Tell Me to Stop

by Charlotte Byrd

  Ashley.

  She brought us together. She forged this connection between us. It’s not just Nicholas that I owe this debt to. I owe it to her, too. I should’ve been there for her and I wasn’t. Perhaps, now I can do this to make some sort of amends.

  Nicholas gets up and looks at the moon above.

  This is a crazy thing to do: spend a year with a man I hardly know.

  And for what?

  What would be the point?

  I stand up and lean on the railing next to him.

  Our shoulders are so close they are almost touching. I look at the way the collar of his shirt makes an almost perfectly parallel line to his razor sharp jaw.

  “What do you mean that I will be handsomely compensated?” I ask.

  “Did you think that the almost one hundred and sixty-eight thousand was a generous amount?” Nicholas asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe that I would not be equally generous if you were to do this for me?” he asks.

  I shrug.

  This conversation is going in loops and is giving me a headache.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I say. “I didn’t even know that there was any money in this deal.”

  “There is,” he says cryptically.

  “Look.” I turn to face him. “I can’t just give up my life for a year if I don’t know what I’m getting into. I can’t just give up my job, my apartment, my whole existence.… for what exactly?”

  “You owe me this,” Nicholas says without any affection in his voice.

  “You gave me a gift,” I remind him.

  “Then you owe Ashley.”

  Anger rises up deep within me. It bursts up to the surface and I taste bile on the back of my throat.

  “Fuck you!” I yell at him.

  A droplet of spit leaves my mouth and lands on his cheek.

  I don’t wait for a response.

  I turn around and walk away.

  There is nothing for me to consider.

  There is no way I’m going to do anything he asks. Or demands.

  Who the hell does he think he is?

  He made a promise to Ashley to help me and he did.

  I accepted his help.

  From the looks of this place, the money he sent me did not put him into the poorhouse. I doubt that it even made a dent in his bank account.

  “I will pay you a million dollars,” Nicholas says.

  21

  When we leave…

  When I get to my cottage, I immediately start to pack my bag. I should not have ever come here. I need to get off this property as quickly as possible. I pick up my phone to call a ride share, or a cab, but the reception is terrible and I can barely get online.

  My heart beats loudly, drowning out the thoughts spinning in my head. Nicholas wants to pay me a million dollars to spend a year with him.

  A million dollars.

  Is he insane, or am I?

  Who the hell would pay someone that much and for what exactly? And how the hell is that a way for him to repay his debt to his dead sister?

  Ashley.

  The last time I saw her, she was spinning around with her arms up to the sky as rain fell on top of her. We were both laughing, the kind of infectious laugh that is both contagious and consuming. I don’t remember what was so funny, but I do remember the peculiar way that the asphalt smelled as late afternoon steam rose off it.

  How could that girl kill herself? She was so happy.

  I shouldn’t have ever taken a week off from work. I should have never unpacked my bags or hung my clothes in the closet. I should have never planned to stay here for such a long time.

  What was I thinking?

  It’s obvious, of course. I’ve never been to Maui. This was the opportunity of a lifetime to see the world outside of eastern Massachusetts.

  As I toss Sydney’s dress into my suitcase, folding it in the middle and then rolling it into a baguette, another shouldn’t have thought crystalizes.

  I shouldn’t have ever taken his money.

  I owed a debt to the government, or rather three private companies that were servicing my debt on the government’s behalf. I would pay thousands in interest over the lifetime of the loans, and if I couldn’t make the payments, I would go into default.

  My credit score would drop. I would have to pay a much higher interest rate for a car, were I to ever want to buy another one again. I would probably never be able to get a mortgage and buy a house.

  People who spent a hundred thousand or more at casinos and financed their addictions by putting it all on their credit cards could declare bankruptcy. It would ruin their credit for only seven years, after that everything went back to normal. All debt was forgiven and it was like nothing ever happened.

  But when it came to student loans, the government took another position. Congress made sure that no such opportunity existed. They wrote it into the law. You go bankrupt with any type of debt except student loans.

  Still, I should not have taken his money.

  It’s a gift but not really. I have no idea what kind of business Nicholas is involved in, but I’ve seen enough movies. On this trip he asked me to spend the year with him. But is it really a request?

  When I said no, he offered to pay me a million dollars.

  Again, I said no.

  What about next time?

  When is he going to stop asking?

  My heart jumps into my throat. No, I’m not going to wait around and find out.

  I throw my bag across my body, grab my suitcase, and walk over to Sydney’s cottage.

  “I was waiting for you…” She opens the door, the excited expression on her face vanishing.

  “We have to go,” I say.

  “What happened?” Sydney asks, shaking her head.

  “Pack your things, we have to get out of here.”

  “Tell me what happened,” she insists, sitting down on her bed.

  I walk past her to the bathroom and start throwing all of her makeup and beauty products into the large bag sitting on the counter.

