by M. C. Cerny
“Yes, darling?” I managed to look coy standing on the first step pretending to go upstairs as he came around the corner from the den. I worried my lip and let my finger trace the heavy wooden bannister in a leisurely pace. Think slow thoughts and calm your racing heart, I kept the mantra going.
“There you are looking refreshed and beautiful. Enjoy your coffee?” He opened his arms gesturing I should fold myself into one of his rare hugs. I smelled his scent, warm, a little woodsy with bergamot and citrus.
“Very much so,” I answered politely letting it churn in my belly bloated from cupcakes.
He stepped toward me while I stood two steps up. I barely came eye level with his chest and rested my head against his beating heart. I was shocked he had one, but he was human too.
“I heard Nelson had some trouble.”
“Yes, I just don’t understand the nerve of some cops. The car was perfectly fine where it was.” I bit my tongue to hold back anymore comments. Too much and he would suspect something. In this house, you never showed your full deck of cards.
“Well, it’s over with. I called the Chief and had it handled. That rookie will be on traffic duty the rest of his sad shift work career,” Adam pulled me deeper into his embrace laughing. His arms flexed, immovable as his fingers massaged the back of my neck holding me in place. He kissed the top of my head smelling my hair like I was his bitch in heat. It took everything to relax in his arms. I told Agent Jackson, but I guess he would have to learn the hard way. Nobody fucked over Adam Huntley and lived to tell the tale. I hoped for his sake he didn’t have loved ones to see it happen.
“Hmm.” No response was usually the best response with Adam.
He pulled back looking me over. “Did you sneak a sweet before dinner?” Shame colored my face. His eyes crinkled at the corners and my lips trembled. His eyes sparkled dark green and my stomach chose that moment to bubble loudly as he tapped my nose playfully.
He leaned in smelling me. His nose dragged along my face trailing with an almost gentle reverie. His chin jerked up and his tongue licked at the corner of my mouth slowly dragging against the crevice tasting me and making me whimper. Not in desire, never that, but with disgust. I swore his tongue forked like a demon and I shut my eyes trapped.
“You taste of sugar, vanilla, and cake.” He accused. He wasn’t wrong and showing this card might save the rest of my deck.
Forced to remain still, I apologized, “I’m sorry.”
“My naughty girl.” Adam tsked dragging me through the kitchen and into the mud room with the large sink. His temper flipped on a dime. The dog cages lined one wall and I hoped he would shove me inside one and let it be.
“I-I’m sorry.” Shaking, I stood in the room knowing what would come next.
“You’re not due for a colonic so you know what has to be done.” He stood against the wall crossing his ankles looking disappointed. Adam took my health a little too seriously. Between the detoxes, the flushes, the trips to exotic locales for green algae, and fucking wheatgrass, I was cleaner than a whistle. I peeled my clothes off stepping out of each piece slowly letting him enjoy his sick parade. He didn’t care about clothes, money, or anything outside his ownership of my body. He considered possession nine-tenths of the law.
Adam’s Law.
“I’m sorry.” I pleaded with him watching his arms cross over his chest. His smile turned grim. Adam went beyond the normal health nut. In the beginning, I thought he was just compulsive and obsessed, but he took this to practically cult level.
“Do you need my help?” He chastised me as one would a puppy or a naughty child. As if a beating would speed up the process. I shook my head no and leaned over the high ledge of the utility sink. My hand gripped the rim and I used one hand to push my fingers into the back of my throat in a well-practiced move. It wouldn’t be hard to do considering how ill I felt consuming the evidence. I pressed down and began the sharp heaves until everything I had shoved down my throat came rushing back up in a kaleidoscope of food coloring and cake.
I’m glad I took small bites, otherwise I would have choked.
Adam stepped behind me and rubbed my back in a sick soothing way speaking low hushed words into my ear. “That’s my girl. Get rid of all that disgusting nasty food and you’ll feel better.”
