Dubious

by Charmaine Pauls

  I touch the photo of Carly on my desk, having plenty of questions and no answers.

  * * *

  Valentina

  It feels like Gabriel took something from me. I knew he was dangerous, but I had no idea how dark he is. What Tiny did to me was almost more bearable, because it never turned me on. What Gabriel did to me last night made me wet, and that makes me sick. I, of all people, should be disgusted by the violence. It wasn’t the lashes on my back. It was the intense rhythm of the leather between my legs. I both resented and appreciated that he took care of me––both emotionally and sexually––afterward. It was something I needed desperately, and I hate myself for it.

  Wanting to hear a kind, safe voice, I call Kris before she’s due at the practice, and speak to Charlie, who sounds as happy as only Charlie can be. It soothes me enough to get me through my Friday morning chores. My body is sensitive from Gabriel’s lashing, and each brush of the rough linen of my dress is abrasive on my skin. Carly is at home today, skipping school to recover, and I do my best not to run into her. I only clean her room when she’s outside by the pool.

  Marie avoids my eyes. If she knows about last night, she doesn’t say so. She comes looking for me in the entrance where I’m mopping and fixes her gaze on a spot behind me. “Mr. Louw says the towels in the gym needs washing.”

  “Okay.” I mop past her feet.

  “You must take clean ones. Now.”

  She leaves stiffly, hiding her discomfort behind her brusque manner.

  I fetch a clean pile of towels from the linen closet and make my way down the hallway. As I descend the stairs to the gym, my stomach clenches, and my throat closes up. Forcing my feet to move forward, I stop abruptly when the door opens, and Rhett exits, blood all over his naked chest. He’s pressing his palm to his nose, his head turned up, and almost bumps into me before I have time to jump out of the way. The reason for the blood seems to be a broken nose. The bridge is swollen and the cartilage askew. His right eye sports a shiner, and the skin on his cheekbone is split. When he notices me, he glares and pushes past, making for the stairs. I’m still staring after him when Gabriel walks through the door dressed only in sweatpants and clutching the ends of a towel draped around his neck. His face and chest glistens with perspiration.

  My face flushes at the memory of last night, and my mouth goes dry. Where I come from, I’ve seen a lot of gangsters who pump iron in the gym all day, but no one as hard or perfectly cut as Gabriel. His upper arms are the size of my waist. Deep lines define his pecs and abs. A trail of dark hair starts beneath his navel and disappears under the pants, the V of his hips cutting sharply down to his groin. It’s not the beauty of his body that renders me speechless, but the power of it. Even with his disability, he stuffed Rhett up badly, and Rhett is a hulk. As he advances, I stand there like an idiot with the towels in my arms, not having words.

  A smile flirts with his lips. “Training,” he says with a shrug, grabbing one of the clean towels off the pile to wipe his face. He gives me his intense stare, searching my face. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” Dumping the towel in the basket by the door, he limps away.

  It’s the first time I see him in anything but a dress shirt and suit pants. The broadness of his shoulders and the tightness of his ass don’t surprise me as much as the way the sight of him, half naked, makes my womb flutter. I can’t feel desire for a man who tortured me. It will make me as twisted as him. It will drag me down to a place I won’t be able to come back from.

  Angry at my unwelcome reaction, I enter the gym and pack the clean towels on the shelf before picking the dirty ones off the floor. I take my time to do what I haven’t done last night––take stock of the room. There’s a section with free weights in the corner and a small bathroom off to one side. Judging by the metal rings bolted to the ceiling and the hooks fitted on the walls, this is where Gabriel tortures his enemies. A chill fills my veins, and I’m not able to look any longer.

  I rush back upstairs, banishing my memories of last night to the depths of the gym. In the lounge, I run into Carly.

  She props a hand on her hip. “Hey, Valentina.”

  I can’t ignore her without being rude. “How are you feeling?”

  She cocks a shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “To get you fired.”

  I don’t know if she knows what her dad does for a living, but if she doesn’t, it’s not my place to disillusion her. I can’t tell her I’m here against my will, especially not after Magda’s threat to kill Charlie and me for one wrong word. All I can ask is, “Why?”

  “I saw the way my father looked at you at dinner.”

