Uncovering Stone

by T. Saint John

  I’m not sure if she did it out of anger or if she needed to feel wanted after dealing for so many years with her husband’s indiscretions, but I knew why I let it happen. I figured that what she went through with her husband and her putting up with him for so long, she was bound to have a lot of inhibitions and repressed emotions, not getting any satisfaction from her shitty husband who was too busy having affairs. She was a perfect candidate for what I had in mind. I left her more than satisfied that night, only giving her a few tastes of my complete domination over her body. I annihilated her husband in the divorce case, and she became a wealthy woman because of it.

  The sex became a regular thing between us, but I made sure she knew we weren’t exclusive. Given her history with a cheating husband, you’d think she’s balk at the idea, but she probably agreed to our arrangement because I’ve given her many sexual firsts and feels sexually liberated whenever we get together—that and the multiple orgasms every time. Apparently, even though her husband was a dick to her, it wasn’t the kind that felt good in her vagina—he never once made her cum. Mary is a woman scorned, and just like me, she’s only looking for a few moments of freedom from her constant mental state of hell.

  Lani

  I can’t believe how wrong I was about Evan. He’s been a great support system for me over the past few months. We’ve managed to develop an easy camaraderie, but we still constantly fight like cats and dogs over everything and nothing. One of our first “discussions” involved Jase. When I asked if I could invite Jase over one night, Evan calmly responded with, “Sure...if you want me to rip his balls off and shove it down his throat before I decorate the sidewalk with him. He’s bound to piss me off with anything that comes out of his asshole mouth. And when he does, there’s only one way he’s leaving here and it won’t be through the front door.”

  Technically, there was no argument at the time because I didn’t know if Evan was kidding. He said it so nonchalantly without any emotion in his voice that it was difficult to tell. Since it was his place, I had to respect Evan’s wishes if he didn’t want Jase to come over. I never brought it up again after Evan insinuated that Jase wasn’t welcome in Evan’s home. I just didn’t want to risk a confrontation between the two of them. The argument Evan and I eventually had wasn’t so much about Jase not coming over, but about the result of the ban. Jase had not been happy to find out I was living with Evan, and being unable to come see me was the last straw. I blamed Evan for my breakup with Jase and the loss of my regular source for sex. Sex with Jase wasn’t great, but it was still an outlet for me. A couple of months without sex has started making me snippy.

  So now, Evan and I fight over the littlest thing, like cleaning around the penthouse. The ass has actually banned me from tidying up anywhere other than my bedroom and bathroom. Evidently, I’m not qualified to load the dishwasher since I don’t line up the dishes properly. And don’t get me started on the towels...who knew there was a right and wrong way to put a towel away? You just fold it up and stick on a shelf—how hard can it be, right? No, according to Evan, I somehow manage to mess that up, too. When I asked him to inform me of the proper way to put away a towel, he just growled at me and angrily replied, “Never mind! Just don’t touch it. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  Evan’s anal tendencies are not only limited to cleaning. Every time I walk out the door, he feels the need to remind me to take my phone, call him when I get to where I’m going, and make sure my security detail is within five yards of me at all times. His controlling ways have been annoying the shit out of me, so like a petulant child, I haven’t always done what he’s asked. I just didn’t want him to think that he could control me, but I wound up feeling bad when I realized how worried he was after my friend and I slipped away from my bodyguards to get some lunch. Evan had been pissed at me, but I could still detect the relief in his voice when he saw that I was safe. It occurred to me that even though I don’t always agree with how he shows his concern for my safety, I at least know that Evan does care about me. When I was sick last week, he made me soup and practically catered to my every need. It’s because of the unexpected and sweet things he does that I know Evan has a good heart—even if his heart is a bit damaged.

  My friendship with Evan continues to grow the more time we spend alone together, and the new feelings I’ve developed for him confuse me. Sometimes, we’ll be sitting side-by-side on the couch, watching a movie when I find myself snuggling up against him. Once I do, he puts his arm in a more comfortable position by placing it around my shoulders, and I start to long for a life where I can share a closeness and comfort with someone. My heart has started to want him, but thankfully, my brain continues to keep me in check.

  I think he’s given up on his pursuit of me and it makes me a little sad—I’m reluctant to admit that I miss the aggressive side of him that can ignite my passion in an instant. Part of me wishes he hadn’t given up on me, but at the same time, I’m glad he did. I’m not the right person for Evan, and I could never make him truly happy. He deserves someone who knows who she is and what she wants. Someone who’s strong and self-assured like he is and doesn’t need to be cared for. He needs someone who can match his aggressiveness in bed and find pleasure in the rough sex that he’s into. Thinking about the perfect woman for Evan and how it could never be me, I’m overcome with a sudden sorrowful feeling, and I’m surprised by the tear that falls down my cheek.

