Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  The water is scalding hot as I step in, which is perfect, because I need to distract myself from my erratic thoughts. I try my best not to dwell on the possibility that I could beno. I can’t even think it.

  In an effort to distract myself I think about Edmond, his wife, his brother, his father, his first-born son. All gone. What a tangled web of sadness he must be trapped in. I understand now why he self medicates. I don’t know how he manages to appear happy when he does.

  And I’m now beginning to understand why Vincent is always eager to check up on him, on his father. Should I tell him what I know? Should I tell him I know about his uncle and grandfather, and their fights about money? Should I tell him I know that it was all left to him? What is he doing with the money? What are his plans? It must be driving his mother insane not having control.

  There is an internal battle within me, a battle that I don’t know how to fight.

  I know I am not capable of a normal relationship, I will always find myself feeling like I’m struggling against my own nature. It’s how I feel now. I’m simply not able to accept all that comes with a relationship, like honesty and trust. But here I am. Sitting in Vincent’s tub, possibly pregnant!? Thinking of his family...getting to know and care for his family! I can’t keep doing this to myself. As soon as he moves into his new home, I am out. I am off. I should be on my own anyway because he deserves more than I can give him.

  Things might be easier when there is separation between us. I know I can’t keep doing this with him. It’s getting far too complicated; it’s hard for me. I feel like a pretender. I am a person pretending to live a life that doesn’t belong to them.

  I’m a true burlesque performer. The definition of burlesque: A parody or comically exaggerated imitation of something.

  I am imitating the life Vincent wants me to live, the life that Maggie wishes I could live! And it is comical. It’s comical to think I could actually be normal and let go of all of the terrible things that have shaped me. But what do I want? What type of life or relationship am I capable of? What’s natural to me? What the hell do I want!?

  I feel something dark and black and sticky seeping into my life. It’s like a plague. It’s always looming over me, keeping me from being happy. If I could convince Vincent to keep things the way I envisaged them a few weeks ago, before my world caught fire, then we might have a fighting chance.

  Everything happening in my life is the complete opposite of what I wish it were. My life is completely upside down. I need to get my feet firmly planted on the ground and get a hold of my life.

  I step out of the tub just as Vincent opens the door. I grab my towel and hold it to my chest, not meeting his eyes. The steam of the tub is draped around me, swirling slowly as if it were alive.

  “I was just checking on you. You’ve been in here a long time. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I answer quickly. I feel shy, unable to look at himit’s just like when we first met. I glance up at him, and he is studying me. Regarding me with his shrewd knowing eyes. Our eyes lock, and there it is...that burning feeling. That feeling that leaves me exposed, and vulnerable. I look away, unable to bare it.

  It was a warning then, the fact that I couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was a sign that I should stay away from him. I’ve tried hard not to be like my mother, but here I sit, believing in signs just as she did. They are out there. I’ve just chosen to ignore them.

  “Gil called. He says that we can start moving furniture in now. They finished everything tonight. Floors are ready. That was the main thing. They’re just cleaning up now. I think weuh, I can move in this week.” He pauses and runs a hand through his sexy hair. He looks vulnerable, and apprehensive.

  “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that...” His eyes question me. I know what he wants.

  “Do you mind giving me some privacy? I was just getting out of the bath,” I sound cold and brusque.

  His eyes dim and he loosens his tie. “Sure,” he responds curtly and closes the door.

  I don’t want to have this conversation with him tonight. I need to distract him. I need to distract myself.

  I dry myself off and rub oil into my legs and arms. I pause when I reach my abdomen. I almost don’t want to touch myself there. Fear grows inside of meat the possibility ofI need to know. I need to know now! But I can’t send Vincent out for a pregnancy test, can I?

  “VINCENT!”

  He comes barreling into the bathroom s if he were waiting on the other side.

  “What?! Are you okay?”

