by Kyla Ross
“What?” Phil asked, pretending to be confused.
“The fact that you have to ask that says a lot. You know why, Phil,” Lana hissed. “Is there something you need to tell me?” Her whimpering continued as she slid on a pair of black yoga pants.
“What are you talking about, Lana?” Phil asked, trying to decide if he should stick to his original plan or not. But what did she know?
Lana put on a white tank top and sighed. Clearly she knew enough to make her not want to talk to him. Phil decided to tell her part of the truth.
“I was let go today,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“And?” she blurted. As Phil’s heart sank, he realized the charade was over. Rob had taken it upon himself to ruin Phil’s marriage, leaving him to fix it by lying. What else did she know?
“Wh-what do you mean?” he asked.
Lana walked over to the mountain of clothes on the bed and began to launch them into a lime-green suitcase that was open on the floor.
“I know about—” She stopped throwing his clothes and threw her face into her hands, and tears seeped between her fingers and into the suitcase.
Phil stood to hug her, but she yanked away. Before he knew it, her wet open palm went firmly across the side of his face, leaving a painful, stinging sensation in its wake.
Finally, Lana looked him in the eyes. She slowly shook her head left to right as the tears flowed. “How could you?” she mouthed as she struggled to get the words through her sobbing. “I mean, how could you? Strippers? Fucking prostitutes?”
“Who told you that?” Phil asked defensively.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“No!” Phil yelled.
“You’re such a fucking liar, Phil,” she said, whispering through her tears. “I suspected it for a while before Rob told me, but I always gave you the benefit of the doubt because I love you. But you’re so secretive and… I just had to be—”
“So Rob told you?” Phil didn’t care about her doubts. He could defend himself against that. But defending himself against facts that Rob had given to her wouldn’t be so easy.
Lana scoffed. “That’s what’s important, huh? Knowing who told me?"
“Because he lied.”
“God, will you stop with the lying!” she yelled as she went back to pack the suitcase. “I know you’re lying because I had you followed a few weeks ago.”
Phil squinted at her. “You had someone following me?”
Lana zipped the suitcase and rolled it into the hallway atop the staircase. Still sobbing, she said, “Yes. But the PI only saw you with one woman. I wanted to forgive you and get counseling once you felt better about your dad. But when Rob told me about the other women, I just…” She returned her face to her hands.
“Lana,” Phil reached for her, but she shoved him away.
“I want you gone. This is over,” she said.
“Where the hell am I supposed to go, Lana? Please don’t push me away.”
“I want you outta my life, you fucking pervert!”
“Let’s work this out, Lana. I am your husband. Don’t give up on what we have.”
She flashed a smirk at him, as if she was thrilled to see him beg, but only for a second. She continued to sob softly as she stuffed a few of his shirts into a duffel bag that lay on the bed.
Phil was disturbed at how easy it was for Lana to get rid of him, or at least attempt to. The other women in his life begged him to stay whether he was right or wrong because they were loyal. But Lana was much stronger than the others, that’s why he’d married her. She offered a challenge that kept him entertained and on his toes. The others were merely sex and party props. But Lana was behaving unfavorably, making it impossible for him to redeem himself. How could she leave him? Did she know how many women would kill to have him as their husband?
“Lana?”
“Gone,” she said as she zipped the duffel bag and tossed it out into the hallway. “Get your shit and get out.”
Phil chuckled to himself. Lana’s attempt to be this strong woman in such a vulnerable state was becoming comical.
“Lana?”
“Out!” she yelled.
“So you don’t want to listen?”
She stood in silence by the bedroom door.
Phil frowned, growing more disappointed and annoyed by the second. She wouldn’t even hear him out. He had to get her attention. He inhaled and let out a long, hard sigh, his face starting to feel warm. He tilted his head far enough for his neck to make a cracking sound. Lana seemed unfazed by his budding fury, making what he was about to do feel more righteous.
Phil walked over to the flat screen television and snatched it off the wall mount. He slammed it onto the floor and stomped it with the heels of his dress shoes.
“Phil! What the fuck are you doing, you psycho?”
Ignoring her, Phil stomped over to the dresser, snatched up her porcelain jewelry box, and stomped toward the master bathroom. Lana chased him, clawing at his face and chest as her desperate attempts to retrieve her jewelry failed. He held her back with his right arm to stop her from getting to his extended left arm, which was dumping her jewelry into the toilet. Lana screamed and cried as she tried to save whatever was left in the box. But it was too late. Phil watched as her diamond earrings, ruby studs, and gold necklaces swirled around the bowl, clogging the drain. He launched the box and its remaining contents into the shower, shattering it into pieces as it slammed against the tile wall. He turned to Lana, who was still attacking him. Phil reached through her blows, cuffing both cheeks in his grip and pressed her head against the wall.
“Wanna talk now?” he asked as she struggled to break free. Her tears soaked his hands, causing his grip to slip. He squeezed her jaw harder.
“You’re hurting me! Let me go!” Lana yelled as she squirmed under his strength.
