"Oh, Sweetheart... You won't believe me anyway. You won't trust me even if I tell you I have no ulterior motives but to help you. So, I'll just try to show you. That's all I can do. You won't believe me if I tell you, so I'll show you over time." And after his words we continue to hug in silence.
When there’s a knock on the door minutes later, Z gently lifts me off his lap, wiping my tears away with his thumbs as he sits me on the bed.
Walking to the door, he opens it, speaks quietly, and pulls our dinner into the room. Turning and smiling at me, “Here we go…greasy cheeseburgers and fries. This meal can cheer anyone up- even you. Come on, let's eat."
“Okay,” I grin.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm totally embarrassed that I’ve nearly eaten all my food, but Z keeps insisting I finish it and it’s just so good, I can’t stop.
It’s exactly what I need. We even talk a little about work. Z does a great impression of Mr. Sam Shields, ‘of the Texas Shields’. Laughing, I finally finish all of my food. God, I'm full, and really tired.
==========
Looking over at the little bedside clock, its 8:34 and way too early to be this tired. Yet, I am absolutely drained. I wish Z would leave... Not because I don't want his company, but because I just want to curl up in bed and sleep for hours, alone.
"I see how tired you've become, and I won't prevent you from sleeping, but there are two things I must tell you first." Oh shit, here it is.
Bracing myself, I wrap my arms around my ribs, but Z pulls my arms away from my body and tugs me over to the bed again. Sitting beside me, he looks like he’s struggling to speak.
"Go ahead and just say it. It’s okay, Z. You've been very kind to me."
"I'm not going anywhere, Sweetheart- I’ve told you that countless times. I'm just looking for proper phrasing so you don't go all 'panic-attack' on me." What?! And then he grins at me. Seriously? He's grinning after a statement like that?
"Okay- like a band-aid. First, I'm not leaving you tonight. That doesn't mean I expect sex or anything else from you... It just means I’m not leaving here, whether I sleep on the floor, the couch, or beside you in bed. Second, you have the next week off work. Wait!"
"WHAT?!” I scream. “What does that mean? What did you do?!" Christ, I feel frantic or something!
"I spoke with Shields, told him you had some personal time needed, which you do, and for which you actually have an abundance of, and he agreed to a week’s vacation."
"How could you DO THIS TO ME?! I don't want to stay here! I want to go to work! I NEED to go to work! If I lose my job because I'm all drama-queen, I’ll have nothing... NOTHING!"
Oh. My. God. He DID screw me! Well, not literally, but close enough! SHIT!
"Sweetheart, you need this week off to figure out what you're going to do, and since you so efficiently submitted your reports on Friday afternoon, there’s no reason for you to be there tomorrow. It's the perfect week to have off."
"But I can't! Shit, Z. Why would you do this to me? HOW could you do this? Shields hates people taking their vacation time. He doesn't actually say it, but he lets us know it. He’s going to be so mad at me. He's probably already looking for my replacement. OH MY GOD! What have you done to me?!"
I can't breathe again. Shit, this is brutal. Why would Z do this? He doesn’t know what I need. I didn’t want any time off. I already had last week and that was enough. I’ve already planned my morning tomorrow. I’ll be fine. I’LL BE FINE! SHIT!
"Breathe slowly. Come on, Sweetheart..."
"I'm not your S-SWEETHEART! I'm your NOTH-ING! You’re s-screwing me over, just like them. Is this f-fun for you? Why? WHY?!" Shit. Breathe. My vision is getting weird again.
"Stay calm. Right now. Stop doing this to yourself. I hate it! Stop it, NOW!" He roars in my face while gripping my upper arms.
I am so shocked and scared of him suddenly, that I try to lunge away from him. Grabbing my arms harder, Z easily pulls me back, until I'm half across his body, and half kneeling on the floor. Closing his knees around my waist tightly, Z holds my hands against his thighs.
The pain in my back is excruciating. What the hell is he doing? Is he going to spank me or something? I don’t know what to do right now.
"STOP THIS NOW! I will NOT tell you again. You DO NOT run from me. I’m helping you, though you are too stubborn to see it. You are being self-destructive in your insecurity and fear of others' assistance. I will not allow it anymore. You AGREED to let me help you, and that’s what I intend to do. Stop this NOW!" And I do. My struggling ceases as I glare at him.