  I’m completely naked, and I see his eyes look me up and down. He has that look

  “No. No I’m not okay. I just need to know, now. I don’t want to wait for a doctor. Canyou just go get me a test?! Likenow? Please!” I cannot keep the panic from my voice. I’m mortified by my request, but I won’t be able to think clearly until I know.

  He sighs deeply. His jaw tightens. He looks like he’s trying to swallow his smile. What the fuck is funny right now?

  “Yes. I’ll go right now, but could you please stop scaring me already?”

  I nod quickly. “Yes. Just go,” I breathe at him and grab the towel to cover myself again.

  His lips quirk up at me as he exits and closes the door. I listen with my ear against the door until I hear him pick up his keys and close the front door behind him.

  I get out of the bathroom quickly and put on some leggings and a white pullover sweater that I find in Vincent’s drawer. I need to be in something snuggly. I grab my phone and send a quick text to Kazumi, not bothering to spell check.

  *I’ll be needing that apartment above the studio by tthus week. Still availabble?*

  Shit! Look at all those typos. She’ll probably think I’m drunk. I’m still not used to this cell phone or texting or any of this shit. I hear a ping 30 seconds later.

  *Of course it’s available. I’ll set up for you. See you at The Speak Easy tomorrow at 6. We’ll talk more then.*

  I shut my phone off and stare out the window. I nearly forgot we have a performance tomorrow night. Why the hell is Vincent taking so long? I glance at my watch. He’s been gone six minutes. Shit...why does it feel like an hour has gone by? I take my watch off, and leave it on the nightstand.

  I perch against the windowsill. I feel like a cat with a twitching tail. I think back on everything that has happened in these past few weeks, it’s enough to fill a lifetime. Or so it feels. I watch the quiet streets, and even though I’ve heard a tremendous amount of information tonight, I can’t help but dwell on my carelessness.

  Vincent is right. I don’t feel comfortable about birth control. I guess I could be more careful and try this “rhythm method”. I’ll need to do some research. See how it works. The trouble is, my periods are so irregular. I’m not sure how effective that would be for me. My mind goes in circles and circles, and finally I hear Vincent’s Triumph. I see him roaring down the street. He speeds up furiously and I hear his tires screech as he turns into the driveway of the yellow gates below.

  I anxiously wait, my bare feet pacing the cold smooth concrete floor. I hear the doorknob rattle and I run forward and collide with Vincent as he opens the door.

  “Damn, Lenore! I almost hit you.”

  He thrusts the paper bag at me, and gives me a shy smile.

  “Your package, my lady.”

  I grab it from his hands and run into the bathroom, ignoring the ridiculous smile on Vincent’s face. I think I hear him laugh behind me, I slam the bathroom door and wiggle out of my legging and sit on the toilet seat. I rip the package open and briefly scan the information written on the package. There are two in the box. I may as well pee on them both. I rip both of the plastic tabs off the ends and bundle up my sweater as I place them in the best position.

  I wait for my bladder to release andahfinally it does. I thoroughly wet both tips and place them onto the counter next to the sink.

  I stand and stare at them. Two minutes may as well
be an hour and a half.

  Vincent walks in casually, without bothering to knock, and I glare at him.

  “What? I want to know, too,” he mutters. For some reason the son of a bitch is smiling. Why the hell is he so amused? Can’t he see how anxious I am?

  I roll my eyes at him and he puts the toilet seat down and sits. He grabs my waist and pulls me down on top of him.

  “It’s not going to go any faster if you stare at them, Lenore.”

  I sit stiffly on his lap and he rubs my back, he glances discreetly at the directions on the package.

  “What time is practice tomorrow?”

  I think he’s trying to distract me, he knows damn well what time practice is.

  “Six.”

  “I emailed the furniture place, I had them scheduled to deliver Monday, but I asked if they could deliver tomorrow. They’re available and will be at the house tomorrow morning, I think by eight or nine.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I called Gil and he and the guys are going to help move everything in and assemble whatever needs to be assembled. We just have to tell them where everything goes. We have everything we need for the kitchen?”

  We?

  I pick up his arm and glance at his vintage Rolex. 30 more seconds.