  I quickly swipe at the errant tear, and I try to tell myself that Evan is just a friend. I try to recall all the negative things about Evan to counteract the emotions running through me. It annoys me that as comfortable as I’ve become around him, he still can’t relax around me. Even after our discussion months ago, he continues to wear his damn button up shirts at home, leaving him always covered up and restricted. I feel as if Evan has stopped enjoying things in life, just so he can babysit me. I’m so ready for this whole Jackson situation to be over, but it’s like he up and vanished. Jackson has stopped sending me emails or trying to communicate with me in any way. Maybe he found a new obsession, but my gut tells me that he just wants us to think he’s moved on so we’ll become complacent and he can strike when I least expect it.

  I hear the front door open and the butterflies start to flutter around inside me. It’s been like this for a while now. Whenever Evan comes home, my body has an automatic response in anticipation of our upcoming interaction. It doesn’t care whether it’s going to be amicable or antagonistic, my body just likes having him around. I watch Evan walk in, wearing a form fitting, custom made gray suit with a blue tie, carrying a bag from my favorite Thai restaurant. Evan looks delicious, and I’m ready to devour him. Oh my God, Lani, get a grip! This is what happens when I’m deprived of sex, I start to lust after a man I have no right being with.

  “Evan! You brought me Thai food? That’s so sweet!” I exclaim, giving him a hug. Friends do that, right? To show appreciation for such a thoughtful gesture?

  “I did,” he responds with an emotionless voice as he continues on to the kitchen. Feeling a little hurt with the way he just brushed me off, I wonder if anything is wrong. He’s been acting distant for the past week, and I don’t like this detached side of him. I dismiss the thought, figuring I’m just being overly sensitive.

  “You ready to start the movie?” I ask, gathering the silverware. I glance over at him as he’s washing his hands and I wait for his response.

  “Yeah,” he responds, looking annoyed before he carries the food into the living room. I grab a couple of plates and follow him.

  “You don’t want to change first?” I inquire as I set the plates down on the coffee table.

  “Nah, I’m good,” he answers, easing himself down on the couch after setting out the food. I look down at him, still fully dressed in his work attire, and I begin to get upset. Why does he insist on staying in his uptight clothes? Why won’t he change into something more comfortable? We’re supposed to be friends and be comfortable around each other. Why can’t
he just relax with me for once?!

  “Evan, do you want me to move out?”

  Evan

  I was turned on the moment I walked into the condo and saw Alani in the short shorts she wears to bed and the T-shirt I gave her the first night she came to live me. She looked so fucking hot that when she greeted me with a hug, I had to keep walking in order to avoid getting lost in the feel of her softness. I’ve been friend-zoned, and friends don’t cram their dicks into their friend’s mouth, ass, or vagina. When she asked about the movie, I was once again reminded of my new “girl friend” status and was instantly sexually frustrated and annoyed.

  Hearing her ask me if I wanted her to move out, I briefly entertain the idea that it may be for the best. As much as I’m tormented with wanting Alani in my bed and not getting any sexual satisfaction, I want her safe—and I need to see her every night. I’ve gotten used to coming home to her every day, and I don’t want to give that up.

  “No,” I finally answer with a sigh. I mask my emotions and look at her straight-faced. I watch her search my face before her eyes settle on mine. She breaks eye contact after a couple of minutes and throws her hands up in frustration.

  “You know what...thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for everything. But it’s time for me to go,” She sets the silverware down on the plates with a clatter before turning around and storming off. I should be thankful she didn’t stab me with the knives in anger. I don’t have the mental energy to fight her at the moment, so I lean back on the couch and let her leave.

  Maybe she should move out because this isn’t working. As I sit with my head laying on the back of the couch, I try to think of where she could go that would be safe. I can’t come up with anything—my place is the safest. We’ll just have to make it work. I get up and head back to her bedroom to talk to her. I knock on her door, but she doesn’t answer. I knock again—still no answer. I open the door and walk in. Not seeing her in the bedroom, I head towards the en-suite bathroom and find her standing at the sink with tears in her eyes. Fuck. I hate seeing her cry. I’m so sick of being her friend, but it’s what she needs right now.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I gently ask, walking up behind her. I turn her around and take her into my arms. She wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. You’ve given up everything for me,” she tearfully replies. I pull back from her so that I can tilt her chin up and look into her eyes.

  “That’s not true. Anything I’ve done for you, it’s because I’ve wanted to. I really didn’t give up anything,” I tell her sincerely. It’s true—besides a bedroom, I haven’t given anything up.

  “Yes, you have. I’ll repay the rent and the security,” she insists, stepping out of my arms.

  Now, I’m insulted and pissed. “I don’t want your fucking money, Alani,” I lash out angrily.

  “I can’t figure you out, Evan. I tried staying out of your hair to begin with, but you told me to stop hiding. I did and I thought we’d become friends who could be ourselves in front of one another. Yet, you’re constantly wearing a fucking suit and tie even when you should be comfortably relaxing in your underwear at home. You can’t stand there and tell me that you haven’t given anything up! It’s your place, and for whatever reason, you don’t feel comfortable enough around me to let your guard down once in a while! When I agreed to move in, I didn’t think I’d be ruining your life!” Her words rush out and come crashing down around me.