  “What are you doing?” She runs up to stop me.

  “We can’t stay here. Pack your shit and I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Finally, something seems to get through.

  Without another word of protest, she packs all of her things. The reception is better in her cottage and our ride share arrives right when she finishes.

  The mobile app says that it’s going to cost $149 to get us to the airport, but I’m just thankful that there’s even a driver available in the proximity to drive us all the way back there.

  When we climb into the car, Sydney asks if I had checked the flights. “Are there even any flights going out tonight?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek.

  No, I did not.

  I look down at my phone: no service. I probably won’t have any cell reception for another hour if not more.

  “We’ll figure something out,” I say. “We can even stay at a hotel by the airport if necessary.”

  Sydney exhales slowly.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  I pick at the plastic cover on my cell phone. My nails feel soft and limp from the tropical humidity. I find a weak spot on one and peel off the dry polish.

  I’ve bitten my nails since I was a kid and only recently figured out a way to cope with that. I pull out Nail Growth Miracle, the thick clear nail polish that makes my nails thick. I quickly apply a few coats to the nail on the ring finger that I just scratched off. Something about its thick texture curbs my need to bite and pick during stressful situations, at least temporarily.

  “Olive? What the hell did he do?” Sydney whispers. “Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Should we go to the police?”

  “No,” I say.

  “So, what the hell are we doing?”

  I glance in the direction of the driver. “I can’t tell you now.
I’ll explain everything when we get there.”

  But Sydney is not satisfied with waiting. She points to her phone and mouths, text me.

  I focus on the keys, trying to figure out where to start. The texts won’t go through but that’s probably a good thing. She’ll just read them and then I’ll delete them.

  He asked me to stay here with him for a year. 365 days and nights.

  I turn the phone toward her for her to read.

  22

  When she refuses…

  She stares at the words for a long time, reading them over and over again.

  Sex? Sydney types.

  No. I shake my head, trying to remember exactly how he had phrased it.

  He said I wouldn’t have to do anything I wouldn’t want to, but he promised me that I will be begging him to do it before our time is up.

  Sydney’s mouth drops open.

  “What the fuck?” she asks.

  Why does he want you to do this? She types.

  He said I owe him a debt. For him paying off my loans.

  But that was a gift. Sydney types.

  I shrug. I debate whether I should tell her about Ashley, but that seems like an impossible thing to get into over text.

  What about your job?

  He offered me $1 million to do this.

  “What?” Sydney gasps.

  I nod.

  Why?

  “I don’t know,” I say. It’s not exactly a lie.

  I don’t know why he wants me to do this. He already paid his debt to Ashley by helping me. What exactly is this going to accomplish?

  What does he want you to do? Sydney types.

  Accompany him on his business trips. Maybe flirt with potential clients. He said I will need a passport.

  Like an escort?

  I guess, but no sex, I remind her.

  Maybe he’s really into you?

  I shrug and type, We just met.

  This doesn’t make sense.

  I know.

  “So, why are we leaving?” Sydney asks after a moment.

  Did he do something to scare you? She adds in a text.

  I shrug and type, Yeah, kind of. I refused his offer. He then offered me money. I got the feeling that it wasn’t really an offer I should refuse. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I needed to leave.

  She nods.

  You don’t agree? I ask.

  Doesn’t seem like a bad offer to me, she types, adding a smiling emoji.

  I roll my eyes. She wasn’t there. She doesn’t know how it felt. Besides, she doesn’t know the whole story.

  Finally, we arrive at the airport. I pay the driver the fare and the tip through the app and he puts our bags on the curb.

  We don’t have tickets and I wasn’t sure which terminal to instruct him to go to, so I asked him to drop us off at the same airline which we used to fly here. There isn’t a soul outside, and there is only one ticket agent at the far left corner.

  As we walk over, Sydney buries her face in her phone.

  “There are no more flights tonight,” she says. “I really wish I had checked before you dragged me to the no service zone.”

  “I’m sorry but I really needed to get out of there,” I say. “Let me just ask the ticket agent.”

  Sydney grabs my arm. Her irises are dilated and her eyes look cold.

  “I followed you here because I thought that something bad had happened. I thought you were hurt.”

  “I was scared.”

  “So, he made you this offer. So what? You can say no.”

  “I didn’t want to stay there tonight.”

  “Did you think that something would happen?” She challenges me.

  I want to lie to put her mind at ease but I can’t bring myself to do it.

  “No, but the conversation we had…it wasn’t…normal.”

  “Tell me everything,” she says.

  Still holding on to the handle of my suitcase with my crossover bag resting on my thighs, I tell her everything.

  I tell her how he knows me.

  I tell her about Ashley.

  I tell her about her suicide and his promise to her.

  Her death is still raw inside of me and I glance up at the unforgiving bright lights above to keep my tears at bay.

