LOVERS

by Roxy Harte

  “Oh!” He hoots, looking at Adrian. “You didn’t tell me your boy toy was so spunky. I like that.”

  Chapter 36

  Bianca

  I’m not sure what I expected before I met Hiroko, but the woman in front of me isn’t it. That’s a lie; I expected an old woman or at least middle-aged. The woman before me can’t be much older than myself. Maybe thirty. Maybe. I expected frail, and though she is tiny, both petite and thin, even sitting in her wheelchair she appears regal.

  She’s beautiful.

  I never thought that I would be mesmerized by her beauty. Her black hair is rolled into a bun, leaving her long, pale neck elegantly bare. Her dark eyes, though slanted, are wide and expressive. Lined with heavy liner, she exudes an air of exotic mystery, and I imagine some of her ancestress being famed geisha.

  “Welcome to our home, Bianca.” She bows her head. Her humble show of obeisance is underlain with a protective ferocity; I am reminded of a black panther.

  “Thank you for inviting me.” I bow my head, but it doesn’t seem enough. I feel like I should be curtseying or falling prostrate. She terrifies me in a way that I can only think how ridiculous; it isn’t like my life hangs in her hands.

  She looks at Bishop. “You may leave us.”

  What? She wants to be alone with me? Is she insane? I hope I didn’t gasp out loud, I’m certain that would be the epitome of bad manners, but as I seek out his eyes, his gaze bears no assurance. I can’t believe he is leaving me alone with her. I feel like an early Christian left alone in a lion’s den.

  Is it too early to start screaming?

  “Please, sit down, Bianca.” She motions to a chair. A nearby table is set with a small red teapot with a bamboo handle and two small cups. I watch her pour tea and her gracefulness makes me feel clumsy and awkward just sitting beside her.

  I accept the cup and wait for Hiroko to lift her’s to her lips before I lift mine and sip. I try to mimic her graceful movements, which is ridiculous, but I do. The fragrance of the jasmine teases my senses, and it tastes better than it smells. “This is very nice.”

  “Do you know why I have asked to be alone with you?”

  I sit my teacup down on the table.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve made you nervous.” She sips her tea. “I believe you have become very important to Bishop.”

  She pauses, am I suppose to agree? Deny? I keep my mouth shut.

  She continues. “We’ve had an arrangement for over a decade. As you know, he travels a great deal. We agreed that he should seek out suitable companionship.”

  I nod when she pauses again. He’s told me all of this, and I’m not sure why I am here if this is all she has to say. I wait for the shoe to drop.

  “We also agreed that if he should ever meet a woman who he felt he would fall in love with that he would walk away, quickly, so as to not upset the balance of what we share. I fear he has not walked away from you quickly enough.”

  I start to interrupt. She lifts her hand, and I stay silent.

  “He assures me that from the first moment his eyes met yours, it was too late for his heart. I do not blame you. Or even necessarily him.”

  I really need to interrupt, but my voice is blocked by the lump in my throat. My pounding heart threatens to tear through my chest. I want to deny her words, but I can’t…and her words ring true, though I’ve refused to even consider their validity in my own mind.

  “This is…what it is…and as such—” She smiles, but it is a tight smile. “I want to learn what it is about you that made you so important to my husband in such a short time.”

  Bishop rescues me by sliding the paper screen and poking his head inside. “I think you should see the LA news.”

  “You get LA news in Tokyo?”

  “Satellite,” he and Hiroko answer at the same time.

  I follow Bishop into a small room with a large screen television mounted on the wall. The news reporter is reporting from in front of the Los Angeles County Courthouse. “It appears that pop idol Bebé’s flight from the country has struck a chord with local celebrities who have cited that they too feel safer in countries other than their own, and a fresh outcry against paparazzi practices in this country has been unleashed.”

  Film flashes of the protest, and then a shot is shown of Adrian’s building.