  “You didn’t ruin my life, Alani,” I protest. “I wanted you here.” The will to fight is draining out of me.

  “I get it, you wanted me here. But I knew that once you got to know me, you wouldn’t want me anymore. I knew you’d eventually get tired of me. God! I’m so happy I didn’t give in to my feelings.”

  This sends me over the edge. She doesn’t understand that I still want her and will never stop wanting her. She wants to see me out of my suit and tie? Fine—I’ll let her. I remove my jacket, rip off my tie, and start to unbutton the cuffs of my shirt. Her eyes open wide and with alarm in her voice, she asks, “What are you doing Evan?”

  “I’m giving you what you want. You want to see me relax in my own home, right? Out of my ‘fucking suit and tie’?” I answer, bitterly throwing her words back at her as I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

  “I don’t want to force you to do anything, so just stop. Let me pack and I’ll be on my way,” she responds, moving past me and walking away. I finish removing my shirt and follow her out to the bedroom. I grab her arm to halt her escape. She stops and with her back still to me, she says, “Evan, stop.”

  “No. Not until you look at me and see what I’ve been trying to hide,” I tell her before she can finish turning around. The shock registers on her face and she gasps into her free hand at the first glimpse of all my tattoos. She doesn’t utter a word as her eyes roam all over my torso and arms, inspecting every inch. For a brief moment, I feel a sense of freedom, knowing that my tattoos tell her more than I ever could.

  Lani

  Oh my GOD! I’m stunned into silence by the sight before me. How could Evan have done this to himself? He has my name tattooed across his chest with different words vining out from it. I’m amazed by the intricate designs decorating his beautiful skin as I take in every detail. Merely looking is not enough—I’m compelled to trace the word ‘Bitch’ directly under ‘Alani’. I’m not surprised to see it there, knowing how he felt about me in the beginning. I wanted him to despise me so that he’d move on. I scoff at that thought—I wanted him to move on, but how can he when he has a constant and permanent reminder that he can’t escape?

  What’s most shocking is the realization that this has to be a year’s worth of tattoos—maybe even longer. The more I gaze at and explore the writing, the more I see the beauty in both the artwork and of his chest. His build is amazing and lean—the tattoos are perfectly placed over each defined muscle. I reverently brush my fingers against some of the words as I read them, knowing they contain the feelings that he’s kept hidden from me this whole time. I’m overcome with emotion as when I trace the words directly over his heart with my fingers—’Always mine’. My eyes are drawn to his face and I look searchingly into his eyes.

  “When?” I inquire, mesmerized.

  He briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to answer. “The day you accused me of only caring about money,” he finally replies, his gaze meeting mine. “So over a year ago.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I don’t know what to think. And I don’t know what to feel. I’m still reeling from shock of it all.

  “Alani?” he says gently as he softly brushes his knuckles against my cheek. It occurs to me that he’s treating me like a skittish horse, probably afraid that I’d bolt on him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can we discuss all of this and just get everything out in the open? I don’t want to waste any more time trying to anticipate what may or may not happen.”

  He’s right, we do need to talk. And if Evan is honest with me, then I’ll be honest with him. “I’d like that,” I reply with a slow nod of my head. He leads me to the bed and we sit down on the edge. I’m still at a loss. He did this to his body? For me? Because of me?

  “I guess now you can see why I’m always covered up,” he starts out saying, easing us into the conversation.

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why you’d do that to your body...especially, with my name—we aren’t even dating,” I tell him, the confusion evident in my voice.

  “Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted—I meant it when I told you the universe decided we should be together. I can’t fight it—God knows I’ve tried,” he responds earnestly.

  “I know you may think that’s how you feel, but you’ll–”

  He cuts me off before I can continue. “No, don’t do that. Don’t put words into my mouth. Don’t assume that I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I know what I feel. I’m almost th
irty-five and I know myself by now,” he declares harshly, standing up from the bed. He runs a hand through his hair as he walks over to stand in front of the glass door leading to the outside balcony. I can see the anger on his face reflected by the glass. I stand up and walk over towards him.

  “Look, I don’t mean to diminish your feelings, but I just don’t understand. I’ve told you over and over that I’m not looking for a relationship. Then, you go and do this to your body,” I address his reflection while gesturing towards his upper body.

  He turns to face me, and the anger has been replaced by determination. “Regardless of whether you want me or if we ever end up together, I wanted these on my body. I want to feel all the emotions you’ve ever brought out in me whenever I look in the mirror. And even though you piss me off and frustrate the hell out of me, you’ve given me life, and I don’t want that feeling to go away,” he says, his voice impassioned.

  “Evan, you made a mistake. You shouldn’t have done this to yourself.” God, I hope he can get these lasered off. Although I can appreciate the beauty of his tattoos, his future wife will, sure as shit, freak the fuck out. I feel a sudden, sharp pain in my chest at the thought of Evan marrying anyone but me, but I know I need to open up to him so that he can hopefully move on. He lets out a long sigh, but doesn’t say anything. I realize I’m hurting him, but I’m hoping he comes to the realization that it’s better if it happens now, rather than later.