Defending Her Dignity

by Jade Webb

  I walk out of the bathroom, through the large walk-in closet. It’s completely bare except for her dress from the gala. Out of curiosity, I open a drawer and find some clothes. I recognize them all—her wardrobe isn’t the most creative, and mainly consists of tank tops and jeans in neutral colors. Two pairs of shoes lie neatly next to each other on the floor. I open another drawer, curious to see if she managed to bring enough to fill another one, and I feel my breath hitch as I slide the drawer open. Because inside is a row of neatly folded black lace panties.

  “Shit,” I mutter out as I slide the drawer fully open. And like a pervert, I reach for a pair. The minute my hands touch the silk and lace fabric, I can feel my dick twitch in my pants. Because as I unwrap it, I realize it’s a thong, and I have to restrain myself from not physically releasing all the pent-up sexual desire and frustration coursing through me right now. I’m so close, and knowing this intimate secret has me even closer. Because in all my wildest fantasies with Yael—and there have been plenty—I had always imagined she was the type of girl to wear some pair of no-nonsense underwear. Like those panties that come in a ten-pack from Walmart. Never a fucking silk and lace thong. I quickly look at the other pairs and find that each one is the same: lace thong, folded up in a neat row.

  I want to be the better man and fold this panty clutched in my hand, put it back and walk away. But I can’t. It’s stupid, and pathetic, but I want a piece of her with me. Even if it is a satin and lace scrap of fabric. It’s something.

  So I shove the panties into my pocket, close the drawer, and leave her room. Once inside the safety of my own bedroom, I close the door and sit on the edge of my bed. I slowly pull the panties out of my pocket again and hold them in my hand. My dick is straining against my pants now and with my free hand, I start to palm it as I keep my eyes fixated on the piece of black fabric in my hand.

  But it’s not enough.

  And though I hate myself for doing it, I unzip my pants and unbutton the top buckle. My dick pokes its head out through my boxes and I grab it, holding it in a tight squeeze. The voice in my head telling me to put the panties back, to stop being such a fucking pervert, completely dies out and I moan as I stroke my hand up and down my shaft, squeezing Yael’s panties in my other hand.

  And it’s still not enough.

  So I take her panties, and I wrap them around my cock as I pump harder and faster. I thrust into my hand, into her panties, as I continue to pump my cock. The image of Yael, wearing these panties and nothing else, her legs spread open waiting for me to fuck her, is what finally sends me over the edge. I groan as I come, shooting my hot cum all over her panties, the white streaks clearly visible on the dark, black lace.

  “Shit,” I mutter as I realize what I’ve done. I know I should feel ashamed and disgusted with myself, but I can’t. I need her too much.

  I zip myself back up and head into my bathroom to wash my hands. I run Yael’s panties under the water, washing off the stains. Suddenly, I feel a rush of panic. Yael probably had twenty items of clothing all together; there’s no way she won’t notice a pair of her panties missing. I could run these through the dryer, sneak them back in. But that doesn’t seem right, either. As messed up as it sounds, these panties are mine now. I marked them. And if I can’t have Yael, at least I can have this small piece of her. And while it doesn’t feel like enough, it has to be. Because Yael has made it loud and clear nothing can happen between us. So if all I have is this scrap of fabric, I’ll take it.

  28

  Lawrence

  “Dad! They’re here!” Isabel’s voice screaming at the door pulls me out of my work. I slide my glasses off and dump them on my desk to join Isabel at the front door.

  “Kiddo, can you go get Yael? Let her know everyone is here?” Isabel nods and darts down the hall to run upstairs and grab Yael. She, thankfully, doesn’t mind playing errand girl for me. Yael and I have fallen into an icy, two-word maximum kind of relationship that is painfully awkward. And then when I went full-on creep this morning and took my frustration out on her panties? Yeah, new low.

  I open the door to let my sisters and their respective boyfriends inside. We’ve instituted a monthly Saturday-night ritual where we all get together at my house for dinner and “adult” time. The tradition started about a year ago, after Daphni broke off from her old record label and I bought a new label, wrapping it under Monroe Industries. With more time on her hands and more freedom to explore her creative side without the constraints of her former label, she and Gabby had decided that I would be their next project. They felt that I spent too much time alone with Isabel, and that I needed time with people my age. So, they had hijacked one Saturday night a month to come over for pizza and to hang out. While initially I had been unconvinced I needed it, I found myself now looking forward to these monthly dinners.

