WrongorWriteBoxedSetstripped

by Sky Corgan

  “Mr. Parker,” Victor said, leaning across my seat with a grin. There was a strange twinkle in his hazel eyes, making him look almost smug.

  “Mr. Stagnoli,” Dominick replied stiffly. I could see the muscles in his jaws tense, and I knew that I should probably exit the vehicle as quickly as possible before shit hit the fan.

  “I'll see you on Monday,” I told Victor politely, climbing out of the car and giving him an awkward wave before I pulled the door out of Dominick's hand and closed it. Everything in me wanted him to drive away as soon as possible, but he simply sat there, parked, watching us without shame.

  “You lied to me,” Dominick growled.

  “Can we go inside?” I begged. “He's watching us.”

  Dominick cast a hateful glance at the car before leading the way to the condo.

  I sighed in relief when we stepped inside, taking long strides to the curtains to draw them shut. Victor was still parked there, staring into the window. It wasn't until the curtains were closed that I heard him turn on the engine and pull out of the driveway.

  “I'm so sick of you embarrassing me,” I nearly yelled, turning around just in time to feel Dominick pull me into his arms and press his lips firmly against mine. The kiss was desperate, too desperate, and it only fueled my anger.

  As soon as I was able to pull away, I raised my hand to strike him. It was like all the emotion inside of me had finally boiled to the point of explosion, tossing rational thought to the wind. But then the second before my hand reached his face, reality returned to me. My arm stilled, and I stood there, breathless and shocked at my own actions. I had almost hit him. I was actually going to hit him.

  Dominick didn't look fazed at all. If anything, he seemed more impassioned. His eyes burned down into mine, hooded with lust. He didn't even seem to notice my hand lingering dangerously close to his face.

  “Do it,” he said. “I know you want to.”

  It was all the invitation that I needed to let the last bubble of anger burst and send my palm across his face. The blow was so hard that my hand throbbed. I grabbed my wrist, staring at it in disbelief. When I looked back up at Dominick, his face was turned away from me, though there was no hand print where I had struck him.

  “Are you done, now?” he asked.

  “Ugh. I hate you.” I stomped off towards my room, only to be caught by my wrist and spun back around. He tried to pull me to him, but I struggled. “Dominick, stop. Let me go. I'm going to kick you in the nuts. I swear to God, I'll do it.”

  For all of my threats though, he didn't let me go, and I didn't move to hurt him again. He wrapped his arms around my waist, dragging me to the floor. I turned and tried to crawl away, but he pulled me back beneath him, turning me around and pinning my wrists above my head. I loathed how much stronger than me that he was. Everything in me wanted to cry out rape, not out of fear that he'd actually do it, but out of anger. He took that choice away from me though when he silenced my mouth with another kiss. His lips pressed hard against mine, almost painfully so. I opened my mouth and bit his bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to show him I meant business. I could feel his body tense on top of mine, and he pulled away slowly, though I refused to let go. However, when he looked down on me, his gray eyes weren't filled with pain, but something far deeper.

  One of his hands reached up my shirt, his fingers kneading into my breast and pinching my nipple. The fire that shot straight to my nether region made me gasp. He took the opportunity to pull his lip out of my grasp, though his mouth soon returned to mine, his tongue seeking entry, claiming space. I knew I was lost then. Anger faded to lust. His rough touch was winning me over, and all I could think about was having him inside of me. I hated him for it. Hated him as he undressed me. Hated myself as I undressed him. And when he penetrated me, I hated us both for feeling so good together.

  We rutted on the carpet like sex-starved animals. The condo was alive with the sounds of skin slapping together, cries of lust, and heavy breathing. All that I could see and think and feel was sweat and sex and need. I needed Dominick, needed him to want me, needed this closeness to him. I needed him to assert his dominance over me, to show me that I belonged to him. But most of all, I needed to feel like we weren't drifting apart, and this was just what it took to draw me back again, his sexual manipulation.

