Quiet Lies

by R. L. Griffin

  “You need to learn the meaning of the word no and also if you think threatening to show me your dick is a turn on, you’ve been dating the wrong girls.” His hand stills for a second before he continues kneading my flesh. I’m about to slap his hand away when he moves it to behind my knee and caresses the crease in a way that takes my breath.

  “Tell me Rebecca, what turns you on?”

  Touching.

  Caressing.

  Breathing.

  “I want to do whatever you need me to do so that you’ll fall in love with me.”

  I type the following: “Keep it up” then I delete it.

  “Your breasts are heaving like you’re ready to go with me now,” he states the obvious then grins.

  I type:

  “Ask me out again” then I delete it.

  He chuckles and I’m not sure if he saw my words or not. “You’re feisty, I like that.”

  A dull throbbing brings me back to the here and now. I’ve stepped in the pile of glass shards. Examining the mess, I run my hand through my wet hair and try not to get blood on the floor as I hop to find more towels. I grab the first towel and instead of cleaning up my mess, I simply wipe the blood off my foot and pad into the walk-in closet. My hand runs over the end of the hangers as I walk down the rows of clothes. Beiges, whites and khakis line the wall on my side. Sighing, I pull out a white dress with a plunging neckline. I hang it on the garment rack then turn to my dresser. I pull on my nude slip that holds all of my unsightly bulges and my breasts look better instantly. Blood dots the light carpet. Sebastian will hate that. I’m a masochist.

  I twist my thick blonde hair into a tight bun and fasten it with a few hair pins. I smooth my slip as I look in the mirror and smirk at myself. I’m meeting Sebastian at the fundraiser I’ve been working on for the school tonight. These events bring out my anxiety for so many reasons, some of those I can’t quite explain. Because I helped get the business donations I have to be there. Sebastian’s company donated over ten thousand dollars. He must be apologizing for fucking Tiffany.

  If I could cover my mirrors I would, every time I look into my vacant eyes I’m reminded of all the things I used to be. Also, it makes me think about all the different ways I hate what I’ve turned into, but my cage is a sparkly trap that lured me in and has held me hostage for years.

  The dress glides on and I put my feet in royal blue heels. Bending down to the bottom drawer, I look at the door of the closet to ensure I’m alone. It’s a ridiculous thing to do, no one is here but me. I pull out a wooden box with a heart carved haphazardly, the top doesn’t quite rest as it should and beads hang out the small space between the top of the box and the bottom.

  I know exactly what I’m looking for and pull jewelry out of the box until I find a bib necklace that I made years ago and haven’t had the nerve to wear since then. It’s silver and in the shape of branches all curling around to make the necklace, the jagged ends of the branches dipped in royal blue that match my heels perfectly. My stomach turns and I quickly locate ear cuffs to match. I exhale slowly as I put everything else back in the box and hide it in the back of the drawer. I push myself out of the crouch and straighten my dress again. Cocking my head to the side I examine myself in the mirror again before turning and grabbing a metallic clutch. This is a step. He’ll know it and I know it.

  “Ready,” I say, trying to convince myself even though my voice shakes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Conscience Insubordination

  A hand slides down my back and clasps my hand. A smile breaks out over my ruby red lips. “Angela, have you met my husband Sebastian?”

  Angela Webber is the head of fundraising at Lincoln Preparatory Academy. She’s one of those women that isn’t in control of anything in her life so the shred of power she gains from controlling fundraising she uses like she owns everyone. “I haven’t had the opportunity, but I’ve heard many things.” A knowing tone in her voice sends chills down my spine. I’ve seen the look in her eye before. She holds out her hand and Sebastian takes it confidently, but I see the hesitation in him. “Thank you so much for your generous donation.”

  “Nice to meet you, Angela, is it? Anything we can do to help support the school, Bash loves it here.” Sebastian gestures to the room around him that has been decorated like a casino from Vegas complete with blackjack tables and servers walking around with appetizers.

  “Well, your wife outdid herself this year. We may just have her be in charge next year as well.”

