Ann

 

 

 

"That's why you are who you are," I repeat his last words.

We're sitting on the couch together, each of us holding a drink, a Scotch for him and a glass of white wine for me. I'm curled up next to him, my legs tucked under my body while I randomly seek his touch.

I was leaning against his chest at first, listening to his heart racing as he went through the memories, but he squirmed, letting me know that he'd rather not have me this close for the moment. I know this wasn't easy for him to share, so I avoided direct eye contact, but I let him know that I was with him by touching him throughout his story, even though he didn't always seem to want it.

"So who is that person?" I probe. "What kind of person did that Elsa woman create?"

He sighs.

"First of all, she gave me the push I needed to become a real success. I moved away, across the country. Putting physical distance between me and the dirt she created was a necessary first step," he says. "I never had a real home, so it was easy to leave everything behind. I didn't have much left, but I still had some financial assets, a functioning brain, and a college degree that made me look good on paper. It was all I needed to start anew. But there's one thing I made sure to never let happen again."

"What's that?"

He looks at me, an unmistakable shadow cast over his eyes.

"Falling in love," he says. "I never dated, but I still craved sex and the kind of play I enjoyed with Elsa before she turned on me."

I nod. "That's why you buy women for pleasure."

"That's why I bought women for pleasure," he repeats my words, adding a small but substantial difference. "It kept me sane. I needed the release. I still do. After what happened with Elsa, I thought that it would be better for anyone involved anyway."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, maybe my aunt was right. Maybe there is a hint of the devil inside me," he says. "She could see it, and so did others. It can hardly be a coincidence that I kept bumping against the fences that were laid out for me to lead to a good life, that I kept running into trouble, making those who were supposed to care for me feel miserable, and eventually attracting a woman like Elsa. She awoke a beast inside of me, a beast that others have merely seen lurking behind my eyes."

He pauses and takes another sip of his drink, while I try decide whether I should comfort him with another touch, or if he preferred to be left alone right now. It's always hard to tell with him.

"Next to protecting myself from being betrayed like that again, I was also protecting others from being drawn into my darkness," he adds. "It did the job, mostly, at least as long as I only hired women for a one-night thing, or for occasional hook-ups and play sessions. It became a lot more draining when I needed them for more."

We sit in awkward silence for a few moments. Listening to his story was painful. I could feel my heart clenching and my blood boiling as he kept speaking, feeling for the boy he once was, the boy whose heart had been broken by the same woman twice. The boy whose life started on the wrong foot to begin with.

I wish I could travel back in time. I wish I could give this little boy a hug and tell him there's nothing wrong with him, that he's lovable just the way he is, even though he may not conform with some people's expectations.

I wish I could tell him all of that today, but I'm not sure if he would want to hear it. Something has changed between us, we're closer than either of us ever expected us to be. But for some reason, neither one of us is ready to forget about that contract, about the agreement we made between us, the money that will be handed over once those twelve months are over, and the negotiations that may follow after that. His campaign is still in its early stages, and while we did achieve some major progress during the past few weeks and months, I know there's still a very long road ahead of him.

Ahead of us, possibly.

"I hope you don't misunderstand this as fishing for compliments, but I just need to know," I say in a low voice, unable to meet his eyes, even though I can feel him looking at me. "Did I live up to the task? Did I fulfill my role as laid out in the contract to your satisfaction?"

He lets out a deep sigh, making me feel foolish for even asking that question.

"I think you know the answer to that, Ann," he says. It's been a long time since he last called me by my name when we were alone.

Our eyes find each other, and a faint smile is playing around the corner of his mouth. "You've done far more than that."

I return the smile. "I'm not afraid of the alleged monster inside of you."

"I know that," he says.

I reach out for his hand, our fingers intertwining while the words sink in.

"I don't need to be protected," I whisper. "Not from you, or anyone."

He huffs. "Yes, I'm very aware of that. But maybe I'm the one who needs protection."

"You don't trust me," I say, nodding with understanding. "I can't blame you for that, not after what's happened to you."

Of course, that's not all. He has every reason to be suspicious of someone who has been keeping notes about him for the past few months. Who wrote about his most intimate moments without his knowledge.

Someone who's still in possession of a business card that could turn all of this into a lot of money, more than he ever offered me.

I still don't know where we stand. I don't know what this is between us or where it might lead, but I know one thing.

I can't do it.

I can't sell him out like that. Even if it meant more money, less worry, an actual dream come true - I could never live with myself. How could I ever do this to the man I love?

The man I love.

I'm startled at the thought. Is that it? Do I love him?

The truth is, I think I do - but I can't tell him.

He can read it on my face, the internal struggle is written all over it. I've always been bad at hiding my feelings.

"Put your glass down."

He speaks in a tone that suggests a change of mood, a change of dynamics between us.

I comply and place my wine glass on the table next to his Scotch. As soon as I do, he pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, bathing in the dark depth of his eyes when he takes my face between both his hands and brings me close to his.

"You know I wish I could," he whispers. "I wish I could trust you."

"You can," I say, my voice shaking. "You can, Sir."

It's easier to say these words now that I've made up my mind. Now that I know I couldn't betray him, no matter what the monetary reward. His heart has been broken enough, and all I want to do is to glue it back together. I want to fix what others have destroyed. And I want to do it without getting rid of the carnal darkness that lives inside him because I love that side just as much. I crave it, and I wouldn't want him to be void of it.

He pulls me in for a kiss, and the way his hands dig into the flesh around my hips reminds me of just how much I need him to be the dark monster he can be.

Sometimes.