by J.M. Downey
Keith sat on the edge of their bed fully dressed in one of his suits while Katie slept behind him, her chest rising in a smooth rhythm with each of her breaths. He raised his chin a little and peered down at the mirror. There it was - the look of a president. It was the aristocratic cheekbones and the way he could keep emotions out of his eyes, but still be able to turn on the smile to hide any deceit – just like his father. His family was made to rule and rule they would continue.
Katie’s hands ran around his waist, as she placed her chin on his shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just thinking.”
“Of?” She ran a finger down his chest, making a sigh escape from his lips. One simple motion could stir so much in him. If his passion hadn’t already been spent, he would take her now, powering over her. He never felt more dominant than when the sweet thing behind him moaned his name.
Keith took her wandering hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger. His sweet possession. He stopped and clasped their hands together. “Do you think I’ll make a good senator?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think I look like one?”
“You’re too good looking.” She laughed. “But perhaps when you’re older, bald and fat, I’ll see you as a senator.”
Keith raised his right eyebrow. “Senators can’t be good-looking?”
“Only those in the movies.”
“What about presidents?”
Katie kissed Keith on the cheek. “I guess if you’re a Kennedy or a Reagan. I always thought Reagan was a nice looking old man.”
“A Reagan.” He nodded. “I could be a good Reagan.”
“Yeah, I bet you could.”
Keith turned to his wife and placed his hands on her sides, clenching her white nightgown. “What would you think if I became president?”
The light of the lamp accented the twinkle in her eyes. “I would want to know the truth about Roswell, and all the other government secrets.”
A smirk crossed his face. “Is that right? Maybe someday you’ll have the chance.”
She smiled, slightly giggling. “You can see into the future?”
“Maybe I can.” The passion reared in him. Maybe he would be able to see how powerful he was tonight.
TWO
Katie looked up from her laptop when Keith opened the door. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was nine. Another late night and stressful one according to his furrowed brows. What did he do all day? Whenever she asked he would change the subject or say he didn’t want to talk about it. It probably wasn’t much. He had told her that usually lawyers spent their first year being overpaid paralegals. Katie closed her laptop. She would finish the short story tomorrow.
He didn’t go to the kitchen to grab the dinner she had prepared, but just sat down next to her on the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Every part of him looked tense.
“Tough day?”
He didn’t answer, but opened his eyes and looked out into the distance. She needed to distract him. He wouldn’t be interested in her little love story but maybe school. “I got the schedule I wanted.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Yeah, I’m going to start education classes. I’m so excited.” In a couple semesters she would be able to intern in a school and begin working with children. The few hours she had spent tutoring reinforced her dream, a dream of helping to shape young minds.
He raised his eyebrows. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m going to teach, remember?” A sinking feeling filled her. Surely he remembered. She had spoken of it so much when they’d dated. She just hadn’t had time to mention it since. She had been occupied with other things, like learning to be a good wife to him.
Keith pushed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, but that was before we were married. You don’t need to teach now.”
“I know, but I want to. Remember our dreams of shaping the future together?” Katie trailed a finger over his shoulder.
Keith shook his head. “Go ahead and change your schedule tomorrow; take more literature classes.”
The smile on her face disappeared. Did the world shift without her realizing it? He sounded so controlling. “I don’t want to.”
“I will not pay for education classes, and if you try to take them behind my back, I will have you dismissed from school.”
“Keith?” Katie squeezed a pillow on the couch as tears built in her eyes. Was she going to be able to teach? She felt her dreams crash around her. No, she couldn’t give it up. “But.…”
“Wilkerson women do not work,” he shouted. “Does my mom work? No. Does my sister? No.”
She jumped to her feet. “You never told me you didn’t want me to teach.”
“I didn’t tell you, you could.” He stood and peered down into her eyes. “Now, listen. This conversation is finished. I can’t handle petty stress like this.”
Katie took a step back. His eyes filled with a deep glare, a glare so much like his father. She lowered her eyes. What had just happened?
“Pretty thing.” His voice sounded softer. He caressed her cheek. “Let’s not fight. I did have a stressful day, and all I want to do is hold you.” He took her hands and in a second she was on his lap with her chin resting on his shoulder as he caressed her back. “Understand.”
Did she understand? Of course not, but she was not about to argue. She had no desire to see that anger again. Tomorrow, when he felt better, she would mention it. He would understand. He always did.
Katie tensed as the door to their apartment opened. Keith was home. He smiled as he took off his coat and tie, dropping them onto the floor, leaving them for the maid.
“Hi,” he said as he walked over to her, and placed a book on her legs. She closed her laptop, and picked up the book, reading: How to Write Fiction. Keith sat on the couch by her feet and caressed her toes. “I called a friend who owes us at Random. He recommended this book.”
Katie placed it on top of her iBook. What did he want her to do with that? Her dream wasn’t to be a writer. That was her hobby. No, she wanted to shape young minds.
