by Hayley White
Ever seemed refreshed from her sleep and, although there were still dark circles under her eyes, she seemed more like her usual self. Stroud set an easy pace up the curving path and, when the other hikers had pulled away ahead, Ever spoke.
“These are not really the plans you had for this week-end, are they?”
“I’ve brought you here as a means of creating a neutral ground between us,” Stroud explained. “Break the spell of the past few weeks. Bring things into perspective.”
Ever nodded.
“Things have been rather intense lately,” he said and Ever didn’t disagree.
“I don’t mean this as an apology, you understand. I’ve come to see that you enjoy play at an intensive level. You’re a courageous woman with a lot to offer a man like me. Just when things have reached their peak, you find the stamina to strive for yet a higher plateau. I wonder if you know how much I appreciate it.”
“You’ve taught me a lot,” Ever said.
“Have I? Well...”
The pathway leveled out as they reached the top of their climb, a breathtaking panorama of craggy hills and valleys opened out below. Another couple came up behind and passed them, holding hands as they disappeared around the next bend.
“I know we’ve been acquainted only a few short months,” Stroud said. “The perimeters of our relationship are... unusual, but I hope we’ve come to share more than just a sexual relationship.”
“Oh, much more,” she said with a quiet smile.
“Perhaps a friendship?”
“Perhaps.”
Stroud returned the smile and placed his arm around her with an affectionate squeeze. “If this is the case, it seems you’d be secure enough to share your confidence with me...”
Ever’s smile melted and she withdrew to the railing to gaze out at the vista. “Are we talking about something in particular?”
Stroud joined her, his gaze pointedly directed at the horizon. “Brooke has mentioned some things to me.”
“Oh?” Ever said, suddenly chilled.
“He tells me he’s seen you on the street, canvassing passersby.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
“He told me you said it was part of your job.”
Ever was unresponsive.
“I thought you were telemarketing.”
“I was.”
Now Stroud looked at her. “And?”
It was one thing to burden Stroud with all this without warning but now he was asking her directly. Ever dropped her head with a sigh. “This outfit is in a slump,” she said. “They’re desperate. Hence the telemarketing program. I guess it wasn’t working well enough.”
She lifted her head but did not look at Stroud.
“They offered me a cut in pay and said I’d have to hit the streets to see if we couldn’t drum up more business.”
“Is that what you wanted to do?”
“Of course not. It’s murder. But the job market is very limited and I couldn’t afford to be without even a small pay check while I hunted something down.”
Her voice was beginning to falter. “But I’m tired. You know? Bone weary. These past couple of years...”
“I wish you’d told me.”
“It seems like I’ve been on a slide ever since I became ill. Now it’s critical. Past critical.”
“What do you mean?”
“They let me go last week. All of us. The telemarketers. I’m now without a job at all and I’m not going to meet my rent...”
Stroud seemed shocked. “You live that close to the line?”
“That close.” Tears stood in her eyes as she finally turned to him. “How’s that for sharing a confidence?” A satiric smile twisted her mouth. “To top it all off, Brooke kidnaps me at the top of the week, fucks the living hell out of me and I... I regard it as some deserved punishment, passed down by the gods of ill fortune!”
Stroud was surprised by the news about Brooke and alarmed by her reaction. “Did you tell him this?”
“No. God no. Poor Brooke. He didn’t mean anything by it. He didn’t know. I didn’t know until afterwards. It was almost like an omen.
“That’s why I refused you last week-end. I was so depressed. So scared. I’m sorry...” She began to sob. “God! I’ve been bawling for days. I wish I could stop!”
Embracing her, Stroud walked Ever across the path and sat with her on a nearby rock as she vented all she had cloistered over the past weeks. When he handed her his handkerchief, Ever was incredulous.
“What are you? The last man on earth who still carries one of these?”
“I don’t think so,” Stroud said, genuinely baffled by her observation.
Ever laughed hoarsely and blew into the handkerchief. “Stroud, you’re one in a million,” she said, her voice muffled in the cloth.
Stroud smiled in relief. “And so are you,” he said, squeezing her again. “Come. We’ll talk.”
They went back to their room and, when Ever was composed, they dressed for an early dinner and went out to a quiet restaurant.
“I have a better insight into your situation now,” Stroud said, once their orders had been taken, “but when you called, I was afraid you wanted to break off the relationship.”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Why?”
“As you said, it’s been an intensive few weeks.”
“You’ve been over taxed.”
“It has been a strain. More of a strain than I realized.”
“I was afraid of that. Do you want to quit?”
Ever smiled. “After all you’ve shown me, I don’t think I could ever quit. I just can’t keep up the regimen we’ve been on. Every week-end, the commuting. As you say, I think I’m losing perspective.”
“Well, I’d much rather be a part of the solution than part of the problem.”
“Please don’t misunderstand.”
“I don’t think I have.”
“Well, as to my other problems, I don’t think there’s much you can do.”