My eyes squeezed shut blocking him out. His hand palmed my back and rested on the high rump of my ass rubbing back and forth. His fingers traveled lower and between my legs he pulled my panties to the side teasing me until he worked some moisture between my thighs. His thumb rested at the apex of my star ready to go to town. I repeated those eight numbers from his En Swisse Banka account over and over in my head. The numbers were concrete things grounding me to reality when the rest of the world shifted, fading away.
“Keep going, get all the poison out.” Another set of heaves pushed me further over the sink as he pressed his thumb inside me with a slow curl simultaneously working my asshole. My eyes slid shut leaking tears. The only poison in me was him. He acted like I’d cheated on him when it was just cake. I couldn’t imagine what he’d do if I really had. Through the heaves, I breathed in and out attempting to relax the muscles he abraded with his calloused fingertip.
Those eight numbers grounded me as my orgasm loomed just barely out of reach.
Throwing up wasn’t difficult, he trained me for this too. My eyes watered from the pain, which part was not discernible. Adam rubbed his cock against my bare legs under my skirt molding himself to my body like a perfect puzzle piece. He’d unleashed himself sometime between, and the moisture of his cum leaked onto my thighs. Tears flowed freely and sharp like a slap to the face. All I missed was my sorrow mixing with my blood, but the afternoon was young and anything was possible with this fucked up man I agreed to marry and take into my body, my mind, and a part of my soul that was forever lost to me. Would I never be free from him?
Struggling to catch my breath, I blocked out the further deviance and humiliation he would make me both suffer and enjoy. Adam finished pushing his pants down his thighs jerking off. Semen splashed against my skin and dripped to the floor. I finished vomiting when he finished himself off. I was covered in my disgrace and weak to the knees. I let myself sink to the floor in a puddle of his juices, loathing, and my self-recriminations. Agent Jackson’s words reverberated in my head. Did I like my gilded cage? Of course not, but the only other option was death.
He left me for a moment going into the kitchen. His leather shoes thumping against marble tiles. I counted those eight numbers over, and over, and over until they scarred my brain tissue.
“Clean yourself up like a good girl.”
My hands shook taking the glass of cool water from his hand. He pushed a bucket in front of me. I swished the expensive Icelandic water in my mouth spitting it out until the taste was gone. He kneeled next to me, and tenderly whipped the tear streaks from my cheeks like he cherished me.
I sat there stock still as his hand cupped the back of my neck in a sweet gesture. He pulled me into his arms carefully and kissed me. Slowly his lips moved over mine taking their time to taste me, coaxing a response. He didn’t care that I’d just been sick. I felt his free hand reach lower massaging my clit until my body shivered with heat, and I craved the release that he offered. The stress of the day confused me as his calloused fingertips gripped my neck and circled my pearl. His touch was nothing like the limp extension of Agent Jackson’s hand earlier rubbing my cheek. Leslie was a sad, pathetic substitute, if anything else.
“There my love, you’ll feel better after you shower.” He petted me like a treasured pet. I might as well have been a fucking Chihuahua with a diamond collar and silly bows.
What would have made me feel better? A knife in his gut would make me feel better. I wanted to strike out with my nails and score his skin raw, but my claws had been clipped and neatly filed. Instead, I gripped my palms letting my short pale pink manicured nails cut into the pinches of flesh in my palm. I imagined them tracing tho
se eight numbers on paper.
“You make me sad when you break the rules Elizabeth. I don’t know how to make you understand when you’re like this.” Nothing would make me feel better, but I nodded and played along listening to his footsteps retreat.
Lying prone on the floor, I thought about the movie where Julia Roberts organized the canned foods in neat little rows. Perfect labels aligned, yet no matter what, they were never good enough. Adam didn’t permit processed food in the house. I’d be lucky if I found a can of crushed tomatoes or pie fruit in the pantry. Obsessed health nut psychopath.