“Pretty thing,” he said breaking into her thoughts. “You’ve got to understand, I don’t mind you doing something, but teaching is below us.”
“Keith, I….”
“My mother,” he interrupted. “Does charitable work to build up the family name when my father doesn’t need her. Maybe that’s not for you, but I don’t want you doing anything that will distract you from me, or lower the family.”
She grabbed the book and held it up. “What am I to do with this?”
“Write. You’re always writing little stories. Write a novel, and we’ll get it published.” Keith’s eyes held a softness, a lost puppy dog look.
The tenseness fled from her. Others might see him as controlling, but she didn’t. And maybe his business associates would look down on him if his wife worked. He just didn’t see things the way she did. But she needed to make him understand, teaching was not below them. Teaching was honorable. Her father was a teacher, and Keith greatly admired him.
Katie shook her head. “And what am I to write about? Authors have great stories. All I am is a wife.”
“That’s a great story.” He caressed her toes again.
Only if your husband was great. Of course, he was meant to be a senator. Everyone around him talked as if it was a certainty. Katie opened her laptop and wrote, William Matthew Wilkerson. She looked down at his name. It sounded so important as the William rolled into the Matthew when one said it. She wrote by his wife Katie Marie Wilkerson.
“What are you writing?”
She looked up at his eyes, which had a gleam in them.
“Your biography, future Senator of New York.”
He laughed and looked up at the ceiling before he turned his eyes back to her. “Will there be a chapter about my great moves in bed?”
She couldn’t help it. A chuckle escaped from her l
ips. She picked up the book and tossed it at his chest. He caught it and dropped it on the floor. A smirk spread across his face, a lightness in his eyes. This was the Keith she loved. Not the one who came home last night. But the Keith from last night was an anomaly, she doubted she would see again. She started typing, Keith thinks he’s all that, but in all reality, he has the worst pick-up lines. My favorite one “Get closer and my breath won’t stink.” She turned the laptop so he could see what she wrote. Keith laughed and tickled her toes. She squirmed and almost dropped the laptop, but he caught it before it fell onto the floor. He set the laptop down, and crawled over her, looking down into her eyes, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I love you,” he said. “Don’t be mad at me.”
She smiled and reached up to his shirt, playing with the collar, as a warmth filled her and every part of her melted. “I’m not mad.”
“Do you understand why you can’t teach?”
Katie shrugged her shoulders. “No, but I don’t care anymore.”
“Good.” He immersed his hands in her hair. “Write me a good novel, Katie, about two lovers.” He kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the scent of his cologne and the soft touch of his lips. They could work through this.
The next day Katie changed her classes. She took two more literature, and three writing classes, hoping to find some inspiration to write while Keith was busy with his job, but there was no inspiration. After she finished her school work, she would sit at her desk and stare at the laptop trying to find a story, but every story she could think of seemed silly and inadequate; especially when she’d look at her bookcase full of books, telling stories of characters who overcame great hardships.
So she started writing his biography. If he really was going to be a senator someday, then she would need to chronicle her life with him. She wrote about the moment she first met him, how scared she was, especially when he insisted on walking her home. She wrote of their courtship, the first kiss that made her forget all and the day it snowed. She added commentary of what she thought of him at each moment and how he made her feel so special; she wrote about the look in her father’s eyes as Keith and he talked.
Her fingers dangled over the keyboard. She had gotten to the scene when she snuck into her old bedroom, that first trip home. All she had written was I don’t want. She stared at the screen in front of her. Those words revealed so much keeping her from finishing the sentence. She couldn’t hug Jeff, but he could hold everyone else.
The words: you’re mine rang in her mind. Katie closed her laptop and laid her head in her hands. No, no, he was hers. He even said it. But he said it while another girl danced in front of him in a black silk negligee. And she had let him. Katie pushed her fist into her eye. You’re mine. The inflection in his voice sounded so possessive, but maybe she remembered it wrong. Or maybe she now saw it in a different light.
She looked up at the wall. Hanging there was a full-blown picture of him leaning against his BMW. He had such a strong jaw line, the jaw line of his family. If she could erase it all, all the moments, she would. A tear slipped down her cheek. No, she wouldn’t. She was meant to be his, but how much was he to own her? A shudder filled her as her gaze got caught by the black leather Bible sitting on his desk. That book said she was to submit. But what did that mean? It surely didn’t mean she had to lose herself to him, letting him control everything about her. No. It just couldn’t. Besides, if she could decide to ignore the Lord in regards to sex outside of marriage, she could decide to ignore this to.
She turned back to the photo and looked further up his face, fixing on his blue eyes; the dark blues that had a look of longing in them as if he wanted nothing but her. She couldn’t live without him. Things were not that bad. Yes, he told her what classes to take, made decisions for her and never listened when she said no. But he’d change. He always did for her.