  I was already two orgasms ahead when he finally stilled on top of me. Unlike before, we did not come at the same time, but it didn't matter. Our bodies were in sync in a different way, in sync with desire. I couldn't remember the last time I felt more sexually satisfied. All of those days of being dismissive towards one another was like the calm before the storm, and oh how the storm raged, wrecking us both.

  Once he had caught his breath, Dominick kissed me gently on the lips, then he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to his bedroom. I wrapped my arms around his neck, gazing up into his eyes. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but instead, I said, “I hate you.”

  “No, you don't,” he reminded me, sitting me down on the bed.

  Within seconds, I was nestled in his arms. It was the first time ever he cared more about being with me than cleanliness. There was no after-sex shower, just him and I lying together in the darkness with my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

  I was still angry. In fact, I was absolutely furious. But my body was in such shock over what had just happened, and we were far beyond talking about it. That topic could wait for another time, when he wasn't snoring softly beneath me.

  The morning came, and I found his side of the bed empty. Part of me wondered if I had dreamed the night before, but the soreness between my legs reminded me otherwise. I groaned as I crawled out of bed, angry at myself for not being able to resist him. How did he manage to overpower me every single time?

  “Breakfast is ready,” I grumbled as I stood in his office doorway.

  He barely glanced up in acknowledgment. “I'll be out in a minute.”

  Despite my grumpiness, I decided to eat with him, hoping that he'd say something in regard to his actions from the night before. The meal was spent in silence until the end though, when he mentioned that he'd be leaving for another business trip on Monday and would be gone for a week. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy that he was going. Being around him made me an emotional mess. Maybe if he left for longer than a few days, I'd have time to sort things out in my head. Who knew anymore?

  The weekend went on as normal. Dominick spent the majority of it in his office, and I stayed in my room. We crossed paths for meals and for me to critique his work, and that was pretty much the end of our communication.

  When I wasn't busy trying to analyze my relationship with him, I thought about the hug Victor had given me. The gleam in his eyes when he looked at Dominick was strange, and I couldn't help but feel there was purposeful ill intent behind it. Was he trying to break us up? Did he want to get me away from Dominick so that he could date me? Perhaps that would be for the best, though his actions seemed to produce opposite results of what he had intended.

  Dominick dropped me off at school on Monday before heading to the airport. Part of me was glad to see him go, but a deeper part of me knew I would miss him. There were no heartfelt goodbyes or hugs and kisses. He simply told me to behave myself and reminded me not to bring anyone over.

  When I got home from school that afternoon, I went straight to my room to put my backpack down. I didn't even notice the large envelope on my pillow until I flung my backpack onto the bed, and the envelope slid off the side and clattered to the floor. For a few seconds, I just stared at it, wondering if it was a package from my sister. Though when I picked it up, turned it over, and saw the word Kimlet scrawled across it in Dominick's messy handwriting, I knew that wasn't the case.

  The envelope was heavy, but when I opened it up and looked inside, the only thing there was a CD case. No note. No clue to what the CD was. No nothing.

  I felt my heart speed up as I turned on my laptop and wai
ted for the operating system to load up. Possibilities raced through my mind as to what was on the CD, many of which were illogical, such as it being a recording of us having sex that he planned to use to blackmail me in some way. More than likely, the CD probably had the latest chunk of manuscript on it for me to review.

  Finally, the system loaded, and I slipped the disc into the CD tray. The music player popped up, and I listened as a song began to play. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Possession by Sarah McLachlan. When the song was over, I waited, but there didn't appear to be anything else on the disc. Confused, I pushed repeat.

  The song played over and over as I wondered what it meant and why Dominick had left it for me. It was such a strange thing for him to do. I couldn't tell if he was trying to say something to me, or if he was just being romantic. After listening to the song about five times back to back, I made a copy of it on my hard drive and then transferred it to my MP3 player, so I could listen to it some more on the bus ride to school the next day.