  I laugh as I should, but I know I won’t be doing this next year.

  “I know she enjoyed helping. She’s good at everything she does,” he responds oozing confidence. “I’m going to need to steal Rebecca for just a moment, if that’s okay?” His arms wrap around me warmly and she nods readily. I can say many things about my husband, but he is a charmer. He reads people immediately and gives them what he thinks they want to hear, it’s one of things that pulls me in and I get lost. He plays me like a fiddle I’m ashamed to say.

  Sebastian pulls me by my hand, leading me to a quiet area away from the silent auction bids and around a corner behind the bar. He smiles his crooked smile at the bartender, who I recognize as one of Bash’s teachers, showing his absurdly white, straight teeth.

  “Darling,” he starts and his eyes fall to my chest. His features tighten for a second; I only see it because I know him so well. “You look edible as usual.”

  I straighten. A lead balloon fills my stomach, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I can tell he’s thinking about his reaction, he looks back toward where we came from eyeing the people milling about and waiting to order drinks. His hand runs up my inner thigh and I hold my breath.

  “Sebastian,” his name slips out of my mouth and it sounds foreign and breathy.

  His lips seek mine and he takes charge of the kiss. There isn’t a question of the kiss, only how long I’ll resist his tongue trying to plunder my mouth. He solves that by using his thumb to pull my lower lip down for access. His black hair hangs over his eyes and tickles my face.

  “Stop.” My whisper is muffled in his mouth.

  He presses me against the wall refusing my request. His right hand, which is away from the view of people, reaches my left nipple and pinches it through the fabric of my dress.

  I open my mouth to cry out, but he swallows the sound. He continues to twist my nipple and I writhe in pain at his touch. “I love your necklace, where did you find it?”

  “Get a room you two,” someone calls from the line at the bar.

  Sebastian laughs in my mouth and releases my tender nipple. I finally exhale. My mask is firmly in place by the time Sebastian steps back and we begin walking hand in hand to the bar area.

  I run my fingertip around my lips to make sure I don’t have a sloppy red mess where my lipstick used to be. One thing I can rely on is that he would tell me if he didn’t like the way I looked, so I stop worrying. I turn to look at him getting the okay on my makeup, his honey colored eyes take me in then wink at me. It’s a challenge. Am I ready to meet it? It’s hard to tell.

  “What can I say? My girl’s the prettiest in the room and I’ve been working so hard I haven’t seen her during daylight hours in a few weeks.” He shrugs and grins like a twelve year old, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He pulls me closer and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  Sebastian is currently a CEO for one the newest online search engines, he took the job when it was a start-up a year ago. They are in the midst of rolling out a new system to rival all other online document storage companies and he’s been burning the midnight and early morning oil for the past two months. It is his seventh job since we’ve lived in Portland, he keeps getting poached for more money or at least this is what I’ve been told.

  We make our way back to the line for drinks and his grip on my hand is tense and foreboding, claiming me, possessing me. I give my hand slack to see if he will let go, he doesn’t.

  “Sebastian Pryor.” His name is
more of a purr out the mouth of a woman currently standing next to him as we wait in line for drinks.

  My gut clenches and I look away from the exchange, blocking out the woman’s obvious lust for my husband. I ignore the now extra tight hold Sebastian has on my hand. I cloak myself with the knowledge that he’s going home with me tonight.

  A genuine upturn of all my facial features occurs when I step to the bartender, who was one of the teachers for the school. “Mrs. Pryor.”

  “Hey Eddie, call me Rebecca, please.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Vodka tonic please.” I extricate my hand from Sebastian’s and put both of my hands on the makeshift bar. “How is Celia?”

  His face drops slightly. “She’s doing the best she can. She’s a fighter.”

  “I’m so sorry you both are going through this. Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”

  “Thank you so much Rebecca.” Eddie busies himself with the glasses and liquor while he talks to me.

  Sebastian snaps to attention at the sound of my name on Eddie’s lips.

  “You’re welcome.” I lay my hand on his forearm, attempting to comfort the inconsolable.