“Perhaps there is,” Stroud said.
“Oh?”
“I want you to move in with me.”
Ever was nonplused. “Oh, Stroud. No.”
“You wouldn’t consider living with me?”
“I don’t mean that,” she amended. “I just think it’s too soon... Don’t you? You mustn’t allow my little crisis to push you into anything premature. It’s not your responsibility to save me.”
“A friend can’t stand by and watch a friend go down the drain.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Perhaps, but the situation doesn’t look very good presently. There’s no need for unnecessary hardship.”
Ever could not deny the gravity of her situation but she had serious reservations about allowing Stroud to sweep her up on the proverbial white charger. She was still within the perilous rebound zone and she was jealous of her newfound independence, precarious though it might be. She was searching for a way to couch her argument graciously but Stroud spoke first.
“I have a proposal. Just hear me out and you can tell me what you think.”
Chapter Twenty
Although it appeared tiny on the outside, the narrow, two story structure at the back of Stroud’s lot was surprisingly spacious. The front door opened into a large room with windows in the north and south walls, allowing for even distribution of sunlight throughout the day. In the far left hand corner was a kitchenette and, across from that, a nicely appointed bathroom with a full tub and shower unit.
Overall, there was room enough for a dinette, couch, coffee table, stereo and TV, plus the wall units for Ever’s books.
To the right of the front door a carpeted staircase ascended up beside the west wall to a second story bedroom. Here, too, daylight came in from a north/south aspect, with windows on the south side and double French doors on the north, leading onto a small railed deck. The area at the top of the stairs was walled in, forming a walk-in closet. The upstairs room was
large enough to accommodate all Ever’s bedroom furniture and a decent sized desk.
“We can paint or wallpaper, as you please,” Stroud said. “It’ll be your place for as long as you want it. I hope it’s sufficient.”
It was charming, cozy, and secure. Ever was sure she’d be happy in the little house, for which Stroud would accept no rent. It was perfect.
***
On moving day, Ever made one last visit to the liquor store. Stroud accompanied her and, despite the jeans and casual shirt he’d donned for the move, he made a favorable impression on Marta who was very excited about Ever’s news. The women embraced in farewell and Marta cast a semi-stern look at Stroud.
“You take good care of her,” she charged.
“I intend to,” Stroud said.
“You take good care of yourself,” Ever said solemnly.
“Oh, we be okay,” Marta replied with her usual pragmatism. “We move from here soon,” she said, which came as a great relief to Ever.
“You be sure to let me know where,” Ever said and Marta agreed.
***
Ever spent the next week settling into her new home. Stroud helped out with the heavy work, surprising Ever with bits and pieces to fill in the gaps and make life more comfortable, such as new curtains for the windows.
“Stroud, I should be taking care of these things myself,” Ever protested.
“It’s still my house,” he reminded her. “You must make the choices, but it’s the landlord’s responsibility to insure the house is properly habitable,” with which she was forbidden to disagree. However, when he turned up one evening with a new computer, Ever tried to draw the line.
“This is too much. I can’t accept it.”
Stroud was crestfallen. “But you must!”
“Oh, must I?” Ever said, laughing.
“Yes. After all, is writing not an artistic endeavor?”
“I suppose it is.”
“And are you not a writer?”
“After a fashion,” Ever conceded, enjoying but not understanding the game.
“And do you expect I would try to inhibit you in what you do?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then how can you inhibit me in what I do?”
“Stroud, you’re not making much sense.”
“Ever, I’m a patron of the arts. Head of the Stroud Foundation.”
“The Stroud Foundation?” Now Ever was sure he was pulling her leg.
“An art foundation set up in my father’s name. Among other things, lending support to promising artists is what I do.”
“Artists.”
“Well, painters, primarily. You’ll be my first writer.”
“You’re serious.”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’ve never owned a computer.”
“You don’t know how to operate it?”
“Not really.”
“Well, the computer comes with a tutorial. If you need more, I’ll set up tuition for extra classes, as part of your grant.”
“My grant,” Ever said, still trying to grasp it all.
“A computer would be useful for your writing, wouldn’t it?”
“It certainly would.”
“I believe in you, Ever. Believe in yourself. Accept the tool. Be a part of something beautiful and exciting.”
How in the world could she refuse?
***
In celebration of the move, Stroud took Ever out to an exclusive French restaurant, the name of which translated loosely to “Catch The Mood”. Over coffee, Stroud elicited Ever’s impressions.
“Very classy,” she replied. “The sort of place you want to stay forever.”
“Do you think you might enjoy working here?”
“Here? Oh Stroud, any waiter of merit would want to work here, but as I explained—”
“Let me introduce you to the owner,” Stroud said.
It turned out Stroud was good friends with Jean Cuvier, a plump French expatriate with thinning black hair and a beaming smile.
“Stroud tells me you’ve worked in silver service.”