  “What way?”

  “A way he never looked at my mom. It’s the money, isn’t it?” She gives me a wry smile. “It’s always the money. Well, plenty of others before you tried, and it always ends the same way. He won’t marry you, and you won’t get a cent, so save us all the trouble and pack your bags now.”

  “Yes, it’s the money, but not how you think. I can’t give up this job, even if I want to.”

  “You don’t belong here. I want you gone.”

  “So badly that you’ll endanger your life?” I ask with a note of anger.

  “Oh, come on. Why are you so upset? It didn’t work, did it? You’re still here.”

  “I have every reason to be upset. What you did was foolish and irresponsible.”

  “What’s your problem? You’re acting like you’re the one who almost died.”

  “My problem is that if you had died, I would’ve carried your death on my conscience for the rest of my life. Have you considered that?”

  “Who do you think you are to speak to me like this?”

  “Is it the attention? Is that the only way you can get your parents to show you they care?”

  She draws back her arm and lashes out. Her palm connects with my cheek, leaving a burning sting. “You know nothing about me.”

  In that moment, her guard is down, and a vulnerable part peeks out from under her bitchy veneer.

  I cup my cheek, pressing a cool palm on my heated skin. The fight goes out of me as I only feel pity for the poor, rich girl who, underneath it all, is just a girl.

  I sigh. “Listen to me, Carly. You’re young, beautiful, privileged, and healthy. You have your whole future ahead of you. You can have anything you want. It’s more than most people get. Don’t waste it. Even if you don’t see it now, your parents would’ve been devastated if anything happened to you, and I would never have forgiven myself.”

  “Yeah?” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Like you know me or my family. Don’t you dare preach to me. Maybe you would’ve liked to be a psychologist, but you’re not. You’re a maid, so stick to your trade.” Her eyes turn hard. “I’ll be outside. Bring me a turkey sandwich and lemonade. Plenty of ice. When you’re done, you can clean my bathroom again. You missed a spot. Then you can iron my new blue dress. I want to wear it to school tomorrow.”

  I want to say I don’t answer to her, but that’s not true. By the rules of our kind, I’m lower on the hierarchy than the cat.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Carly doesn’t touch her lunch. It’s a delicious looking lasagna, but she’s not to be persuaded to take a bite. Magda and Gabriel treat her with kid gloves. Gabriel goes out of his way to drag a conversation out of her but gives up after a while.

  After clearing the table, I salvage the portion from Carly’s plate and set it aside to eat later. The rest I scrape into a plastic container I store in the staff fridge for the street dogs. I hate wasting, and I’m famished, hungry for something other than apples and noodles. I’m sure no one will mind if I eat a leftover portion destined for the trashcan.

  During my lunch break, I put a cushion from a patio chair on the deck steps and make myself as comfortable as I can on my bruised butt. Then I dig in. The lasagna is rich with white sauce and cheese, the meat dripping with
fresh tomato and oregano. I close my eyes as I chew, savoring every bite. Marie knows how to cook.

  I’m almost finished when barking draws my attention. Quincy stands at the edge of the pool with a vicious looking Boerboel. The beast is straining on the leash, baring his teeth.

  Quincy jerks on the chain. “Quiet!”

  The barking stops, but the dog still growls at me, his lips pulled back over his teeth.

  “What the hell are you doing outside? I told you to call. You shouldn’t be in the garden when the dog is out.” Quincy takes a few steps toward me, but stops a safe distance away. “I told Marie I was taking him for a walk.”

  “I guess she forgot to tell me.”

  “I’ll have a word with her.” With a tight nod, he continues on his way, the dog hopping along on three legs.

  “What’s wrong with his paw?” I call after them.

  He pauses. “Don’t know. I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow.”

  It looks painful. I leave the plate on the step and get to my feet.

  Quincy looks mildly surprised when I approach, but when I’m almost within reach of the leash, he holds up a palm. “Don’t come closer.”

  The dog goes ballistic, barking and straining toward me.

  “Down, boy,” I say in a stern voice.

  The dog reacts immediately. He stops barking and sits down.

  “That’s better.”