"You had this year and last year’s time earned, 4 weeks in total. I merely pointed out to Shields that if the company is audited, which it probably will be due to the new Phoenix Acquisition, he’ll have trouble on his hands. You’re not the only one I mentioned. And I can guarantee you many other employees will be forced to take vacation days in the coming weeks..." Deep breath for both of us.
"I did not hurt you or your employment. You are just as secure in your employment as you always were, except now you have a little time to figure out what you're going to do in your personal life. You need this time. Can you imagine yourself arriving to work in the morning to face Kayla? Can you imagine facing all the strange eyes and questions of your co-workers after what happened last Wednesday? I can't. You are amazing, but you’re still struggling right now... today even, and adding to that pressure was going to be too much, I believe. Therefore, I intervened. This is a good thing for you. You don’t have to face anyone, or you can choose to face everyone. Do you see what I did FOR you?"
I force myself to take deep, calm breaths. I’m still shaking with my initial rage, but my adrenaline is fading. Christ! I'm all over the place. I'm tranced-out, crying, hungry, tired, and angry, all in the span of an hour. This is too much. Maybe, Z is right. It's all too much. I really can't handle much more. Shit. He’s just like Marcus and my parents. Everyone knows best. He was right, and I was wrong. Oh, the story of my life...
"You're right, and I'm wrong. That really does seem to be my theme song. I'm sorry I acted childishly Z. I was just taken by surprise. You're absolutely right. I'll just stay here and, and think. Thank you for intervening and making the decision for me. I really appreciate what you’ve done." I can hear the defeat in my own voice, and it’s a sound I’m quite familiar with.
"Please, Sweetheart. I wasn't hurting you. I was helping you. You really do need this time to yourself."
"Yes, I know. Thank you again. I'm just going to go to bed now, because I'm pretty tired. But I would appreciate it if you left. I'm fine, I really am, but I would like to be alone now. Okay?"
"No. I told you I was staying the night and I meant it. You can ignore me, talk to me, or try to beat the shit out of me, but regardless, I'm staying with you tonight." God, he’s such an Asshole!
"Fine! You won! Jesus! Go celebrate your victory or something!”
“Nope. I’m staying right here tonight.”
“May I use the washroom and brush my teeth alone, or do you have to follow me?!" I’m angry again? God, calm down. I’m like a full out, up and down, back and forth Psycho.
"No, I won't follow you. Use the washroom. Brush your teeth. But don't be long. After 10 minutes I'll break the door down, Sweetheart. Don't push me," he growls the warning.
"You know, you're being a real asshole right now. You ruin MY life and then punish me for it. I don't understand you at all. At least I understand Marcus..."
Ouch! Z grabs my face in his hand, so suddenly; I'm shocked into silence again.
"Don't EVER compare me to your husband. You're right! I am NOTHING like him. And don't make the mistake of thinking I ever will be. Now go use the washroom." He barks while pushing me away from him.
Shit. Z looks really angry. I don't like this Z. THIS Z is scary as hell.
==========
After my bathroom break, Z walks past me to the washroom himself. Slamming the door behind him, I'm pretty nervous sud
denly. I really, really don't like Angry Z. Ugh. I want to get into the bed. Now! So removing my cardigan quickly, I slip under the covers. I forgot the lights, but who cares! Maybe he's not ready to sleep yet anyway- not that I feel very tired anymore. Oh well, I can fake it; it’s not my first time faking with Z.
When Z exits the bathroom, he moves to the other side of the bed, turns on the lamp, walks to the door, locks it, and shuts off the main light. Walking back to the bed, he crawls into the bed, in his pants ONLY. (Nice chest, by the way!) Oh. My. God. He said the floor, or the, ah, couch. What is he doing in the bed?
"Relax, Sweetheart. I told you I'm not going to take you this evening. I would just like to be near your body, when I feel so annoyed with you right now." What?! Annoyed with ME?
"Uh huh. Good night, Z. Incidentally, I don't want to be near YOUR body when I’m so annoyed with you right now. Not that I have a choice in the matter." Ha! There! Mr. Choice!
