by Vivian Wood
“Sorry,” Sean said and pushed the consent form towards the young couple. They’d arrived armed with matching printouts, a couples tattoo stolen from someone on Instagram. You’re going to regret this, Sean thought as he began the outline for the complementary crowns.
Every spare moment he had, he texted Harper. There was this need to see her that burned deep inside him. Throughout the morning, he’d found an avenue to get a mini fix, but it would just tide him over until he could have her again.
“What’s for breakfast?” he’d asked her. It sounded innocent enough.
“No time today,” she’d replied. I’m meeting with P and his manager about the show.
“You need to eat, sweetheart.” Period. The ellipses appeared on his screen.
“Eat what?”
Some of the passages and lines from the book he’d picked up in her room flashed in his mind. Of course, he knew a lot of models kept a strict diet, but what were the odds of that being the only book in Harper’s room if it didn’t resonate with her? He’d never paid close attention to what she ate—or didn’t—when they were together.
“Egg whites with spinach and avocado,” he finally replied. It took a moment to dig into his knowledge bank about what a girl like Harper might deem “okay.” If he went straight for the good stuff, she might resist. Take it slow.
“Okay,” she replied.
Ten minutes later, while Gita prepped a customer for him, he texted again. “Made breakfast?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Send me a pic. Now.”
Immediately, a shot of exactly what he’d requested appeared.
“What are you wearing for your meeting?” he asked.
“Jeans and tank.”
“I like you in dresses. Change into the most feminine one you have. But not pink.”
“Okay.”
“And send me a pic before you leave.”
It continued throughout the day. Every small demand he had, Harper fulfilled. Fuck, it was almost as good as having a drink. Small sips throughout the day, just to feel normal. And it worked. His mind was on Harper even as he inked a manga character onto a massive man’s back, but his work was flawless, quick and precise.
“Nice work,” Josh said as his third customer left.
“Thanks,” he said, but he was already back to Harper.
“This girl’s really got you sprung, huh?”
“Sprung? Josh, come on,” Sean said.
It was insane that they’d only known each other a few weeks. Sean couldn’t remember what his life was like without her. The only time he carved out, besides what he spent with her and what was required, was his bed-side sessions with Ashton.
He certainly couldn’t tell Joon-Ki about his obsession. His sponsor would see it as an instant red flag. But Ashton didn’t have the luxury of a response. He could only listen, and that was an offering Sean had never had before.
“Where are you?” he texted Harper during a break.
“At P’s store, waiting for the owner.”
During his lunch break, their string of texts flowed non-stop. “What are you doing?” “What was decided at the meeting?” “What are you doing at the gym?” The need to constantly know where she was, what she was doing, it filled the void that threatened whenever she was away from him.
It was odd. Sean had never cared what a girl’s life entailed before. His casual relationships only existed during sex. But with Harper, he needed all of her, all the time.
Slivers of doubt crept into him. “Am I bothering you?” he asked. Seeing those four words displayed so crisply made him feel weak, but he needed to know. If his only option was to back off, and that let him keep her, so be it.
“No. I like it,” she replied.
For awhile, as he tattooed a sorority tattoo onto a slender girl’s back, he wondered if he’d suddenly become the jealous type—the kind of asshole who swore it wasn’t abuse as long as he didn’t physically touch her.
But jealousy? No, not quite. Possessiveness, yes. It was beyond the kind of possessiveness that made girls’ friends band together and warn their wayward friend of an emotionally abusive relationship.
He wanted to own her, in totality. Command her movements and see the trust in her eyes when she knew the pleasure would equal the pain.
Finally, he finished up his last customer of the day. Sean handed the girl the mirror and she inspected the Greek letters on her back, arched above a royal blue sphinx. “I love it,” she said. She couldn’t be older than eighteen, but gave Sean those hungry eyes he was so used to seeing. “And I love the bird on your neck, too,” she said. “Can I see—”
“Sorry, I have to clean up. Gita will ring you up,” he said.
She looked equally crestfallen and offended, but Sean didn’t have time to flirt with a customer for a bigger tip. “Off work, you free?” he texted Harper.
“Yes, at home.”
“Come to my place,” he commanded. “Are you still wearing the dress?”
“Yes.”
“Keep it on. No panties.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Sean gave a half-hearted wave to the crew as he hitched the messenger bag onto his shoulder and headed upstairs. The pizzeria had started their mass orders for the night, and filled the corridors with the scent of yeast.
“Door is unlocked,” he texted Harper.
Sean stripped the bedding and covered the mattress with shiny black plastic tucked tightly beneath the frame. When he heard the door open, he turned and saw Harper in a short yellow dress framed by the light from the hallway.
“Come here,” he commanded. “On your knees.”
She turned to shut the door.
“Leave it open.”
Harper took a step towards him. “I said on your knees. Crawl.”
She dropped to all fours at once and began a slow, intentional crawl towards him. Sean loosened his belt and released his cock. By the time Harper arrived, lips parted with tiny mewls of need emanating from her, he was rock hard and slick with pre-cum.
“Is this what you want?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He allowed her to use her hands. She gripped his base and stroked his length while her tongue worked his tip.