  As I reach for the dog, Quincy looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “Valentina! Stay––”

  His words are cut short when the beast flops down on his side and turns on his back, all four legs in the air.

  I go down on my haunches to stroke his belly. “That’s a good boy. It’s not polite to make so much noise for nothing.”

  Quincy stares at me, his mouth agape. “How did you do that? No one is able to touch him but me, and I’ve trained with him for a year.”

  “I have a thing with animals.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Smiling at the surprise in his tone, I look up at him. “What’s his name?”

  “Bruno.”

  “Of course it is. Can I have a look at his paw?”

  He squints at me. “If he’ll let you.”

  Taking the injured paw in my hand, I study the pad. A broken thorn is lodged in the flesh. The poor baby must be suffering.

  “It’s a thorn.” I point it out to Quincy. “Do you have a pair of tweezers?”

  “No.” He thinks for a bit. “Wait. Maybe this’ll do.” He pulls a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and unfolds a small pair of tweezers.

  “Perfect.” Taking the knife, I scratch Bruno’s ear. “I’m going to make it better.”

  It takes a second to extract the thorn. The area around the wound is inflamed. Handing the knife back to Quincy, I ask, “How long has he been like this?”

  “He’s been limping all week. I couldn’t get an appointment at the vet sooner.”

  “You’ll still have to take him.” I straighten. “He needs an anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory cream.”

  He tilts his head. “How come you know all this stuff?”

  “An interest.”

  Bruno rolls back onto his paws and licks my toes.

  “No shit.” Quincy shoots me a smile. “Thanks for your help. He wouldn’t let me touch that paw.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I’m not sure Gabriel is going to be happy when he learns you turned his guard dog into a drooling puppy.”

  “It’ll be our secret. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Bruno is a vicious guardian.”

  He whistles through his teeth. “Come on, Bruno. Time to finish your walk.” He salutes, and walks off with Bruno in the direction of the orchard.

  * * *

  My homework is falling behind. I have an essay to finish before Friday next week, but I’m too exhausted to read further than one page. With what happened last night, I didn’t get much sleep. I have to meet my study deadlines. I won’t give up. I can’t. It’s not only my dream that keeps me motivated, it’s knowing that I’ll have something to fall back onto when I’m free. Charlie and I will need an income. We’re not going back to Berea. I have to build a better future for us, and Gabriel Louw isn’t taking that away.

  I take a cool shower, still feeling the sting of the water on my back and butt. Since the only nightgown I owned is destroyed, I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of panties before slipping into bed.

  Like the first night, Gabriel comes to me when I’m sleeping. I’m not sure if it’s the way he softly cups my breasts or the sound of my moan that wakes me, but I’m too tired to fight it. I simply let him hear what his touch does to me. I’m rewarded with a kiss on the mouth, startling me to a fully awake state. It’s nothing more than a brush of his lips over mine, but the intensity burns like a fire, and I find it…pleasurable. His mouth is cool and dry, and his breath smells of mint and alcohol, like whiskey.

  Warm air blows over my ear as his lips graze the shell. “Turn over for me, Valentina.”

  He lifts the sheet for me to make it easier, but my feet get tangled in the duvet at the foot. Carefully, he frees each foot, stopping to caress the bridge before planting a kiss on the sole. The tender act confuses me. I expected him to hurt me like last night, not to trail his hands gently up my body and twist my hair into a ponytail before arranging it on the pillow next to me. Maybe he will. My body tenses. Gabriel is anything but predictable. He lifts my arms and, bending them by the elbows, puts my hands above my head. A tap on my inner thigh makes me lift my head to look at him, but he cups my neck and, with the slightest pressure, pushes my face back into the pillow. He taps on my thigh again. Understanding the cue, I open my legs. The mattress dips as he gets onto the bed behind me. He doesn’t undress me, but pushes the T-shirt up to my shoulders and pulls the panties down to the under-curve of my butt.

  Heat drenches my skin as he stretches out on top of me without touching our bodies together. Keeping his weight on his arms, he flicks his tongue over a welt on my shoulder, making my nerve endings pop with electricity. Goose bumps break out on my skin when he blows air over the wet trail of his tongue. He continues down my body, treating each lash with the same care, until he reaches the dimples of my ass. As he licks and blows over my ass cheeks, moisture gathers between my legs. This goes on for a long time, until my clit is swollen and pulsing in need.