  I’m pulled into a possessive hold and I stumble sideways. “Who’s this?” I’m very aware of the tone of voice Sebastian is using.

  “This is Eddie Gray, Bash’s science teacher.”

  “I’d like a scotch, neat.”

  “You got it.” Eddie turns to pull a bottle of Glenfiddich from the table behind him. I feel fingers digging into my side. My smile grows broader.

  “Rebecca, hey.” Madeline Travers walks purposefully toward us in her slinky black evening gown. She’s a little overdressed for the night I observe, my face never changes, my smile never falters. “Damn, you look good.”

  “Madeline, how are the boys?” I make sure my voice is even, my tone reflects calm.

  “They were playing some video game when I left.” She waves her hand dismissively at the thought. “I ordered pizza from that farm to table place down the street, so it’s the best night ever.” She smiles at me and her eyes lift to my husband. “Sebastian, how are you?”

  Eddie places our drinks on the bar and Sebastian puts down cash without consideration to its denomination. When I look I see it’s a fifty. Eddie gives me a look I can’t figure out. I move us out of the way so that the people behind us can order.

  “I’m exhausted and I miss my family,” he admits ruefully. He doesn’t know Madeline really, but they have met before. He doesn’t involve himself in the business of raising Bash or getting to know anyone that isn’t useful to him. I learned this about him early on in our marriage.

  “Isn’t that typical,” she comments looking at me. I flinch. I don’t share anything with her, but I like her. A trickle of fear pulses through me that maybe Bash has talked to her about us.

  “I’m afraid it is, but someone has to pay the bills, right?” His fingers are moving up and down the zipper that is keeping my dress together. It sets me on fire.

  “Rebecca your necklace and earrings...are those earrings?” Her fingers dart toward my ears and I step back gracefully. “They’re amazing. I need those. Would you be mad if I bought the exact set? Was there a bracelet or something to match?” she rambles.

  Sebastian steps off to the side when his phone rings and relief floods over me as I stare at his broad shoulders covered in a gray pinstripe suit, his pale yellow collar and the shiny blue tie he paired with his suit pops perfectly. His impossibly large hands are clenching and relaxing, clenching again.

  “Rebecca,” she repeats.

  “I wouldn’t be mad, but these are originals.” My hand goes to my necklace and eyes to her lips.

  She steps back, impressed. “Originals?”

  “I made these years ago.”

  “What?” Her brown eyes go wide under her turquoise glasses. “You made these?” She runs her fingers across my bib-like necklace in a too familiar way. I fight myself not to flinch away from her touch. I’m not used to such close contact with people. Anxiety springs like a geyser through my bones.

  I nod.

  “They’re gorgeous. Could you make me some? I’m totally serious. I’ll pay you $1500, I’ll add another grand if you make a bracelet.”

  I blink.

  Before I can answer, she’s swinging her hands wildly around and calling people’s names. I’m surrounded immediately.

  All of the questions and chatter fade into a murmur as I remember what happened to the matching cuff that looked like branches crawling around my wrist. I choke on fear and pull on my hair to get me back to the here and now.

  “Rebecca?” Madeline is extremely close to me and talking, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. I step back again. Her face reads concern, but I can’t...I can’t...I stumble into a hard wall of a man’s back.

  His arms envelope me and then he’s carrying me. He says something, laughing, smoothing everything with these people, but I don’t know exactly what it is. I’m gulping trying to breathe, but I can’t. My necklace seems to be cutting off my air flow. My hands reach up to grasp the metal that has turned into a choke collar. Hot little explosions go off all over my body immobilizing me further.

  “Stop it,” he commands.

  Ice enters my veins as the room comes into focus. We’re in the bathroom and my underarms are damp with sweat. He sets me on my feet. “Oh God,” I sob. I’m mortified I just did that in front of these people.

