by Selena Kitt
He found the key card and opened the door, yanking and shoving her in front of him into the room as he turned on the light. He slammed the door and Laura sat on the edge of the bed, wincing when he threw her purse into a corner.
“What in the fuck was that?” he demanded. “I asked you, ‘Do you want spaghetti?’… ‘Do you want salad?’… ‘Do you want a banana?’… Did ‘no’ suddenly become ‘yes’ in your fucked-up version of reality?”
Laura sank to the floor, tears coming now. She wanted to speak, but realized she couldn’t, at least in terms of the practice.
“You tell me you want me to take the lead,” he went on, watching her slide down the side of the bed. “But ‘The Great Gazoo’ must have a fucking crystal ball, because he’s right—you don’t trust me to do it for a minute.”
She felt her whole body clenching again, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding her feet under her skirt.
“You decide we should come here.” He was pacing now, his hands behind his back. “You decide that this relationship guru is the next magic thing.” She watched his jaw clenching and unclenching. “You decide that we’re going to do this stupid practice.”
“What’s next?” He stopped pacing, breathing hard. “You decide you want to end our marriage? Is that the next decision on your checklist?”
Laura shook her head, sobbing and wiping tears away with her palms. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all.
“When do I get to decide?” His voice was trembling and quiet. “When are you ever going to trust me to make a decision?”
Laura screamed. It wasn’t a planned thing—it just came out of her. She grabbed her shoe and threw it at him. He dodged and it hit the wall behind him.
“I wanted you to make a decision!” she screamed, her voice hoarse from strain. “You spent that whole time asking me what I wanted—and all I wanted was for you to decide!”
“That’s great.” Rick snorted, shaking his head. “Except I’m not the Great Fucking Gazoo, ya know? I’m Fred Flintstone, babe. I ain’t got a damned clue what you want—unless you tell me!”
He sat on the chair near the desk with a sigh, leaning his forehead against his palm. “It’s like you either want to make all the decisions, fuck me and what I want—or you want me to make them all, but you don’t want to tell me how you feel about my choices.”
She swallowed hard and her lip was trembling. She knew he was right but she didn’t understand it.
“Sometimes I think you pull stuff like that little Helen Keller incident downstairs just to sabotage me.” Rick rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. “What I really think is that you just want to find a way to blame it all on me when it’s fucked up.”
“Oh, Rick…” Laura felt something break open in her chest. It was like an iceberg dislodging from a glacier. “Oh my god…”
“And we’re failing right now.” He looked sad. “We were supposed to do this practice, and here I thought it would bring us closer. I’d finally get to hear what you want… and what happens?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered with a sniff.
“You know how often I’ve heard you say that over the years?” he asked as he sat forward in the chair, his hands laced together between his knees. “I think I can count the times on one hand.”
She didn’t look up at him. She couldn’t.
“I think I deserve that apology,” he said. “In fact, I think the entire cafeteria deserves that apology.”
“What?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Come on.” He held out his hand to her. She shook her head, but she let him help her up.
“My shoe,” she said, limping along.
“Forget it,” he replied, and she sighed, kicking off her other one and following him barefoot. “And you can stop talking. We’re still doing this practice.”
She swallowed, watching as he hit the elevator button a few times while they waited. The trip down seemed to go much faster than the one up. Rick was leading her back to the cafeteria; she could hear the low rumble of talking and the clinking of glasses and silverware.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, imagining how humiliating it would be to face everyone who had seen her childish tantrum.
“I said stop talking.” Rick pushed her in front of him as they went through the double doors. “It’s just two words, Laura. I think you can manage.”
She felt faint, and she knew it wasn’t from hunger. The thought of making a public apology made her dizzy with fear and shame. She hung back by the doors as Rick went over to “The Great Gazoo’s” table. She saw them talking for a moment, and then Gazoo said something to the blonde man next to him, who took off.
Pacing, she watched them talking, Rick squatting down next to Gazoo’s chair now, listening to what the facilitator had to say. He was doing a lot of nodding. She glanced back at the doors, considering going back up to their room. Lost in the fantasy of escape, she imagined packing her suitcase, checking out, taking a taxi to the airport, changing the tickets.
Rick was striding back toward her and he pulled her with him as he turned and led her toward the other end of the cafeteria. She saw the tall, blonde man that Gazoo had spoken with standing there, and with dawning horror, she recognized the thing he was carrying: a cordless microphones.
“No,” she whispered.
Rick looked back at her. “Not another word, Laura,” he said. “I swear to God.”
The blonde guy handed the microphone to Rick and he took it. “Is it on?”
“This button,” he said, showing him.
Rick turned it on and there was a brief sound of feedback that seemed to get everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat and put the mic to his mouth.
“Excuse me.” He pulled his wife forward as she began to shrink behind him. “Most of you probably witnessed what happened here earlier, when my wife threw her dinner tray.”
Laura was staring at the tiles, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste blood.
Rick was leaning toward her with the mic as he spoke. “She’d like to say something to all of you.”