Katie stood from the chair and walked into the bedroom. She took all her clothes off and stood in front of the full-length mirror that rested on the wall. She looked over herself. What part of her did he desire the most? What part would he hate to lose? She took out her ponytail and let her long brown hair fall. It had gotten longer- it now fell to the small of her back. She reached to the tips and softly caressed them. She had always kept it to the middle, but Keith wanted it longer, so she grew it longer. She held up her hair, and curled it under as if it was shoulder length. She dropped it. If she cut it, it would be gone, and she wouldn’t take away anything she couldn’t give right back. She looked over her body again – her body was so white, like he wanted it. It must be all of her. She turned around and looked at her backside, the hair slowly swished with her movements. She would take all of her, and he would give in, like when he went to rehab.
She left the mirror and slipped on her white nightgown. She put on some light makeup, the perfume that smelled like the sunrise, and brushed her hair, making sure each curl curled perfectly. She looked at the clock. It was getting close to eight. Hopefully, he’d be home soon.
Katie sat on the bed, and stared at the door in front of her. Her hands dug further into the sheets of the bed as the minutes slipped past, and it got closer to the time when Keith was always home. She looked at the floor and said a quick prayer, but quickly looked up, when the door to the apartment opened and his briefcase dropped on the floor. He was home. Please God let him understand.
“Katie,” he shouted.
She stood and walked to the door, the oakwood floor filling her vision. She opened it and peeked through. Keith stood in front of the couch, still wearing the jacket to his suit with his shirt untucked, as he tugged at his tie.
“Hey,” she said, leaning against the wall.
A full smile crossed his face. He walked up to her and placed his hands on her hips. “You look so pretty.”
He kissed her on the neck, sending a chill through her. How could her new thoughts have changed her reactions to him? Katie shook her head. She must not over analyze everything. This was her Keith. He worshipped her. Would lay the world at her feet to see her smile.
Katie folded her hands behind her back and looked up at the ceiling. What could she say to him? She needed to make him stop, but he never stopped when she asked him. “Keith,” she said.
He caressed her side, raising the nightgown up. Goosebumps spread over her flesh as her skin was exposed to the air. When he had the nightgown to her waist, she took his hands but he pulled it from her grasp and continued to pull her nightgown up to her breasts.
“Stop.” She pushed him from her.
Keith stopped kissing her, and looked at the wall behind her for a second before he looked into her eyes. “What’s wrong, babe?” A lightness filled his eyes.
“I.…” She took a deep breath. She had actually stopped him. He had never stopped before. “I don’t want to do this.”
Keith placed his hands on the wall and leaned into her. “What?”
Katie pushed her shoulders back. Did he ever realize how small he could make her feel? His arched eyebrows accented the concern in his eyes. Was he worried something was wrong, but something was wrong, and she needed to make him understand, so things could be made right. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
He crooked his head to the side.
She squared her shoulders, but not one ounce of strength filled her. “Not till you stop being so controlling.”
The lightness fled from his eyes. His father’s glare filled them. She pushed back against the wall.
“What?”
She opened her mouth to speak.
“What do you mean?” He smashed his fist against the wall. Katie spun to the side away from his fist.
“You’re my wife!”
“I’m sorry.” Katie fell to the floor and curled in a ball.
One more pound and he screamed out a stream of curses before he spun around, facing the couch.
“You whore.” His shout filled the room.
“I
’m sorry.”
“Sorry. You’ll be sorry.”
What? What did he mean by that? Tears rushed down her face as Keith swooped her into his arms. His feet pounded on the floor as he rushed to their room. Her body bounced as it fell onto the bed. Her eyes popped open when he slammed the door behind him. Katie sprang out of the bed, ran to the door and tried to open it, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled at it several times, but the knob would not turn. How could the door be looked? But it was made to lock from the outside - a suggestion of his father’s when they picked this place out. What had his father known? She stumbled back from the door and wrapped her arms around herself as she fell to her knees – the tears pouring down her face. What had just happened? That wasn’t her Keith.
Ashley opened the door as Keith brushed past her into the apartment. “Is anyone here?” he asked.
“No.” Ashley crossed her arms over her chest. Keith took off his coat and laid it on the top of the couch. Why was he here? A deep line creased between his brows - tension radiated from him.
He walked up to her and took her hand, giving her that charming seductive smile she had seen him use on many girls. That smile never worked on her. “Hey, Ashley,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
Keith placed his hands on her hips. “Let’s be like old times.”
Ashley raised her eyebrows. “Already forgotten your wedding vows?”
He chuckled and kissed her neck, making her feel over-powered. She laughed as something in her churned. Something was different – not right about him. “I’m not going to be your whore. Why don’t you go back to your wife?”
Keith raised his head. He smirked at her, and glared deep into her eyes. Ashley turned her gaze to the side. That look. He had that look. The glare of his father.
“Oh, come on, pretty thing.”
“No, not anymore. It was fun when we were kids.”
He kissed her neck, again.
“Keith stop.” She shoved on his chest, but he tugged her close to his body as his lips trailed down her neck.