  “Did you order the pizza yet, Law?” Daphni asks as she waltzes into the house, kicking off her heels in the foyer.

  “Yep, everything’s ready in the kitchen.”

  Daphni claps her hands with excitement and looks around. “Where’s Isabel?”

  “She’s upstairs grabbing Yael.”

  Daphni arches her brows and playfully punches my arm. “Finally, I get to meet Lawrence’s mystery woman.”

  I roll my eyes and push her down the hall. “She’s not my ‘mystery woman.’” I turn to face the rest of the group. “And please, everyone, for the love of God, do not embarrass me tonight. Keep it cool.”

  Daphni and Gabby erupt into giggles. “Keep it cool,” Daphni repeats, mocking me.

  I close my eyes and square my jaw, forcing myself to remember that I love my sisters and do not want to murder them. Roman and Liam both offer me a pitying smile.

  I lead everyone down the hall into the kitchen. A moment later, Yael and Isabel join us and at the sight of her aunts, Isabel’s eyes light up and she runs to Daphni and Gabby, her arms outstretched. Isabel adores her aunts, probably because they completely spoil their only niece every time they see her. Tonight is no exception, and Gabby pulls a candy bar from her pocket, eliciting an excited shriek from Isabel.

  “After dinner,” I tell her as she somberly slides the candy into her pocket.

  Isabel loads up her plate, then disappears into the living room. She is nothing but predictable, and I’m willing to bet my entire savings account that The Karate Kid is queued up to play. The rest of us congregate around the kitchen island with our pizza and I blend together virgin margaritas: everyone’s selected choice of beverage in respect of Daphni’s continued sobriety.

  “So, Yael, I’m very excited to meet you,” I hear Daphni say to Yael.

  And so it begins.

  “Oh my gosh, me too. I am a very big fan,” Yael gushes, and I watch with amused curiosity. I haven’t heard her mention being a fan of my sister once, and the only music I ever hear her play is 90’s rap when she boxes in the gym.

  “Really?” I ask, unable to resist. “What’s your favorite Daphni Monroe song?”

  Yael’s eyes widen and though I doubt anyone else catches it, I can see the flash of panic. She forces a smile to her face, a non-verbal “fuck you” to me. For some twisted reason, that ignites a spark inside of me. I’m tired of being the only one affected here: I want her to feel something, anything, toward me, even if it is just pure, unadulterated hatred. Fuck it, I’m enough of a masochist to take that over awkward silence and polite, uncomfortable conversation.

  “There are just so many, I can’t choose,” she replies.

  I drop my elbows on the counter, staring her down. “Right,” I push. “But if you had to choose.”

  “Lawrence, she doesn’t need to—” Daphni starts.

  “Well, she is a big fan,” I say, cutting my sister off. “She must have a favorite song, and I would love to know which one it is.” I know I’m being an asshole, and the anger flashing in Yael’s eyes confirms it. Everyone around us fades away, shifting uncomfortably at the silent battle the two of us are waging
.

  “I really enjoy…” Yael bites down on her lip, and I know I’ve won. It’s a short-won victory, however, because Gabby slams her heeled shoe into my foot, and I let out a curse as I double over from the pain.

  “My favorite is ‘Lose Yourself.’ Is that one of yours, too?” Gabby asks, offering Yael a lifeline, which she eagerly takes.

  “Love it,” she confirms, before Daphni happily launches into a longwinded explanation of the process of writing the song and recording it.

  I down the contents of my glass, wishing the damn thing actually had tequila in it, and stand rigidly by the counter as my sisters shoot me annoyed looks. I’m in a foul mood, and even though I know I’m acting like a spoiled, petulant child, I don’t care. I hate knowing that the woman I want—who I know wants me, too—is within my grasp and yet keeps pulling away. I haven’t had to work for much in my life, and especially not for a woman, and it’s driving me to borderline insanity.

