by Hanna Peach
“Sasha gave it to me,” I tried to explain. “I didn’t know.”
“Sasha,” Keir said, contempt clear in his voice. “She’s a snake if I ever saw one. Anything she’d give you is a poisoned apple.”
“She picked it out for me. She said it was from Mr. Blackwell.”
“Do you really think Mr. Blackwell would give you a dress that looked like the one his mother died in?”
“No. Oh God. I swear, if I knew I never would have worn it.”
He shushed at me. “It’s okay. I didn’t think you would wear it on purpose.”
“At least you don’t think I’m that horrible.”
“Only mildly horrible,” he said, but his tone was light.
I rolled my eyes. “Believe me the feeling is mutual.” I lowered my voice. “What happened to his mother?”
He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “She was−”
“Keir,” a low male voice warned. “Don’t.”
A man dressed in dark pants, a khaki shirt and work boots appeared on the terrace. I hadn’t heard him arrive, I had been so focused on Keir.
Keir straightened up and took a step away from me. “I was just−”
“I know what you were doing. This shall go no further, son.”
“This is your father,” I said. I could see the similarities between them; they were the same height and had the same shock of dark hair and strong nose. They had the same colored skin, but where Keir’s was smooth, his father’s had been weathered and beaten thick by the sun.
“Noriko, meet Fernando,” Keir said. “Dad, meet−”
“I know who she is. You keep away from her,” he said as if I was some kind of dangerous animal.
“This is none of your business,” Keir said, his profile stern and his shoulders going tense as he stood by my side.
“Nor is it any of yours. Remember your place.”
Remember your place. I had said the same thing to Keir mere moments ago. Guilt threaded through my stomach. “What if I want Keir to tell me?” I said.
Fernando looked at me, wariness in his eyes. “Forgive me, madam. I say this with all due respect. But if you want to know about your husband’s past, perhaps you should ask him.”
I had nothing to say to that. I knew he was right; I should ask Mr. Blackwell. But, would my husband willingly tell me?
“Mrs. Blackwell,” he continued, “I know my son. He doesn’t listen to me. So when I tell him to keep his distance from you, I know he won’t do it.”
“Dad,” Keir hissed under his breath.
“Perhaps you will be the more responsible one.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
Fernando cleared his throat. “I can see my son has an interest in you. You’re a married woman. Even if you weren’t, you shouldn’t be so cruel as to give him hope of rising above his station.”
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Never had I seen a man so determined to put down himself and his son. I felt waves of hot embarrassment rolling off Keir and it made every cell of my body scream to defend him. You’re his father, you asshole. You should be supporting him. Encouraging him. He needs you to love him.
I realized how lucky I am…was…how lucky I was…to have had such a loving father.
Before I could speak, a low buzzer echoed out onto the terrace from inside the house. Both Keir and Fernando turned their heads towards it, their eyes widening in tandem.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s the buzzer signaling to the staff that the Master returns,” said Fernando. “And for us to vacate the main house.”
They weren’t allowed in the main house when Mr. Blackwell was home?
“Noriko,” Keir turned to me, “if Mr. Blackwell sees you like this…” Something in his voice that struck a chord of fear in me.
I couldn’t let Mr. Blackwell see me in this dress.
6
The only way I knew how to get to my room from the back terrace was up the main stairway near the front door. What if Mr. Blackwell entered while I was on the stairs? What if he saw me?
Keir and Fernando had disappeared, leaving me no one to ask for an alternative route. It was a chance I would just have to take.
I slipped off my heels, carrying them in my hand as I ran back inside. My heart thudded loudly as I peered around a thick marble pillar to the main entry. I didn’t hear any voices or footsteps. He wasn’t inside yet.
I made a run for the stairs just as a figure darkened the cloudy glass in the entry doors. I sprinted up the wide steps as fast as I could. But this damn dress was tight and didn’t have much give, slowing me down.
I just made it up to the second floor when, I heard the noise of the front door opening. I pressed myself against the wall and away from the banister.
A gravelly voice boomed up the stairwell, “…him it’s not acceptable.” I heard his footsteps on the marble as he stepped inside.
I should have kept going, but curiosity beckoned me to look. I crept to the banister and peered over. I could only see the top of his slicked back dark hair and the black suit jacket over his shoulders. He held a shiny silver phone to his ear. “I don’t give a shit, Roger. Just close the fucking deal.” He snapped his phone shut and I jolted back. He let out a string of curses.
I heard a soft patter, then, “Oh, Mr. Blackwell, welcome home.” It was Loretta’s voice and I could see part of her gray head as she stood beside him. “Let me take your jacket.”
“Thank you, Loretta.”
“How was your flight?”
“Terrible.”
Their heads disappeared from sight, but I could still hear their voices along with the echo of their footsteps. “Your wife is waiting for you upstairs.”
“Good.”
“Can I just say, she is just lovely.”
I didn’t stay to hear anymore. I hoisted up my hem and sprinted up the rest of the way.