He chuckled. “Got your attention now, right? It’s funny, you can push me out but keep the things that I bought? You’re fucking pathetic.”
“Don’t you dare try to turn this around on me, Phil! You did this,” she screamed through her tears. “Now let me go! You’re hurting me!” Lana tried to push him away, but he was much stronger, digging his fingertips into her face. He wanted to hear her scream in pain, letting him know he had the upper hand again.
“Lana, you aren’t going anywhere. You belong to me! You hear me? I won’t let you be with anyone else,” he hissed.
“Please stop, Phil! Stop it, Phil!” Lana screamed as he dug is fingertips deeper into her skin. “You fucking psycho!”
He released her and watched as she slid down to the bathroom floor. Sobbing uncontrollably, she balled up and propped herself against the wall.
The all-too-familiar sensation let on by betrayal took hold as Phil laughed. His obsession with being careful had dwindled to nothing in one day thanks to Lana and fucking Rob.
Lana continued to sob as she buried her face in her hands. He knew he had to say something to her that would express how betrayed and let down he felt. He crouched down beside her.
“You know what? You can stay here, for now. You can keep the Jeep I bought you. You can keep the fucking expensive clothes that I bought for you, too. Just know that this isn’t over until I say it’s over,” Phil said. “Dad’s gone. My job is gone. My wife is gone. What a fucking week, huh?”
“There is something wrong with you, Phil. You never accept responsibility for anything. You did this. You did.” Lana glared up at him from her hands. The small purple marks on her face made by his fingers were distinctive. “I want you gone.”
“Fuck you,” snarled Phil.
He left the house, taking nothing with him.
*
Quinn lay on her side, staring at Phil’s peaceful figure that lay naked beside her. He was here, with her, exactly where he should always be.
Quinn had been delighted when Phil came to her in his time of need. A few weeks ago, his wife kicked him out of the house and he needed som
ewhere to live. She always knew she would have Phil to herself one day, as she did nothing but dream of him when he wasn’t around.
And if you wish hard enough...
Thoughts of his olive-toned skin pressed against hers as she got lost in his beautiful, sleepy green eyes sent her afloat.
He always made her feel warm and safe, as he never judged her and boosted her morale whenever needed. In return, she bestowed love and raw emotion upon him, which he accepted with an open heart. Their sexual relationship was emotional and lusty; just thinking of it made her want him again, made her pulse race. Her heart depended on him to pump, and her mind needed him to think.
The last five years since Phil had come into her life were a whirlwind, making it more interesting than ever. Before she met Phil, Quinn had been dating her high school sweetheart, Marvin, who was the sweetest man to ever live. But despite all of Marvin’s efforts, she was never happy. Being unhappy and alone was something she was accustomed to, due to her orphaned childhood. She was helpless to the feeling that no one wanted her but Marvin. He had been there for Quinn through the darkest of times, including when she was on psych watch through their teenage and young adult years for her multiple suicidal attempts. She dragged him along for a decade, delivering one blow after another to his heart with the constant cheating and hospital visits.
But he didn’t leave, not until Phil came into her life. After that, Marvin sensed she was different. She was happy, confident, and eager. Eventually she and Marvin fought over her suspicious behavior, leading her to tell the truth. Quinn felt bad that she didn’t care about getting rid of Marvin, but he wasn’t half the man Phil was.
There was something about Phil that made her need him, ever since she met him that night at the bar. It started with him charming her by showering her with compliments, flirting with her, making her blush. She quickly became obsessed with him, meeting his every demand. He would sneak over to her apartment when his wife was gone at night and hypnotize Quinn with his words during sex that exuded kinkiness, power, lust, and imagination. His dark sense of humor and rough sex drive left her satisfied and begging for more. His kisses, his touch, his voice, hell, his presence was enough to make her lose control.
He must’ve felt her gaze because he slowly opened his eyes and gave her a half smile. He reached over and ran his fingers through her long, straight lavender hair, then caressed the side of her round, pale face. She smiled as his hand made its way down and around her chin, using his thumb to caress her plump lips.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she said.
“Sleep good?”
“Better than ever.” Quinn turned onto her back, still holding his gaze.
“You are so beautiful. You are my sexy emo chick. You know that?” He chuckled softly. “I love waking up next to you.”
Confidence. Something she never had until she met Phil. What was it about him that got her lost in such a dream world?
She smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. He caressed her breast as he stuck his tongue in her mouth, kissing her with so much intensity it made her wet. He slid his hand down between her legs and softly caressed her. She moaned in his mouth, trying not to lose her composure.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, still caressing her.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll do anything for me?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Ah! Yes.” She was trying not to cum as Phil drilled her with unnecessary questions about how she felt about him. Didn’t he know that she’d do anything for him?
“Would you kill for me?”
The question oddly made her more hot. Anything meant anything.
“Yes.”
He looked into her eyes as she came to the edge, letting go of her orgasm, satisfied. She arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut as her body quivered. Her mouth hung open as she screamed, but he didn’t stop.
“I need you more than ever right now,” he whispered. “Will you help me?”
