White Silk & I Belong to You

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Chapter Eleven

  I went to the gym early this morning, letting the brutal workout take away the kinks that seem to have settled in my body. Too much work and worry. But I’m resigned today. It would seem that Daniel has disappeared, my salvation’s vanished, and I’m back to square one. If so, I need to accept that I’ll be Aman’s sexual servant for keeps the next time he calls. At least Steven knows now and that heavy weight is off my back.

  I walk from the gym to the studio, just a few blocks way, although I make a detour through the park. Still cooling down. I pass by the path to my private garden, but refuse to take it yet again—still tainted with memories. Returning to the street, just a block from my destination, Steven’s car roars up beside me and the passenger door opens. “Get inside.”

  “What?”

  “Inside, now!” he speaks sharply. I climb in and we zoom off.

  The silence in the car is deafening as we drive toward the Interstate. I don’t dare ask why he’s commandeered me, but I can guess. We merge into the fast-moving traffic on the highway and I realize that we’re headed somewhere outside the city. I still can’t ask, even though my poor nerves are in tatters.

  Steven’s surprisingly calm, though there remains a darkness in his attitude that makes me watchful and a little afraid. I’m surprised he says so little.

  We’re twenty miles down the road before I have the courage to finally ask, “Where are we going?”

  “The beach house,” he answers.

  Right. Sounds like as good a place to me as any, and quite appropriate for the moment. This is Steven’s refuge. The dilapidated old beach cottage has been in his family for years. Our times there have been some of our best—so I’m hopeful now.

  “You want to tell me anything?” I venture again cautiously.

  “When we get there.”

  “Are you punishing me again?” I ask.

  He turns his head, looks me straight in the eye and says, “No. But if you need punishing that will happen later.”

  “But Steven, this is driving me crazy!” I gasp in frustration.

  He smiles. “Gee, that’s too bad,” he quips. “You’ll know everything that’s on my mind soon enough. I just don’t do serious business while driving. I’m too distracted.”

  “I guess you would be,” I ponder aloud. “Just like you.”

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “No. Why should I?”

  I have no idea what to think. But I’ll know soon enough.

  ***

  Steven moves around the beach house, opening doors, turning on the gas, the water, and the electricity until it’s a functioning house again. It may be dilapidated from the outside, which gives it its quaint appeal, but Steven would never let the guts of it rundown. He’s much too conscientious with his things for that. I’d volunteer for the duties, since he instructed me the first time we came here, but Steven has it all in hand and I figure it’s better to stay out of the way, like staying out of the way of pawing stallion.

  Am I so threatened, so scared? He’s hardly given me reason, but regardless, my hands sweat as I wait for him in the living room, sitting gingerly on the settee, ready to jump.

  Twenty minutes pass since he went outside—I worry that he hasn’t returned. Has he left me here? He finally walks back into the house and through the living room without looking my way. He goes directly to the kitchen to test the water, which sputters and spurts before it runs free. He opens and closes the refrigerator and tests the stove. He’s already tested the lights and found them working.

  Returning to the living room, he carries two beers and hands one to me, then sits in his Lazyboy, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

  I wait.

  “I got a call from your Daniel Broc,” he admits at last.

  “You did?” My heart begins to pound.

  “Yes. Right now, he’s taking care of Sunny. Your assumption was right. She was about to be taken to some offshore training center.”

  “So, where is she now?”

  “He didn’t say, exactly. He only said that she’ll be safe—re-indoctrinated, I think that’s the term he used—but you may not see her again, at least for a long time.”

  “That’s necessary?”

  He shrugs. “I’m just relaying information. You’ll get your chance to question him later.”

  “He’s coming here?” My head starts to pound as violently as my heart.

  “I expect so; that’s what he said.”

  “Do you know what he’s planning?” I run on anxiously.

  “Not a clue. He only said that if I care about you at all I was to take you to some place safe that the rest of the world doesn’t know about. When I told him where you’d be, he wanted directions.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “That’s about it… oh, and he said, tell Michelle that I’ve arranged everything. Sunny will be safe and so will she.”

  We sit back in silence, both thinking, the moments long and awkward.

  “You seem so calm,” I note after several quiet minutes.

  He smiles and sits back in his chair. “Don’t count on it… I just look that way. I’m good in a crisis.” I hear a coldness in his voice that gives me chills.

  “So I guess we wait for him?”

  “I guess we do.”

  I know how he must hate this. The waiting, the lack of control. I feel it too, but then I’ve been trained to wait, to submit, to give in, and to relinquish power and self-will. Steven would never do that anymore than Daniel would.

  With a deep sigh, I fall against the back of the couch and I try to let my anxiety pass, but it’s almost impossible. Maybe I’m no better at this for all my submissive training than Steven is, I muse. My heart still pounds with anxiety, my throat tightens and my head is aching and hot. Waiting is tortuous.

  Meanwhile, Steven picks up a magazine and begins to read as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

  ***

  Daniel Broc’s energy is so brusque that he seems to crash into the beach house like a raging steer. The sharp rap on the door brought Steven to his feet in seconds, while I went through an anxiety attack I was sure would land me in a faint.

