Strapped

by Nina G. Jones

  “Oh Taylor. Oh my god.”

  “Come for me baby.” He whispers in my ear. And all at once, the tension down below explodes and ripples into a thousand electric cascades. I moan loudly, crying out his name, and I don’t care if Harrison is upstairs. It is a victory cry.

  “Shy!” I hear the muffled version of my name being uttered into my neck as he comes.

  ***

  We lay side by side on the elevator floor in silence. Everything we had to say tonight, we said with our bodies. He tucks a ringlet behind my ear.

  “Thank you,” he says with complete sincerity in his voice.

  “No, thank you.” I say with a big smile.

  “Seriously. I have never been with someone whose touch I could tolerate.” That’s right! I forgot about his quirks. He used the word “tolerate” and I wonder if that is what my touch is to him, something he must bear. I have to admit, the word choice stings a bit.

  “What did you do before?”

  He leans to his side and props his head on his hand in response to my inquiry. “Oh, maybe I’ll show you one day.”

  “Did you tie them up or something?” I ask jokingly, I am still in a euphoric haze and barely know what is coming out of my mouth.

  “Shy, I would love to take you upstairs to my bedroom, if that’s okay with you. I know you are already familiar with its ins and outs.” He grins, but I can still feel a hint of annoyance in his tone.

  “Yes. Oh my God. Is Harrison here?”

  “No, I gave him the night off. I had a feeling things would get crazy in one way or another tonight.” He rolls his eyes and stands up. He reaches out a hand to help me up and we ride back to the main level. I know I am in for a world of pain and confusion tomorrow, but much like an addict with her drug of choice, I choose to enjoy the moment and deal with the consequences later. Taylor is a living, breathing drug.

  Even though we are alone he closes the door behind him to the bedroom. He still has his shirt on. My skirt has been pulled down and my blouse is barely hanging on thanks to his earlier assault on it.

  “I want to take you slowly this time.” His eyes are hooded again, he almost looks possessed when he is ready. For someone who barely emotes, he wears his sexuality so strongly. “I am going to undress you slowly, I want to admire your naked body. I have imagined daily what you look like underneath your clothes.” He says these words with the same confidence he carries into a meeting or presentation at work. It is hard to believe this is the same man that needs me to help him through a gala.

  “Trust me, I have done the same. Luckily you gave me a sneak preview on my first day of duty.” He grins that devilish grin and pulls his shirt over his head so that he is only wearing his boxer briefs. The dim light of the lamp casts a shadow on his torso, highlighting his abs. He walks over to me slowly. I stand there, feeling like a teenager, with a much older boy, not knowing what to do with myself. He stares me down and walks behind me, I can barely feel his lips graze my neck as he unzips my skirt and lets it fall to the floor.

  “You smell so good and I can’t wait to find out how you taste.” I draw a deep breath. It’s like he was born for this. He slides my shirt down my shoulders and it falls to the ground. I suddenly feel very exposed. He is so perfect and I doubt my appearance matches his. He runs his hands down my arms.

  “Your skin is so soft.” He kisses my neck and unclips my bra at once. His hands glide down my arms, triggering goosebumps, as he runs the bra straps down my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. I stand still, nervous with anticipation. He walks to my front, no rush in his pace, much like the day he interviewed me. I can see his erection through his underwear and it makes me hot. “You have the most beautiful breasts Shy. They fit your body beautifully.” He gently kisses them, careful not to kiss the nipples and areolas, which make me crave more. I have never felt so craved, so desired, in my entire life. It’s as though I never really had sex until Taylor had me in the elevator. I was right, he is showing me something I didn’t know I was missing. He grabs my hand, and my heart warms, knowing in a way, this is a first for him too. He takes me to the bed.

