Unstoppable

by Scott Hildreth

  “How long you let that thing sit on you like that?” I asked as it rolled over onto its back.

  “Sometimes we’ll sit here all night. She’s all I have. She’s all I’ve had for, well five years now,” Vee responded.

  I sat and watched her pet the cat, attempting to recall all of the people I had been with in the last five years. I couldn’t remember the women spanning the last six months very well; and in fact lost track at about four weeks. The thought of Vee coming home to a cat every night was difficult to comprehend and saddening in some respects.

  “So, for the last five years, what’s your typical evening been like?” I asked as I tried to relax in the chair.

  She looked around the room and stroked the stomach of the cat. “Well. Whenever I come home from work, I usually change clothes and relax, listen to some music, study, and go to bed. That’s pretty much it. And I am sorry I was late, I had to get a few motions filed.”

  “No big deal on being late, Vee. Things happen. Not everyone gets to fuck off all day like Dekk and I,” I sat up in the chair and admired the tone of muscle and definition to her legs.

  “True. I’m sorry none-the-less,” she said as she lifted her hand from the now sleeping cat.

  “You, uhhm. You work those legs out quite a bit?” I leaned to the edge of the chair and rested my forearms on my knees.

  She extended her foot outward and held her right leg parallel to the floor, flexing her leg muscles. As she did, she looked up and down the length of her leg and smiled. Her skin tone wasn’t dark for this time of year in Texas, nor was it pale. Her muscles flared as she rotated her foot from left to right.

  “I work out every morning here at home. I don’t get much time in the sun, so I fake bake in my tanning bed – It makes the muscles look a little more defined. Do you want something to drink?” she asked.

  “I’m good. Your own tanning bed, huh?”

  “I don’t have enough time to tan at a salon. They’re generally closed when I get home. I’m going to get a bottle of water, you sure?” she smiled as she started to get up.

  Normally speaking, I would have allowed any other woman to get up and get herself a bottle of water. With Vee, for reasons I couldn’t explain or come even close to understanding, I wanted to be better, different, caring, and compassionate. It seemed that I was doing and considering things that I didn’t even know I had the ability to do or consider. As I stood from the chair, I wondered what I may turn into as time passed - if we stayed together.

  “I’ll get it; I don’t want you to wake it up,” I grinned, “where do you keep it?”

  What the fuck is happening to me?

  “It’s in the fridge in the kitchen. It’s the way you came in, the hallway on the right. Thank you,” she said as she pointed toward the entry hall.

  As I walked to the kitchen, the overall size of her house became apparent. To live here alone, cat or no cat, would be depressing on even a good day. The house was large, very spacious, and extremely well decorated. I realized Vee had great taste in clothes, and after walking through the house, it was obvious she had great taste in decorating a home as well. Walking into the living room with two bottles of water, the entire situation felt surreal.

  Being fully clothed and walking around a woman’s house, sitting in a living room talking while she pet her cat, and drinking bottled water wasn’t something that I had ever done, nor would I have been willing to do in the past. The thought of Vee being my submissive girlfriend was something that appealed to me, partially because of her submissive nature, and an equal part because of her looks, personality, and fondness of me. The fact that I felt the way I felt at this juncture; after only a week, was a little troubling.

  I felt pussy-whipped, without the pussy.

  “Here you go,” I said as I handed her the bottle of water.

  “Thank you. Please, sit,” she patted the cushion beside her.

  “How long’s it sleep like that?” I asked as I looked down at the sleeping ball of fluff.

  “Difficult to guess. Five minutes. An hour. It’s a cat, they’re unpredictable,” she grinned.

  “Yeah, that’s part of what I hate about ‘em. You never know what the fucker’s are gonna do,” I shook my head and reluctantly sat down beside her.

  “It’s a cat, Ripp. It’s not a monster. Cats are soothing creatures. They’re somewhat unpredictable, but that’s part of what makes each one of them unique. This one only wants to be loved. It doesn’t scratch, bite, or tear the house to shreds. The cat answers to no one, and I answer to the cat, because I must. Without me, the cat would certainly die. It brings me joy to know that it cares for my company enough to lie on my lap.”

  I stared into her eyes as she spoke, feeling almost hypnotized by their color and clarity. As I admired the color of her eyes, I realized I had no idea what the eye color was of any other woman I had ever been with. Ever. I sat and tried to think for the life of me what anyone’s eye color was.

  Nothing.

  “Ripp?” her voice brought me back to reality.

  “Oh, yeah,” I sighed as I shook my head.

  “I was…your eyes. I thought they were brown. They’re blue. Like really, really blue. They’re uhhm. They’re really pretty,” I said as I brushed her hair away from her face and looked into her eyes again.

  Her head tilted in the direction of my hand as I swept her hair away from her face. Slowly, her lips formed a soft smile, revealing dimples. I studied her face, realizing there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. Nothing. She was picture perfect, and well beyond what I deserved regarding a woman.

  “They’ve always been blue. And thank you,” she nudged the back of my hand with her face as she smiled.