  “Why don’t we take this party outside? We can light up the fire pit,” Gabby suggests, and everyone collects their glasses. “Law, bring some more margaritas out,” she orders before heading down the hall to the French doors outside.

  I pop into the adjoining pantry to grab another bottle of the margarita mix. As I turn to walk out, Yael blocks me.

  “What is your problem?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” I respond, unable to conceal the noticeable edge in my voice.

  “Why are you being such an asshole?”

  “Drop it, Yael,” I warn her. While I normally love Yael’s forthrightness and desire to cut through the bullshit, I don’t want to deal with it tonight. Mainly because I don’t have an answer to her question. Because the only fathomable reason I can conjure up in my messed-up, blue-balls head is that I’m falling in love with a woman who doesn’t want me. And that is far too much for me to stomach right now. Which is why I then also quickly grab the bottle of tequila from the bottom shelf.

  “Whatever it is, Lawrence, just stop. I don’t deserve for you to treat me like this.” She leans against the door frame and balls her hands into fists at her sides. “What do you want from me?”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “What do I want from you, Yael? Haven’t I made that perfectly fucking clear?”

  Yael blushes and she drags her eyes away. “I told you that we just can’t.”

  “I know, Yael. Trust me, I remember each time I’ve tried and each time you ran away.”

  She bites down on her lip and stares down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” she simply says, before turning around and walking away.

  I quickly blend a new round of drinks, making myself an extra-special version, even though I know this is a decidedly pathetic way to handle the fact that I am in love with a woman who wants nothing to do with me. Whatever, a shot or two of tequila won’t hurt.

  Once the drinks are finished, I join everyone outside and refill their drinks before taking the empty seat between Roman and Yael.

  “So, Law, we’ve decided that we’re going to play a little Truth or Dare,” Daphni announces, a playful glint in her eye.

  I sigh. “And how old are we again, Daphni?”

  “Right, from the guy who actively chooses to spend his Friday nights having tea parties with stuffed bears?”

  I throw my hands up in defense. “It was like, one time, Daphni. And I’m really regretting telling you, since you bring it up every chance you get.”

  Daphni smiles and looks at Yael. “He literally texted me a picture of the whole thing. Like ten stuffed bears in a circle, each one with their own tea cup. And he actually made tea for all of them.” She holds back a laugh. “And I don’t even remember seeing Isabel in the picture. I remember getting it and wondering why in the hell my brother texted me a picture of him having a tea party on a Friday night. That is when I knew that I was officially not the most messed up one in the family.”

  “Okay, thanks for the story time, Daphni. Why don’t we start your game?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject.

  “Are you volunteering to go first, big bro?” She settles in her chair and levels her eyes at me. “Okay, Law, truth or dare?”

  I roll my eyes before answering. “Dare.”

  Daphni’s eyes glitter with excitement and she lifts her finger to her chin, thinking. “Okay. I dare you to tell me what you and Roman talked about last week when he called you.”

  I roll my eyes at her question. Of course Daphni would find a way to make this game about her. I look over at Roman, who is doing his best not to look panicked. He had called me to ask for advice on whether to surprise Daphni with a wedding. The press had been so relentless about trying to discover any wedding details that Daphni had already been forced to fire two of their wedding planners, after she’d discovered they had leaked details about the wedding to the press. She was so stressed by the whole ordeal that Roman was thinking of just surprising her with a wedding, with just family and friends, away from the prying eyes of the press. I told him it was a great idea.

  “He asked me for advice on what to do with that nasty rash you had. He said the creams weren’t working and the bumps were getting really inflamed—”

  “Oh, gross!” Daphni squeals as she covers her ears. She shifts in her chair to look at Yael. “Please, do not listen to him. He’s such a liar.”

  “Okay, let’s move on. Lawrence your turn, ask someone,” Gabby orders.

  “Daphni, my love, truth or dare?” I ask, ready to turn the tables on her.

  “Truth,” she answers, sticking her tongue out.

  “Chicken,” I tease. “Who is your favorite sibling? Me or Gabby?”

  “Nice one, loser,” Gabby mutters as she throws a napkin at my head.