  “Lie down.” I sit back on the cool satin sheets and lie on my back. I feel his fingers pull down my panties. Then he raises my left leg, followed by a trail of soft kisses from just inside of my ankle, then leg, then inner thigh. His pace is agonizingly and gloriously slow. Then he kisses between my legs. His tongue feels like a master painter is creating a beautiful mural. Is there anything this man isn’t good at? It is so slow, like one of his games. I writhe underneath the delicious ecstasy and he uses his strong hands to still me. I moan his name over and over and over. The world could literally crumble around me, and I wouldn’t care. My moans get louder and more passionate and he stops. He pulls off of his underwear and his perfectly hard erection pops out like a gift. “Turn onto your stomach. I want to make you come from behind.” Yes, please, I’ll take you anyway you want. I lay on my stomach and I hear the sounds of a condom being fumbled with. His warm body presses against mine, then there is the pressure of him sliding inside of me.

  “Your ass is amazing,” he says, making me feel like a goddess. In this position, he feels so deep and firm and again he goes tantalizingly slow. I can feel his breath on my neck. My hands are laid out in front of me and he glides his over mine, intertwining our fingers. He moves rhythmically, patiently, the build up is slow, much like the feeling of climbing up to the first drop off on a roller coaster. I moan into the satin sheets, completely intoxicated by the experience.

  “You feel so wet Shy.” His low voice is in my ear. “I want you to come with me again. Come for me baby, let it go.” And I do, and while the build up was slow and almost agonizing, the release is strong and sends shockwaves through my body. He holds my hands down and I relish having almost every part of his naked body touching mine. “Fuck,” he says, his voice throaty, as he releases with me.

  He rolls off of me. I stay on my stomach and look over to him, laying on his back. Every cell in my body feels heavenly, as if I am floating on a satin cloud. He looks at me and I smile. There is no one in this world but Taylor and me. “What am I going to do with you Shy?” he says as he pushes a lock of hair out of my face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When I wake up alone in the bed the next morning, a warm wave of post-coital bliss blankets me, then a sense of mild panic hits. For one, the reality of my night with Taylor sinks in: I have cheated on Rick. My chest tightens with dread. I know I have to tell him; I am not the type of person who can just pretend this didn’t happen. Then there’s Taylor. What I felt with him was scary. Never have I experienced anything so deeply to my core; never have I been so entranced by another human being. It was as if he was the sun and I was the earth, revolving around his aura. There was a time when Rick and I were smitten, but this is different, this is all-consuming. My entire world is being devoured by this man, and I want nothing more than for him to swallow me whole.

  I wish Taylor had awoken me; I hate being the last to wake at other people’s homes. My stomach knots up. I have no idea how Taylor will react. What are the next steps? Was this a one time deal? I hope not. It was the most amazing, crazy, painful, delightful, excruciating, and exhilarating night of my life. Random pangs of guilt hit me. How can I feel this way when Rick and I are still together? Shit! I wonder if he tried reaching me last night. So much has happened physically and emotionally in the past 24 hours and it is nearly impossible to truly process it all. I slowly open the door, wearing the white button down shirt Taylor pulled off of his body so tantalizingly last night. It cloaks me in his scent. I walk lightly, wanting to catch Taylor off guard. I find him at the breakfast bar, the paper in one hand while he eats fruit with the other. It looks as though he has just finished working out.

  “Good morning.” I say sheepishly.

  “Good morning,” he says slyly, a knowing grin on his face. “Come join me. Have some breakfast.”

  I sit, but I cannot eat. My m
ind is racing in every direction. While I feel enormous guilt, the inevitability of last night’s events make me feel absolved of it on some level. Rick, my dear Rick, what have I done? Tears begin to stream down my cheeks.

  “Shy, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” I know.

  “Did I do someth...”

  “No, no. It’s not you. I just. I don’t know what’s going on with my life. I did something terrible. Rick and I are over and...” I am making last night seem like a mistake, so I stop.

  “Oh.” He looks disappointed. I think he is a little jealous of Rick.

  “Taylor, it’s been over. Not officially, but he and I have not been right for a while. Still, this is not how I planned on ending it. I am not this kind of person.” I don’t even know what’s next for Taylor and me. He hasn’t even told me the contents of the notebook. “Taylor, I don’t know what to do and I don’t want to put you on the spot, but what happened between us...I am not sure what to make of it.”

