Chapter Seventeen
I snuggle into my couch with the latest issue of Wired and a blanket, trying my best to take my mind off of Taylor. I wonder if he is thinking of me at that very moment. I start to nod off to an article when I hear the ping of a text.
Taylor:
I can’t take this stupid grin off of my face. What have you done to me?!?
The stupid grin is contagious.
Shyla:
I have my ways. I pegged you as a sucker in the coffee shop. Scalding you was part of my master plan.
Taylor:
Well I am glad you decided to prey on me. I have a fun game for you tomorrow.
Shyla:
Do tell.
Mr. Holden:
It’s a surprise. Goodnight ;)
Shyla:
}:I goodnite.
The next day, I spend most of my morning sprucing up my resume and applying for new jobs. Working at H.I. made me realize that I did enjoy the camaraderie of an office, and I want to give it another shot. I continue to feel some sadness about leaving H.I. I know Taylor would hire me back into the company, but I fear how I will be treated once word gets out that Taylor and I are dating...going out...showering together. I don’t know what to call us. I continue to use these euphemisms to describe us, not knowing what our status is. I am beginning to see underneath the complex layers that he has built to protect himself. He is painstakingly removing each protective wall one by one. I know it isn’t wise for me to jump into anything so shortly after Rick, but at the same time, I know it is out of my control: I need him on the most primal level. My attraction has no logical explanation. Something about him just makes me feel right.
My doorbell rings at about 10:30 am, it is an envelope delivered via courier. Enclosed is a keycard to the Hilton and a note.
Please arrive to room 2020 at 12pm sharp.
This must be the game he spoke of yesterday. Giddy with excitement, I realize I haven’t eaten and that I should have something because our romps can be exhausting. I nearly thought I would pass out on the sink in the locker room at the racetrack. I quickly scramble some eggs. Protein, that will make me strong!
After eating, I rummage through the closet, there is so much I haven’t even touched, but I don’t know what to choose. I remember the red dress that got me into trouble in St. Petersburg. Taylor loved me in that dress and he never got to have me in it. I try my best to replicate that night’s look by braiding my hair to the side, and using the red lipstick. The outfit is inappropriate for the time of day, but all I care about is Taylor’s reaction.
I eagerly make my way through the lobby of the downtown Hilton with my head down, praying I do not see anyone I know. Going to a local hotel room, in the middle of the day means only one thing. From a distance, I hear someone call my name. This has got to be a joke. I turn and see a tall blond with arms open, running towards me. Oh my god, it’s Lizzy!
“Shyla! Oh my god!” She gives me a big hug. I am happy to see her, but her timing is god awful. “We have missed you so much! What are you doing here? Do you want to grab a coffee?”
“I miss you guys too. You know I would love to, but I am on my way to an appointment.” Lizzy gives me the once over. I am so glad I wore the duster.
“You and I need to have a girls night. You just vanished on us. I have a feeling I know what happened, but we need to talk.” I am pretty sure she and Henry think I left because of him, and I feel terrible that Henry has to carry that guilt with him. I resolve to talk to Taylor about this when I get a chance. We hug and part ways, Lizzy makes me promise to call her. I do, and I sincerely mean it. I look down at my phone. It’s 12:03. I scramble to the elevator, not even caring if Lizzy notices that I am going to a room at noon. Once I arrive to the twentieth floor, I run out of the elevator to the double doors of the suite. I use the keycard to get in and bust the door open, expecting to see Taylor, but the room is empty and the shades are drawn. I walk towards the bed where I see the crotchless panties that I purchased at Bella’s. I pick them up and examine them.