  Possession

  “He's gay,” Victor insisted, giving me an expression from across the lunch table that would indicate he thought it was the obvious answer.

  “He's definitely not gay,” I replied, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I thought about what we had done in the living room the night Victor had dropped me off after the fair.

  “No straight guy listens to Sarah McLachlan.”

  “I think it's kind of romantic,” Carmen chimed in while noisily opening a bag of chips.

  “It's kind of creepy if you ask me,” Victor huffed.

  “How is leaving her a love song on her pillow creepy?” She glared at him.

  “It's not that he left her a love song, it's that song. Do you even know what the song is about?”

  Carmen hesitated, “Love?”

  “Stalkers. Sarah McLachlan was being stalked by a guy. Some of the lyrics from that song were taken straight out of a creepy letter he left her. He ended up suing her over it and then killing himself.”

  “Well, that does twist things a bit,” I said, feeling somewhat uneasy.

  “How would you know that?” Carmen asked, looking at Victor as if he was crazy.

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “I didn't know that,” I replied.

  “Well, now you do. So, he's probably trying to tell you that he owns you. That's why he freaks out every time you want to go somewhere without him”

  “You just don't understand the way romance works,” Carmen insisted.

  “Maybe not, but I know stalkerish behavior when I see it. Think about it. He drives her to and picks her up from school every day. She's not allowed to go anywhere without his permission. He video tapes everything she does when she's home alone. He won't hesitate to cause a scene if he feels his territory is being encroached upon. He doesn't go anywhere or do anything. The guy has stalker written all over him.”

  “That's enough.” I furrowed my brow at him. “He drops me off at school and picks me up because it helps him get out of the house more. Also, he doesn't like the idea of me taking the bus. And he doesn't like me going anywhere without telling him because that's just the respectful thing to do. He's known me since I was little and feels like I'm under his care, so naturally he worries about me. As for the video tapes, he's a famous author. What famous person doesn't have surveillance cameras around their property? If someone was to come in and steal his work, it could cost him a lot of money.”

  They both looked at me blank-faced for a moment before Carmen burst out laughing, “Oh my God, Kim, you are so in love, it's pathetic.”

  “I'm not in love,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “She's not in love. She just can't tell the difference between loving behavior and unhealthy behavior,” Victor said, his expression darkening. “What are you to him anyway? I mean, what does he call you?”

  The question struck a chord, bringing back the painful memory of being referred to as a family friend. In truth, I didn't know what we were. Lovers. Friends with benefits. Something else. There was no definitive answer.

  All I could say was, “I don't know.”

  “It's obvious that he's your boyfriend,” Carmen said.

  “Do you go out on dates?” Victor asked.

  “No,” I replied, staring blankly at the half-eaten tuna salad sandwich in front of me.

  “Do you sleep in the same room together?”

  “No.”

  “Don't you think that if he loved you, you two would at least sleep in the same bed together. I mean, hell, you live together. How hard is it to cross the hall and get in bed together?”

  “Victor, that's enough,” Carmen said, watching my eyes as they began to water. “You're upsetting her.”

  “I'm just trying to get it through her skull that the guy is using her. It's plain as day. Rich older man with a vulnerable young girl living under his roof. Of course, he's going to take advantage of that. She might think she's living there for free, but nothing comes without a price.”

  “I'll talk to you guys later.” I quickly grabbed my tray and headed over to the trash can to dump the rest of my lunch. My appetite had fled at the sound of Victor's harsh words. Was he right? I didn't know anymore.

  “Hey, wait up.” Carmen ran after me.

  I turned to her, wishing that my tear ducts could suck back up the tears that were already falling. “I just want to be alone for a while.”

  “Don't let him bully you. He just doesn't understand Dominick the way you do,” she tried to comfort me.

