by Jesse Joren
The temperature, for example. It was almost July, and I knew the sun was blazing hot outside. Touching the shatterproof glass gave no clue. Cool, soundless air somehow made its way through the cabin as I sweated my way through one challenge after another.
By now we had a rhythm to our days. Hex would leave breakfast and lunch and clothes along with whatever tasks he had for me that day. I would struggle and cuss and generally comply.
In the evening he'd return with a delicious supper and an appetite for verbal sparring. We'd eat and discuss my essays and practice my French. We were deep into the works of Voltaire, along with dozens of books on international business.
From our time online, I knew that Hex had a wicked, brilliant mind. It had attracted me as much as his sexuality. He and I fell easily into the role of student and teacher, and he was patient, electric, and engaging.
Now this.
A hundred fucking miles, punctuated with a threat against someone I loved. How stupid I'd been to let him lull me into feeling safe.
In addition to breakfast and lunch on the table, there was another small box. It was filled with assorted energy gels and something called Honey Stinger waffles.
Instead of the usual exercise pants or shorts, a pair of expensive-looking padded shorts was provided today. Folded on the seat was a fitted white T-top, exercise bra and panties. Socks and new shoes.
From old habit I checked the sizes of the shorts and top. Both already 10/12, even though they were clearly cut to fit close to the body. I was definitely shrinking.
The clothes underlined my situation. This was bad if it required its own care package and a special outfit.
A hundred miles. There was no way I could make that kind of a distance. It wasn't even worth trying. It would probably kill me.
Wow, Eva. Drama much?
How I wished I could communicate back on the hated screen. All I needed was enough room for a few four-letter words. The bike wasn't exactly a democratic forum.
Again I glanced at the screen. Those words were very ambiguous. Probably exactly the way he intended.
"I know you can hear me," I yelled into the empty cabin air. "Go to hell! You hear me? Screw you and your games!"
There was no response, just mocking silence that left me feeling mad and foolish.
I stormed. I steamed. I broke several dishes in the sink. All that gave me was a cut on my finger. Hex didn't show up, and the bike didn't disappear.
Shit.
I tugged on the shorts and top. Both felt too tight and awkward. The padded shorts were absurd. Maybe I wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore, but I knew my ass didn't need extra padding.
Once I finished dressing, I threw myself on the bike since it was now the lesser of two evils. My legs and lower back flared a sore warning.
Breathing deeply, I told myself to slow down. This was no way to start.
You can do this. Fuck him, Eva. This is yours to lose. You don't want Natalie dragged into this, do you?
Hell no, I didn't. The cabin still didn't have a clock. By my best guess, I'd need at least ten hours of riding today to meet the goal.
Amazing how quickly Hex could go from private tutor to personal devil. If I was smart, I'd stop letting him make me forget that.
60.1 MILES
That was what the digital readout showed by late-afternoon when I hit PAUSE for about the tenth time. I climbed stiffly off the bike to have a snack and take stock.
The strawberry waffles were good. My favorite flavor so far. Forty more miles and –
Suddenly I burst into tears and crumpled down into one of the kitchen chairs. My sobs were hard and hurt my chest as they ripped from me.
As a professional couch potato, I'd often read about athletes hitting a wall, with only a vague idea of what that meant. Now I knew it wasn't only physical, but emotional and mental.
I'd tried. I really had. I'd eaten my snacks and stayed hydrated, pacing myself over the long hours. What was finally wearing me down was the endless grind of my thoughts.
The certainty of defeat had crept into me during the long ride. I wasn't going to make my goal, and someone I loved was going to pay for it.
Whatever it was inside of a person to complete a ride like this, it was missing in me. I didn't need padded shorts. I needed will power.
For all my life I'd prided myself on being tough, but now here I was, collapsing like a cheap lawn chair. My body was tired, but that wasn't the real problem. I just didn't have the mental toughness to keep going.
I slipped from the chair into the floor. My body complained for a moment, then grudgingly agreed that it felt good to stretch out, hard wood or not.
My mother's face rose up before my eyes, stiff and accusing.
Not all of us have the luxury of running away, Eva.
Practically her last words to me the last time I'd seen her. Maybe she was right. I sure felt like both a loser and a coward right now.
Closing my eyes, I rested my head on my arms. I searched for some mental stick to beat myself with, to make me get up and finish those miles.
There was nothing, just a smooth wall of silence inside of me. Not even a random, homespun witticism from Uncle Dale came to mind to give me a bracing kick in the pants.
Something like sleep descended, a grayness that was both frightening and a relief. No thoughts, just my breath going in and out, controlled and steady.
Then another image flashed behind my closed eyes, too real and also too ridiculous. A helpless snort of laughter escaped me.
Natalie in her expensive, sky-high Louboutins, teetering over the squatty potty. In the absurd vision, she was giving someone total hell about concealing trial evidence, talking on her cell phone without missing a beat.
That lone snicker broke free as a giggle, then a laugh. It wouldn't stop. I laughed and laughed until the rafters rang.
If this was going crazy, it felt great. Layer by layer the gray fog lifted.