“Go ahead and put them on. Take everything else off.” I jump and gasp. Taylor is sitting in a chair behind me in the far corner of the room. His demeanor is more Mr. Holden than Taylor which makes me feel as though I must obey his commands. I pull off the slinky red dress and lacy underwear and manage to successfully put on the crotchless panties. “Keep the shoes on and sit on the bed, facing this wall.” He points to the wall adjacent to him, which has a large mirror leaning against it. I sit, seeing myself completely exposed. “Keep your legs spread, bring your feet up on the bed.” I feel so out there, I can see parts of myself in the mirror that I have never seen before from this angle. “You said that I knew your body better than you did. I think it is such a shame someone as beautiful as you has never taken advantage of having unlimited access to such a body.” I gulp, as I feel the pit in my stomach sinking. He has a way of making me feel like I don’t even know him sometimes. “I want you to put your fingers in your mouth and suck on them.” I obey. “You look so fucking hot right now Shy.” My privates tingle in response to his words. “Now, play with your nipples.”
“Taylor...” I try to interject. It is not that I have never touched myself before, but this was something I did alone, under the covers, in the privacy of my bedroom.
“Shhhh...do it.”
I do it. I feel so bare, more so than when he had me bent over in the sink, or when he bathed me in the shower. “Shy, just allow yourself to enjoy your touch.” I take a deep breath and twirl my nipples in between my fingers. I close my eyes, relax and feel the tingle below become stronger with my own touch. “Suck on your lower lip...Now take one of your hands, suck on the finger and rub your lips down below.” I do what he says. “Open your eyes and look in the mirror, I want you to see how sexy you are.” I open my eyes and my shyness comes back as I see myself naked, exposed, touching myself. My eyes dart over to Taylor, I can make out that he is sitting back on the chair, his eyes practically glowing like a cat. I see his hand over the bulge in his pants, rubbing it. It turns me on so much. I realize that this is for him too, and it makes me lose my inhibitions. “Taste yourself.” I slowly and tantalizingly suck on my finger, the salty sourness alive on my tastebuds. “Play with your clit. Make yourself come.”
“Taylor, I want your dick in me so badly.” I beg desperately. I am on fire and I need him to put me out.
“I want you to finish yourself off. Trust me I will fuck the shit out of you another time.” His filthy mouth startles me and makes me even hornier. I run my fingers over my clitoris, which feels sensitive and engorged. I lie back on the bed, completely lost in my touch, one hand rubbing my breasts, the other below. My nipples and my clitoris feel as though they are in concert; playing them in unison makes me rise and rise. My hips swivel as I get closer. I take myself all the way moaning and twitching with pleasure. “That’s it baby.” I hear Taylor’s voice, nearly a whisper as I come.
I stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to walk over to me, but nothing happens. “Get dressed. I’ll have Harrison come and get you later today for dinner.” I sit up, feeling a bit dirty and used but not sure why. After all, I got more out of this than he did. The problem is I feel totally disconnected from him, I want to taste his kiss, to feel his touch, smell his skin, yet he hasn’t stepped away from that damned corner. I put on my dress, not bothering to change the underwear. I am a bit dazed by this whole afternoon masturbation session and just throw my original pair in my purse. I leave the room not saying a word to him. My feelings about what just happened are ambivalent as I ride down the elevator. I felt yet another exhilarating rush with him, but this experience makes me realize that I will never know what I am getting with Taylor Holden. The elevator pings a few floors down. Lost in thought, I don’t look up to see who enters. As the elevator closes, I feel his body press mine and I hear a whisper in my ear. “You didn’t think I was going to just let you walk away in that red dress again? Did you?” It is as though he shoots me with 1000 volts of electricity. We are nose to nose and as I lean in to kiss him, the elevator opens again. We move away from each other quickly and he pulls me out by my hand as two old women walk in, glaring at us suspiciously. Taylor flings the door open to one of the emergency staircases. He slams me up against a wall. “I am going to fuck the shit out of you like I promised. I am going to make you scream. I am going to make you beg. Do you want that?”
“Yes.” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of my desire. He pulls up my dress -- thanks to my crotchless panties, there is no need to remove my underwear. He undoes his buckle and then his zipper. He uses the wall to boost me up. I wrap my arms around him and he takes one of my legs and wraps it around him. He thrusts into me, I let out a loud moan. He pulls almost all the way out and does it again. “Taylor!” I can’t control my volume as it echoes through the concrete stairwell.
