In The Name Of All Things Impure

My stepmother loved watching me have sex. Whenever I had my boyfriend around, she would stand outside, peeking through the slightly opened door, watching me and my then partner make love.

I always thought it was some kind of fantasy of hers to watch her stepdaughter. But it was something else.

Years ago, after the death of my father, I was basically turned into Cinderella. The classic 'daughter turned into a slave in her own father's house'. My stepmother was jealous of me. She hated how beautiful I was and the attention I got from guys back then... it was humiliating.

After a while, I got fed up with it, and because my father was dead and I was nineteen, I had no one to stand up for me. No one but Derek.

Back then, he was a guy who lived next door. Your typical silent, mysterious, but sweet guy that every girl in the area drooled over. I just didn't see what they were thirsting for about him, but whatever it was sure made a lot of girls go crazy.

One evening, he approached me, and there was something about him that made me open up about everything I was going through in the hands of my stepmother. His response that evening was short and simple.

"Go home," he said in his low, deep, and gritty voice. "She won't bother you anymore."

I did as he asked. I went home, lay on my bed, slept, woke up the next day, and it was like someone had rewritten my story. My stepmother became a totally new person. She suddenly became kind and respectful of my boundaries. She started caring about me and made sure I was okay.

And till today... I never knew what Derek did to make her change her attitude towards me.

But whatever it was... it did make us become friends. Best friends.

Since then, Derek was like my private bodyguard. My protector. He was a great listener and would comfort me no matter what the issue was. Whether it was a heartbreak from a dumb breakup or my mood swings, he was always there. He was my best friend.

But not all good things last. Years later, we graduated from college. I moved out of town, telling anyone who bothered to ask that it was to make a better life for myself, but honestly, I just wanted to get out of the shitty town and meet new and fresh faces. To explore the world.

And I never spoke or heard from Derek again.

Until one summer afternoon after a few years. I received a mail notification on my phone, but I was too busy to check what it was. Too busy at my job as a bridal consultant. I had a bride-to-be walk into the salon that afternoon, all happy, loud, and excited for her appointment. She was too happy about it that it made me so sick to my stomach.

I thought to myself... when am I going to get this feeling?

She came in with two of her bridesmaids. She said her fiancé would be joining us, but he was nowhere to be found for the first few minutes of the appointment. After we've gone through the first and second dresses, a man walked in.

His presence caught the attention of every single person in the room. My bride turned around, and her eyes widened.

"Aww, my darling Derek," she screamed, rushing down from the pedestal and into his arms. "What took you so long?"

At the mention of the name Derek, I turned instantly, and there he was. Derek Lansky, my best friend in the entire world standing right in the salon where I worked, in the flesh. Derek had changed, but not as I expected. He was taller now. Had more of a defined face, broader chest, wide shoulders, and muscular arms.

Oh, and trust me, I could tell even from the long-sleeved shirt he wore with a few buttons on the chest left unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to the elbows... anyone could tell he was more sexy than before. But that's not all that stunned me. Derek looked filthy rich. He sounded filthy rich, and he smelt filthy rich.

Not that I cared, but... yeah.

My bride hugged him so tightly, and for a moment there, I was jealous. And it felt weird because this wasn't the first time a lady had thrown herself at him. No. It was his response to the hug that made something in my stomach twist.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, resting on the small of her back. His other hand cupped her face and pulled it closer to him slowly. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling back with a smirk on his face as he bit his lips.

I stood there, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. Derek looked up, and just like that, our eyes locked instantly. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but honestly, it wouldn't be Derek if I could. He grabbed hold of his fiancée's hand and walked over to me. But he wasn't really walking towards me. He was walking to sit on the couch that I stood beside.

I couldn't believe that Derek, of all people, would see me and not say anything to me. Was the lady he's with so important to him that he wouldn't even say hi to his old friend? Maybe he didn't recognize me.

I repeated that in my head just to make myself feel better about the situation.

My bride returned to the pedestal, spinning around as she asked Derek for his honest opinion.

"Do you like it, baby?" she asked. "This is just the second dress I've put on. I didn't really like the first one, but this second one is more of my style. You know I love a good fit and flair. So what do you think about this one?"

He looked at the dress for a while. Taking in every detail from top to bottom. After a few seconds, he sighed and finally spoke.

"I don't like it," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't like it at all."

Before the bride could speak, I jumped in.

"What don't you like about it, sir?" I asked, hesitant to break my gaze on him.

But he didn't even look back at me. His eyes were still fixed on the dress. "I already said I don't like it," he said again, but slower. Then he raised his head toward me slowly, with his eyes locking on mine. "I'd like to pick out some dresses for her myself if you won't mind."

I swallowed. "Uhm... no, sir. Not at all. If you will just follow me, I'll take you to our stock room so you can browse through all the various dresses and pick whatever one you think is best for your fiancée."

"Perfect," he said, standing up. Then he turned to his fiancée, "I'll be back."

He followed behind me quietly until we were deep inside the stock room, away from other consultants and, most importantly, his fiancée. As I turned to speak to him, I tripped, almost falling to the ground, but he quickly caught me and pulled me closer to his body. My hand rested on his chest. I could feel his heart beating fast. His arm dropped down on my waist as he pressed me closer to his body.

"I am so sorry, sir—"

"Aren't you tired of the act?" he whispered. "Elsa?"