“That’s enough,” he said when she’d brought him close. “Stand up.” Even in the dim light, he could see the redness spread across her knees, the signs of bruises to come. It excited him even more.
Although he loved her naked body, especially when the bruises from their last session were fresh, something about the innocent femme schoolgirl dress intrigued him. Sean took out the police-grade handcuffs with steel that could bite into flesh if she resisted too much. “On the bed,” he said.
She spread out on the black plastic, the frilly dress a stark contrast to the vinyl and steel. Sean secured her wrists and ankles. Crouched before her, he trailed his tongue from her calf to her inner thigh. She let out a cry when she jerked against the cold steel, an automatic reaction as he flicked his tongue across her clit.
“Move too much and you’ll hurt yourself,” he warned.
He pressed his palms into her thighs, forced her legs wide and traced his name with his tongue across her clit. It engorged in his mouth and her wetness began to slip down her thighs onto the vinyl.
When she was close, he backed off. “Is this your first time edging?” he asked.
She nodded, her hair matted and eyes unfocused.
“Answer me,” he said while he pressed his thumb against her clit.
“Yes,” she gasped.
He brought her close to the edge five times. Each time, he could sense her want and frustration, but she never once voiced it.
“You’ve been good,” he said. Her juices had spread across a quarter of the plastic, and her clit was swollen beyond what he’d ever seen. “I think you deserve a reward.”
He grasped her hips and lifted her middle onto his legs. For just a moment, he teased his tip against her op
ening. Harper groaned in desire. The cuffs kept her from having much movement, but she did her best to press herself against him.
As he dove into her, tears streamed down her cheeks. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Gomorrah,” she whispered, over and over.
She came fast and hard, vaginal walls clutched against him. The sensation made him come with her. Sean released into her. He could stay there, buried inside her, forever, but he forced himself to pull out slowly. He watched their combined come spill out of her slowly. Cream pies had never done much for him before, but with her it was different.
Harper shook gently on the vinyl as he unlocked the cuffs. Easily, he lifted her up. Cradled in his arms, he moved her to the couch. He pulled out fresh cloths from the bedside table and spent ten minutes gently wiping her down. Sean pulled off her dress and wrapped her in the luxe black robe.
As he rose up from between her legs, where he’d pressed and wiped at the wetness with the cloth, she kissed him. It was sudden, unexpected. His immediate reaction was to reprimand her, but it wasn’t the right time.
Besides, it stirred something deep inside him. Be careful, he thought. It was one thing for him to get addicted to her. But what if it was mutual?
He couldn’t think about that. A growl began from deep inside him. Harper’s eyes widened. The last thing Sean remembered was how easy it was to rip the robe off of her.
25
Harper
By the time Harper stumbled out of Sean’s house, it was early morning. The previous evening—and all through the night—was a blur. She felt incredibly light and full of too much energy to go home.
Instead, Harper drove straight to the gym, thankful it opened at five in the morning. She peeled off the torn and stained dress, crisp with countless orgasms. As she pulled up the leggings and a skin-tight wet-wicking tank top, she got a glimpse of the thick peach fuzz that had started to crop up on her arms. Harper examined her face, neck and chest in the mirror. Fucking lanugo. After the elliptical, she’d have to do a full-body shave in the gym showers.
It had been almost a full day since she’d eaten. Sean had instructed her on what to have for lunch yesterday. Having him direct her, complete with strict orders on what to eat and how much, it was like she’d been given permission. For once, she’d been allowed to eat without counting calories. Not once did she assess how easy a bite would be to purge.
Normally she’d be hungry. She was a morning eater on good days and forced whatever small bites she took to sustain her throughout the day. But today was different.
“You’re addicted,” she’d laughed into his ear last night. “Insatiable.” It had been after their third fuck, and the black robe made her feel safe.
“I’m okay being addicted to you,” he’d said.
That line rang through her head as she began the endless rounds on the elliptical. It empowered her. It wasn’t just the strength of his response, but the power she felt in not eating. In not even being tempted. The thought of food didn’t intrigue or disgust her. She simply wasn’t interested.
I can be anoretic after all, she thought. Fuck Alfie. Not eating, combined with these kinds of workouts, that would show the naysayers. All those pretentious clients who thought it was easy to starve yourself. To be a size 00 when you’ve got Amazonian proportions. It is easy. It is.
Harper broke her own record with 150 minutes on the elliptical. She’d bested two different girls who hopped on the machine beside her. As always, they stole glances at her numbers. One was probably the same size as Harper, but four inches shorter. The other was encased in layers of fat, easily a size eight.
She could see the judgment in their eyes. Who does this gangling redhead think she is? They’d both glared at her when they got off the machine, incapable of keeping up with her.
With a high she’d never reached before, she completed the two and a half hours and slowed her legs to a halt. Water. I’m just taking a break for some water.
But when she stepped off the machine, it was like getting off a trampoline. Her legs trembled and didn’t understand the new ground. Harper made it halfway to the water fountain before she fell.
Even as her palms hit the hard linoleum, all she could think was, Please, God, don’t let people stare at me.