"You could choose to leave the bed, Sweetheart… not that I wouldn't follow wherever you end up, but you do have a choice."
He sounds so pleased with himself. What an ass! Well, I'm not going to respond. Nope. Let him have the last word. I don't care. Let him think he's won. Let him think he's more annoyed than I am. I’m daughter to the Beaumonts for Christ’s sake! I know silence, and I know how to feel victorious even in someone’s silence.
"Asshole..." I murmur. Oops. Whatever.
"Clever, love. You said that already today. Sweet dreams." Dammit. I can hear his smile-voice, though I refuse to look at him. What an ASSHOLE!
Refusing to see what Z’s doing, I try hard to fall asleep. I try very, very hard. This is brutal. The clock is in slow-motion.
Suddenly, I hate time. I usually love time. I've always loved time. Time is how I relate to all events. ‘This only took 9 minutes.’ ‘That was only 6 minutes.’ ‘Oh, THAT was an hour.’ Even Marcus is the 5-8 minute man, depending on how hard he thrusts inside me. Ew. Groan. Don't go there.
Actually, I feel very close to sleep now. Please, keep falling, stop thinking of Marcus, and stop thinking of everything else. I'm very sleepy now, and almost gone.
Good night, Z...
CHAPTER 13
When I wake in the night, I realize I’m half on Z, half on my side. He is so warm that I don't want to move, but it's just not right to stay here. Huffing lightly, I try to turn from him, but Z grabs me and holds me against him.
"Stay, Sweetheart. After the day we've had, I like the comfort of your body against me." Wow. That sounded so... so sweet, or something.
Not wanting to open my eyes, I ask, "Aren't you sleeping?"
"No. Actually, I'm reading a rather enjoyable, filthy novel. Would you like to hear an excerpt?" What?! Shit! Gasping, I open my eyes as I struggle to see in the blinding light. Shit! He has my book. Oh, the horror! Marcus would be appalled. Is Z disgusted with me, too?
"Relax, love. You're not in trouble, though I am curious why you can read such things, but you are unwilling or unable to discuss them with me."
"Um... It was in the room when I got here. It's not mine. I didn't even look at it. Is it a bible? What is it?"
Pathetic, lying, loser! There is no way he believes me. Turning my head, I bury my face into the pillow as he laughs at me.
"Are you lying to me, Sweetheart? Come on… tell me." Dammit!
"Ah... of course it's my book, and no I don't know why I buy them, or why I can't talk about them, or why I even like them. But I do, okay? I. Like. Dirty. Books." I mumble into the pillow.
"Really? I wouldn't call this a 'dirty' book, so much as a 'shockingly filthy, pornographic novel'... much worse than just dirty." And there's his smile-voice.
Turning my head from side to side, I mutter, "Actually, that IS just a dirty book, some of the other novels I've bought from Amazon ARE ‘shockingly filthy, pornography’..." Ha! I can be brazen, see? "...And I love them, though don't ask me why."
Why am I not shriveling up and dying at the moment? Why am I teasing with Z about this? I should be horrified and mortified. I should at the very least be extremely embarrassed. I’m not supposed to buy these kinds of novels, never mind actually enjoy them. Someone like me, or rather the daughter of people like my parents, married to a man like Marcus should never buy, or even entertain novels like these.
"Well, I’m delighted you like these novels. This book gives me much inspiration. As a man, I like to believe I am well-versed with the female body and all its passionate wants and needs; this book however, has taught me that my arrogance may be a little overblown. I've actually learned a few things which I can't wait to try." Wow. That sounds scary but really, really sexy too. "So tell me. Why do you like these books? And be honest." Ahhh...
"I don't know- honestly. I honestly don't know why I like reading them. They’re gross, and graphic, and usually I'm appalled by the women and the men, but then I'm kind of excited by them a little, as well. I'm not comfortable with most of the stuff in those books, and I can’t DO any of the stuff in those books, but I don't know if that's because I'm a prude, or because I'm just not very comfortable with anything sexual, including myself. Does that make sense?"
"Yes. It makes perfect sense. Do you know what I take from this reading material, and from your endearing little confession?"