Moaning from another wave of orgasmic explosion, she said, “Yes.”
*
Sara hadn’t heard from Phil in weeks, then one day he called and begged her to come see him at his new place. She couldn’t resist. Phil was the only man she knew who could make her do anything for free.
Sara had known Phil for six years, from the day he started coming to the strip club at least twice a week. He would come with his friend Rob to watch her perform and get lap dances for which he paid and tipped big, making her more than happy to accommodate. Afterwards, he would take her home with him. She had to admit that it was creepy sexy to have him fuck her while she stared at the photo of his happy, smiling wife on the nightstand. Phil was interesting like that. The biggest control freak to date but a mysterious and sensual lover, which drove her insane for him.
Though Sara lusted over Phil, she could never be in a relationship with him, or anyone, for that matter. She was the free-spirited, excitable, open-minded girl that everyone hated. So why torture someone by tying them down? Phil was the same way, but he was in denial. He was so sure he was the perfect husband, as he would say sometimes during pillow talk. His lies sometimes convinced him, feeding into such delusions. They were both enigmatic but never judged one another. It was an ideal setup, making them a perfect match for her twisted idea of a relationship, alone even while together.
Sara was curious about the apartment that he’d invited her to. It was decorated in such morbid taste, whereas Phil had a more elegant style. The blood-red suede couch and love seat were riddled with pillows that had black cats on them. The living room was dark, as it was shielded by black curtains, leaving the cheap stand-up lamp as the only source of light. The walls were covered in posters of dead rock stars—at least, Sara thought they were dead; she didn’t recognize very many of them. Sara knew this wasn’t Phil’s apartment, but she didn’t question him about it because it wasn’t a huge concern for her. He’d probably charmed some goth chick into giving him the place.
“Sara,” he said and opened his arms, pulling her into his chest. Phil towered over her, swallowing her petite form in his embrace. He kissed her on the forehead and released her. “I see you dyed your hair again.” He ran his fingers through her loosely crimped, shoulder-length platinum blonde hair.
“Well, you know how much I like to change things up,” she replied.
Sara pulled a cigarette package from her pink tote, which was filled with clothes and shoes.
“You look really sexy,” Phil said. He motioned for her to sit on the couch, then sat next to her.
Sara looked over at him and smiled as she opened the cigarette pack. She poured its contents into her hand and shoved her open palm in Phil’s face, presenting two eight balls of cocaine.
“I guess some things don’t change,” Phil said with a smirk.
“I guess not.”
Sara gently placed the baggies of cocaine on the cheap black wooden coffee table. She searched the room for an even, merely clean surface.
“Can I use this?” She picked up a picture frame that was on display on an end table next to where she was sitting. It was a picture of an angry child with big gray eyes wearing a pink tiara and poofy dress.
“Sure.”
She poured the cocaine onto the glass portion of the picture frame, pulled out a blade and chopped two fine lines, carefully separating them out from the first powder rock. She pulled a one-hundred-dollar bill from between her breasts and rolled it, forming a narrow cylinder. Phil watched as she used a finger to hold her right nostril closed, then inhaled the first fine line with her left nostril through the rolled bill. She threw her head back, sniffing violently, and she let out a loud, high-pitched, “Whoa! That’s good.”
She turned to Phil with her arm extended towards him, holding out the rolled-up bil
l. “Your turn,” she said as she wiped her nose with the ball of her other hand, attempting to capture anything that could fall out.
Sara was comfortable with Phil—he never judged her for her faults or vices, he either participated or watched. As she watched Phil sniff the second line off the picture frame, a sense of energetic euphoria came over her. She felt her mind, heart, and her soul racing as her entire body became engulfed in an unexplainable warmth. For a second, she felt as though someone had wrapped a comforter around her body tight enough to stop her from moving. She felt like she could do anything and nothing at the same time, as her body wasn’t sure whether to walk, run, or stay perfectly still. The rush of emotion washed over her, changing her mood from happy to sad to angry to energized to horny with every heartbeat.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, sniffing aggressively.
“What do you have?” Sara asked as she began to chop up two more lines of powder.
“I have beer, whisky, and vodka. That’s all I drink, you know that,” Phil said as he left the living room.
“I’ll take a beer for now,” Sara said.
Phil returned to the living room with two bottles and placed them on the coffee table.
“So, Phil,” she began as she proceeded to open her bottle. She carefully chose her next words, as she knew how secretive Phil was. Asking too many questions would set him off and end the conversation. “Where’ve you been?”
Phil returned to his spot on the couch next to her. “Have you seen Rob lately?”
“So you’re going to answer a question with a question?”
Phil didn’t answer. He was waiting on her.
Controlling the conversation, too. Oh, Phil.
“Yes, he was at the club yesterday. You know, the normal times you guys come in.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No,” she lied. She had talked to Rob, but it wasn’t about Phil. It was for business, something Phil didn’t need to know about. Granted, she wanted to ask him about Phil but chose not to.
“My wife is divorcing me and Rob fired me.”