  Taylor sighs. “You have a lot you need to take care of before we even need to discuss us.” Until this point he has remained in his seat, and has not touched me. I can tell he doesn’t know how to comfort a woman and I think it is because he has never had to in the past.

  “But I loved working at H.I. and now I can’t.”

  “I fired you in the heat of the moment. You still have a job.”

  “I understand, but I deserved it, and after what happened, I don’t think working for you is a good idea.”

  “Shy, don’t worry about that stuff. I would love for you to come back, but if you feel uncomfortable, my recommendation will get you a job anywhere in this city. I meant on a personal level, I think you need to take a week and figure out everything.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “That’s up to you. I would like to.”

  “And what about the journal? Are you ever going to tell me?”

  He sighs, exasperated by my question. “Shy, we are both not ready for that.”

  I sit in in silence, immobilized by my emotions. After a few minutes, Taylor speaks again. “Shy, you need to go home and sort out your life.” My latent insecurity surfaces. He is too good looking for you. He can have whoever he wants. He is just trying to buy himself some time so he can dodge you until you give up pursuing him. My heightened emotional state causes me to react.

  “Fine, I’ll go, but I am not coming back until you decide to man up and tell me the truth.” I stomp off to the bedroom, trying to collect what is left of my clothes. Taylor does not follow. Minutes later, I come back to the kitchen, my shirt tied in a knot since so few buttons remain. A childlike sadness hits me when I remember that Ladybug is a company car. “I’m going to go home. Here are the keys to Ladybug.” He looks at the keys on the counter and smiles.

  “Yes, that’s her name.” I say, stone-faced.

  “She’s all yours. Part of your severance.” I want to fight him, but I am too worn and I really love that car.

  “Thank you.” My level of enthusiasm does not match the gift. He is acting so coolly. Last night affirmed what I feel for Taylor, but seems to have done the opposite for him.

  “Let me walk you to your car.” He stands, his sculpted torso exposed, his faded black sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. We get into the elevator, and lean against the wall on opposite sides. While my eyes are still burning from the tears, I can’t help but grin thinking about last night. I look down at the floor to hide my face and see my little cream buttons scattered about, which makes me grin wider. My eyes go back to Taylor, he has one leg bent, his foot on the wall behind him, biting his lip. I think he is hiding a grin too. Just as he looks up to meet my eyes, we hear the ping of the elevator. I walk silently to Ladybug and finally I feel Taylor touch me, his hand on the small of my back. When we arrive at the car, I turn to face him. He is much closer than I expected to be. His face is no longer emotionless.

  “Shy. I’ve tried to warn you. I’m a loner. I don’t want you to get wrapped up into things with me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. I want nothing more than for you to come back as soon as you sort things out with Rick, but maybe that’s not a good idea...I don’t know...I want you so bad, but I don’t want to do anymore damage than I already have. Look at you, you’re really confused. I’m just trying to give you space right now.” I don’t understand how he can just let me go if he really wants me. My world is simple: If you want something and it’s offered, you accept it. Maybe it’s because I am selfish. I almost find it easier to think that he is politely trying to get rid of me than to think he really does care, but has a secret so vile that he cannot entertain the thought of being with me.

  “You’re right. You don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you and if you can’t trust me, I can’t trust you.” I don’t know where I am going with my little speech so I stop. He is right, I need to sort out my affairs. Trying to schedule a time to see him again seems so trivial in the midst of all this. If he wants me as badly as he says he does, he’ll find me, or maybe he won’t. In an instant, I feel strong, I know have to walk away for a while, try to unravel myself from his web and get some perspective. I am so entangled in him, I cannot think straight. I am willing to have sex with a man that keeps a mysterious book about women in his room, a man I truly know nothing about because he makes it a point to isolate me from his personal life. I have to leave because that is what anyone watching on the outside would tell me to do.

  “Shy, it’s not about trust. I don’t know what else to say except that it’s very personal and I am not ready to tell you.” I can see the true frustration on his face.