By the time I shut the door of my bedroom my dress was practically up around my ass. Luckily no one was there to see me. As Fernando said, no staff members remained in the main house except for Loretta, who was downstairs with Mr. Blackwell.
In my closet I yanked the dress over my head and flung it off me like it was a snake. I should have known better than to trust Sasha. Only when I had shoved the poisonous dress into a shopping bag and stuffed it into the back of my closet did I breathe a sigh of relief.
* * *
I sat in one of the chairs in my bedroom, waiting for Mr. Blackwell’s arrival. Loretta had knocked on my door earlier to let me know that Mr. Blackwell would soon be in to see me. That was over half an hour ago. My husband didn’t seem to think much of my time if he just expected that I should just spend my life waiting around for him. I repressed this bitter little thought. Good wives didn’t think things like that about their husbands. Good wives just sat and waited as long as need be.
Keir said my new husband was old enough to be my father, but surely he must have been exaggerating. It was strange though that Mr. Blackwell kept no photos of himself.
What if he was hideous? I swallowed back that idea. Regardless of what he looked like he was my husband now, and as a good wife I should think my husband the most attractive man on the planet. I was sure, despite not even being available for the first few days of our marriage, he would prove to be a good husband. Right?
He was a little rude to who I assumed to be one of his employees on the phone. But I couldn’t judge a man purely by the way he treated his staff, could I?
More doubts started to sneak in and my impatience to meet him began to turn into anxiety. What kind of man needed to import a young wife from Japan? Why didn’t he find a wife the usual way…by falling in love first? And what happened to his parents? His mother…the poor woman. How did she die? And what had Keir been about to say before his father interrupted him?
My door handle turned.
My fingers clutched at the hem of my simple black Prada dress
as the door opened. I stood and I wobbled slightly as I trembled in my black Christian Loubouton heels. I wished I’d worn flat shoes, but Loretta specifically said Mr. Blackwell wanted me in heels.
A man stepped into my bedroom and closed the door behind him. He turned his whole body towards me. I got my first look at Mr. Blackwell, the man I was to share a life with.
His face was quite handsome really, if not a little stern, thick eyebrows over a Roman nose, his lips thin but well-shaped. His dark hair was conservatively cut and swept to one side. He was older, a few distinguished wrinkles etched on his forehead, but he wasn’t as old as my father. I guessed his age to be mid-thirties.
“Noriko,” he said, and I recognized the deep voice from when I heard it downstairs.
“Mr. Blackwell,” I said as I bowed my head.
“Please, call me Drake. Are they all treating you well?”
“Very well.”
“Good. Very good. Do you like it here?”
“I do, sir.”
“Noriko, you’re my wife. Call me Drake.”
“Yes, sir, I mean, Drake.” I added in a whisper, “Sir.”
“Come closer.”
I took tentative steps towards him and stopped a few meters away. He wore a dark polo shirt tucked into black pants. He had showered before he came here, his hair still slightly damp. I smelled his soap and that spicy aftershave I recognized from his bathroom.
In two strides he was right up before me. He was almost a head taller than me even in heels. There was something about him, a menacing energy, which made me want to run. I had to force myself not to back away.
He eyed me all over. “You’re even more beautiful in real life.”
“Thank you.”
His finger came up to graze my cheek. He traced it down my neck and along my shoulders, then brushed off the strap of my dress. I was waiting for the burning, throbbing sensation to begin, the sensation that I got around Keir, but I only felt the jangle of my nerves. Drake traced along my collarbone before pushing the other strap off from my shoulder.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I did so carefully, so as not to tumble from my heels and make a fool of myself in my first meeting with my husband. He moved the hair from my back and draped it over one shoulder. His fingers traced my shoulder blades before finding the top of my dress.
I closed my eyes as the sound of my zipper ripping open filled my ears. My dress dropped off me in a heavy flutter.
He undid my black lacy strapless bra and pulled it from me. The cool air hit my nipples and they hardened. I repressed a whimper as his fingers tucked into the lace of my panties and scraped down my sides. The last scrap of my clothing, my last shield, fell limp around my ankles like a thin coil of rope.
I was completely naked. For the first time in my life I was completely naked in front of a man. I wanted to wrap my arms around my body, but I was too terrified to move. My fingernails dug into my palms, which had both gone sweaty.
He walked around me, excruciatingly slow, taking me all in. I kept my eyes down, feeling his gaze roaming all over my body. I felt like cattle being inspected for market. Flashes of cold and hot alternated through me. Was this what it should feel like?
“Lovely.” His deep voice rumbled. After walking completely around once he stopped in front of me, about a foot away, his dark blue pair of suede slip-on shoes contrasting against my pale blue carpet. I felt his finger under my chin and he lifted up my head. He stared at me, his eyebrows pressing together.
“Are you scared of me?” he asked.
I considered lying. But I quickly gave up that idea. I was sure he would be able to tell if I lied, his penetrating eyes on me, watching my every flinch and grimace. I wondered what he would do if he ever caught me lying to him.
“A little,” I admitted.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe me?”
I nodded. My heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in my ribcage.