I wasn’t good enough. I craved a life where sinking or swimming was an adventure and not life or death. I wanted to learn to swim on my own. Was it sad I didn’t know how with Adam’s threats constantly hanging over my head? The boarding school didn’t get around to swim lessons. Adam lied and told them I was terrified of water, but now I needed someone throw me a life preserver.
The dogs trotted in one by one laying around me in a protective circle. I rested my hand over Beau’s big head. Gus settled against my back warding off the chill while Bear sat in front of the door watching, waiting. My good boys.
I thought about what Agent Leslie Jackson said, and let my hatred for this man bloom from the embers of an old fire of wrongs. The emotions sparked a festering energy. Thursday afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.
I used to be a good person, I used to care about following the law, most of the time, but I was beginning to wonder if I was ever that girl to begin with. Those eight numbers would come in handy then, wouldn’t they?
15
Elizabeth
“Adam, I need to discuss something with you.” I recognized the man inside Adam’s office. He was the owner of an exclusive club that catered to more varied tastes, things Adam liked that I didn’t fully understand. Spencer March also helped Adam launder large amounts of money. I didn’t know the details but I knew the feds would love to have this information, if I had proof.
“Need a larger van to cart my money around?” Adam chuckled probably typing away on his computer.
“I’m looking to get out of the business, go legit.”
“I know I work you hard Spence, but today is really not the day for a set of jokes. We have ten-million dollars coming from France that needs to be exchanged.” Yeah, that’s the word Adam used to say he was laundering money... exchanged… as if one were simply converting currency from euros to dollars at a bank.
“Adam, I’m serious. I’m thinking of going to ground, I’ve got a girl now and I can’t be knocking her up with babies doing this kind of shit.”
“I see.” No other sounds came from the room and my stomach dropped. The water bottle in my hand almost slipped and I squeezed it over spilling some water on the stair landing at the door.
“I see you and Elizabeth. I want that Adam, but I don’t want to worry that ten years from now I’m going to lose it all because I was wrapped up in all of this.” Spencer obviously had no clue what was going on between Adam and I. We were the consummate actors playing the roles of our lives. Hollywood better damn well call me after this, I mused.
“Well than I wish you the best. I’ll call you next to make the changes at Purgatory and begin splitting the business.” I heard Adam’s chair roll back and I assume their meeting is over I ducked around the corner holding the cold bottle of water against my chest not taking a breath of air. I peered to see Spencer leave shaking Adam’s hand. Adam returned to his office and I swore he looked over in my direction. I waited praying and nothing happened. I heard his desk chair roll again on the wooden floor and his speaking again on the phone.
“I’m having a little problem with the owner of Purgatory.” Adam’s voice carried over into the hallway of the house darker than before. Sweat cooled rapidly on my skin catching snippets from the conversation.
“James, I want Spencer March taken care of... be creative. He thinks he’s going to leave the business and I can’t have that. Threatening him won’t work find something else… I don’t care… someone important to him. The girl–use the girl.” I gasped.
I’d met the girlfriend once, a sweet thing with hopes and dreams like me before I met Adam. I couldn’t let her suffer. I thought about the contact, the phone number I repeated in my mind every night. I slowly backed away toward the gym to run longer on the treadmill coming up with a plan.
* * *
Thursday came and with it, a little luck. Adam’s business meeting took him out of the house and into the city giving me just enough breathing space to keep the panic of what I was about to do at bay. I leaned over the bathroom sink catching my breath. My face in the mirror was tired. No amount of pearl dust creams or gold gels would keep me youthful and fresh looking under these stressful conditions forever. I already sweated through two outfits. I didn’t have time to shower again so I forced myself to slick another coat of anti-perspirant on. Hands shaking, I reached for the cabinet grabbing a Xanax to calm my nerves popping the bitter pill down dry. I’d take two, but I didn’t want to be a complete zombie.
“Mrs. Huntley, I have to pick up a few things. I’m going to drop you off and pick you up in forty-eight minutes.” Praise God, Nelson my watch dog was tasked with taking me to the library and not Derrick or anyone else.