  We have waited nearly ten hours and it’s pitch-black outside. At least the long hours allowed us to relax to some degree—until the moment of his knock—though we’ve said very little, and spent most of our time reading. For an hour or so, I combed the beach for shells, then we made dinner from Steven’s stock of canned goods—beans and tomatoes became a decent chili.

  Steven opens the door and the officious military man crosses the threshold as if he’s been here before. He’s in jeans and a denim cowboy shirt, which, not surprisingly, fits his rough personality. Of course, he is at his core a burly Texan with a heart as hard as his steely build.

  “Where’s Sunny?” I immediately ask. Yes, it takes the heat off me to focus on Sunny, but I have to know.

  “Sunny’s fine. I have the little minx taken care of. She’ll stay put and be safe.” He gives the room a once over, instinctively committing it to memory in seconds, then he focuses his attention on me.

  “Where is she? When can I see her?” I rattle off a battery of questions, which only annoys Daniel.

  “You want details, Monroe, but I’m not giving them. You can figure it out yourself. And don’t plan on seeing her anytime soon.”

  That’s what worries me.

  Daniel turns to Steven, “Steven Vandenberg, Daniel Broc.” They shake hands as men do, sizing up the other… Why? For battle? For sport? For competition? I always wondered about this. . . it’s just what men do…

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” Steven motions to the couch and chairs. “Beer?”

  “Sure.” Daniel sits in a rustic rocker across from where I perch myself on the sofa, tucking one leg under me. Steven returns with three beers and passes them around. I drink, shivering from the cold chill.

  While Steven settles himself a
gain in the Lazyboy, my eyes glance back and forth from one man to the other, trying to understand the difference between them. In some ways that difference is obvious, like night and day, one groomed and civilized, the other rough and curt. In other respects, they are the same man. I get the odd feeling that it’s only a matter of degree that separates the two. The same elemental stuff lies inside them both—the inbred confidence, authority, calm charm and smoldering sexuality. The difference is what rises easily to the surface to distinguish their public personalities.

  The moment is noticeably uncomfortable for everyone, but then Daniel quickly gets down to business.

  “I suppose you want an explanation of what’s happening,” Daniel makes his remark directly to Steve, which is a little surprising. “I trust Michelle has finally confessed the details of her previous imprisonment and rescue?”

  “She has,” Steven says.

  “Well then, let me set the scene, so you understand what’s going on and what needs to happen now.” Again he speaks to Steven, as if I’m an insignificant part of his plan. “Michelle’s error was going public again. She should have stayed under the radar of the men who kidnapped her.” He pauses to take a long gulp of beer, then sets the bottle down on the table beside him. “But that’s old news. In case you’re wondering about the danger she was in, it was grave. No lying there. Michelle was right to assume that Aman would twist his schemes to suit the hour. He’s always been a rogue—even in a rogue world. As I guess you know by now, there is an underworld of sadistic predators of which I used to be a part. I left them several years ago, about a year after I freed Michelle. We had a parting of the ways in terms of methods and a few other matters. But I did leave with a few favors owed me, which I’m calling in now in order to take care of these two women. Aman won’t be bothering either one. In fact, he’s probably the least of your worries. He’s been called back by the organization. I doubt if he’ll even return to the United States in the foreseeable future. He made a few strategic mistakes which I pointed out to his superiors.” He chuckles darkly, insinuating much, but revealing little. “There are others in the organization more powerful than Aman, who have had their eye on Michelle for some time. She was prime stock in the slave trade. All of which means, she needs to climb back under a rock and stay put.” I internally wince, feeling the fury in that clipped comment.

  “Like no more documentaries?” Steven asks.

  “No. She’ll have to find a career out of the public eye, or maybe just stick around the house and be a good pet. She’s been well trained for that role.”

  He is so demeaning, even if the direct slight cruelly arouses me.

  I think Steven’s amused, though it’s hard to tell on a face that can turn to stone so easily. From my unobtrusive perch I observe the two men carefully. They understand each other, but I suspect that too long together, they’d start to crowd each other. In fact, I have the prickly feeling that their good will is limited, that an explosion is already brewing, though the essence of that is unclear.

  “When I asked you if you wanted her, you were vague, Steven. But you can’t be vague about seeing that she’s safe.”

  “She’ll be safe,” Steven returns flatly. I like the way that sounds. I guess I’m still his property. “We do have a few matters that need to be worked out between us, but regardless of how that turns out, I will take care of her.”

  Taken care of…like a pet, a commodity, one of his possessions, reduced again… and by the man I least expect this from. Of course, being the woman that I am, instead of resisting this humiliating conversation, I relish every word, wondering what it would be like to have Steven as my master.

  “Well then, now’s the time to work things out,” Daniel declares.

  “Perhaps.” Steven looks toward me, thoughtfully. “Maybe we don’t have anything to work out, but you tell me, Shelly. It seemed there was more you were going to confess the other night and I wouldn’t let you? Do you need to tell me now?”