  “Okay, maybe we should let someone else ask a question, before you guys turn this into an all-out sibling feud,” Liam diplomatically suggests.

  “Fine,” Daphni concedes before turning her attention to Yael. “Yael, truth or dare?”

  “Truth?” she replies uncertainly.

  Daphni shoots me a mischievous look before turning back to Yael. “Do you find Lawrence attractive?”

  “What?” Yael asks, her eyes widening into saucers.

  “Lawrence?” Daphni repeats. “Do you think he’s hot?”

  I glare at Daphni, who conveniently doesn’t see me. I know her games, and I also know that when Daphni has something up her sleeve, the whole world should be concerned.

  “Yael, you don’t have to answer,” Gabby, ever the peacemaker, says.

  I watch Yael out of the corner of my eye as I take another long sip from my cup. A part of me, admittedly, is enjoying seeing her on the spot and uncomfortable. She’s always so in control of her emotions, it’s nice to see her squirm a bit. Plus, as much as I hate my sister at times, there’s a side of me prickling with the need to know if she actually finds me attractive. Call me vain, but hearing her say no would do a hell of a lot to bruise my ego, which she’s already hacked apart with a chainsaw.

  Yael shrugs her shoulders, avoiding my eyes. “Sure.”

  Daphni nods at her response, a pleased smile on her face. Oh God, Daphni. Please, please don’t make me murder you tonight.

  Thankfully, it’s Yael’s turn next, and she looks at Liam. “Truth or Dare, Liam?”

  “Dare.”

  “Read us the last text message you sent,” Yael tells him.

  “Good one, Yael,” Daphni says.

  Liam digs his phone out and slides it open. I watch as his face drops. “Eh, can I skip this one?”

  “No way!” Daphni shouts.

  Liam looks nervously at Gabby, who shoots him a suspicious look. “Read it, Liam.”

  “Okay, this is, uh, a text I sent to my sister. It says, ‘Angie, please pick up the phone. Drew—that’s my nephew,” he explains to Yael. “Drew is vomiting. It’s green. Is this okay? Should I be calling 911? I gave him a few Doritos for dinner. Should I bring him to the hospital? Oh God, it’s everywhere.’” He drops the phone in his
lap, a lopsided grin on his face. “In my defense, I genuinely thought I might have killed the kid,” he says over everyone’s laughter.

  He shakes his head in defeat and then looks at Gabby. “Gabs, truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Who is the sexiest person here?”

  Gabby rolls her eyes. “Really? That’s your question? I have to choose between my brother, gross, by the way, my sister’s fiancé, and you? Isn’t your ego already big enough?” Liam offers her a cheeky smile and Gabby shakes her head. “Fine, baby, you. You’re the sexiest man here. Happy?”

  Liam smiles triumphantly before pulling Gabby from her seat and into his lap and giving her a kiss on her cheek. “Good answer, babe.”

  “Caveman,” she mutters as she tucks herself into his lap, nestling her cheek against his chest. “Okay, Lawrence, truth or dare?”

  “Don’t I get a break? Why don’t you pick on Roman?” I ask.

  “Because you’re more fun. Truth or dare?”

  “Fine. Truth. But this is the last one,” I warn.

  “Okay, tell us, when were you the proudest? And before you answer, it can’t be anything with Isabel. We all know you’re the proudest dad in the whole world already.”

  Leaning back in my chair, my answer comes easily. “My proudest moment was a few weeks ago. When you, Daphni, got your one-year sobriety chip in August. That one is hard to top.” The group grows silent at my answer, and I catch Daphni’s eye. She offers me an appreciative smile, and Roman reaches across to squeeze her hand. It was almost one year ago to the day when Roman had called me and Gabby down to his lake house to come and see Daphni. I had a knot in my stomach the whole ride down. Daphni had been on a spiral of self-destruction for years. We had never known why, and when she had told us the reason, that she had been sexually assaulted by her record label head and subsequently destroyed everything, and almost everyone, in her path, we had been devastated. It had felt like a part of my world had collapsed. But she had proven to be so much stronger than even I had realized. And it was because of her strength that she was here with us today.