"No. But please be gentle with me... I've had a shitty week." I smile, using Z’s own words against him.
Laughing, "Oh, I'll be gentle, Sweetheart." Wow. That sounded sooo suggestive. "Here is what I have so far, and please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."
"I will..." Ha! I hope I can handle this...
"You have never had good sex; therefore, it's unknown to you. You read these filthy novels about strong women who actually want sex, and they want it filthy and sexy. And they actually ask for what they want... You, however, could never do that. Whether because you are afraid to ask for what you want, or because you don't know how to ask for what you want, or maybe because you’re married to a sexually inept asshole, who you can’t ask, I’m not sure of which. Therefore, though much of this content is graphically over the top, even for me, someone who does enjoy good, dirty, sometimes filthy sex, you enjoy reading about what those kind of women do want and do ask for. You are so hung up on being well-bred and proper that you can't even imagine yourself being like ‘those kind of women’. How close am I? Honestly?"
"I don't know. I mean, I guess you're right. I've never really thought about it in depth before. I just thought reading these novels because they ARE so illicit, was the 'dirty little secret'."
"I see. Well, what do you like about them?"
"I really couldn't tell you."
"Would you like to be in a relationship with a man that was as graphic and as sexually charged as the heroines in these novels are?"
“I seriously doubt it. No, I don't think so. Most of the sex stuff actually scares me. I don't like feeling sexually overwhelmed and I KNOW that kind of sex would overwhelm me. I think I just like knowing those women, and yes I'm aware that they are fiction... but I like knowing that those women who want sexual stuff like that, just take it or make it happen. I like knowing that they actually enjoy it. It's like I feel good for them that they’re happy being like that."
"Like that?"
"Dirty. Slutty. Whorey. I don't know. I'm not really judging them, because they are just characters in novels. But I know in the real world I could never be like that without judging myself."
"I see. So, in a perfect world, sexually speaking, would you want to be 'dirty, slutty and whorey' like in these novels?"
"I don't think so. I think I would be too uncomfortable- too insecure. I would be too afraid of sexual failure to ever enjoy myself enough to not fail in that type of scenario."
"I would love to prove you wrong. I think you could be exactly like those women, if you wanted to be. Do you remember earlier today? Do you remember what you felt? What you experienced once you dropped your guard and relaxed a little?" Oh, no. Blush. br />
"Um, yes... I remember." Oh shit. This is going in a bad direction now.
"Do you think you failed at any point during our time together?"
"Yes. I mean, you didn't... you know. And I was a mess in the beginning. And I was awkward and unattractive...." Shut up! Stop speaking! WHY does this man make me speak and confess?
"Well, as I explained to you earlier, I didn't get-off, because I was happy with where we were at. I wanted you to be comfortable with me, and I didn't think hopping on, and thrusting inside you, was where you were at, or where you would be most comfortable with me...
“….And yes, you were a mess and awkward in the beginning which is to be expected. You weren't comfortable with me yet, and you certainly aren't comfortable with your own sexuality. It takes time to build both those elements, and it takes trust. As for being unattractive- you couldn't be more wrong. Just watching you struggle to overcome all your sexual hang-ups and burdens, to overcome them enough to experience even a little pleasure, was very attractive to me. And physically, you were gorgeous. I loved watching you experience pleasure with me, and I cannot wait to experience it with you again… Now, are you convinced?" Um... This is so awkward, but kind of good, too. What do I say now?
Suddenly taking my hand, Z places it on his erection. As I try to pull my hand away, he holds it firmly against him. "Now, are you convinced?"
"Oh, okay. I believe you." Give me my hand back! NO DON’T! ARGH…
"Don't be frightened, Sweetheart. I would never push you too hard, or force you past your limits. Do you trust me to know the difference?"
"No, not really. Most people don't even acknowledge, never-mind respect that I have limits."
"Well, I'm not most people, and I will. Now, I would like you in my arms so I can kiss you. Move up my body, and let me kiss you."
Do I move? How do I move? I'll be too heavy on him. But Z doesn't wait for me to decide. Pulling me up by my hips, he slides my body up and over him, resting me between his legs. God, I can feel his erection against my body. Am I too heavy on him? Am I crushing it?