  “It is argued that Orgasms is the hottest club in town and if not before this latest Hollywood scandal, certainly after. People are lined up three wide and blocks deep with patrons trying to gain entrance. The allure? Orgasms is owned by rumored boyfriend of Bebé, Adrian Onasis. It has not been confirmed that Adrian is any relation to the late Aristotelis Onasis, but the buzz here in Hollywood is intense.” A close-up of late night television talk show host, Larry King. “Coming up next, an interview with Charlton Templeton, Bebé’s manager.”

  “Ex-manager,” I say, fiercely.

  Bishop puts a restraining hand on my shoulder, and I remember where I am. I look from him to Hiroko, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet. I forgot there are children in the house. I hope I didn’t wake them.”

  He keeps his hand on my shoulder, replying, “The room is sound-proof, the children won’t even know you’re here until tomorrow.”

  “Or I could just go to a hotel.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Hiroko says. She nods with her head toward the television. “Listen.”

  Larry King grills Charlton on the events that took place in Germany a decade ago. He handles himself as a true professional, and I come off looking like the young girl who panicked over negative press never to be heard from again.

  “Bastard,” I say under my breath.

  “His words are not true?” Hiroko asks.

  “There is some truth and some fabrication,” I say. “Things were starting to slow down for me, there was a lot of pressure to come up with another number one song, but Love Me wasn’t even my song after the recording studio sliced it and diced it and made it something different than I ever thought it should be…or could be in the face of its success. I couldn’t recreate what I had such a small hand in creating in the first place. On the road, I danced, and I lip-synched, as did many stage performers. We were studio creations from the beginning. Charlton thought that it would be best if I took some time off. I didn’t care, by then I wanted away from all of it. I never called him with another song, he never called me to see if I was alive or dead.”

  “Some manager,” Bishop says.

  “It was fairly easy to disappear. I found I had a knack for it.”

  “And so you’ve come here to hide until you are forgotten again,” Hiroko accuses, and I start to argue, to tell her that I wanted to go to London, but the pressure of Bishop’s fingers biting into my shoulder keep me quiet.

  After she retires to bed, I turn to him and ask, “Why didn’t you let me tell her that I never intended to come here?”

  “Because that wasn’t the point of her words.”

  “What do you mean?” I demand. “She doesn’t want me here.”

  “That isn’t true. When I told her I was having you flown to the London house, she insisted I bring you here.”

  “Why? Why would she want me here?” I stand.

  He pulls me close, enfolding me in his arms. “Does it matter why? Can you not just be happy that you are here and we are together?”

  I shrug. “I feel awkward. Your wife, your children…” I look away, but he turns my face back to his.

  “Trust me, Bianca. Don’t fight being here.”

  I nod, agreeing, having no idea what I’m agreeing to, knowing only that I am happy…to be with him…and all of the rest of it doesn’t matter. He kisses me, and I forget everything but her accusation. Am I here to hide until I am forgotten?

  I close my eyes, trying to get lost in the sensation of his kisses.

  That doesn’t happen. What happened to me? I was so strong, so determined, and I’ve hidden all of myself away…

  “You don’t seem very brave or un
inhibited for a woman who owns her own Dungeon and has several men at her beck and call.”

  I smirk. “Funny.”

  “Why a Dominatrix?”

  “Why an antiquities dealer?”

  “Touché.”

  I smile at him and laugh at myself, though it isn’t very funny when I realize the truth myself. An unexpected epiphany. “When I returned from Germany, I was alone and scared. For several years I’d been surrounded by people. I didn’t eat, sleep, or even bathe alone. I was Bebé. When I returned…I was no one. That was scarier than anything else, so I started hiding in the club scene, doing what I’d done for years…staying too drunk or too stoned to care what happened. Then I met a man who tied me up—” I pause long enough to laugh at the memory. “I’m certain I could have filed charges.”

  He looks skeptical. I shrug. “I don’t know how long he kept me, but when he finally released me, I was detoxed…and different. I’d reclaimed my strength, my drive, minus the Bebé persona.”

  “And the man?”

  “Gone. Poof.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe he was just a figment of my imagination.”

  I am surprised when Bishop pulls me into his arms and kisses me, kisses me like it will lead to more. I tense in his arms, and he whispers, “Would it help to get Hiroko’s verbal approval?”

