by Sia Wales
“Do you have a headache?” he asked her matter-of-factly.
She nodded.
“Where do you keep your medicine?”
“Behind the mirror in the bathroom,” she murmured, feeling him slide out of the embrace. Donn went inside, got a painkiller from the cabinet, and then walked back out to her, offering it to her with a glass of water.
“What is it?” Stella asked him.
“Tylenol,” he replied, and she grimaced.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to do what I say, without questions and back-and-forths?” he asked her impatiently, almost glaring at her.
“Have I ever done that before?” She smiled at him provocatively. Donn watched her hungrily as she took the pill from his hand and swallowed it down with water.
“I’m so sorry,” Stella whispered, her lips moist.
“What for, angel?” He wiped away the water from her lips, dampening her chin with his finger.
“I know you’re furious… please tell me you can forgive me,” Stella continued in a weak voice. She let herself fall forward against his chest, breathing in the scent of his jacket, Donn took her hands and moved them away brusquely.
Her hands wandered down his muscular thighs and up to his broad shoulders. He was wearing an old pair of Wranglers and a tight white t-shirt, which showed off to perfection his sculpted chest.
“I’m angry because you’re avoiding me, furious because you came here with Bryan, when you know that scum is always trying to seduce you. And now I’m also excited because you’re in my arms and your thighs are touching mine.” He looked at her, a flash of excitement in his eyes. He pulled her to his body.
“And now I don’t want to talk at all…” She bit her lip and sensually tilted her head to the side to let him to get closer to her neck. Donn raised his eyebrows, he gave her a licentious look. He felt his lips tremor, his breath accelerate. His eyes were in flames. He launched himself onto the hollow of her neck with avidity. Stella gasped as he sucked her skin harder and harder, and then began to lick her shoulder as she held her head still.
“Stella, did you bite your lip?” He nibbled his way up her neck to her mouth.
“Sorry…”
“Can you be a good girl or not?” Stella nodded. Donn touched her lightly on the lips and saw her mouth open to him. He pressed against her body and plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth. He sucked her lower lip with fervor. Stella gasped and tilted her head back to offer herself up once more, while he covered her chin with kisses and lifted her dress up to her hips, clasping her buttocks.
“You never cease to amaze me, angel.” His lips returned forcefully to hers. With one of his hands he grasped her breast and rubbed her nipple with his thumb. His other hand slid along the inside of her thigh, while his tongue continued stroking her mouth. Stella gave out a moan and smiled drunkenly. Her breath reeked of alcohol.
Donn drew back for a moment, but Stella’s lips hesitated. He lifted her onto the balcony railing, opened her legs with his hands and clung to her, pushing himself between her thighs and caressing her under her dress. Stella grasped his sides with her knees. He looked into her eyes and turned to her anxiously: the girl’s gaze was lost and defenseless. Her eyes were shining and vacant, numbed by alcohol.
“How much did you drink?” Donn asked, keeping her face between his hands and looking straight into her eyes.
“I dunno… don’t remember,” she said slowly. Donn sighed and rubbed his forehead, running a hand through his hair.
“Stella, honey, you’re not yourself. You should go to bed, now,” he ordered, nodding toward the house. “And if you avoid me again tomorrow, Miss Whitely, you will be in terrible trouble.” He did not seem to be joking at all. His tone hardened, and she pouted.
“Stay with me tonight.” She raised her head and kissed him on the lips. His look softened.
“No, you are drunk, angel. I won’t take advantage of you in this state,” Donn breathed, between one kiss and the next.
“Spend the night with me, Donn,” she begged, embarrassed. She lowered her eyes, but her body longed for the erotic pleasure his promised.
“Not without touching you.” Donn placed a kiss on her forehead, frowned and lifted her chin.
“Go to bed, Stella,” he said gently. He raised his arm to point the way to the door, while she raised a hand to touch his chest.
“To bed,” Donn ordered in a commanding tone, taking a firm hold of her and kissing her lips passionately. Stella, swayed, let her hand fall.
“Go to sleep, angel, and remember: you’re mine.” He kissed her ear, pronouncing each word distinctly.
He pushed her delicately towards the door and gave her a pat on the behind. Stella jumped with surprise and he embraced her, kissing her hair from behind before detaching his body from hers. The girl didn’t want to obey him, but didn’t dare say no. She was too weak and tired to rebel. She entered the house and watched him disappear into the darkness.
She collapsed onto the bed still dressed, pulling off her black boots and her dark grey dress as best she could, sniggering drunkenly to herself. She slid under the blankets wearing only her red lace knickers, still excited. But her head spun and she could not get to sleep, the urge to send Donn a text got the better of her:
Did you make it home?
It’s good to know that I mean something to you.
I’m sorry I made you worry.
Why are you still up?
Am I wrong or did I tell you to go to sleep?
No, you told me to go to bed and I’m in bed with my phone!
What a lucky phone!
My phone didn’t say no to me…
I did it because you were barely conscious! And, for the record, your phone can’t do what I would have done to you tonight. Now sleep, Miss Whitely.