  “Yes. You do.”

  He sighs.

  “Lenore, you know I want you to move in with me. I want my home to be your home, too.”

  I whip my head around and look at him. We’ve only known each other for five minutes! He’s insane. Why is he choosing now, on the toilet, in the bathroom, while we wait for two little tests to give me one or two lines to have this conversation?

  “Why?” I sound surprised, but really I’m not. I know he’s been trying to turn this temporary situation into a permanent one.

  “Because, Lenore, home is wherever you are,” his deep voice spreads chills across my skin; his eyes burn with sincerity. I think he actually believes what he’s saying. Doesn’t he know what he’s feeling is only infatuation? He’ll be tired of me soon.

  I cover my face with my hands.

  “Stop. Stop doing that,” his voice is impatient and irate.

  He pulls my hands away from my face. I fight him away, but this time he fights back. Vincent almost always let’s me subdue him, but he looks determined tonight. Right now. Herein the fucking bathroom!

  “No. You’re going to answer me, stop fucking pushing me away, Lenore. Stop. You said you’d let me help you, and take care of you!”

  Did my Vincent just curse? Fuck, why is that so hot? What am I thinking? I need to put a stop to this.

  “No! I said it was temporary, Vincent! This isn’t me! Thisthis isn’t what I want! I want to be alone...I want some distance from you.”

  His eyes flare momentarily and then he lookswounded. I feel like such a bitch. I don’t even know what I want. I don’t know what I’m saying.

  “Why?! Why won’t you let me love you? Why won’t you let yourself be happy? Why are you punishing yourself?”

  All the breath leaves my body. I shove him, but he barely moves. He’s holding his ground. I’m standing now, in the corner of the bathroom, near the door. I know if I try to open it, I will be unsuccessful. I’m trapped right now. Trapped with nowhere to hide.

  “Because! Because I don’t know how! I don’t know how to love you. I don’t want your love...or anyone’s for that matter!Itit makes people crazy!!! If I let you love me, what happens a few years from now? What happens to me when you stop? What do I do with myself then? I need to be my own person! I can’t let that all in so it can be TAKEN AWAY FROM ME!”

  I don’t recall a time in my life when I have screamed like this. But my anger is uncontainable. It’s bleeding out from me.

  Vincent grabs me roughly, “I am not going anywhere!”

  I shake my head vehemently. “Shut up! Shut up! Stop! You don’t know that! You don’t know the future! It’s only been what? A few weeks? You don’t even know me...” the anger slips from my voice. What I’m saying is true, but why does it feel like it isn’t?

  “No. I don’t know the future and neither do you. You can’t control everything. At some point, you have to let go and trust somebody, Lenore.”

  I put my hand against his chest and push as hard as I can. He barely budges. His eyes are formidable, his body poised for a fight; ready to deflect any pathetic attack I might dish his way.

  “Move! I want to see the test,” I try to shoulder my way around him. He blocks me. He’s an immovable, fearsome mountain.

  “No. Not until you admit that you love me, Lenore.”

  I freeze. What?! What fucking game is this?

  “No,” I challenge him in my most domineering voice; the voice of authority that I reserve for the bedroom, the voice that usually gains me some semblance of control and submission from Vincent.

  “You do. I know you do. Just admit it, Lenoreor I swear to God,” his voice is ominously soft. He’s not backing down.

  I get right up in his face. “Or what?” I spit out at him between my gritted teeth. I don’t know why, but so very angry at him, and angry at myself, with Elizabeth, with James, with my mom. I am out of control mad. I breathe in and out harshly, and my mouth has taken on a determination that my body can’t quite keep up with.

  “Or I will spank it out of you,” he spits out. He too is angry, though I have no idea why.

  “You wouldn’t fucking dare,” I try to sounds strong, but my voice falters. Shit, what am I getting myself into?

  He pushes me further against the wall; my head now flush against it.

  “Say it,” he growls.

  This is how he wants me to tell him I love him? Doesn’t he see how strange this situation is?