  The first time he lays his hands on me after kissing my bruises is to remove my underwear. Gripping my hips, he lifts my ass. He takes his time to position me like he wants, kneeling with my legs spread and my forehead resting on the pillow. With my ass and sex exposed to him, he sits back and watches. I can’t see, but I feel his eyes on my body, burning on my naked parts. His palms glide over my buttocks before he takes a cheek in each hand, parting me like fruit while running his nose from my coccyx to my opening. A shiver runs through my organs. My depraved body knows what’s coming and wants it. His tongue flattens on my clit, warm and wet. I cry out as the raspy, hot surface draws over my slit, all the way to my asshole. Somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a cry of embarrassment, but it’s no use giving rein to the sentiment. Gabriel will do what he wants.

  He continues to lap me like this until I’m desperate to come. Unable to stand the slow torture any longer, I moan loudly into the pillow. He hums his approval and finally gives me what I want. Catching my clit gently between his teeth, he flicks his tongue over the nub––fast, but too light.

  My hands fist into the sheets. “Ah, God. Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Please make me come.”

  As soon as I verbally express my need, he opens me wider with his hands and nips at my folds, alternating the gentle bites with sucking on my clit. It takes me seconds to come with a violent spasm of my womb. Pins and needles prick my genitals. My toes curl. I can’t take more.

  “Stop. Please.”

  Begging doesn’t help. He milks me dry until I’m a quivering m
ess, and only then does he push on my back to lower my pelvis to the bed. I’m shaking and boneless. I never thought it could be like this. He lowers over me, at last pressing our bodies together, until my trembling stops. With a kiss on my neck, he lifts from the bed. I turn on my side to look at him, some part of me needing to see his expression, but he turns his face away.

  He taps his fingers on my lower back. “Go back to sleep.”

  Then he’s gone.

  For a long time, I lie in the dark, trying to understand Gabriel. I don’t get it. What is he doing to me?

  * * *

  Gabriel

  It doesn’t help that Valentina is around every hour of every day. I’m a walking hard-on, suffering from constant blue balls. No amount of wanking is enough to relieve my ache. I want inside her. Deep. Deep enough to hurt. The only niggle is her virginity. It’s a barrier to me, literally and psychologically. I don’t want to be the one to break her that way. Her first time needs to be special, not monstrous. Even I am not that cruel. She deserves a pretty face and gentle kisses, not a scarface who loves to fuck rough.

  In this lies the problem. I can’t take her virginity, and I can’t stomach the thought of someone else taking it, either. I won’t last much longer without relief. I consider calling Helga, but when I think of another woman, I can’t get it up. The image of Valentina’s strung-up body with her underwear around her ankles haunts my nights. I wish I’d taken a photo so I’d have something concrete to jackoff to.

  The emergency with Carly is further fuel on my nerves. I’m not sure if I should punish her or call in professional help. I’m not a great moral example. I have no ground to judge or discipline her. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Carly won’t live the life I lead. My mother never gave me the choice. She put a gun in my hand when I was twelve and told me to pull the trigger. When I couldn’t, she shot me in the foot.

  There’s no point in talking to Sylvia. Sylvia is way too much like Magda. God knows why I ever thought we had a chance. I loved her. I truly did. I believed she’d learn to love me with time, but the only thing that became clear with time was her ambition. What she wanted was my money and protection, not my love. She married me on her father’s orders and got out as fast as she could, as soon as she produced the heir expected of her. Her sacrifice got her what she wanted. As the mother of my child, she’ll always have my money and protection. After Carly, she insisted on a hysterectomy, ensuring she wouldn’t bear me any more children. Sylvia hated every minute of being pregnant. She was devastated when the doctor confirmed the results of the pregnancy test. Carly stretched and scarred her body. Sylvia never forgave me for that. The minute Carly was born, Sylvia went on a diet and a binge of plastic surgery, letting the nanny take care of our child. Maybe Carly subconsciously felt the rejection. She was a colicky baby. She’s never been an easy child, but she’s my daughter, and the only human being I love in this world. I wish I knew how to fix this.