  Sydney puts her bag down and places her purse on top of it. I know what she’s about to ask me so I jump ahead.

  “At some point, I got this feeling in the back of my neck that made my hair stand up. You know? There isn’t any logical reason for it but it’s your body telling you that something is wrong. That you’re in danger. That’s when I decided to leave.”

  “Just like that?” Sydney asks.

  I narrow my eyes and focus in on hers. Her face is expressionless and impossible to read.

  “I didn’t want to be one of those women who is found lying in a ditch somewhere because she didn’t listen to her intuition,” I say, walking away from her.

  A lump in the back of my throat grows bigger and bigger and I begin to sob. I’m angry and disappointed that she doesn’t believe me, but I know myself well enough to realize that the tears are also a result of exhaustion. I haven’t slept well the whole time we were here and anytime I am not well-rested I am more susceptible to emotional waterfalls.

  “Olive, I’m sorry.” Sydney catches up to me before I can get to the ticket agent. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m just…disappointed.”

  I nod.

  I know how much she has been enjoying this trip and James, in particular.

  She must be torn between wanting to be my friend, and to listen to my crazy intuition, and staying here a little bit longer for her.

  “Are you crying?” she asks, putting her arm around me.

  “It’s nothing. I’m just really tired and exhausted.”

  “Yeah, you need some sleep,” she says.

  “I’ll get some sleep on the plane,” I say. “We both will.”

  She doesn’t say anything in response. I look up at her. When our eyes meet, I know.

  I shake my head. No, no, no. There must be something I can do to make her come.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  Sydney tosses her hair out of her face.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask.

  “I’m going to get a hotel room and stay here until my return flight later this week,” she says. “I’d like to see more of Maui and…James.”

  I nod.

  “Stay with me,” she pleads. “We can get an Airbnb together. He won’t even have to know.”

  WEEKS LATER…

  23

  When I wait…

  I watch him start to undress me. The ground moves my feet, but it’s my knees that are shaking. The temperature in the room goes up a few degrees. My breathing quickens.

  I watch his fingers pick at my tank top. Nicholas slides one hand underneath. He runs his fingers over my torso, presses them against my stomach. They move up and down with each one of my breaths.

  “Tell me to stop,” he says.

  My eyes look up to his. There’s a fleck of gold in his irises that I never noticed before.

  I don’t want him to stop. I’ve waited too long for this. My mouth doesn’t cooperate. The words don’t form.

  A strand of hair falls into my eyes. I try to blow it away, but it comes back again and again. Nicholas reaches over and tucks it in with the rest of my hair between my head and pillow.

  He runs his fingers up my left arm, tickling me slightly. He checks on the silk tie holding my wrist in place. It’s still tight.

  “Tell me to stop,” Nicholas said earlier when he led me here.

  “Tell me to stop,” he said when he fastened my arms to the headboard.

  “Tell me to stop,” he says now when he lifts up my shirt. He waits for my answer. Again, I say nothing and let him pull it up to my collarbone.

  He unties my left wrist and slides the shirt over my head and onto the other side.

  Now,
I lay topless before him. My breathing speeds up. My heart pounds so loudly inside my head I feel like I’m going to go deaf.

  Nicholas presses his lips onto my skin and slowly makes his way toward my nipples. When he takes one into his mouth, my skin gets covered in goosebumps. A fire starts to build in the core of my body. My legs open on their own.

  “Not yet,” he says, pushing them closed again.

  But my hips don’t listen. They move up and down to their own rhythm.

  “Tell me to stop,” Nicholas whispers, taking my nipple in between his teeth, and biting on it ever so lightly.

  I flex my toes to keep the explosion at bay. I’ve waited so long for this. I can’t let it consume me before he’s inside of me.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, looking at my body.

  Whatever insecurities I felt about it a few moments ago disappear and I suddenly see myself through his eyes.

  My curves are round and voluptuous.

  My stomach is soft, but strong. My breasts are round and voluminous.

  I watch him admire my body and I can’t help but admire his. But he’s not naked yet. I want to run my fingers down his hard abs, but he’s still wearing a t-shirt and my hands are tied.

  I reach my head out to kiss him. He flinches away for a moment, and then presses his lips onto mine. They are soft and powerful. He takes my mouth with his. His tongue quickly finds mine and the tingling sensation in between my legs makes my back arch.

  “Take off your clothes,” I say through his kiss. “I want to see you.”

  He smiles, pulling away from me. The trance that existed only a few moments before is broken, along with the kiss.

  Nicholas furrows his brow and gives me one shake of his head. No.

  Sitting up on the bed, he touches the top button of my jeans.

  “Tell me to stop,” he says.

  “No, no, no,” I whisper, tilting my head back.

  After unzipping my jeans, he pulls them off in one swift motion. I want my panties to come off, too. I open my legs to help him along but instead of pulling them off, he nestles his body in between and pulls my underwear to one side.