"So get to it, Eva," I told myself. "Because god forbid that Natalie have to come here and get piss on her shoes."
If Hex heard that, he was probably questioning my sanity.
Good.
Maybe that was what he really wanted, to drive me insane. It didn't matter. Natalie wasn't coming here because of me.
My body had protested being in the floor. Now it griped about having to get up. I dug around in the box for another snack, this time a mandarin orange energy gel that I washed down with water.
When I remounted the bike, my ass promised vengeance. I hit RESUME, and a new message flashed on the screen.
GOOD WORK
MEET YOU HALFWAY
The digital readout flashed, then 60.1 MILES became 80.1 MILES.
Tears came to my eyes. I'd rather have seen 99.1 MILES, but this unexpected gesture built on my resolve not to quit.
"Thank you," I whispered as I began to peddle. The words on the screen faded.
He's holding twenty more miles over you, and you're grateful? You need to have your head examined.
"Fuck off," I said out loud.
Where had that voice been when I needed it, to get me off the floor and back in business? My new rule: if you're not helping, then shut the hell up.
It felt good to get up again. I hadn't been doing a good job of that before Hex brought me here. I resolved to do better from now on.
For now, there were twenty more miles to go. I suspected that supper wouldn't come until those miles were done. They would get done. Not fast, but it would happen. I was sure about that now.
When I got out of here, I was buying Natalie the tallest pair of Louboutins available. Her spendy heels had given me a kick in the ass then I needed it most.
For all my resolve, those last twenty miles took it out of me. At the end I had to resort to a short break after each mile. The snacks had lost all their appeal. Even looking at water made me feel a little sick.
Dinner didn't matter. A bath or clean clothes didn't matter. I just wanted this to be over.
Finally on the screen:
100.0 MILES
I was too tired to feel jubilation, fully aware of how close I'd come to failing. To having Natalie as my roommate here at Walden, my name for this peculiar cabin in the middle of nowhere.
The price for today's work was going to be high. In spite of my attempts to stretch, my muscles were tightening up and threatening to go on strike.
If tomorrow wasn't a day of rest, then I was screwed. It wouldn't matter what the stakes were.
Almost as soon as I collapsed in a chair, I heard the soft creak of the basement stairs, telling me that Hex had arrived.
A moment later he was in the doorway, carrying a larger box than usual, grinning at me with obvious pride. He was so beautiful that it was hard to stay mad at him, no matter how much I ached.
But the first words out of his mouth dumped a swift gallon of adrenaline back into my blood.
"Good job," he said. "I know you'll be glad to see Natalie tomorrow."
CHAPTER SEVEN
I felt my face go white. Good that I was sitting, or I might have collapsed. Hex was instantly by my side. He dropped the box and reached for me, but I jerked away.
"You look like you saw a ghost," he said. "Are you sick?"
"You promised not to hurt her," I whispered. Oh god. Had this all just been another trick?
"What are you talking about? Who said anything about hurting anyone?"
"You know damn well what I mean. 'Natalie pays.' How is that anything but a threat?"
"What did I tell you about clarifying language?" he asked.
"I can't very well clarify with a passive screen," I snapped, too exhausted from the hours-long ride to spar with him.
Hex gave me a quicksilver glance that seemed to come to the same conclusion.
"Good point," he said. "Next time I'll take that under consideration."
Next time. My stomach turned at the idea of an encore. I wasn't sure I'd survive it.
"I don't want her paying any price. Don't bring her here too." My voice had taken on a hysterical edge.
He reached into my almost-empty snack box and came up with a lone waffle. Then he went to the sink and pumped a tall glass full of water.
"All of this. Down the hatch," he ordered.
The waffle and water didn't taste that great. In fact, they made me feel like puking. With effort I choked them down, and the panic started to recede.
"By 'Natalie pays,' I meant that she's probably worried about you, and not talking to her would mean she keeps worrying," he said. "I have no plans to bring her here."
I felt a wave of relief peppered with irritation. Part of me was sure that Hex had meant for me to misinterpret that message exactly as I had. I was too tired and shaky to argue semantics.
"Dinner is probably going to be more careful than you like," Hex said, "but after a ride like that, there are things you do to recover. Stretch."
Perversely, I didn't budge. I was exhausted. I'd earned a little rest.
For the first time I thought I heard impatience in his voice.
"Eva," he said, "you can do this on your own, or I can put you in the tub and use those straps. It's not going to be nearly as pleasurable as before. Your choice."
"I can do it," I muttered. "You don't have to be such a hardass."
He looked up from the box and grinned at me.
"You don't have any idea how sore you're going to be tomorrow, Ms. Hardass. Stretch. Over dinner I'll set your mind at ease about your friend."
That was better, a carrot instead of a stick. With a groan I staggered up and went to the stairs to stretch. My muscles were stiffening up fast. I might have to crawl downstairs in the morning.
Hex set a dark-blue box by the tub while I was finishing up.
"Epsom salts. It won't take the soreness away, but it will help. I'm happy to give you a massage." His eyes gleamed wickedly as he said this.
