” He ushered me to the car and tucked me into the passenger seat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to a club that I think you’ll like, but first a drink and something to eat at my friend’s bar.” He turned on the radio and drove. We didn’t talk too much, just brief inconsequential shit. The bar was clearly in a less savory part of town, not so much unsafe, just a little rougher. He parked behind the building and we went in the back door. He nodded to the bartender, a big burly slab of a man with a shaved head and tattoos down his arms. As I stared back at this behemoth, Xander guided me to a booth, greeting a few other patrons as we passed.

  “The owner is my friend, Jason. The bartender is one of the guys I train with.”

  “Is he the guy that gave you the bruise on your face?” I asked, kind of shocked at the idea of the two of them facing off.

  “No, no, he’s just beginning. I’m gonna go grab some drinks.” He went to the bar and leaned over to talk with this huge man, smiling. He nodded in my direction while saying something and they both laughed a little. The bar had black-washed walls except for one of exposed brick at the back that was covered with the usual liquor and beer signs. It was only slightly crowded, with guys that looked like they worked with their hands and beat their bodies up for a paycheck every week. The few women there had that same toughness to them, with maybe a touch more polish. Xander came back with our drinks, both…lemonade? That’s weird.