  “I don't even understand Dominick.” The tears came down, and it took everything in me not to crumble into a blubbering mess. “I thought I did, but I don't. He's damaged, I know that. But he's damaging me too. Victor's right. I need to know what's going on between us, and if it's not healthy, then I need to get away from him.”

  I waited on the loveseat in the living room with my hands wrapped around myself. All week, I avoided bringing up Dominick again. I didn't want anymore painful reminders of how twisted our relationship was, of how possessive he was, of how careless he was with my emotions. I couldn't handle it.

  Thankfully, Carmen seemed to understand. Every time Victor tried to bring the subject up, she shushed him, watching the expression on my face as I sunk into a depressed oblivion. For as much as I had been excited about Dominick leaving for an entire week, I sure wasn't taking advantage of it. Every afternoon, I rode the bus home and holed myself up in my room to do homework. Then I took some sleeping medicine to go to bed early, trying to make the days pass faster until he returned, and we could settle things once and for all. If he wasn't going to commit, then I couldn't live with him anymore. He would never stop the emotional push and pull. I may be naive, but I wasn't dumb enough not to realize that. As Victor had said, I was too easy of a target. Living under the same roof together, it would be a constant game of predator and prey. He would take what he wanted from me, and I was too emotionally weak to stop him. As much as I tried to tell myself that I hated him for what he was doing to me, it wasn't true. I loved Dominick, and I was pretty sure that whatever shitty interactions transpired between us, that wouldn't change. He had been engraved on my heart from a young age, stamped into me permanently. My want for him was never ending, even if having him was just a fantasy. Tiny tastes of him were enough to keep me yearning for more. I didn't understand why. My own heart was a mystery to me, but I couldn't change the way I felt, no matter how hard I tried.

  The sound of footsteps made my body tense as I straightened myself and stared at the doorknob. When I heard the key hitting the lock, my heartbeat began to speed up. This was the moment of truth.

  Dominick stepped inside, gazing down at the floor. It took him a moment to look up and see me, but when he did, his expression turned to surprise. There were no lights on. No TV going. It was just me, sitting in the darkness, waiting.

  “Kimlet,” his voice was soft.

  “Welcome home, Dominick.”


  He smirked at me before rolling his suitcase inside and closing the door behind himself. “You used my full name again. That either means something really good or really bad. I'll take a guess that it's the later of the two.”

  “What am I to you?” I cut right to the chase.

  “What?” He gave me a confused look.

  “When we met the director and his wife, you introduced me as a family friend.”

  A short laugh escaped his lips. “Is that what you've been so upset about ever since we got back from California?”

  “It's not funny.”

  Dominick set his suitcase down and came to sit beside me. I refused to look at him, staring at my hands instead, feeling emotionally numb. There was a strong determination in me not to be hurt by his words. Part of me expected I wouldn't like them. I had convinced myself that I had just been fooling myself, that I had fallen into the fantasy of a relationship with him. Dominick was good at weaving fantasies. He did it for a living.

  “What do you really want to talk about, Kimlet?” he asked.

  “You. Me. Us. Everything. I have a lot to get off my chest, and I don't plan on holding back. I want you to know everything that I've been thinking and feeling these last few weeks. And I want to know everything that you've been thinking and feeling. No more riddles. No more silence. No more waiting for you to put it down on paper.”

  “Alright.”

  “What am I to you, Dominick?”

  “We're lovers, I thought.”

  “Lovers,” I repeated the word. Lovers meant that we slept together. It didn't always extend beyond that. “You told the director and his wife that I'm a family friend.”

  “You are a family friend.”

  “You could have told them I was your girlfriend.”

  He shifted his weight. “I'm not sure how that would have looked to them.”

  “That woman was at least twenty years younger than him. We're only twelve years apart. Do you think he really would have cared?” I could feel the anger building inside of me, threatening to fill my eyes with burning tears. He was purposely avoiding the label. It was clear to me now.