by M. Robinson
We were led through a corridor of booths and seated right by the window that overlooked the entire city.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” I stated.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he praised, making me smile.
We ordered our appetizers and I ordered a club soda while Jake indulged in a vodka tonic. I listened to him tell me about his classes and all the new and exciting things he had coming up and pretended to absorb every word. That was until I saw him.
He walked in with an adorable little girl in his arms and a woman not far behind him. She was beautiful; her blond, curly hair cascaded down her back and she was wearing a tight fitted, black dress. They were seated a few booths away from us and I was directly in his field of vision. I looked back at Jake who was still lost in his story about one of his fraternity brothers getting arrested; I nodded and pretended I was still listening.
But I wasn’t listening at all; my eyes and thoughts were to the table a few feet away from me. The little girl was sitting on his lap coloring, completely entertained as he talked to the woman. They were exchanging laughs and when I saw her hand raise to caress his cheek, it took everything in me to not go over there and rip her hand off. I witnessed all the subtle glances that they gave each other and I just knew that his hand was on her thigh. When he whispered something in her ear, she blushed and teasingly flipped her hair to the side.
A thousand emotions made their way through my body.
He was a liar.
Just like me.
I didn’t know how long I sat there and watched their performance of a happily married couple enjoying a night out, but it was long enough that I felt sick to my stomach. I reached over to grab Jake’s drink and took it down in one gulp. He was shocked and I provocatively smiled, scooting closer to him.
“Sorry, I was thirsty,” I stated, trying to brush off his confusion.
“I see that.”
I placed my hand on his thigh and kissed his neck like I knew he loved. “I miss you. I don’t like it when you’re away from me,” I lied, trying to erase the images of him and his family from my brain.
“I miss you too, baby.”
I grabbed his chin, turning his face to me and kissed him. I kissed him with everything I had, I kissed him like I hadn’t seen him in forever, I kissed him like I hadn’t just spent the last two days with him, I kissed him like he was everything and anything, I kissed him like he owned me.
I kissed him like he was Mr. Nichols.
He groaned and grabbed the back of my neck like he couldn’t get me close enough to him, and that’s when I opened my eyes. They immediately locked with Mr. Nichols’. The look on his face said everything I wanted to see. The hurt, anger, and jealously seethed from him. Which only made me kiss Jake with more passion and luster.
“Baby, Jesus, Gianna, what’s gotten into you?” he huskily grumbled, pulling away from me.
We ordered our main courses and the entire time we were waiting for them, I flirted, enticed, and seduced Jake, knowing that Mr. Nichols was watching it all. After dinner, I excused myself to the restroom and kissed Jake lovingly before leaving. I walked right past his table, never looking at him or paying him any mind. It was like he wasn’t there and didn’t exist. I closed the door behind me and right before I was about to lock it, it was roughly pushed opened. I stepped back and watched as he locked the door, leaning his forehead on it before turning to face me. It was like he needed those first few seconds to contemplate what he was about to do.
“What the fuck?” I yelled, boiling with anger.
“Watch your mouth,” he retorted, making me even more pissed.
“Fuck you.”
It took him three strides before he was in front of me, grabbing me by the throat and pushing me up against the wall. I didn’t cower down and held my head high, matching his intense, fuming gaze the entire time.
“What was that?” he questioned with clenched teeth.
“I’m out with my boyfriend while you’re out with your wife.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“You expect me to believe that? You’re a liar! You lied to me. I have never lied to you! You’re the only person I have never lied to. How could you do this to me?” I shouted, trying to hold back the tears that I could feel in my throat.
“G–”
“Don’t fucking call me that! You’re never allowed to call me that again!” I threatened, forcing myself not to react to his hand around my neck that was making my knees weak and my pussy throb.
“Calm down and let me explain. You’re acting like a child.”
“I am a child! Isn’t that what you like to tell me?! Isn’t that how you think of me, just some child that you can lie to and play with! That’s all I am to you, someone you can fuck with!” I roared and he gripped my throat tighter.
“That’s not what this is, G. It’s fucked up, I am your teacher and you’re my student. Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in?”
“I’m eighteen,” I reminded.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want?” I interjected, not having the patience to keep playing these games.
He loosened his hold as he struggled with his response before placing his forehead on mine. “Stop asking questions you already know the answers to.” I stilled, not expecting that to be his answer.
We stood there, both of us breathing heavily, completely consumed with one another, with our eye contact strong, with the chemistry screaming at us.
“Do you want this?” he asked after a long silence. “Because once we cross this line there is no going back. Do you understand me? You’re mine,” he demanded, once again gripping my throat.
“Please…”
His mouth collided with mine with such force that my head hit the wall. I was dizzy with the heat rising in my core. That was what I’ve wanted and needed for so long, and when I felt his tongue make contact with mine, I shamelessly moaned. His hold around my neck tightened while he pushed his cock firmer against my pussy like he could read my mind.