  “You gonna fuck me over, Vee?” I asked as I settled into the corner of the couch.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “Look at you. You’re perfect. You’re fuckin gorgeous. You’re an intelligent woman. You have a beautiful house, a nice car, a great job, and you’re…well, you’re in great physical shape. You could have anyone you want. You’re just...well, what’s the catch?” I asked over my left shoulder.

  I felt as if I needed to get out now before I made a complete fool of myself. I had no business here, not with her. And to think that she wanted to be in some form of a relationship with me - and she was going to be my submissive girlfriend - was ridiculous. Sitting here watching her was a form of reassurance that I had no business with her.

  “Fuck you over? Seriously? Let me explain myself again, Ripp,” she snapped as she pitched the cat off of her lap and onto the floor.

  She crossed her legs and twisted her body to the right as she pressed her water bottle in between the cushion of the couch. With my head cocked a little to the left, and her now sitting sideways on the couch facing me, she started her rant.

  “Just in case sir, I’ve done a poor job of making myself clear the first three or four times we’ve spoken, I’ll make yet another attempt to penetrate that thick skull of yours and leave an impression on your feeble brain. Yes, Ripp, I want to piss you off right now, because I’m pissed off. I’m pissed off that you’re questioning me. I have better shit to do than waste time. My time is valuable, and I value it. I’m sitting here for one reason and one reason only; because I want to be. More than I want to sleep, and more than I want to eat, I want to sit next to you and get to know you; because you interest me. You interest the absolute fuck out of me. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I’m frustrated about a legal case that I’m defending,” she quickly exhaled a short breath, stood up, and started pacing the floor as she spoke - attorney style.

  “My drug trafficking client, who incidentally paid me in advance and skipped out of the country, is facing life in prison. I’m forced to postpone every meeting, hearing, phone call, and any other scheduled potential public exposure where someone might realize that he is missing. Meanwhile, I’m attempting to get his case dropped on a technicality; because it’s my job. It’s what he hi
red me to do. I do, however, have every reason to believe that he orchestrated and implemented the attempted delivery of the largest cocaine seizure captured by the DEA in the history of the state of Texas. I’m angry, tired, hungry, and I want to cry - but I can’t cry. I can’t cry because I’m too hungry and way too tired. But guess what? Guess what? Guess fucking what, Ripp?” she paused in front of me and waited for me to respond.

  Oh I like this girl.

  Completely dumbfounded, I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyebrows.

  “I’d much rather be sitting here beside you while you eye fuck my cat like you want to toss her down the hallway than eating or sleeping. Not because I think you want me to. Not because I want to impress you, and certainly not because I want to eventually fuck you, or have you fuck me, but because I want to. And, Ripp, I want to because I think your bald headed, tattooed, muscled, I knock motherfuckers out for a living ass is the most perfect example of what I have waited a lifetime for,” she hesitated and pressed her hands into her hips as her eyes worked their way up and down my torso.

  “That’s all I’ve got. That’s it. And write this date down. Today’s date. If we go the distance, if we end up in a real relationship, and I hope like hell we do, you can punish my little ass, and reference today’s date when you administer it, sir. I’ll take whatever you have to offer and respond with a whole hearted and sincere thank you sir. Why? Because, Michael whatever your middle fucking name is Ripton, there’s something about that boxer fist bump handshake - something about that agreement we made - that tells me for the first time in your fucked up little life that you’re not going to fuck me over,” she stood before me, her shaking hands fixed on her hips, and stared.

  She was impressive. And now I felt better about the entire situation. She was sincere, or she sure did a good job of presenting herself. I wanted to start clapping, but didn’t dare. I wanted to say something, but was half afraid to speak.

  “Allen,” I muttered.

  “What?” she snapped as she cocked her hip to the side.

  “Allen. It’s my middle name.”

  And she smiled her beautiful smile.

  And I hoped.

  I hoped she would do what I did back in 2012 with the guy I fought in Memphis.

  Go the distance.

  VEE. Possibly the best relationship advice I ever received was from my mother. “Always date a guy for at least thirty days before you have sex with him. If he won’t wait, he isn’t worth it. If he does wait, it doesn’t mean he is worth it, it means he might be. In those thirty days, see what he’s willing to do to preserve what he has with you. These thirty days, in the absence of sex, is full of sincerity. What a man does after you have sex with him is always tainted. His vision, his thoughts, and his reactions are a result of sex, thoughts of sex, and anticipation of more sex. The first thirty days are what counts, Vivian.”

  I applied that advice throughout my life. I eventually ended up with sincere guys that were devoted to me, but they weren’t what I wanted or needed. Who knows, maybe I was destined to be a submissive woman. Maybe it’s why I chose the profession I chose. Maybe my profession forced me into a state of mind that made me yearn to be sexually submissive. To determine what caused it or why I felt this way was useless. What mattered was that I was aware of it, prepared to act on it, and would accept nothing less than what I was of the opinion I wanted, needed, and deserved.

  I deserved to be satisfied.

  Spending time with Michael, not having sex, and knowing we weren’t going to have sex forced me to get to know him. We didn’t sit and have silly question and answer sessions about favorite colors or favorite places to vacation; we actually got to know each other. Through being together, exposing ourselves to day-to-day activities, and doing it with a greater degree of frequency allowed us to develop a better understanding of who we each were. Michael appeared to be very alpha, very opinionated, and very, very witty. He was the equivalent to a two hundred and fifty pound child - a very protective child.