I hid my surprise at being let on my own even for a brief moment in a public library of all places. I supposed it was a concession for a blow job well done the night before. Once I’d been given access to the internet, I made myself a quick study of what I could that wasn’t restricted on public web searches.
“Adam always gives me a full hour.” Whining was a part of my act.
“Well, I don’t have that kind of time when he expects us back by quarter after four.” Nelson was a complete shit and I hoped he choked on his tea. The time alone was boon enough and I hurried afraid to waste it.
“That’s fine. I’ll be ready and waiting.”
I exited the car dressed appropriately in Chanel with natural makeup. I had to return a few books by several of my favorite indie authors who were recently added to the shelves as per my request. When I wasn’t busy being a crime lord’s pretty pet, I tried to balance his wrongs through various charity patronages whether my presence was accepted or not.
Luckily, libraries were in need of funding and books. They weren’t too picky. I could have been a toothless whore and as long as I didn’t try to read my romance novels in the children’s corner everything worked itself out. Even libraries weren’t immune to morality when funding was needed.
Slipping inside the building, I went straight to the back after dumping my books in the return slot. Barely giving them time to slide to the bottom, I skirted around stacks of books passing computer tables. My purse swung from my shoulder and I promised myself to explore at another date. I wasn’t allowed an iPad or tablet reader because Adam didn’t want me completely unsupervised. He must have forgotten about the library computers, but I wasn’t stupid enough to remind him or get caught.
Rounding the corner, I bumped right into Agent Jackson.
“Mrs. Huntley.” His hands grabbed my upper arms to stabilize me. Any man touching me sent off a volley of unexpected nerves and I pushed back instinctively.
“Agent Jackson,” I hissed righting myself and prying his fingers from my skin afraid he’s marked me. My husband, the only man whose thoughts and opinions mattered in that moment–mattered to my abject survival if he learned of this meeting.
“Les.” He reminded me. I found him to be much more attractive than my initial perusal. Fear clouded sight and his nose sloped in a hawkish way while high cheekbones made up the angles of his face. Tawny eyebrows framed clear blue eyes that looked intently at me.
“I only have,” I checked my favorite Cartier watch on my wrist. “Forty-five minutes left.”
He nodded pulling me back toward a research lounge next to the microfilm. My short legs pumped to keep up with him. The office was small, dark, and had a set of drab olive-gre
en blinds pulled shut. It looked like the late seventies had called missing those ugly blinds amid the hardwood furniture that hadn’t been polished in a decade.
“Is this your secret office agent?” I wondered if he brought all his targets and would-be informants here.
Agent Jackson rolled his eyes ignoring my question.
“Our informant says the plans will arrive via a small portable hard drive.” He pulled one out of his suit pocket and placed it in my hand.
“How do you know this will match the drive?” I examined the small USB port encased in sliver.
“Trust me.” Again, my stomach bubbled worried I was screwing the only good thing I had going by listening to this federal clown.
“What do I do?” I flipped it over. It matched several I saw Adam keep at home on his desk. If I dropped them, I’d never find the right one.
“I need you to switch them out and bring us the one he plans to use. It will help us build our investigation on him.”
“Build? You don’t even have a case.”
I shoved it back at him. “You’re asking me to be your accomplice and take down a very powerful man who has connections all over the globe.”
My fingers shook, so much for my happy pill earlier.
“The American people need you to be brave Elizabeth.” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me, “I need you. America needs you.”
His over-the-top patriotic rhetoric was a nice touch assuming he bought it himself. I didn’t need it. What I needed was for my husband to drop dead, not me trying to indict him on charges and wonder if one of his contacts would off me while this asshole sat on his sanctimonious thumbs expecting a job promotion for bringing down the Adam Huntley.
“No.” I stepped back against the wall as frustrated tears spilled over my cheeks. Espionage wasn’t this simple. Betraying the vows of marriage and my husband shouldn’t have been so easy. “Go peddle your political rhetoric elsewhere. I’m not willing to die for people who could give two shits about me.”
