Separation Games (The Games Duet Book 2)

by CD Reiss

  Do not open this package now. Open it when I tell you.

  I could hear his bossy voice in my head and fell into a calm, yet excited obedience. That voice was pure pleasure to obey.

  Tonight you will lie down to sleep at nine p.m.

  I glanced at the clock. It was six forty-five. Plenty of time.

  Until then, you will not watch television or look at the computer. No screens. No books. No phone calls. No magazines. You may write in your journal, eat, and take care of the house. I own your boredom.

  You will take your clothes off as soon as you lock the door. Turn the heat up to eighty-two. Shower. Remain naked for the rest of the night. I own your nudity.

  Lie down on the floor at the foot of the bed at nine p.m., no sooner or later. You will sleep there. You may lie on the rug or the floor. I own your comfort.

  Don’t touch yourself. I own your pleasure.

  Don’t look in the box. I mean it. I own your curiosity.

  Jesus.

  His instructions were hard and cold, yet I tingled for them. Each claim of ownership was sexier than the last. Each demand made me wet to please him.

  I flipped the card.

  I intend to come and go as I please, but I don’t own the loft. You have control over it. If you need to set a limit, set it now. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll take it as permission to enter.

  I’ll be in touch.

  —A

  Would he enter? And when?

  It didn’t matter. I was doing this all the way. He could come and go as if he owned my space as well as my boredom, my nudity, my pleasure, and my curiosity.

  I stripped down in a state of joy, snapping the curtains closed while fully nude. Let the people in the department store across the street get a good look before I shut them out. My plan was incomplete and my life was a mess, but inside the loft, naked from head to toe, every inch of my skin was alive. My feet felt the woolen texture of the rug and the creaky bounce of the floor. My nipples felt the brush of my arm when I got a plate from the cabinet.

  My lips slid against the fork, newly awakened by the fact that they weren’t acting out of habit or survival, but for him. Because he’d told me to, and it pleased him.

  My shower had a purpose, the towel drying me had a resolve. Each movement was a scene in a larger play that Adam directed. I was complete as long as I was doing what he asked me to do. I was free to feel my own body in space.

  The feeling of contentment and peace remained at eight o’clock, but I had an hour to go before sleep and nothing to fill it with.

  And the box started to weigh on me.

  I shook it, but it made no sound. I peeled the folds back to see how they were fastened. Just tape. Tiny dots of double-stick. I’d never get it back the way it was.

  You could…

  I put the box in the cabinet under the kitchen sink and slapped the door closed.

  What was in that damned box?

  I took it out of the cabinet. Shook it again.

  Was he above leaving me an empty box just to test me? No, he was not, but there was definitely something inside. It had weight.

  I put the box to my nose and got a slight whiff of him. A little leather. A bite of something I could never identify. I dropped the box and picked up the note, pressing my nose to it.

  Licorice.

  That was it.

  I went to his bedroom closet. It had been mostly emptied, but once I threw the doors open and stepped in, he surrounded me. Leather and licorice. I opened the drawers, filling every corner of the space with him.

  So good. So very good.

  I got on my knees and crouched with my cheek to the floor, breathing deeply. I closed my eyes and let him seep inside me.

  I loved him. I couldn’t speak about the future or the past with him, but in that closet, on my knees, I loved him and it was enough.

  The throb between my legs was a growing ache as the minutes passed. I rolled onto my bottom, leaned my hands against the floor, and spread my legs for the empty pole and wire hangers he used to have his clothes on.

  How was I supposed to get through the night without touching myself?

  I put my head back, surrendering to the mundane difficulties he’d set for me, and spotted something on the top shelf.

  Bounding up, I grabbed it.

  Packing tape.

  I could use that.

  The wrapped box sat on the kitchen counter. I picked the edge off the packing tape and carefully unstuck a good section. Sticking it to the top of the box, I spiraled the roll of tape around, letting it scream when I moved it, until the box was a cellophane-wrapped mummy. It would take me so long to get it out that I’d have time to stop myself.

  Perfect.

  Just to be sure it wasn’t staring me in my face, I tossed the entire thing into the freezer.

  That was that.

  I had thirty minutes.

  I checked on the box a few more times. Dusted a few shelves while stark naked. Vacuumed. Brushed my teeth.

  By the time I shut off the lights and curled up on the floor at the end of the bed, I was exhausted and completely obsessed with my husband.

  I wondered if that had been his plan the entire time, then fell asleep.

  Chapter 15

  In the night, he came.

  In the dark, he whispered.

  You are beautiful.

  You are perfect.

  You please me so much.

  He put his lips on my fingers, tasting them, and I sighed out of a dream.

  I’m going to show you how to live.

  I’m going to make sure you’re safe.

  I’m going to teach you how to be happy.

  He picked me up, put me on the bed, and covered me.

  I breathed my gratitude and fell asleep with the shape of his kiss burned into my cheek.