“We have to be quick Shy.” He grabs my other leg so that now my entire bodyweight is on his erection, it is so intense, all I can do is muffle my cries into his neck. I clamp around him, tightening. The mixture of intense pain and sharp pleasure is overwhelming and I don’t know what do with myself except announce the feeling to the world through my moans. “I’m going to come Shy. You feel too tight.” He comes and we end up a sweaty, panting mess. I quickly fix myself despite feeling as though I am about to fall over.
***
When I arrive at Taylor’s house later that evening, I am greeted by delicious aromas. I walk into the great room and see Taylor hovering over a large pot, tasting his handiwork. My footsteps get his attention and he spins around. He is wearing an apron and it makes me laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, I just never thought I would see you slaving over the stove in an apron.”
“Well, this happens once a decade, so relish the moment. I hope you like paella.”
I offer to cut up some veggies while he continues to work on the main course. He gives me a taste of the broth he is using to cook the rice and it is delicious.
“Taylor! That is wonderful. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“There is this incredible tool that has been used for centuries. They call it a cookbook.” I playfully shove him away.
“Not everyone can follow those instructions. It’s an art, not a science, I think.”
“What can I say Shy, I am good at everything I do.” He winks at me.
“Amen to that.” I raise my hand in the air. “You know, I need a nickname for you. Something that’s just one syllable. Do you like ‘T’?” He looks at me like I am mad. “Ok, well do you have any brilliant ideas?”
“I don’t know, I have always gone by Taylor. If you come up with something that’s any good, I would love to hear it.”
“How about puppyface or snugglebunny?”
“No and no.”
“Taylor it remains!” I proclaim. “So, what’s with the silence? You have that awesome surround sound. Let’s listen to some music.”
“Be my guest. Whatever you want to play.”
I smack his butt as I walk by. He jumps and sneers at me playfully.
“Any guilty pleasures?” I ask.
“Too many too count.” His smirk reveals he is not referring to the music and I feel a tingle remembering this afternoon.
“I know you have sophisticated tastes, but everyone likes cheesy music.” Just as I get ready to dock my ipod, my phone buzzes with a new text.
Whore
I don’t recognize the number and never in my life has anyone ever sent me a message like this. I stare at it for a short while in shock. Taylor’s voice snaps me back into the now.
“So are you going to show me your terrible taste in music?”
“Uh, yeah.” I decide against ruining the night by bringing this up to Taylor. It could be a mistake. People accidentally text people all the time. “Okay, I have an idea. I pick one cheesy song, then you pick one, then I pick one and so forth.”
“Game on.” His smile glows from across the room.
I pop in my selection. A classic. The familiar beat of Billy Jean pumps through the living room. I decide to impress him with my superb dancing skills, replicating Michael Jackson’s steps onto the glowing tiles just like in the video. Taylor makes a stank face as though he has smelled something rotten. It only encourages me to continue with my best Michael Jackson impersonation: a kick, a crotch grab, a spin and a howl.
“How can someone so hot make themselves look so...un-hot?”
“You know you love it.” I say as I elevate myself onto my tippy toes, knees bent. I join him again at the island, and continue cutting my vegetables singing and dancing. Taylor is not nearly as goofy as I am, but I can tell he is enjoying the show because he can’t stop smiling. The song stops. “Okay Mr. Holden. Your turn.”
He walks slowly over to my iPod, patting his finger against his lip, pretending to think hard on the subject.
“You have to genuinely like the song!” I remind him. A song begins and I can’t quite place it until the voice kicks in: So Happy Together.
“The monkees!” I exclaim.
“The Turtles.” Taylor shakes his head in fake disappointment.
“Are you going to sing that to me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I think I would like to be serenaded.” The chorus kicks in just in time for Taylor to slide over the hardwood on his socks and pull me close to him. He starts singing along.
I can’t stop laughing. I have never seen him so silly. He leads me around the living room, one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand up. Does he mean the lyrics, or are they are just empty words to a song? I don’t let the thought steal the moment. His behavior now is such a far cry from the man sitting in the corner of the hotel room earlier today. How can one person can have so many different faces?