“Two words,” Rick whispered, holding the microphone up to her mouth.
Laura didn’t look up. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. If she had anything in her stomach, she knew she would have thrown it up. She almost wished that were the case—maybe it would get her out of this humiliating scene. Why don’t you just leave? That voice in her head was nagging her. You don’t have to put up with this!
When she met her husband’s eyes, she saw that they weren’t angry, or spiteful, or even gloating. It was as if he could see right into her in that moment, like he knew just what she was thinking and feeling, and it didn’t matter—he loved her. He was making her do this terrible, awful, horrible thing, but he loved her. There was something in that. Her eyes fell on Gazoo in the corner, and she remembered his words: “Trust him.”
With that thought in her mind, she opened her mouth and choked out, “I—I’m… sorry.”
He gave a satisfied nod, flipped off the microphone and handed it over to the blonde guy. Rick had her by the hand and was heading back toward the exit. Laura stumbled when she heard the first wave of clapping start, turning to look back at the crowd of workshop participants. Some were even standing in their seats and applauding!
She looked up at her husband and saw that he heard, too. She had a brief moment of flushed pride but then she wondered—were they clapping because she had apologized, or because Rick had made her? The applause died down and Rick stopped at the cafeteria line.
“Can I get some fruit?” Rick asked the woman behind the counter. She was a heavyset redhead, and she was staring at Laura.
“There’s a bowl of it down there,” the redhead directed, pointing, still staring. Laura shuffled after her husband and he stood there for a moment, pondering the bowl of fruit.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and all you have to do is nod ‘yes’ or shake your
head ‘no.’ Is that clear?” He slipped an apple and two bananas into his jacket pockets.
Laura nodded a vigorous “yes.” For some reason, her apology had given her a thrill. It hadn’t been as awful as she had thought it would be—in fact, quite the opposite. Being humbled was exhilarating. How could that be?
“Do you want an apple?” he asked.
She shook her head no.
“Do you want a banana?”
She nodded, smiling at him. He took another banana and put it into his pocket.
“An orange?”
She shook her head.
“A peach?”
She nodded, and he put it into one of his now bulging pockets.
“Is there any other fruit you want?”
A vigorous “no.”
Rick looked over the counter at the redhead, who was still watching them. “How can I pay for these?”
“Just go ahead.” She waved him away. The cashier was nowhere to be seen.
“Thanks.” He took Laura’s hand and led her back out of the cafeteria. They made the same trip up the elevator to their room, although this time, Laura noticed she felt much, much lighter than she had the last time.
Rick emptied his pockets, creating a fruit line-up across the dresser. Laura sat on the edge of the bed watching him. Her stomach was rumbling again, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten, but the ache in her bladder was worse. She had been temporarily distracted from those sensations for a while, but they were back now, with a vengeance.
She reached over and tugged at his suit jacket as he slipped it off. He looked at her, his face a question. She made a small noise in her throat, pointing to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the bathroom was also the same direction as the exit.
“What?” He shook his head. “You want to go back out?”
Laura sighed, pointing between her legs and then back to the bathroom. He shook his head again, confused. She stood and crossed her legs, making little noises while doing what she used to call “the pee-pee dance.”
“Oh!” Rick’s eyes widened. “Right. Just pee?”
She raised her eyebrows, but nodded.
“Ok, you can go.” He waved her toward the bathroom.
She shut the door behind her, sighing in relief as she emptied her bladder. She could hear him moving around out there, and now that the physical complaint had eased, all she could think about was the fruit on the dresser. She was starving! She washed her hands in a hurry, barely drying them. She noticed a banana peel in the garbage, and knew he must have eaten his.
“What are you doing?” Rick asked from the bed as she picked up a banana and started to peel it.
Oh, hell. She put it back down with a frown, her hands actually shaking with hunger now. When she turned to him, she saw that he was naked from the waist down, his white button-down shirt undone at the collar, his tie tossed over his pants on the chair. The shock must have shown on her face, because he chuckled.
“Come here,” he said. “And bring that banana.”
She came to sit next to him on the bed, handing over the yellow fruit with a wistful sigh. He took it and laid it on the other side of him, leaning back on a pillow and looking at her.
“One of the things that I’ve always loved about you…” He stroked the hand that she was using to prop herself up. “Is how proud you are. So proud of yourself—and proud of me.”
She smiled at him, wrinkling her nose.
“But sometimes I think it gets in the way…” He circled her wrist with his finger and thumb. She had small wrists and delicate hands. “Don’t you?”
She sighed and nodded. Her eyes skipped over him to the banana, her stomach growling loudly now. It was loud enough that they could both hear it.
“I know you’re hungry,” he said, acknowledging that he had heard the noise emanating from her middle. “And I’m going to feed you, if you’re a good girl.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, blazing at him.
“There it is. That’s what I’m talking about.” He nodded, still smiling. “I think it’s time you swallowed some of that pride.”