“God, you taste and feel exactly how I’ve dreamed,” he admitted as an involuntary sound escaped his lips.
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,”[7] he recited, with love and longing.
Being that close to him wasn’t nearly enough for me, I wanted him inside me, and not just sexual. I was mad for him, desperate and feverish. I wanted the good with the bad; I was losing myself to him and this ecstasy we created. I knew I would never be the same after this kiss. He owned me, he always had. I quivered at the thought of being his, only his.
His movements grew more demanding and urgent. We were both running on pure lust, impulse, instinct, and abandonment; everything felt right. It didn’t matter what surrounded itself around us because we were one and the same. That night, in that bathroom, we lost ourselves to something neither one of us understood or could control. The universe had decided it for us.
I loved him.
He was my person.
My soul mate, my one and only.
He was the first to break our kiss, our connection, and I whimpered at the loss. I didn’t want to go back to pretending. I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I wanted to ask him so many questions, there were a million thoughts carousing in my mind. I stayed silent, not wanting to ruin the moment, and I silently prayed that this wouldn’t be our last time together. He wouldn’t be that cruel to give me a taste of him and then take it away. Would he?
I had to trust him.
We composed ourselves and went back to our lives. I wanted to kick and scream and drag my feet. If he had asked me to leave with him, to run away with him, I would have done it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. He had to know that right? He understood me and could see me for who I really was? That was the beauty about him. I was in a place between heaven and hell, a dev
il and angel on each shoulder. The only choice I had was to sit back and enjoy the ride of this emotional roller coaster.
I sat back at the table with Jake and I should have told him, I should have ended things with him right then and there, but I couldn’t. I was scared of disappointing everyone and that made me a coward. I continued to be what everyone wanted me to be because that’s all I knew.
But when you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.
“Baby, you all right?” Jake questioned, taking me away from the ramblings in my mind.
“Uh, yeah…I’m fine.”
“Here take a bite of this chocolate cake,” he offered, bringing the spoon to my mouth.
The chocolaty goodness melted upon contact with my tongue. But I couldn’t swallow, why couldn’t I swallow? My breathing had stopped, I couldn’t breathe! I was choking…how was I choking? That’s not what happened. I don’t remember that happening! What’s going on?
I’m dying…
My eyes opened and I was choking. I couldn’t breathe! Fuck, I was going to die from my own vomit. I turned my head to the side, trying to get it out of the back of my throat, but there was no use. Tears streamed down the sides of my face at the realization that I was going to die from alcohol withdrawal, and then I heard the locked door open and being slammed shut. I couldn’t see anything and it caused more paranoia. I heard shuffling and then rope being cut. My arms immediately fell by the top of my head and then there was more rope being cut. I couldn’t move; my limbs were asleep from lack of my movement. Strong arms picked me up and I was turned onto my stomach. My back was hit repeatedly and chunks of vomit made their way out of my mouth.
After what felt like hours, I gasped for the first time and I had hope that I wasn’t going to die tied to a bed with a blindfold over my eyes, while my captor decides what to do with me. I threw up everything I had in my stomach and my body finally gave out on me, making me fall face first, right next to my vomit. I felt relieved, but that didn’t stop the shame from creeping in. I was literally lying next to a pool of my own puke; the blindfold intensified my senses and the smell of it made me want to throw up all over again.
I just lay there in a state of shock, trying to not think about the fact that he was sitting right next to me, and I knew I had to be a pathetic sight. The sensations in my legs returned first and then my arms quickly followed, they tingled all over, almost like the feeling of when you’re trying to keep your foot from falling asleep. I could shake them and bring back the movement quicker, but I was mortified and praying that he thought I had passed out or something. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want to remove the blindfold because then it would make it real. He really kidnapped me, and I really almost died, and now I was pitifully lying next to my puke. I knew he was staring at me, contemplating what to do next. I’m positive I had ruined his plans.
In the forefront of my mind, I kept thinking that I needed alcohol, I was going to start shaking soon, and a seizure wouldn’t be far away. How the fuck would I explain that to him?
“I know you’re not sleeping,” he stated, taking away my false security.
Asshole.
“You’ve been sleeping for the last two days and I can tell the difference in your breathing.”
Several minutes went by and I didn’t move or say one damn word.
“This is a surprise. You don’t have anything to say? Not going to try to manipulate your way out of this? I mean, that’s what you’re good at. Where’s Gianna, huh? Where’s Queen B?” he patronized.
“Get up! You fucking smell and you’ve puked all over yourself.”
I didn’t move and he kicked the bed with his foot.
“Get the fuck up or I will make you get up, and trust me, you do not want that to happen,” he roared, making me swallow the awful taste in my mouth from anxiety.
I didn’t recognize his voice.
I didn’t know the man before me.
And for the first time since this whole ordeal…
I was terrified.
I laid there and tried to shake off the nervousness. I was hoping he’d get angrier and just give up and leave the room. But the G part of me, the part that I tried to ignore, the part of me that still belonged to him, that he still owned, wanted him to touch me; to make me do it because then at least he would have been touching me, and I wanted so badly to have his hands on me. How fucked up was that?