  I snort. “Am I going to ask her permission to fuck her husband?”

  “No, that isn’t what I had in mind. Come.” He takes my hand and leads me down the hall.

  I know even before he opens the door that he has brought me to the bedroom he shares with his wife. “Oh God, no! I thought you were joking. I am not talking to her.”

  “Talking isn’t going to help this situation.”

  He opens the door, and I see Hiroko standing in front of a long mirror. She is just letting down her hair when he enters the room, and from behind him I see her hair fall in a slow, sensual cascade of motion. Her hair is long, falling past her hips. Her pale skin seems translucent in the barest flicker of light. Candles. She staged this performance for his entry, and I wonder how long she would have stood waiting had he lingered with me. What if I had kept him with me all night? What then? I remember his patience in the car, waiting for me to meet him halfway for the kiss, and realize she would have waited for him all night.

  I step into the room behind him, only because he hasn’t let go of my hand. When she turns to him with a shy smile, I see her eyes widen slightly at seeing me with him but otherwise nothing. I try to pull away, but his hand holds tight. Hiroko drops to one knee and quickly folds the other beneath her as well. She bows her head. Obeisance.

  What did he say in London? It isn’t a matter of who is on top, or the games people play, I can only be who I am. To him, what I do in the States is merely a game; and with safe words and negotiations, he would be right, it is no more than a scene.

  This isn’t a scene. This is Hiroko’s truth. She is subservient to him.

  So what does he want from me?

  He pulls me in front of him, and I realize that I am about to find out. “My wife is very beautiful, do you not think, Bianca?”

  “Very beautiful,” I repeat.

  “Hiroko trusts me in all that I do, just as I trust her in all that she does. We love each other very much. That isn’t going to change. What has changed is that I have inexplicably fallen in love with you.”

  I try to turn around, thoughts of making a quick escape still on my mind, but he holds my shoulders.

  “Hiroko welcomes you to our home, offers you sanctuary, and in return all she wants is for her home to remain as tranquil and as content as when you first entered.”

  I swallow. I don’t see any hope of tranquility in my future.

  “All we ask from you is honesty and an open heart.” He presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. “Take off your clothing now.”

  Hiroko doesn’t even respond to the words, and it makes it hard for me to believe that they haven’t had at least one other moment like this in their past.

  “Please,” he says.

  I don’t move, I can’t move. How many times have I given similar commands? And yet his isn’t a command, not really. I don’t think that there is any punishment for disobeying. Expect them to obey and they will. It is how I teach the theory of dominance and submission to my students.

  His hands leave my shoulders, and his arms drop to his sides. I can walk away and not look back, but then my future wouldn’t hold Bishop Farrington in it, and that seems a horribly dark prospect. I pull my t-shirt over my head and with the whisper of fabric Hiroko lifts her eyes. I hold onto her gaze as I lower my pants and step out of my flip flops. I unsnap my bra and pull down my underwear, stepping out of them. I push it all to the side with my toes.

  “Your hair,” he says.

  I pull my hair free of the ponytail holder, my tresses swirling in a cascade of dark waves around my shoulders. Not nearly as erotically done as Hiroko’s presentation but I have completed the task.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” he says.

  I feel a tall backed chair butt up against the back of my knees.

  “Sit.”

  I do, not sure why I’ve become so compliant when I have no idea what will happen next. He takes my clothing and my flip flops, then places the entire pile out of sight. My heart begins a rapid tattoo. He may not be a trained dominant, but he has a marvelous hand on how powerful uncertainty and fear can be.

  He steps to Hiroko and holds out his hand. She puts her hand in his and allows him to help her stand. I remember he said she is in almost constant pain, but distress isn’t what crosses her face. Her gaze never leaves mine, and so her soul is laid bare to me, and in that brief moment I understand her silent plea. Why have you done this? Why did you have to be so stubborn? Now, you will see my humiliation, and it is more than I can bear.

  I just don’t understand how he means to humiliate her, or why, until he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bed. Oh. No.