  Daniel turns, as well, his expression expectant.

  My hands shake, I’m so nervous. All at once, I can’t speak. Maybe if Daniel weren’t sitting across from me with his birdlike blue eyes boring holes in my head… my tongue’s all tied in knots.

  Daniel sees my discomfort and quickly reads my mind. “You did tell him what happened between us in New York?” he finally blurts out.

  I squirm in my seat, while Steven looks at me, grim-faced.

  “No, no… nothing about New York except the details of our meeting.”

  “Oh? So you plan to keep up the lie?”

  “Daniel, really, this is not your concern.”

  “But I’m making it mine. It’s better to spit it out now than to let it linger. I’m not putting you two together only to have this blow up and fall apart. If I can’t trust you, I have to know I can trust him.”

  “You can trust me,” I blurt out.

  “Sorry, slut, you’ve already proven otherwise. I don’t give second chances. You burn me once as you just did, I may take your side, but I sure as hell won’t trust you to behave yourself and do the sensible thing.”

  He knows how his rebuke affects me. He knows that I live for this kind of careful management. But a confession to Steven in front of both men? Daniel would say it’s exactly what I need, and Steven would agree. But how can I?

  They wait. They watch me. Like two birds of prey, hovering, circling, patient, watching in wait.

  And I’m trapped. No exit. No way out. I even look to the door, counting the steps, wondering if I could simply run away from them both.

  Hardly.

  “You don’t tell him, I will,” Daniel warns.

  “No! You don’t have to.” I turn to Steven, tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m sorry, Steven; you’re not going to like this any more than I’m going to like telling you. It’s true. I’ve kept a lot of things from you about my sexual desires, my cravings… In fact, I lied to myself so long about my true passion for submission that it finally turned into an obsession. I’ve been unfaithful to you. Shamefully unfaithful. It started before Aman found me, or maybe just after, when I first got the anonymous notes… you know the ones slipped under the door?”

  He nods blankly and I continue.

  “They weren’t notes from Monica, but Aman, stirring the pot of my memories with vague threats. How well he knew me… knew that he could bring my past back to me, including all the revolting horror and the need it aroused me. And it did arouse me. That was when we started having those raw sexual nights…when I came on to you like a hellcat and we both loved it. But,” I take a deep breath, “I wasn’t just fucking you. I followed a guy into an art galley, then into a men’s clothing store where we screwed in the dressing room. Then I teased a mailroom clerk that once worked in my building into bringing a friend with him to a hotel room where the two tied me up and took me in the ass. Then a couple of weeks ago an old boyfriend shows up in my office… real sleazy guy, but that didn’t stop me from letting him fuck me on top of my desk.” I stop, thinking he’ll have something to say, but he doesn’t. “Then in New York… I - I was there to see Daniel …” I gaze his way, then turn back to Steven, “I went to him to see if he could help Sunny, but I also went to satisfy a longing I thought would never end. I wanted him to use me as much as he used me when I was his White Silk. I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I didn’t try all that much, but I just couldn’t stop.”

  I end my spiel there and wait, fixing my thoughts on the handsome man in the Lazyboy rocker, desperate to know what he’s thinking. I see him wrestling with my confessions, making the silence that follows cruel and impossible to breach.

  Even Daniel can’t stand our awkward scene. He rises from his seat and moves to the other side of the room where he blankly stares out a window. In the dead of night, he can see nothing but his reflection in the glass, but then, I doubt he’s actually looking at anything but his inner thoughts.

  I finally start again, because someone has to end this impasse
. “Steven if you’re going to help me, it’s because you’re a good man, but not because you want to save me for yourself. I can accept that it will be over between us when I’m out of immediate danger. But maybe … perhaps your inherent decency will allow you to help me now,” I look up at him thoughtfully, the plea obvious.

  There’s nothing but cold in his eyes as he leans forward and looks directly into mine. He breathes a little more deliberately, as if containing some big emotion. “You know, I should order you two out of here. That’s what any sane man would do. This is my haven away from the worry of the world and you have certainly changed it forever.” He leans over and knocks some dirt off his boot, then looks up. “But you know what bothers me most about this mess?”

  I shake my head, no.

  His voice rises slightly. “That you didn’t have the guts to tell me what you really want from a man. You just assumed that I couldn’t give you your desires. But you didn’t even know if I could or not, did you?”

  “No,” I weakly answer.

  “You went everywhere else to get your kicks. There was no reason for you to bow at the feet of terrorists and villains to get what you need. No reason.” I am relieved to hear his anger, to feel the surging power surface. I stare in wonder as the righteous indignation pours through him. “No reason in the world, Michelle. You think I’m not man enough? That I’m too sweet, too mild-mannered, too kind? I’m a decent man, living a decent life, but that doesn’t mean that you and I can’t meet in the bedroom or on the street if you like and dance at the dark ends of our tethers. Does life have to always be reasonable, pretty and orderly for me? You think I don’t have a well of fire in me that likes to grovel in the dirt? If you think I don’t, then you’ve been missing the point of every fuck we’ve had the last two months.”