I waited for his next command, trying to internalize everything I was feeling, but I knew he could smell it on me. My desire for him, even after all those years, was still just as strong, if not stronger. I heard his footsteps and then felt the tips of his fingers drag from my ankles up to my calves and thighs; he stopped right at the edge of my panty line. His two fingers lightly tapped back and forth, and I shuddered.
“Isn’t this what you want, Miss Edwards?” he asked, reading my mind, exactly like I knew he would.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say and God help me, I wanted him to keep going.
“Hmmm…” he hummed, and then harshly slapped my pussy. “When I ask you a question, I expect a goddamn answer,” he clarified, and then slapped it again. “Isn’t this what you want? What you’ve always wanted…MY FUCKING ATTENTION!” he yelled, slapping my pussy over and over again, awakening an ache that had me withering beneath his touch.
I couldn’t take it anymore as my body continued to betray me. “Yes! I wanted your fucking attention! That’s all I ever wanted!” I screamed.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Miss Edwards!”
I heard the sound of the belt before I felt it crudely hit the backs of my thighs. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the scream, not wanting to give him more satisfaction to what he was doing to me. The belt hit my calves next and I scratched at the mattress, next it was my feet that got hit repeatedly, and I bit my cheek so hard I tasted blood. It wasn’t until he hit my back over and over that had me screaming and begging for him to stop.
“Awe…come on, don’t you want to play? Ten lashes per year that I spent in prison, that seems fair to start off, don’t you think?” he threatened, striking me a few more times.
“FUCK YOU!” I yelled, making him hit me harder.
If he kept going, he was going to start to draw blood and I think he realized it, because he stopped. All I could hear was our erratic breathing.
“Is that any way to talk to your teacher? Where is your respect?” he jested, breaking the silence. “Who am I, Miss Edwards? Don’t make me ask you twice.”
I hesitated for a second. “Mr. Nichols.”
“No…not Mr. Nichols. Who am I? I know you want to say it. Here is your chance…call me by my name, just like you love to do.”
I whimpered. “I don’t want to play these games. Just do what you want.” My stomach churned and I could practically taste the bile at the bottom of my throat, not from what had just occurred, but from my body wanting its nourishment.
The only thing that ever kept me going.
I felt cold metal on my back and I froze. I heard fabric being cut and realized that he was cutting off the only clothing I had on. The solitary comfort he allowed me was now being stripped away. Once he was done, there was no movement or sound for several minutes and I wondered if he was admiring my body.
“Get up,” he demanded out of nowhere. I moved slowly, not wanting to upset my stomach, and the second I stood, I fell to the floor. With my ass in the air and my forehead resting on the concrete floor, I rubbed the clamminess and sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm.
“Get up!” he shouted, making me jump.
I braced myself on the side of the bed and used all the energy I could muster to pick myself up off the floor, and immediately grabbed my stomach once I was standing.
“Are you hungry?” he asked and I chuckled at his reasoning of what was wrong. I shook my head no.
“Walk,” he ordered.
I stumbled on my feet the firs
t few steps. “I can’t see.”
“Just fucking walk straight until I tell you otherwise,” he ordered and I nodded.
We made our way out of the room and walked through what seemed like a long hallway. I couldn’t see a damn thing in front of me, but the stench in the air made my nauseous state even worse. I heard him open a door and then I instantly smelled the outside. Fresh air!
“Where are we going?” I asked, nervous that he was going to kill me and dump me in the woods somewhere.
He grabbed my hair, pulling my neck back. “Did I say you could talk?” he chastised in my ear.
He let go with a hard shove and I almost fell to my knees. “Walk.”
I tried to keep the pace that made him stop shoving me, but I only made it a few more steps before I fell to the ground. I couldn’t control it and heaved bile and liquid that smelled horrid.
“What the fuck is going on? I thought you were throwing up before from shock. What’s wrong?” he asked me.
“Alcohol…I need a drink. Please…” I breathed out between my dry heaves.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“I’m an alcoholic…” I confessed. It was the first time I had ever shared that with anyone, it may have been the first time I had admitted it to myself out loud. “My body is going through withdrawal and if I don’t get a drink soon, I could have a seizure and go into shock. So unless you feel like killing me today, I could die,” I explained, spitting out the ruminants from my mouth.
“Why the fuck are you an alcoholic?”
I followed his voice and looked up at him through the blindfold. “Why the fuck do you think?”
“Get up,” he commanded. His tone changed, it was much darker. Angrier.
“I can’t…it hurts to move…please…” I begged and started to cry. I couldn’t help it. My body was physically giving up on me.
“Get the fuck up!” he yelled, not caring or sympathizing.
“Ahhh!!” I screamed, trying to compose myself enough to stand. I stood, grabbed my stomach, and leaned over.
“Walk. We’re almost there.”