***
We sit at the breakfast counter, a delicious spread of salad and paella in front of us.
“I am starving. I barely got any food in before meeting you at the hotel today.”
“Did you like our game this afternoon?” I blush at the question. He is no longer playful. His voice is lower; mischievous.
“Yes.” I can’t look him in the eye when I answer.
“I loved watching you.”
“I wore that dress for you.”
“I recognized it the second you walked in. You act all sweet and innocent, but you knew exactly what you were doing with that dress. I nearly jumped out of the chair and took you right there. It was an exercise in self-control.” He picks up a piece of bell pepper from the salad and feeds it to me.
“When I wore that dress in Russia, I couldn’t read your reaction.”
“So you wore it for me then?”
“Of course I did, though you didn’t seem happy at the time.” I study Taylor’s face as he recollects that night.
“At the time I knew I couldn’t have you and seeing you everyday was hard enough. Then you walk into the lobby looking so fucking hot.” He feeds me a spoonful of the paella. “I couldn’t even look at you, it was too much. I knew guys would be hitting on you all night, and there was no way in hell I was letting you leave with anyone else.”
“Letting me?” He grins, but doesn’t respond. “You could have had me that night, and the night of the gala.”
“Shy, you have no idea how hard I fought that night.”
“I thought you didn’t want me. I came back with your jacket hoping you would kiss me. I wanted you to kiss me so badly.”
“I have never fought so hard to stop myself. I don’t know who I was kidding, it was inevitable, but I thought I could exert my willpower over my feelings for you.”
“I’m glad you caved.”
“I would love to go back to that moment and pull you into my room. You looked amazing in the dress. It took my breath away.” I recognize the look in his eyes. He stands up and takes me by the hand into the bedroom that he now keeps unlocked. He kisses me passionately, slowly. This is different from the hotel or the locker room, his movement is slow and methodical. He strips me down to my lace underwear, a baby blue and cream lace number selected by Mona. I unbutton his shirt, kissing his chest. He stiffens, I forget sometimes that I am the only woman who he has allowed to touch him. He kisses my neck. “I want you on top of me,” he whispers into my ear. He pulls me towards the bed and sits as I stand in front of him. He gently pulls down one of the straps of my camisole, then the other. They collapse so that my breasts are barely peeking out. He nuzzles them gently, then suckles on them. He is so so soft with his touch that it makes me quiver; it is almost too much. I take a deep breath to overcome the chills and caress his hair. He looks up at me, just stares at me, without doing anything. “I should have taken you that night, Shy.” He pulls down my lace panties. “Your body is beautiful and feminine.” He kisses the right side of my stomach, working his way down and across just to the side of my bellybutton. It tickles and I squirm. He lays back and I admire his body, a fine sculpture. The masterpiece, a phallus, awaits me. I climb on top of him, tentative, as this is the first time we have been like this. I slide onto him, letting out a sigh as he fully enters. I hear him breathe with me. He cups my breasts, gently pressing my nipples between his fingertips. I feel so full, everything in between my legs is alive. I am so close to being there that I have to go very slowly, or else it will all be over too soon. His large hands grip my waist, steadying my pace and applying more downward pressure so that the feeling is intensified. I look down at him and watch him admire my body, as he tugs on his lower lip with his teeth. “I wish you could see yourself. The view down here is amazing.” Using his lesson from earlier today, I play with my breasts. The feeling of him inside of me, his hands on my waist, his eyes admiring me, my own hands on my body, the pleasure I feel from pleasing this man, all culminates between my thighs. At once, my body contracts and expands, waves of pleasure rippling through every cell. “Shy, baby...” Taylor follows me.
We lay on the bed together. He runs his fingers across my back, barely touching me, and it puts me in a hypnotic state.
“That was nice.”
“Yeah it was. I’ve never let someone on top of me before.”
“Really? I thought you had so much experience.”
“It’s got to do with the touching thing. It’s too risky, and I don’t like feeling out of control.” This makes me feel very special.
“So what did you do? Before me?”