  “Rebecca.” Sebastian walks over to the paper towels and turns the faucet on at the same time. Soaking the towels he looks at me in the mirror, his face a mask of calm. He wrings out the towels and steps in front of me. He works slowly and runs the cold towels over my neck. He lifts my arms, one at a time, and wipes my armpits. My temperature lowers and my heartbeat returns to a regular speed. Then he takes his fingertips and wipes the skin under my eyes. A fire burns in his eyes and it scares the fuck out of me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Complacency is a Slow Death

  Strong hands control the motion of my head as Sebastian moves his hips harshly. His breath raspy, I’m sucking as hard as I can hoping to make this as quick as possible. “Ah, Rebecca. Your mouth…”

  He holds my head still as he empties into my throat threatening to asphyxiate me. My hands clench and grasp at his back, I want to cause pain. My nails dig into his skin, marking him, claiming him. We fall.

  I always fall.

  He always catches me.

  When I turn the corner I stop dead in my tracks, my breath dies in my throat. Sebastian is without a shirt on as he works on his car outside. I look back toward the house because I know Bash is in there napping. I’m lucky he still naps at three. I’ve heard horror stories of kids refusing to nap after turning one year old.

  “Hey,” I say.

  He looks up from his car, sweat dripping down his chest, neck. His eyes narrow.

  I continue to stare.

  “What?” he asks.

  I smile weakly at him. He knows I love him and he doesn’t know how to address that with all that has gone on between us. It’s sort of endearing, if you didn’t know the history. My gut clenches in anxiety.

  “You know I love you, right?” I say as I step next to him.

  He ignores my comment, but I’m not going to let him.

  “Sebastian. I want you to tell me you know how much I love you.”

  His face tightens and he ignores me.

  I hate how much I love him.

  “Your hair looks nice,” he admits. It’s all I need and I acknowledge that. I’m pathetic.

  “Thanks. Whatcha doing?”

  He narrows his eyes again at me. “Well, I’m working on my car.” He throws his arms out. “Obviously.”

  I sigh. I want us to work, sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.

  “You need some help,” I try. I cock my hip out to the side and look at his hands, which have now moved to the edge of the car again. He
leans into the hood and his back muscles strain with the movement. We haven’t had sex in a month. It’s weird and I’m acting like a horny teenager. You shouldn’t want to have sex with someone who treats you the way he treats me. I idle up to him, my front to his back. I wrap my arms around his waist and don’t hesitate from sliding my hands down his slick torso into his pants. He chuckles.

  “Someone is feeling neglected,” he jokes.

  I grip his dick and slide my hand from the base to the tip. I don’t think about why we haven’t had sex. I don’t think about the fact that he’s been an asshole to me. I need sex and he’s going to give it to me. He starts pumping his hips in my hand, his knuckles turning white as he grips the car. After a few minutes of silent connection he spins around and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and his kiss consumes me. There is no gentleness, it’s rough and primal. His greasy hands tangle in my hair and he pulls my ponytail hard. He uncurls my legs from his body and sets my feet on the concrete, the debris coats my feet. He rips down my yoga pants and runs a finger down the crack of my ass. I suck in a breath.

  Then he kneels and puts his face in between my legs, using his hands to spread my legs as far as my pants will allow. His tongue flicks my clit, once, twice, three and I lose count.

  “Sebastian,” I whisper. My fingers thread through his hair, my head tips back and I take in the rare blue sky. The clouds look like puffs of smoke streaking across the azure canvas. “Oh God!” I scream as my gut clenches and he doesn’t give me a second before he’s inside me, his hips hammer into me and I, in turn, knock into the car and it rocks with me. I didn’t feel him flip me around and put my ass against the car. I didn’t even see him slide his athletic pants down. I grab handfuls of his ass and I squeeze. I lean back into the car and pull my legs up to snake around his waist again. He’s in a zone and doesn’t even lose his rhythm. My back begins to slip and I cling to him. He hikes me up his body without losing the connection. It’s real, I feel it. My gut starts tightening again and Sebastian finally looks me in my eyes and I come apart, he smirks and then follows me over the edge of climax. My legs are jelly and I’m sated. I wait for him to kiss me again. He doesn’t. He bends down and pulls up his own pants and leans to the side where I am braced against the car.