  Chapter 16

  DAY TWENTY-FIVE

  When I woke up, the thermostat had been turned down to something less tropical and my robe had been left on the edge of the bed. I put it on. The gunk was still in my eyes when I came into the kitchen. I was alone in the loft, but his smell was everywhere. He’d come to me in the night, said nice things I barely remembered, made sure I hadn’t touched myself, and slipped away.

  He’d set a robin’s-egg-blue box on the counter at an exact right angle to the edge, and the flower on top of it was a surprise. Not a blood-red rose or an exotic lily.

  A dandelion.

  Where had he found a dandelion in winter?

  The square box was still wrapped in packing tape, but it was on a dish that had collected a puddle of condensation from the freezer. A note lay on top.

  Huntress—

  For the next two weeks, you are to have Kayti send me your work appointments. Outside of those, I own your time.

  Open the blue box. Wear what’s inside all day.

  Good job wrapping the brown box. It’s impenetrable against your curiosity. Carry it with you.

  I’ll summon you later.

  Be ready.

  —Adam

  PS: Do what you want with the dandelion.

  The dandelion was normal in every way. His grandmother, a second-generation Italian, had eaten dandelion salads made with leaves she pulled from the yard, right down to the flowers and the stems with their milky sap. I couldn’t see how that connected with me, but the effort involved in finding a dandelion in winter wasn’t easily dismissed. He’d left me a puzzle to figure out.

  Slowly, because there was no reason to rush the sensual pleasures of a box that particular shade of blue, I undid the white ribbon that held it closed.

  I opened it.

  Inside was a pearl choker six strands high, held in place with diamond-studded rows. I went to the hall mirror. The robe was high on my neck, so I ripped it off and let it fall so I could put on the choker.

  A long chain with a little ruby on the end came from the clasp, and once I had it fastened, I tried to look down at the gem and couldn’t. The pearl r
ows were high, and the bars that held them held up my chin. It didn’t look uncomfortable. On the contrary, I looked long-necked and proud, even with my hair in a nest of sleep.

  He’d said he was going to show me how I should be treated as a submissive.

  This wasn’t what I’d expected.

  I didn’t expect to feel so beautiful.

  What could I wear with it? Nothing too sexy, but nothing too plain. I couldn’t wait to get dressed. I couldn’t wait to start the day.

  He’s training you to live without him.

  Yes, yes, I said to myself as I wrapped the dandelion in waxed paper and pressed it between the pages of a dictionary, he was doing exactly that. And I was going to train him to love me again.

  Chapter 17

  I wore a white shirt open two buttons and a grey skirt that ended below the knee. I wore white lace garter and stockings under my clothes. I regretted the high heels. I couldn’t comfortably look down as I walked down the street to work, so I had to be slow and careful. I had to feel each step, and with every crack in the pavement, every time I couldn’t comfortably look down, every time I felt the weight of the extra box in my bag, every moment I felt a few inches taller, I thought of him.

  This was a devil of a way to live.

  Serena’s agent texted me as I was on the way upstairs. I could see the supermodel on set at eleven o’clock. I had fifteen minutes.

  Kayti caught me as soon as I got in.

  “Oh my god,” she said, putting her hand on her throat. “That’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did he give you that? Or…” She dropped the volume of her voice. “You didn’t find someone else already, did—?”

  “No. It’s from him.”

  She seemed delighted. “Is the divorce off?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  I went into my office, narrowly avoided crashing into the couch that had always been there because I couldn’t look down, and I put my bag on the desk. “Did you send Adam my schedule?”

  Kayti closed the door behind me.

  “Add an eleven a.m. with…” Who? I demanded honesty from him but wasn’t ready to give it. At least not on the schedule. Not at all. No. I couldn’t tell him I was trying to wrangle my way into the club. But I had to. It would be great if I could decide one thing at a time. “Just block out eleven to eleven thirty.”

  “Okay. So, uh… if the divorce is on…?”

  “It’s complicated. Is my father in yet?”

  “He came in then put a bunch of work in a bag and split. He swore he wasn’t sick but…” She finished the sentence with a facial expression that relieved her of saying my father was lying.

  I almost said, “Sick? Again?” but stopped myself. My opinion of my father’s health was irrelevant, but I could turn this to my advantage. Two birds, one stone.

  “I’m going to see him at noon, so just block me out until two. Resend the schedule and tell Adam he owns me after two.”

  She had no idea how literal I was being.

  Chapter 18

  Fourteen floors above the street, the roof had been transformed into a garden with a patio and a small greenhouse. The chairs had been pushed to one side so the changing booth could be set up, and the wrought-iron table had been repurposed into a makeup station. A forest of white umbrellas on stands surrounded the scene.

  Serena stood on the edge of the roof with her legs spread and her hands on her hips while a photographer with a thick Italian accent ordered her to move a little zis way or a little bit zat. Huge fans blew her dress between her long legs, and her hair splayed out like a wall of vines.

  “Back! Lean back!”

  She did, just a little, and collapsed over the edge.

  I screamed. Everyone looked at me as if I was a crazy person in a courtroom. The fans slowed and the flashing stopped. A man leaned over the edge of the roof, holding out his hand, and Serena climbed back up with a shoe in one hand.