“You’re a virgin.”
It didn’t sound like a question but I answered, “Yes,” anyway.
“Lay on the bed.”
I turned, almost tripping over my underwear. I didn’t know how but I managed to cross the expanse of my room without falling over. All the way I felt his eyes on my naked ass.
The bed, covered in pristine white sheets, seemed so big like it would swallow me whole. I turned and sat on the edge of the mattress, a little surprised to find Drake right there, watching me, towering over me as I gazed up at him through my lashes. I hadn’t even heard him following me.
I slipped off my heels then pulled my legs up onto the bed. I lay my head on the pillow, the sheets cool under my skin, one of my hands grabbing my other forearm in front of me like a flimsy shield.
Drake pulled his shirt out of his pants and drew it over his head. His chest was firm, not as firm as Keir’s, and sprinkled with dark hair that trailed down to a soft midsection. He draped his shirt over the back of a chair. He slipped off his shoes and undid his pants, also draping them on the chair. Finally he pushed down his dark gray Giorgio Armani boxer briefs, his erection springing free. It was pale and veiny and looked like a fleshy alien salamander rising out of a wiry patch of hair. It was the first time I had ever seen a man naked and I couldn’t help but stare.
But I still didn’t feel that same burning, curious need in my core like I did with Keir. What did this mean?
Drake stepped to the bedside and I shuffled aside to give him room. It was about to happen. He was going to take my virginity. I shivered as the mattress dipped when he lay himself beside me.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.”
He propped himself up on one elbow on his side. “Look at me, Noriko.”
I turned my face towards him.
He hummed under his breath as he eyed my body. “Beautiful girl.” A small satisfied smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “My beautiful girl.”
His hand moved to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. He trailed his fingers down my neck and towards my breasts, his eyes following. His fingers were smooth and soft and I noticed his fingernails were perfectly shaped. I could tell he had never spent a day working out in the garden.
He rubbed across one breast and then the other. Then he turned his attention to my pale brown nipples, rolling and pinching them, making them pebble in his fingers. I flinched when he squeezed one too hard.
His hand moved down across my stomach and my hipbones. My body wanted to rear back as he moved his hand down towards my most private of places. But I stayed still. Like a good little girl.
He hummed as he stroked the wisps of hair at my mound. “From now on I want you to shave.”
“You mean…down there?”
“Yes.”
Then he explored further down. His fingertips brushed over a sensitive spot and I gulped back a mouthful of air. My skin felt cold all over. No one had ever touched me there before. He rested the heel of his hand on me as his fingers circled and strummed between my legs causing a sensation that was a cross between a tickle and a pleasant buzzing.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice getting husky. The end of his erection was now wet and glistening.
“Yes.”
He slipped his finger further down, finding my entrance. He hummed. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was I…how he expected?
He pushed his fingertip into my entrance, slowly nudging inside. He was watching my face carefully. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel, so I tried a smile. He began to slide his finger in and out of me. At first it felt raw and rough and strange. Then he rubbed his thumb against my clit at the same time. Tingles spread like little tendrils from where he touched me. His finger began to slide easier and I realized I was getting wet down there.
Withdrawing his finger, he took a foil packet from the top drawer of my bedside table and rolled a condom down over himself. I watched him, caught somewhere between intense fascination and complete h
orror. He climbed over me and lowered himself between my legs.
“This might hurt a little,” he said. “Just try to relax, okay?”
Before I could reply he pushed the head of his erection inside my entrance. I felt a stinging, ripping sensation that made me gasp. He eyed me for a moment. “Are you okay?”
I nodded.
He pushed in further and I felt the ripping sensation again. I held my breath as he pushed all the way in. He groaned and the noise made me feel queasy. “Oh, Riko. You’re so fucking tight.”
It sat uncomfortably inside me, like a bloated belly but lower. I felt full and yet strangely hollow at the same time. He began to move in and out of me, slowly at first. I clung to his neck and squeezed my eyes shut.
His thrusting began to speed up and the sting between my legs began to burn, bringing moisture to my eyes. His breath grew heavy and hot against my ear along with his grunting. I wondered if he was enjoying himself. I sucked in my bottom lip to withhold all noise as he pumped faster.
“Oh yeah. Oh yeah.” He let out a short cry and rammed into me hard, once, twice. He froze, all his muscles hard and contorted, with only his erection pulsing inside me. He relaxed and collapsed on top of me, crushing me.
My body was still tense. I could only just breathe under his weight. It was hot and the sweat was beading between my breasts and in the pit of my neck and I wanted to push him off me. But I wasn’t sure if I should.
Thankfully he pushed himself up onto his elbows. When he pulled out I felt another flash of pain. He rolled off me, grabbed a hand full of tissues from the bedside table and handed them to me.
He walked naked to the bathroom, gathering his clothes from the chair by my bed as he went. I heard the click of the lock and the sink began to run.
I wiped between my legs. There was blood on the tissue when I pulled it away. Not a lot but it still startled me. I just had sex. I was no longer a virgin. The girl in me had died and this was what was left.