  “I really like it when we take your car. That thing excites me,” I confessed as we walked through the poorly lit parking lot.

  Seeing Michael dressed in a shirt with buttons on it was something that was nice, but difficult to get used to. We had voted to eat sushi - something he had never tried. He was as excited to try it as I was to expose him to one of my favorite foods. Sharing our likes and dislikes was becoming very satisfying. Dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, Michael appeared to be just another normal guy. He was still very large, but not near as intimidating with his muscles and tattoos covered.

  “I like doing different shit with you, Vee,” he said as he looked down at the sandals he was wearing.

  “I do too,” I admitted.

  Holding his hands in front of his stomach, his arms were bent at the elbow, and his forearms were parallel to the ground. When we walked together, it was typical of Michael to walk this way. As we walked, I held onto his elbow lightly. Touching him when we were together provided me with a degree of comfort.

  The restaurant had an entrance through an outer door that led down a glass encased hallway to the inner door that opened into the restaurant. It was mid-week and later than normal dining hours, so the restaurant was not overly crowded. As Michael held the outer door for me to enter, a lone gentleman walked toward us as he approached the exit.

  “Damn,” the man said as he approached, drawing the pronunciation of the word out for a long second or so.

  “Damn what, bro?” Michael asked sternly.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said as he nudged his way between us.

  “Don’t nothin’ me. You was either sayin’ it to her or sayin’ it to me,” Michael turned around toward the exit door as the man began to walk through.

  “And if you was sayin’ it to her, you’re a disrespectful fool. If you’re saying to me, you got me mixed up with someone else. I don’t swing like that,” he wiped his hands on his thighs and bent his knees slightly as he spoke.

  The man turned, looked down at Michael’s shoes, and slowly back up at his face.

  “Pffft,” he hissed as he turned and walked through the exit.

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Michael said as he walked out the door.

  I stood in the entrance in my little black dress and nervously shook. What was going to be a nice night out turned into a potential catastrophe in a matter of seconds. Something about, no…everything about Michael defending what he believed to be my honor was very gratifying. Personally, if I was alone, I would have kept walking. Having men make comments in public was one of the reasons that I rarely dressed the way I was dressed on that night. As I stood in the entrance, I heard voices escalate in volume, and the unmistakable sound of Michael’s deep tone.

  And it stopped.

  Silence.

  Well, sort of.

  After a very short time, the door opened half-way and Michael stuck his head inside.

  “Uhhm, come here for a minute, Vee. I need you out here for a sec,” he smiled as he waved his hand toward the parking lot.

  Michael held the door open as a couple walked toward the exit.

  “Have a nice evening,” he said as he held the door open for them to pass through.

  “Come on,” he said as he motioned with his free hand.

  “You want me to come outside?” I asked.

  “Yup,” he nodded.

  “Are we leaving?” I asked disappointedly as I walked toward him.

  “No, Vee. Damn, we’re gonna eat sushi, remember?” he laughed as I walked between him and the door.

  As I turned toward the car, I saw the rude man from the entrance standing under one of the few light poles that littered the parking lot. He had a very noticeable cut under his left eye. Shocked, I alternated glances between Michael and the man. Michael turned his palm up and looked into it, squinting in the dim light.

  “Bryan. Is it Bryan?” he said as he looked into his palm.

  The man nodded and
visibly swallowed.

  “Uh. Yeah,” he said softly.

  “Seemed weird, with a Y in it. Ok, Bryan has something to say, Vee,” he said as he lowered his hand to his side.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry for being rude earlier. It was distasteful of me. I hope you accept my apology,” he said slowly and carefully.

  Standing under the lamp as he spoke, it was clear that his teeth were covered in blood. I tried not to smile. The feelings that I immediately felt weren’t immediately understandable or describable. An odd feeling of being safe, loved, and feeling full washed over me. Slowly, I turned to face Michael. As I did, I realized I had become excited.

  Very excited.

  Michael scowled at me and gestured toward the man.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, I accept your apology,” I said as I turned and nodded in his direction.

  “It won’t happen again,” he muttered.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well, here you go,” Michael said as he walked toward the man and handed him something.

  “Well, it’s probably because of the vibration; the vibration and the noise. You know I’m thinking that’s a…what do you call it? A, uhmm, like a psychological deal,” Michael said as he extended his elbow toward me and turned toward the entrance.

  “Huh?” I had no idea of what he was talking about.

  “The car, Vee. Damn, you were talking about the car exciting you when we drove it. I think it’s probably the noise and vibration; well, that and the way I drive it. Maybe we associate those things with power or something,” he shrugged as he held the door open for me to enter.

  I looked him over from head to toe as he held the door. He wasn’t in any way concerned with what had just happened. In the absence of me speaking about it, I’m quite certain he would never mention it. To him, we were just going to go eat sushi.

  “I suppose you’re right. It’s the power I like. The car is kind of like you. You’re an alpha male, and the car’s an alpha car,” I laughed as I held onto his elbow.