  “I gotta go,” I say. I so badly want to kiss him.

  “Can I kiss you? Just in case?” I assume he means just in case this is it. I want to so badly, but I shouldn’t.

  “You have no idea how much I want to.” I turn and slide into the car. He runs his hand through his hair and his lips curve into a frown. I see that I hurt him and I want to jump out and kiss away the rejection, but I need to be strong. He only wants me on his terms. Everything is always on his terms. I am doing the right thing, protecting myself from whatever it is that he is hiding. Unfortunately, the right thing feels like I am punishing myself.

  During the drive home, I switch between fits of tears and pensive smiles. Images of Taylor laughing, his touch, and soft kisses flash in my mind. Then the tragedy of it all interrupts my memories: Taylor and his journal, Rick and I being over, and me being alone. The various emotions hit me like cascading waves. They crash, sudden and intense and then dissolve, only to hit me again shortly thereafter. There are no messages in my phone from Rick. He is giving up on us too. When I get home, I brace myself for the worst, but Rick isn’t even there. He seems to have plans I don’t know about for the day, and I am annoyed, which only serves to remind me of what a hypocrite I am.

  Then I spot a gift bag on the coffee table, and inside it is a teddy bear holding a card. I search for my phone to find the date hoping it does not confirm my hunch. July 15. I begin to hyperventilate because the weight of the guilt is so heavy. Yesterday was our anniversary and I had forgotten all about it. Rick didn’t remind me, maybe to surprise me, or maybe it was a test. My shaky hand pulls out the card from its envelope.

  Lala,

  I know I don’t do the best job of being romantic, and maybe I don’t say it enough, but I love you as much as the first time we kissed. Happy Anniversary.

  Love,

  Rick

  I crumple the envelope and throw it across the room. I feel physically ill not only about my actions hurting Rick, but also about the fact that I still want Taylor. This teddy bear, this card, it doesn’t change how I feel. I want to change it all so badly, but I can’t.

  I take a long shower and then lay silently in bed. The only sound in the house is the ticking of the bedroom clock. There is an ever present ache that is so pervasive that I cannot pinp
oint if it is physical or emotional. I imagine this is what an addict feels when going through withdrawal. My thoughts are only of Taylor. Last night may end up being both the beginning and the end of us. All I can do is lay in bed and writhe restlessly. Sometimes the hurt is so intense that I moan. I have been in love, but this is more than that, this consumes my entire being. This is more than love. I am infatuated. I am possessed. I am bitten. I am sick. He has infected me.

  I am infected.

  Sleep is my only weapon against the agony, but even then, he follows me into my dreams. My waking moments are spent between persuading myself not to call him and not to run away from facing Rick. I rationalize, telling myself all the reasons I should stay away from Taylor, but rationality is a flimsy weapon against the bewitched.

  Finally, late into the night, I hear the door to our apartment open. Rick is home. My body feels heavy, almost paralyzed with anxiety. I hear him walking through the living room, his keys hitting the entry table, his shoes being kicked off. He walks into the bedroom and looks at me, not saying a word, and shakes his head. I have never seen him like this, so exasperated by me. I think my failing to come home last night was the last straw, and it makes me disgusted with myself. Rick doesn’t deserve this. I stare back at him, speechless. He walks back into the living room in silence and instinctually, I follow him. I have to have the guts to do something, I cannot let us continue to float out into abyss.

  Rick is sitting on the couch in silence, his elbows on his knees, his forehead in his hands.

  “Rick...” A wave of nausea hits me. I am not sure what I am going to say. He looks up at me, his face is red, tears gloss his eyes.

  “I’m not stupid. I could sense you slipping away since the day you met him. You love him don’t you?” I nearly drop to the floor. My knees begin to give out. I thought this was my secret, my burden to bear alone. How do I explain to Rick that I am scared of what I will do for this man, who I am willing to become, just so I can bask in his presence? I don’t say anything, I just begin to cry. Taylor said staying with him would change me irreparably, but he already has. It is too late. I am so sorry Rick. He takes a deep breath and stands up.