Goodnight, Mr. Brooks
Jeff’s Semi-Acoustic Guitar
The next morning Stella awoke with a start and sat up suddenly, disoriented at first, holding the sheet over her breasts. Still sleepy, she ran her fingers through her hair before rubbing her tired eyes. She had been woken by a sublime, moving sound, the sound of her song, and she smiled as she recognized Vuk’s unmistakable pluck on the guitar-strings.
She saw the open window and the boy sitting on a branch of the tree, playing the gentle tune he was composing for her. His head was leaning forward and his unbrushed hair cascaded onto his face. His jaws were clenched and his expression melancholy, in perfect harmony with the chords of his song. When he saw that Stella had opened her eyes, his lips twisted into a slow smile as he looked up from the guitar-strings, gazing at her with his intense green eyes.
“The song isn’t finished yet, babe. I’m reckoning on finishing it when you’re completely lost to me, although I don’t want it to become my sad song…” he whispered with a voice husky from the previous evening’s overindulgence of cigarettes and booze. Stella bent her head with a slight smile, then blushed confusedly and sat watching in silence as he gently caressed the strings of Jeff’s semi-acoustic guitar.
He had taken it by sneaking through Stella’s room to the study. On the way, he’d leaned over her to kiss her. Then he took up his place in the tree, watching her toss and turn over under the sheets before she finally awoke, bothered by the light creeping in through the window but moved to her very core by the dulcet melody of the guitar.
Stella looked at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand beside her bed and saw that it was ten o’clock. She was disheveled from the night before, with her black makeup smeared under her eyes. Then, she rolled over listlessly between the sheets, her bare back exposed to Vuk, but ignoring him completely.
A trace of irritation flashed across Vuk’s face. The situation with Stella was wearing him out. He would have preferred her to yell at him, to fly into a rage, anything rather than ignore him. If she had yelled, he thought, he would have just smiled at her. He would have leaped into her room to listen to her yelling, just to be near her.
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“Is this your way of punishing me, Stella? Ignoring me?”
No reply in either words or movements.
“Damn it, Stella, speak to me! I can’t stand it when you ignore me,” he exclaimed. He broke into a hacking cough, and he closed his eyes, exasperated. He opened them again and stared insistently at Stella, willing her to reply, but in vain.
“You’re killing me, babe, you know that, don’t you?” he murmured softly. The agony in his eyes perfectly matched Stella’s state of mind. She felt her resistance ebbing, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she caved.
Suddenly Vuk walked along the branch up to the window-sill; he paused and shook his head. Then with an almighty leap, he landed with a light thump on the floor of her bedroom. He reached her at the foot of the bed, then turned around her with a casual movement. He hadn’t touched her, but Stella already felt herself trembling inside. She sat up again on the bed with a guardedly and Vuk sat beside her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. He looked at her longingly and she drew her shoulders together, tightening the sheet around her breasts.
“You see, babe, I’m touching you, but nothing bad is happening…” His warm thumb brushed her hair from her forehead and followed her cheekbone down to her lips and chin. Then he knelt down at the foot of the bed with the guitar.
“You’ve got to get over this fear, Stella… It’s just me, Vuk, the harebrained boy you know pretty well and who loves you, right?” Stella sighed, confused. Vuk ran his fingers through her hair and wrapped his hand lovingly around her nape. He had an earthy smell of tobacco about him, but his breath still reeked of alcohol.
“Vuk…” was all she managed to say, caressing his name with her lips. The boy smiled, moved. He detached himself from her slowly, wanting to win back her confidence little by little. He sat on the bed and plucked a string of the guitar to attract her attention. He started to sing Come Back to What You Know by Embrace.
“Come back to what you know, come back to me, Stella,” was what he wanted to say. A few rebellious locks fell back onto his face and over his eyes. He was unshaved and still had black rings around his eyes. He was absorbed in the words of the song and its melancholy, tormented rhythm. He looked up from the strings and gazed at Stella intensely. The girl’s sobs told him that his voice was caressing every part of her body under the sheet. He was wearing a gray Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt and a pair of brown hipster jeans. The black elastic of his underpants could be seen clinging seductively to his waist. Stella remembered Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, the song that had provided the background for their fierce argument the day before. Vuk’s voice reached the end of his song, and the words “lose you” almost made his voice crack with emotion. As the final, deep note of the song died away, Stella’s eyes glistened. She tried to escape Vuk’s penetrating stare. The boy lowered his head and smiled tenderly. He took hold of her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes once more.
“Are you going to keep ignoring me, babe?” he asked softly.
Stella sighed confusedly and bit her lip.
“I need time, Vuk. Give me time,” she begged him, still uncertain whether to forgive him or not. Vuk gave her an understanding look. He was content to have achieved this much, after that awful night under the full moon. He got up from the bed and placed his hand on her face, running his thumb over her lower lip. He left the guitar on the window sill and turned towards Stella, gave her a last smile and climbed down the tree. He lit a cigarette and went away, feeling renergized. He wanted to put on a show for her, that night at Jamie’s party.
Stella picked up the guitar and went into her father’s study. Instead of putting it away, however, she sat down on the desk chair and began to strum a few chords, thinking of Vuk. Her mind was muddled: what did she actually feel for him?