"I can rub myself, thanks," I said without thinking.
"Even better. Can I watch?"
My face was on fire now. It wasn't like me to make such a mistake.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Like what?" he teased.
With conspicuous nonchalance I went back to stretching, turning my back on him without a reply.
His quiet laugh made the hair on my neck prickle. It was too easy to imagine a laugh like that in the dark right before he pounced on me and did more than give me a massage.
"When you've finished ignoring me, have a seat," he said. "First course of dinner, and also some answers."
I turned around and he was already sitting. I braced myself for another round of sparring. Instead his eyes met mine, and there was no mistaking the admiration shining back at me.
"You may think I'm a complete prick," he said softly, "and I kinda am, but I'm very proud of what you did today."
A flush of pleasure swept over me. Hex often made me flush, but usually it was for more complicated reasons.
"It was only eighty miles," I heard myself say, going into automatic self-deprecation mode. "You let me cheat into that century mark."
"It's not the miles I meant," he said. "It's how you didn't quit. You were a fighter. Whatever went on inside your complicated head, it worked."
The ridiculous image of Natalie and the squatty potty returned, making me smile.
"You never know what will inspire someone," I agreed. "I did good, didn't I?"
"You did. Now stop being a praise whore and eat dinner before it gets cold."
"How about you stop being a manipulative bastard and let me eat before I have convulsions?" I fired back.
"Now I can tell your blood sugar is back to normal," he said.
As I sat down, I noticed the table for the first time. Hex had set out a meal of baked ziti and green salad, iced tea and mixed fruit. There was also a small black laptop, closed and silent.
He followed my gaze and reached to touch it, his fingers trailing over the smooth black surface slowly, suggestively. My body was back on high alert in spite of my exhaustion.
It was frightening how easily I could find myself in that zone, no matter what he was throwing at me. Frightening and addictive.
"This," he said, "is how Natalie will come to you tomorrow. Skyping from Atlanta."
A wave of relief and irritation washed over me. Why hadn't he just said that? I would have ridden a hundred – okay, eighty – miles to talk with Natalie on Skype. The implied threat was completely unnecessary.
Bullshit. Remember how you felt right before you went in the floor? You would never have gotten up if you didn't think he was going to Atlanta to abduct her.
"Is this another trick?" I asked. "I don't want you bringing her here on some technicality."
His eyes lingered on my face.
"Eva," he said, "I have the woman I want in this cabin, right here in front of me."
Somehow he'd never looked at me like this. Never had quite that tone in his voice. My nakedness, my orgasms at his hands…nothing had felt this raw and honest.
Whatever else might be wrong here, he meant what he was saying. This mesmerizing, complicated guy wanted me, in spite of seeing me at my worst and weakest.
I was the one to drop my eyes. "You better not try to renege," I said. "Or else."
"God forbid," he said. "It's good that you warned me. I would have stayed awake tonight, worrying about that."
"Because," he went on, "after supper I'm going to leave you to your own devices. You've had a long day. No lessons tonight."
A churning feeling rose inside of me. I told myself that it was relief to be alone.
"Speaking of time," I said, "how long can Natalie and I talk?"
"Thirty minute. So you know, I’ll be monitoring. Controlling asshole? Yep, and that condition isn't negotiable."
"I'm not going to say anything to give this away," I said, gesturing around the cabin.
<
br /> Hex paused. Again I felt that strange new dynamic, the edges of real honesty poking through his careful tapestry of words.
"There are people," he said, "who would love to hurt me. You would be a perfect weapon. Natalie would be a means to that end. So I monitor. Unless you'd rather pass?"
"Now I know you're insane," I said. "I worked my ass off for that time. You're not cheating me with a mind-game."
That might be a tad optimistic. I tended to come out on the short end in my tilts with Hex, but I was gaining on him. I wasn't going to forfeit time with Natalie over a lack of privacy.
The monitoring part could be handled. She told me everything about her sex life, but I'd just interrupt her if she got too graphic. Hex wasn't getting a free peep show on top of everything else.
Thirty minutes wasn't enough after being held here so long, but my spirit soared anyway. How good to revisit my real life and think that I might actually return to it. Then it would be good-bye, Hex.
But for reasons I wasn't ready to explore, that thought didn't bring a surge of relief. Before I crushed it down, there was only a pang of regret.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I held my breath as the Skype screen flickered. Two rings, three, then suddenly Natalie's glowing face filled the laptop's screen.
"What's the idea, sneaking off without even saying goodbye? It's been two fucking months. Are you hogging some Bahamas assignment without taking me? You bitch."
Then she was laughing, a flash of white teeth against her tanned skin.
I was dangerously close to crying. It was good to see her dear, beautiful face, so crystal-clear that she might have been in the next room.
Don't get cut off, and don't waste time bawling.
"So what the hell happened?" she asked. "Friday night I see you at dinner, then Monday I hear you've taken a year-long job with a mystery client who demands strict privacy."
That was what Hex had told them? I struggled to keep my words casual.
"That's how it happened. They picked me up at my place that weekend, and off we went."