“Harper?” The familiar voice sounded miles away, though she saw the shadow right over her. “What’s wrong?” It was Molly. When did she get here? “Helena! Helena!”
Was the whole fucking house here? And since when did Helena work out?
Helena and Molly hovered over her, along with one of the bulked-up trainers who overtly stared at Harper’s ass whenever she walked by. “Give her room,” the trainer said. “She needs to breathe. I know CPR.”
Harper couldn’t focus on anyone. Molly and Helena looked faint with blurred edges. Helena, your crow’s feet are gone, she wanted to say. It almost made her laugh.
“Her heart’s racing,” the trainer said. She felt a light pressure on her wrist. “Jesus, this can’t be right, two hundred and twenty beats per minute.”
“She has the high blood pressure,” Helena said quickly.
“Yeah, I train in L.A.,” the trainer said shortly. “I know high blood pressure is a side effect of anorexia.”
It is? Harper knew her blood pressure had slowly increased over the years, but thought it just happened when you got older. And tried to force yourself to be a smoker.
“We have to call an ambulance,” the trainer said.
“Yes, is best,” Helena agreed.
“No!” Harper shouted. It came out louder than she would have liked, but at least she got her point across. “I’m okay, I just went too hard.”
Helena looked dour. “Harper, is not good. You need the professional help.”
“Listen to your mom,” the trainer said. “I’m calling 9-1-1-.”
“I’m not her mother!” Helena said with utter disgust. “How old you think I am?”
“No ambulance,” Harper repeated. She made herself sit up, though it caused her world to spin.
“If you’re … Christ, you’re an adult,” the trainer said. “I can’t make you. If you’re sure …”
“I’m sure.”
“Let’s get you some water,” Helena said. As the trainer helped Harper to her feet and towards a bench, she became aware that the entire gym still stared at her. Was that girl on the treadmill trying to take a covert picture?
“Here, drink,” Helena said, and shoved a pink bottle into Harper’s hands.
Molly sat beside Harper and gently rubbed her knee. She tried not to wince. Molly hit the bruises from last night just right.
“You, uh … let me know if you need anything,” the trainer said. He sized up the three tall, thin women. A redhead, an older eastern European, and a half-black girl. She could tell he tried to make sense of their relationship, but struggled.
“I still think ambulance is good idea,” Helena said.
“No, I’m fine. Really.”
“Oh, really? Then what’s this?” Helena asked as she traced an accusing finger along the lanugo on Harper’s arm.
“Haven’t waxed in awhile,” Harper said sullenly.
“Look, I make you deal. You get to my car okay, no help, then no ambulance. Molly, you have banana?”
“Oh, yeah,” Molly said as she started to dig through her bag.
“All sugar—” Harper began.
“Exactly,” Helena said. “Eat. Molly, is okay. Go back to your workout, I time you from here.”
“But I—”
“Go. You going to listen to me or not?”
Molly got to her feet and walked slowly back to the treadmill.
Helena sighed and looked around. The gym had largely gone back to their pre-drama self-obsession. “Harper,” Helena said softly. “Your body, it can’t take the restriction like it used to.”
“It can. I—”
“I know better than you. Some girls, is easy,” Helena said
with a shrug. “They starve their whole life, and is okay. Some girls, they’re body not so tough. Is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Harper hung her head. Weak, just say it, Helena.
“Can I make suggestion? If I were you, I would start looking for other type of work.”
“What? No! I’m just twenty-five, I—”
Helena laughed, but there was kindness in it. “Just?” she asked. “Harper, maybe models don’t all have to be thirteen years old anymore. But twenty-five? Is not young. You keep going like this, you die.”
“I don’t have anything else,” Harper said finally.
Helena patted her hand. “You eat,” she said, and pointed to banana. “Why look like a corpse for no reason?”
Harper’s mouth dropped open. A corpse? I wish.
“Every model’s career ends some time. Your time, is just a little earlier than others.”
“I don’t want it to end,” Harper said. Her hands started to peel the banana, though her mind resisted. It was like somebody else was in control of her fingers.
“Look, I like you. You good girl,” Helena said. “For that, we wait two weeks before I tell management company that you’re done. In that time, you find other place to live and work. Is good?”
“Two weeks?” Harper asked. She bit into the sweet softness of the banana. Real sugar, not that Stevia crap, coated her tongue. Somewhere in the distance, a tiny animal made happy mewling sounds. It wasn’t until she was halfway through that she realized it was her.
“Two weeks is long time,” Helena said. “Lot can happen.” She sighed. “Molly, she not as committed as you, look.”
Across the gym, Molly languidly walk-jogged on the treadmill as she stared intently at the television.
“I go whip her in shape. You stay here, I drive you both home.”
Harper knew it was pointless to argue. She pulled her knees up below her chin and finished the banana. One hundred and fifty calories, thirty grams of sugar and carbs, who gave a fuck? She’d just un-raveled the past two and a half hours of work.
As she watched Helena yell at Molly to go faster, a rage boiled up inside her. Harper closed her eyes and disappeared into a dark place. Fat, heavy tears spilled down her face.