“I had strategies, just like I do with everything else.”
“Indulge me.”
“Does it matter what I did with other women?”
“Well, I think there is a specific reason you’re hiding it. You know, talking about St. Pete’s reminded me of the fact that you mentioned you and Tatyana had something in common. I can’t believe she knows more about you than I do.”
“She knows one thing Shy, you know many more. Am I sensing some jealousy?”
“You were going to have sex with her that night. Weren’t you?”
“If you must know, it was a possibility, but we didn’t click. Plus, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and it freaked me out a bit.”
“Why did you lie? On the balcony you told me you weren’t interested.”
“Because I didn’t want you to think less of me and because I liked you. Honestly I wasn’t feeling her, but I just figured I should meet with her since she asked.”
“It really upsets me that you won’t tell me what it is you two have in common.”
“Shyla don’t you understand I don’t tell you because I am afraid you’ll freak out?”
I prop my face on my hand. “Taylor! Do you think hiding things from me is not freaking me out? How about the other night? I’m still here after that. Eventually you will have to tell me, so you might as well start now. I can’t do this forever. You need to start telling me things.”
“Okay. Okay.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “Did you notice she was wearing a ring?”
“You mean that monstrosity on her hand that she kept fiddling around with? Yes!” Taylor’s face goes from very serious to a faint smirk.
“I love it when you’re snarky.” He sits up. “Well, I can tell you she wasn’t wearing it for fashion purposes. She had it turned down most of the night, only the band was visible. When she came over, she started to play with it, and turned the emblem up, to see if I recognized it. Sometimes people just have a feeling and I guess she had that about me. It was actually surprising, the ring she used is very uncommon, most people use a different version now. It really caught me off guard.”
“What does it mean?”
“People don’t really wear it in the US, it is mostly used in European countries.” My stomach is tightening, I can sense he is dragging this out because he doesn’t want to tell me.
“Taylor. Tell me.”
“You have to promise you won’t pass any judgement.”
“As long as you aren’t hurting anyone or killing anyone, I won’t.” His facial expression does not reveal reassurance. In turn, my stomach tightens further, my breath shallows.
“It’s called the ring of O.” He pauses before delivering the next line. “It’s a symbol worn by those who practice BDSM.” His body is tense, the mood in the room has gone from very light to very heavy so quickly.
“B-D-S-M?” I repeat it back to him slowly. I think I know what it means, but I hope that my hunch is wrong.
“Bondage. Discipline. Sadism. Masochism.” He says each word slowly, each one sounding like a confession.
The air is dead and silent as I take this all in. I want to be careful with what I say next. I get lightheaded and my chest tightens. I don’t know what to do with this information.
“Say something.” He looks regretful.
“So how does this apply to you?”
“Before I met you, I had no way at all to get close to a woman. This is the only way I knew how.”
“So you tied them up?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Such as?”
“Before I go on, these women were all consenting adults. They wanted to do this.”
“Go on.”
“I can’t list them all, I mean it’s always different, like vanilla sex is different every time, but some of the things we would do are bondage, whipping, caning, asphyxiation, electrocution, penetration with different objects. There’s lots of things. The women get to set the boundaries.” He says this with the same matter of factness as reciting a grocery list. I start to feel panicky and detached, as if I am a spectator watching the scene unfold.
“So we just do ‘vanilla’ sex? Do you find it boring?”
“Shy, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just the universal term for non-BDSM sex. To answer you, no I don’t find it boring. You have to understand the things I am doing with you, I haven’t done with anyone before. There are lots of firsts for me with you. I never let my subs touch me.”
“Subs?”
“Submissives. The dynamic usually consists of a dominant and a submissive person. The dominant person acts out on the submissive. When you enter these relationships, you usually discuss what you are or aren’t willing to do. So the submissive can still sets boundaries, even though once those boundaries are clear, the submissive then has to do what the dom says within the preset parameters.”
“Do you want to do those things to me?”
“I want to do whatever you want to do.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“If you wanted to partake, I would be happy to, but that would be your decision.”
“So it still turns you on?”