“Here.” He pulled up his shirt tails, and held his cock, which flopped limply over his fingers. “Suck.”
She stared at him, open-mouthed. What? No way! She shook her head, her mouth set in an angry, thin line, glaring at him.
“Yes.” He sat up enough that he could grasp her by the hair, pulling her toward his crotch. She could have resisted, but it would have hurt her to jerk away. “Sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you. Trust that I do.”
She snorted, rolling her eyes. Good for me? She thought. A blowjob for him is good for me? What kind of twisted logic is this?
Looking at the banana on the other side of his hip, she took his flaccid length into her mouth. She’d been doing this, or some variation of this, to him for ten years and she knew exactly how to get him hard. Her tongue worked back and forth over the frenulum as she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger around him. When his cock began to swell, she started taking him in from base to tip in long, cheek-hollowing sucks, doing it again and again until he was fully erect.
“Look at me.” He moved her hair out of her eyes. She didn’t take his cock out of her mouth, she just tilted her eyes up to him. “I love you. Do you know that?”
She pulled her head off his cock, opening and then closing her mouth.
“Just nod, yes or no.” He smiled, sliding her head back down onto him.
Laura could feel her throat beginning to close with tears. She nodded, feeling his cock pulsing against her tongue. She had heard the words a thousand times from him, but this was different somehow. Something had changed, and she didn’t know what it was.
“Do you love me?” He caught one of her tears with his thumb as it fell. She nodded again, unable to stop the tears. She had never felt it so fully and completely as she did right now. He nodded, watching her tears falling.
“Suck.” He pressed his hand against the back of her head. She took him into her mouth again, as far as she could. She had never been very good at deep-throating him—Rick wasn’t a small man, anywhere—but she tried, gagging a little, and it made her eyes water until she wasn’t sure why tears were running down her cheeks.
“Deeper,” he said, and she could feel him pressing in. Her throat constricted and she choked, gasping for breath.
“Just open.”
She found that when she relaxed her throat muscles, she could take much more of him, so she did, breathing through her nose as he thrust slowly in and out of her mouth. The longer she sucked him, the more open her throat seemed to become. When she looked up into his eyes, she felt completely connected to him, as if the cock in her mouth completed a circuit between them.
“Ok.” He eased his cock out of her mouth. The empty feeling she had when he took it away surprised her. His thumb was wiping at her wet cheek again.
“Hungry?” he asked. She nodded, eager, and he smiled, reaching for the banana. He peeled it back a quarter of the way and offered it to her. She took a bite, moaning as she mashed the sweetness against the roof of her mouth. Her throat felt raw and tender as she swallowed.
“More?” he asked. She nodded and opened her mouth. He fed her another short length, and she moaned again as she swallowed it, her stomach clamoring. A banana had never tasted so good. She opened her mouth once more, waiting as he peeled it further, feeding her bit by glorious bit.
When it was gone, she made a happy, satisfied sound, practically a purr, and then watched him toss the peel on the night table. She stretched out beside him, smiling. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. His cock had fallen to half-mast but it was still pulsing and slick with her saliva.
“Are you still hungry?” he asked and she nodded against his chest. Her stomach was happy with the banana, but she was nowhere near satisfied. “Go get the peach.”
She leapt off the bed and went to the dresser, getting the soft, ripe peach a
nd bringing it to him. He took it from her, laying it on the other side of him again where the banana had been.
“I want you to undress,” he told her. She raised her eyebrows but started unbuttoning her blouse from top to bottom, pulling it out of her skirt so she could undo the lower buttons. Her hands were trembling, and she told herself it was because she was hungry as she peeled her blouse off her pale shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
Her bra was a front-hook, and she unclasped it, dropping it next to her blouse. Her flowered skirt unzipped in the back, and Rick watched as she struggled with it, finally getting it far enough down so she could wiggle it past her hips.
Last were her panties, and she hooked her thumbs under the elastic to peel them off. She couldn’t remember the last time she had stood in front of him like this, completely exposed. His cock was hard again, pulsing skyward.
“Put your arms above your head.” He watched her breasts lifting as she did. They were sweetly pear-shaped with dark brown nipples that ripened into fat buds when they were sucked.
Rick got up from the bed, grabbing his tie off the chair. His wife would have been a small woman next to any man, but next to him she seemed almost doll-like. He could easily grasp her wrists in one hand, and he did, wrapping the tie around them. He made a knot, wrapping some more and then making another.
“Does that hurt?” he asked. She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Good. Can you lower your arms?” She tried, finding that she could, leaving her wrists crossed in front of her navel.
He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching back for the peach.
“Kneel.” He tossed a pillow on the floor in front of him. Laura struggled to her knees, finding it harder than she thought it would be without the use of her hands. “Look at me.”
“Bite.” He offered her the peach. His hand brushed her hair out of her eyes, flipping it back over her shoulders and out of the way as she sank her teeth into the fruit, tearing off a piece and moaning at its sweetness. The juices ran down her chin and although she tried catching them with her tongue, it was impossible.