She looked at a photograph on the bookshelf. It was of herself with her father at The Pats, dressed in a short dress and boots, with heavy eyeliner. Her father had just finished playing for the crowd at the bar,he was still holding his guitar in one hand, the other around her waist as she sat on the bar like a trophy. He had just moved to Medford from Italy and it had been her first year at Boston University. Jason had taken the photo. Remembering that moment was painful. It had been a much simpler time. She wondered again if she had really seen him the other day when she had been under the effects of chloroform. At that moment, a message arrived on her iPhone. It was from Donn. Stella smiled unwillingly; she was still pissed with him about how he had behaved the previous night. So she decided that she would keep the tone polite but not too friendly.
Did you sleep well?
I feel better, thanks.
Take another painkiller with a glass of water
Yessir. I would have already done it if you hadn’t DISTRACTED me with you messages!
Don’t you have to work for living?
I am working. I’m in a meeting with some financial fatcats, if you must know.
I I work to earn my keep, you know…
But I just can’t concentrate…
I’m still worrying about you!
Go back to saving the world of finance,
Mr. Brooks, I’m perfectly fine.
Take a cold shower, Miss Whitely. Perhaps your sarcasm will be washed off your body with the rest of the hangover.
Tell me, is this what happens every time you drink?
No.
Can I see you again tonight?
No.
Are you a broken record or do you want to make me pay for the talking-to I gave you yesterday?
If that’s what you’re trying to do, you’re succeeding!
I’m going to a party at Jamie’s tonight.
You keep doing it… GOOD.
I have to go now.
Are you trying to intimidate me with those capital letters?
You know me well, angel.
And I would like to get to know you better… Talk to you later.
Stella went on gently plucking the strings of the guitar, reflecting on her evening with Donn. She wanted him, she realized, and she wanted to talk to him, but she was tired of him taking her by surprise. This time she would be the one doing the surprising.
She got up from the chair and put the guitar on the stand beside her father’s desk. She took a refreshing shower, did her make-up and dressed up for the party, pulling on high heels and a short purple dress, in case she had no time to stop come back home before Jamie’s party. Then she went downstairs and gulped down a cup of coffee before flying out the house. She got into her Corvette. There was a lot of traffic on the road, drivers swerving left and right; confusion seemed to reign on the streets, just as it did in her life at that moment. As she slowed down at a red light, she trawled the internet for the address of the headquarters of Council Capital Holding. She called the switchboard and asked to speak to Mr. Brooks, but was told he was out of the office; so she tried the number of his other company, the Brooks Financial Enterprise Inc., one of the biggest American financial companies, according to Google. The secretary told her that Mr. Brooks was in a meeting. She went on driving, along the I-93 nodding her head to the beat of Going Under by Evanescence. She put the address of the company headquarters into her navigator. When she arrived in Boston, she parked the Corvette in the financial district and walked up to the main entrance of the imposing building. Covered in glass, it made for an awesome sight.
Brooks Financial Enterprise Inc.
She gazed up at the top of the building, and a sense of oppression seemed to crush her to the sidewalk. Her head began to spin. She looked at the glass doors in front of her and saw the initials D.B. carved into them.
She hoped she would be able to spot Donn somewhere nearby; it was lunch time, so she imagined he might be grabbing a bite to eat at one of the sidewalk cafés at the foot of the almighty tower. At the entrance she noticed a man in his thirties looking intently at her. He was standing next to the receptionist in the lobby.
She took a deep breath and reached
out to push the door, but it suddenly opened automatically and Stella, off-balance from leaning on the door, tumbled forward onto the marble floor of the lobby. It was dark, shiny and cold as ice.
“Oh, shit! I just got here and I’ve already made a fool of myself. I hope Donn isn’t here,” she thought to herself, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, her palms open on the floor where they had broken her fall.
She forced herself to look up and the first thing she saw was an elegant pair of man’s shoes in front of her. Then she felt two cold hands lift her to her feet. It was the same man she had seen at the desk. The receptionist was staring at her aloofly.
“Are you ok?” the man asked, still holding her arm. Stella turned awkwardly, looking from side to side. She could feel everyone’s eyes in the hall fixed on her, and she began to fiddle with her dress in embarrassment.
“What a klutz!” she said to herself under her breath as she rearranged her hair. She looked at the man. There was a hint of a smile on his face. She could tell he was trying not to laugh and this only increased the humiliation she felt.
“I hope I can take your silence as a ‘yes’… Can I help you in any way?” She tried to think of what to reply.
“Oh, yes, excuse me… thanks for your help,” she finally answered, smiling shyly at him. She thought that his offer to help her was mere courtesy, but she asked him, “Do you work at the front desk?”
His jaws clenched in annoyance, and his reply was curt: “No, I work on the upper floors. I was just giving some instructions to the receptionist.”
“Oh, well, I’m here to see Mr. Brooks. Maybe you can help me with that.” She smiled shyly at him again, her embarrassment yet to wane.
The man raised his eyebrows and looked at her in surprise. He could not believe the girl was asking in such a casual manner to see the CEO of a major corporation.
“Is Mr. Brooks expecting you?” he asked, inquisitive.