  “Perfetto!” shouted the photographer. “Sirty minote!”

  Another guy in a tight Y-shirt showed up to help Serena back onto solid ground. Once she had both shoes off, she came right to me.

  “Aren’t you cute?” she said, not unkindly. Her face was caked in makeup. It looked awful and unnecessary.

  “I didn’t know there was a net.”

  “I mean with your collar.”

  Maybe it had been said unkindly. Maybe I was just being naïve and stupid to think she’d have anything nice to say. Good thing the choker kept my head high.

  “Is it a bad time?” I asked. “We can do this tomorrow.”

  “No, no.” She waved me toward the changing tent. “I’m going to Tel Aviv for two weeks.”

  She pushed the flap open for me. Inside, designer clothes twisted on the floor and draped from hangers. Two women, one middle-aged, one in her twenties, discussed a belt. Serena pulled off the white dress and tossed it aside. She wore nothing underneath. Her body was a song to the perfection of the female form.

  “Sit if you want.” She indicated a white folding chair.

  “I’m good.”

  She threw the dress on it. “Ruby?”

  The younger woman looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Can I have five minutes?”

  They left us alone. Serena didn’t reach for a robe or any kind of covering. She just stood fully clothed in no more than her name and her beauty.

  “We’ve been here since five in the morning without a break.” She rolled her eyes.

  “We never talked,” I said. “I never accepted your apology.”

  “Stefan made me do it.”

  “Oh, then—”

  “It was sincere,” she said. “But I wanted to do it in my own way. Stefan turned everything into a game. It was exhausting.”

  “He said you guys split up.”

  “Yes.” Her hand drifted across the sleeve of a flowing teal jacket. “Enough is enough.” She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “I’ve come to see there are better things out there. I’ve been eating fruit I don’t like because I was too afraid to reach for the apple.”

  She played with a button on the canvas floor, flipping it with her toe. I realized I wasn’t the one who should tell her about changing tastes or the limitations of a fruit metaphor when living, breathing, changing people were involved.

  “And you found an apple already?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d won the genetic lottery. Her world was littered with apples.

  “I just had to reach for it.” She kicked the button away. “So. How did you like your trip into our world? Short but sweet? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” She smirked. Or I was imagining it. “You left early.”

  “Yeah. We had to.” I had nothing else to say, but I felt like there should be more. My face probably expressed my search for a feasible response.

  “You don’t need to tell me why. I told you. He can’t love a sub. Don’t worry. Plenty of them are capable. Or you’ll decide to do without love. But you’ll be all right.” Serena put her hand on my arm and squeezed it. The gesture could only be decoded one way. Sympathy.

  I took a deep breath, laying out the plans I’d made in my mind, and threw them all in the trash. “I came to ask you for a favor.”

  She put her hands on her hips. It was impossible to not look at her body. I found myself casting my eyes down.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I need three people to sponsor me for membership into the Cellar.”

  “Do you?”

  “That’s the rule.”

  “No, I mean, do you really want that?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If he can’t love you now, once you’re a member and he sees you there? That’s not going to fix it.”

  I knew that as well as she did, and I feared it. If I didn’t get him back, my sexual life was going to get very complicated and very messy. But I wasn’t going back to vanilla, and I wouldn’t let him. Not with me, a
t least.

  And not with her. Never with her.

  That was it. My opening.

  I thought I’d pitch her Stefan. Tell her how forlorn he was. But no. She didn’t want forlorn. She wanted to be beaten under a bridge.

  “We may fix it. We may not.” I shrugged. “He needs the sweet as much as the kinky. So we’ll see.”

  Her bee-stung lips parted and her perfectly arched eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Surprise.

  I’d been right. She didn’t want him for sweet. Maybe Stefan was too much and she thought Adam was a notch or two more manageable. But Adam said she hadn’t gotten aroused for gentle sex. I didn’t think my statement would stop her from chasing him, but it would plant a doubt in her mind. That was all I needed.

  And I needed to assert myself.

  I probably didn’t. But I had to.

  “When I knocked my head, I was awake. I heard you, and I remember. You’re after my husband. Thank you for being honest with me. Now let me be honest with you. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re intelligent, and you don’t have any shame. I have no idea why you’re so fucking insecure.”

  I was a good five inches shorter than Serena. I was softer and riddled with aesthetic imperfections, but when our stares locked, it didn’t matter. I had the upper hand. Adam was my husband. I knew him. He was mine.

  She wouldn’t sponsor me. She wouldn’t bring me into the world she shared with him. A world that I couldn’t access without him. Fine. Let it be then.

  Ruby poked her head in. “Can we come back?”

  Serena waved them in. “I’m sorry. These ladies need me. We can talk when I get back. I think we can teach each other a lot.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think so.”

  She was set upon by the two stylists, and I backed out of the tent.

  She’d said nothing I could pin down. Admitted nothing and threatened nothing.

  Just had to reach for the apple.

  Could something have happened already? Had I lost a battle I’d slept through?