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. His tone changes on a dime. “Yes, Shy. What do you want me to say? I am a sick fuck. Okay?”
“I never said that.”
“Your face says it all Shy. You’re looking at me like I am a fucking monster and I very well may be.”
“This is a lot to take in Taylor. You should have told me in the beginning.”
He stands up. “Would you be here if I did?” I stay silent. “I didn’t think so. I always tell my partners upfront before we do anything, but I really care about you and I was afraid that you would run away screaming. I tried Shy, I tried my best to keep things from happening between us. I knew the night of the gala you wanted me to kiss you, I could smell it on you. I didn’t because I was afraid that you would reject me once you found out who I really am.”
“Well, I found that creepy book and I am still here, aren’t I?” He paces in his sweatpants, back on forth, looking very stressed. “Taylor, does that book have to do with this?” His eyes confess. “Christ!”
“Yes. They were all of my submissives.”
“So is that some sort of a trophy book? I knew it!” My volume is beginning to rise. “Am I next?”
“No! It helps me remember details and other important information just in case they try to pull some shit.”
“Like what?”
“Oh I don’t know, like blackmail a fucking multi-million dollar sadist!”
“You’re a sadist?”
“I’m a dom Shy. I like to tie up pretty girls and smack them around, and make them beg and scream and fuck them.” The words sting my eyes. I remember those exact words in the stairwell today. Has he said those words to them too? It hurts to think of him with other women. While I knew all along that the book could have been a list of lovers, now I know for certain and the reality of it all weighs heavy on my heart. Who is this person in front of me? Just hours ago, we were dancing and laughing, and now, he is speaking so callously. His fiery facial expression melts off of his face when he sees my eyes well. He runs to my side on the bed. “No, Shy...no, no, no...don’t cry.” He sounds panicked, as though he just realized that he made a huge mistake. “I’m sorry. It’s my temper. I’m touchy about this...I don’t want you to freak out and run. Please.” I need some time alone to process all of this. I can’t do that in this house with him. My feelings towards him cloud my thoughts. I know what I am about to say is going to upset him, so I say it as calmly as possible. He sits back on the bed.
I swallow and state to him in a calm voice: “Taylor, I am not leaving you, but I need to go home to sort through all of this.” His eyes widen with distress. He gets up and takes a deep breath, looks at me earnestly and calmly says: “Shyla, please don’t leave. You don’t understand what this will do to me if you walk out on me after telling you this.”
“Taylor, I am not walking out on you. I just need some time alone. You have dropped a huge bomb on me here.”
“You wanted to know.”
“I had to know.”
“We can be happy. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“We can’t just pretend this side of you doesn’t exist. It is obviously a huge part of who you are.”
“Shy, how many ways can I tell you? I just want to be with you. Don’t you understand the profoundness of the fact that I let you touch me? Not one of those women in that book ever held me, ever kissed my chest, ever caressed my back. They were sex slaves. I know that makes me a creep in your eyes, but you have no idea what I have been through.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t. Please respect that, I have told you so much already.” And he has. I let it go for now.
“Taylor. I am crazy about you, more than you can understand. I just need to process this, that is all. I don’t know what has happened to you in the past, but I won’t leave you. I am not like whoever hurt you in the past.”
His voice is still. “Please.”
“Taylor. Don’t torture me like this. This is hard enough as it is. You know what it’s like to want space. Your entire life has been a battle with getting people to understand this.”
He sits looking down in silence. He looks young, ashamed, vulnerable. I so badly want to hug him, but then I would never leave. I can’t get a grasp on him. We haven’t even broached the subject of the room, his past or how he is blackmailing these women. He has a dark side. He tried to warn me, but it’s too late. At this point, there is danger both in developing the relationship and in leaving it. I quietly stand up and put on my clothes. He doesn’t look up, he just sits there, almost catatonic. The other night he asked me if I would leave him and I said I wouldn’t. I meant that.
I walk over to him and run my hand through his soft, thick locks. “Just give me a little time to digest this and we’ll talk.” He nods in acknowledgement.