He stayed, he stayed in the city, I mean. I still did the errands, but they were fewer and fewer, and I was starting to get bored and felt trapped inside the massive home. I also saw Jameson come into the house while is stood at the door. I gave him the evil eye, and he knew why. Lin had been frantic and blue with questions about his whereabouts. Jameson had stopped returning calls and texts, no more visits, and definitely no more kisses. She was broken-hearted and had stayed away from me to mend her feelings, which left me all alone, well, the grumpy man in the study and me.
If it weren't for Mr. Westbrook, I would have spoken my mind and some more. I wanted to know what sort of excuse he had come up with. In the meantime, I waited by the front door scratching the ears of the small mutt my boss kept.
"Kirby, what a surprise?" I heard the dark voice and stood up slowly, careful enough to keep my skirt in place and not
The view from my room faced directly towards the open sea. I saw how the blue-green of the water touched the sky blue on the horizon with scattered white fluffy clouds, the softest shaped ones I had ever seen. I couldn't help but gape at every single thing around me. The luxurious resort was enormous. On our arrival, a small cart awaited us in the lobby. With complimentary tubes of Champagne and warm smiles, a few members of the staff explained the tour. The thickly accented voices were friendly and welcoming. I think I saw a few blushes whenever Mr. Westbrook's attention turned to the female present. Even at night, the lights and flowers stand out through the rustic feel of the stone against the wood. The water of the massive central pool shone with the moonlight and ambient light around it. Tropical music blasted through the speakers in certain areas, and bars and small stands were explicitly placed around the room. We had been the las
This was not how I had imagined things to go. I have been stuck inside this beautiful room with nothing but room service and the TV. He had not visited as frequently as he had promised; the first day checked on me for a total of four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. The next, he just called. I felt caged in. I felt like I losing my mind. I asked God for rain so people would have to run for covers in their rooms, but then I thought about it, and rain while standing on a Caribbean beach didn't sound that bad, so I took it back. Just like he said, the left side of my face was bruised, lightly, but I couldn't hide it with the limited amount of make-up I had brought with me. My beautiful sundresses, shorts, and sandals just stayed inside my drawers. I never felt the salty warm water on my face. I had just sat in front of my open window and gazed down with hope
"Dolores. Good you came in, come quick to introduce you to someone." As soon as I passed in front of the study, Mr. Westbrook called me in. "Yes," I said, taking a peek in. I didn't like what I saw. A young woman was standing very close to him. His arm was even around her shoulders. It was like a slap in the face. "This is Sherry Knight." And dressed like a cherry, she was, maybe making an homage to her name. The red pantsuit with the white silk blouse, yes, a cherry indeed. I didn't like her just from just looking at her. There was an effort to her looks, not like me and my wild loosened hair and daisy duke shorts. "Hello." I wanted to go in, but as always, grass-stained feet with grass from playing in the garden. "Hi." Her voice was sultry, and I saw her smirk as she took in how I looked. What can I do? I'm nineteen, and I'm at home. What was her excuse for looking so sour all o
I'm trapped at school. The weather agrees with my mood. Ever since that little thing between us, the dark clouds seem to have gathered over my head, and now it rains nonstop. I'm evaluating my options here. I could efficiently run down the bus station or call a cab and wait by the doorway until it arrived. I could easily afford it to Lin's place and even the house, but he might be there. I had been successful for the past few weeks to avoid him, or he had made it more accessible. His constant trips abroad were now back on schedule. My tasks had been minimized. The excuse was a new assistant, replaced by someone named after a fruit. I hated her. On the other hand, I was named after a twelve-year-old too advanced for her age who enjoyed outings with much older men. Now that I think about it is nothing far from the reality, well at least I'm nineteen going to twenty, and my older man, someone who was not interested in me,
"I'm bad friend." "The worse." We're out, finally together for the longest time, and I have already recounted all these events on her. I have been babbling none stop for more than thirty minutes, telling her how it felt from the very first moment with him to the little thing with me sitting on his lap. I needed this; I needed her to be there for me as I had been for me and her silly drama. "What was her name again?" "Sherry," I said while batting my eyes in the same ridiculous way I had seen her do. "Her name is stupid." "She's stupid." "I'm drunk." I sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Me too!" She started clapping and laughing like I had told her the best joke in the world. It was one in the morning, and we were heavily intoxicated, to the point of being crossed-eyed and unable to stand up straight. There was a party, a few blocks down from we had walked from at least one hour ago. I screamed under the l
You know the moment you want to bolt, run, escape to the end of the earth, and your brain won't work the way that is supposed to work; to send a message to the legs and make them move. What I did do was wobble on my feet and almost fall on my ass. I couldn't stop watching him watch me. I couldn't stop feeling terrified and ashamed. I suddenly realized that my breath smelled like alcohol and that my makeup was heavy, and my shorts were very, very short. "Where were you?" Ice cold, his voice was sharp and low. His gray eyes seemed to turn lighter with the anger in his face. He stood up and started to walk at a languid pace towards me, towering and then making me feel small. My ears were ringing. If it weren't for the fact that I was stuck where I stood, I already would have fallen on my ass. "I'm not asking again Dolores." He shook me. He really, really shocked me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and surprised me. "Where were you Goddamit?" "Out." I trie
It's too warm. I have no clue where this comforted came out or how my mattress turned out to be so comfortable. I can't move or open my eyes, and I don't want to. My limbs are heavy, and my eyes refuse to help me see much. I must not have slept a lot. I'm thirsty and weak, and my mouth tastes so bitter. With a lot of effort, I finally will my body roll over on my back, and with my hands, I scan the surface of the softest sheets in the world. I need to pee badly, but I also can't find the edge of the bed, which is weird because I have one person bed. Also, my hair is damp. I'm whimpering, I have a massive headache, and I'm pretty sure I emptied everything on my bathroom floor, and I will have to clean it if I ever get out of this damn bed. Where the hell is the end of this mattress? But how did I get to my bed? Is this my bed? I still can't find the edge of the bed. I can move my whole body now, but somehow I'm still unable to see my surroundings. Everything is so dark. The s
It was all in slow motion, my reaction; It was like it didn't happen, not at first but later when I felt the sting and then the warm feeling slipping slowly through my veins. My brain went into shock when he lifted me over his shoulder and started walking as if nothing had happened, as if it hadn't been the palm of his hand that made my body buzz. My brain kept replaying the moment over and over until I woke up when he let me down by throwing me on the bed. He exited the room right after, no words said, not even a look; he simply turned around and closed the door after him. My skin prickled. I wanted to look, I wanted to see it — the mark, I mean. It is not every day that I'm spanked. I guessed the effect would soon appear, perhaps an imprint of his whole hand or a few fingers. Still, it would be there when I looked. As a child, I had been punished for any mischief I had made. My father believed that pun