  “No,” I try to sounds unaffected, but my words come out as a whisper.

  He wouldn’t spank me it out of me, would he? He wouldn’t force me to say something that I couldn’t possibly mean.

  Then out of nowhere he picks me up roughly and I struggle and thrash against him, hitting his back and pulling at his hair.

  He sits on the toilet and proceeds to push and bend my body over him. He somehow manages, forcing my upper body down while he drapes one leg over both of mine to pin me down. His arm pushes between my shoulder blades. I can’t move. All this time I thought I was strong; he was clearly letting me think I’m strong. I’m totally helpless!

  What the fuck!

  He’s insane! I did not see him following through on his threat, the fight is leaving my body and I cannot push him off of me. This is humiliating. His left hand peels off my leggings and my rear end is exposed. I try to buck him off, but it’s no use.

  “This is your last chance, Lenore. Say it. Admit it.”

  “No!” I sound childish, but I can’t help it.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He gently strokes my behind and pushes my pants farther down my legs. I stop moving as I wait for it. His fingers tease me; softly stroking my cheeks, he’s enjoying this! His fingers trace down my crack...and then his hand is gone.

  Thwack!

  “Ah!” I yelp. Holy shit, that stings! I don’t have a chance to dwell because it comes again and again. He’s not holding back, no mercy! It hurts, and it’s humiliating! But I find myself arching my back and pushing myself out to meet his hand. I’m such a confusing mess...

  I cry out again, this time, despite how I may have felt about this at first, it’s a pleasurable moan of ecstasy that escapes me.

  Thwack!

  This one lands right between my cheeks, his fingertips briefly stroke my sex, and I convulse.

  “Agh! Vincent!”

  Oh, holy shit. I’m wet. How is that possible? How could me body enjoy this? I’m angry! Aren’t I?

  He hits me two times consecutively in the same spot, his fingers deftly stroking my sex each time. Oh, yeah. I am definitely starting to build. My pussy throbs with pleasure. I feel that familiar tightening and my legs begin to stiffen. He hits me
again, this time on the outer sides of my cheeks and it sends shock waves throughout my body. Pain lances through me, but I’m blocking it out now, focusing more on what is building up inside of me.

  Vincent abruptly lifts me off and we’re soon on the floor. I’m on my hands and knees and he’s kneeling behind me. He fills me, quickly, and harshly. I cry out in pain, I was not expecting this. He doesn’t stop and allow me time to recover from his assault, he pounds himself into me, he pulls my hair and my head is forced back, my chin tilted up stubbornly. He continues his merciless spanking as he drives himself into me, and I can’t contain it anymore...I spiral out of control, out of my body.

  “Fuck, Vincent. Yes! Yes! Please...don’t make me say it!”

  He pulls out slowly and slams himself into me, my body bucking forward with each blow. His fingers find their way under my sweater and tighten around my nipple, further drawing out my orgasm. I let my arms give out and I collapse onto the bathroom floor, my face against the concrete, my ass in the air. The orgasm rolls through me mercilessly. Oh, God...it feels so good. It’s just what I needed.

  His hands begin softly stroking my sensitive and pained skin. He doesn’t pull himself out. Instead he reaches into a bathroom drawer and pulls out some cream and massages it into his hands before spreading it over my sensitive behind.

  The cream, or balm, is cold and soothing. He massages it in carefully, his breath still ragged. I don’t get a chance to recover; my body slowly wakes, an orgasm stirring again as his dexterous fingers slide over my sex. Oh, how my body responds to his ungentlemanly touch.

  He slides his cock in and out of my me as his fingers follows the same rhythm. He’s hard, and slick with my orgasm. My hands splay out in front of me and I try to pull away from him but he has a firm grasp on my hips. He keeps rocking and slamming himself into me, bucking me forward. His breath is raspy, gritty and erotic as hell. I push myself back towards him now, the pain lancing through me. But my body responds and I feel all of my blood rushing to my already engorged sex.