“Yes, in England. Three meals a day, six days a week.”
“That’s hard work.”
“It was. I loved it but that was two decades ago. I don’t imagine I could handle even half that now.”
“Actually, I’m not looking for a full service waitress.”
“Oh?”
“I have an excellent staff but, as you can see, they’re very busy. I’ve been considering hiring someone to handle just the wine and cheese service.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Have you ever served a cheese board?”
“Oh yes.”
“Wine?”
“No, but if you have one of those winged corkscrews, I’m sure I can manage.”
Jean glanced at Stroud with a chuckle. “Delightful!”
“I can also lend a hand with clearing, setting up,” Ever added. “And I’m a fair salad hand.”
“Truly delightful,” Jean said, his eyes returning to Ever. “Would you be willing to start next week?”
“If you’re willing to give me a wine list for study,” Ever said, “and the address of the shop that sells those smart tuxedo shirts the staff wears.”
“Done!”
“And you must pay me more than fourteen dollars a week.”
Jean was puzzled. “Fourteen dollars?”
“Yes. I did silver service for seven quid a week,” Ever told him.
Jean and Stroud exchanged another glance. “Appalling!” Jean said.
“I agree,” Ever concurred and sipped her coffee.
***
Stroud drove Ever to and from the restaurant five nights a week. In the mornings she attended computer classes, which left the afternoons free for quiet lunches on the patio with Stroud. The long dark winter was finally over.
Chapter Twenty One
Things were not going as smoothly for Brooke. More and more he was bedeviled with doubts and concerns he hardly knew how to articulate. It was mid-evening on a Thursday when he found himself standing in Stroud’s study, snarled up with the emotions of a guilty schoolboy called before the headmaster. Stroud was seated behind his desk, patiently awaiting Brooke’s revelation.
“I took Ever to the Knolls,” he blurted finally.
“She mentioned it,” Stroud replied with his customary reserve.
“What did she say?”
“Not much.”
“I’m not proud of it,” Brooke admitted.
“Did Ever consent to go?” Stroud asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t really know.”
Stroud smiled. “Are you still so unsure of her?”
“Hell, I don’t know. She goes along with all this like a well trained pet. God, she fulfills needs I didn’t even know I had! Maybe she only plays along with me because of you.”
“Maybe.”
“But she has needs, too!”
“Of course,” Stroud agreed. “Complex needs. She seeks to fulfill them by submitting to the needs of those who dominate her.”
“But what about her? Ever?”
“Ever the slave or Ever the woman?”
“Aren’t you splitting hairs?”
“No. One of the needs of the woman is to be a slave. The entire imperative of the slave is to meet the expectations of an exacting master.”
“I don’t see how she tolerates it.”
“She’s a masochist. It’s her pleasure to tolerate it. You must understand, this is Ever’s first real opportunity to steep herself in this lifestyle. She takes it quite seriously, which suits me.”
“But she’s afraid of you.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“Oh, Stroud, I’ve seen it.”
“It’s a cultivated fear. She must suspend disbelief well enough to convince herself I can enforce domination over her. That’s the majority of what you see.”
“And the rest?”
“The rest is genuine.”
“How do you justify that?”
“I don’t have to. Fear of me – of us. That’s what arouses her.”
“Well, I don’t think she wants to see me again.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it’s apparent she hates me.”
Stroud smiled. “If you ask her, I’m sure you’ll get a different answer.”
“Ask her?”
“She’s very candid.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for candid. Besides, we might find out you don’t know her as well as you think.”
“She’s moved in, you know,” Stroud said after a pause.
“Moved in? Here?”
“Not quite...”
Stroud opened the middle drawer of his desk and took out a key. “Come. Let me show you something.”
He led Brooke back to Ever’s little house. He keyed open the front door and switched on the downstairs light.
“Where’s Ever?” Brooke asked.
“At work,” Stroud replied, leading the way up to Ever’s bedroom/study.
“I don’t think she’d like us being here while she’s out,” Brooke said uneasily.
“We’re not here to invade anything,” Stroud said, “just to gain some insight.” He switched on the desk lamp which cast a warm glow over the majority of the room. “You tell me. Is this the environment of a victim?”
Brooke looked around. It was a comfortable little nest, neat, tastefully done. Throw rugs over wine colored carpet, surfaces polished, cozy bedside lighting. Along the wall from the French doors was a line of book shelves. More shelves were installed over the desk. Dictionary, thesaurus and other reference books.
“Late at night she sits here with the ‘works’,” Stroud said almost reverently.
“‘The works’?”
“Her works. She’s a writer.”
“I didn’t know,” Brooke said, looking more closely at the books on the shelves. Now he saw that many were actually note books of varying descriptions. “What does she write?”
“Erotica.”
“You’re kidding.”
“And she keeps a journal.”
“You’ve read her journal?”
“She’s opened it to me.”
“Now that’s a book I’d love to read!”