  My chair is at an angle to watch. I will watch. You sadistic bastard.

  He lays her down and glances at me only once. I am not bound to this chair by anything more than my want…my need…to be in this man’s life, and that need is stronger than any rope.

  He takes his time undressing for her, and I see the pleasure in her eyes as she watches. I remember when he undressed for me so slowly, so erotically.

  Obviously, I’ve watched two people have sex before.

  I don’t know that I have ever watched anyone who made love as carefully and passionately as Bishop makes love to his wife. If she is in pain, I cannot tell it. I only know that when the sob wrenches from her throat declaring her captured bliss, I want to applaud. I don’t, but I do manage to wipe the tears from my face before either Bishop or Hiroko sees.

  He loves her.

  Oh God, what am I doing here? Why am I spying on such a spectacular moment? I want to stand, I want to flee, but some greater part wants to know what in the hell happens next.

  Bishop stands, leaving Hiroko curled and naked on the bed. He tenderly covers her with a blanket and kisses her on the cheek, sharing words I cannot hear before he walks over to me and holds out his hand. I put my hand in his…gladly so…because now he will lead me from this room.

  I stand.

  He turns the chair and sits with his back is to the bed, to Hiroko. Softly, he says, “Straddle me.”

  I gasp, seeking his gaze. Surely I have misunderstood. He nods, curtly. I shake my head, my gaze going from Hiroko’s, expecting to see a reflection of horror but finding none, and back to his.

  He chuckles. “You really are a very uptight little thing.”

  Uptight? My brow wrinkles. I would hardly say that, but he’s right, I suddenly feel like a naïve school girl, not experienced in the ways of men and women. I don’t want to tarnish her love for him. It seems sacred. She loves him.

  She sits up in the bed, gesturing toward Bishop. “Please, Bianca, honor my husband with the gift of your love
.”

  The gift of my love?

  The severity of delusion that I have indeed slid down Alice’s rabbit hole just keeps getting wider.

  “Look at me,” he says, and I do.

  He reaches up to cradle my waist and pulls me forward so that my feet are on either side of the chair. It is just a matter of sitting, but I can’t.

  “I love you,” he says. “I want you in my life. Hiroko wants you in our life. What greater assurance do you need? All you have to do is open your heart to us.”

  I can’t breathe.

  Why is there so much talk of love with this man?

  “Trust me, Bianca. Trust Hiroko.”

  My knees buckle and without my mental consent I am straddling him.

  He crushes me close and my face drops to his. “All she needs to know is that you will love me with the strength and conviction that she loves me.”

  I start to hyperventilate, panting; his lips closing over mine steal any breath I had left. His tongue lashes out to slide against mine, and I close my eyes; heart pounding, mind screaming, I kiss him back. The words that I refuse to say repeat in my mind as a balloon seems to swell in my chest. I tear my mouth from his, kissing his face, his nose, his eyelashes. He returns the urgency and the balloon swells bigger.

  “Let go of the past, Bianca. Now that we’ve found you, we won’t abandon you.”

  Oh God.

  “My own mother didn’t love me. I’m not lovable.”

  From the bed, Hiroko inhales sharply.

  “Your mother loved you. I don’t know what fear propelled her to do the horrible atrocity that she did do to you, but I know that she loved you.”

  “How can you know?”

  He grabs my face and makes me look into his eyes. “Because I’m a parent.”

  I sob against his hands, and then he is kissing me again and the passion I’ve been holding back because Hiroko watched breaks free, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it. Bishop bites my neck, and in return I bite his jaw. I am clawing at him to get him to rearrange, to get the length of him inside me, and finally succeed, moaning when he fills me fast and hard.

  I feel Hiroko behind me, but I am too full of need to let it register completely why she is out of the bed until she is lifting my hair and kissing my neck. I moan, need and pleasure accelerated with just one kiss. Pleasure. She bites down hard on my shoulder, and I know it will leave a mark. Pain. She bites again. Oh God. I spiral up, caught in orgasmic bliss, and she bites again. I fall. She bites again.