Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(17)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“Oh, I don’t need anything like that.”

Lorraine looked at me in the mirror. “It’s not about what you need, dear. And it’s not for you.”

“I guess I should spend a little something on him then?”

“Exactly.”

CHAPTER 11

After shopping the fifth floor at Barney’s, my room looked messy and dim. My mirror made my body squiggle. The walls were cracked, and the floor was scratched down to the raw wood. Even through that, the dress was perfect on me. The bracelets I’d bought to cover my bruised wrists clinked and clanked when I spun hard enough to make the skirt wave. I’d tried to protest that the red soles of the shoes didn’t go with the black dress, but Lorraine insisted they were fine, and since she’d rejected so many things on my behalf before that, I felt pretty sure she wouldn’t bullshit me.

The bill came, and though I wasn’t responsible for paying it, I had to sign off on what I was taking out of the store. Lorraine had slid it across Shonda’s little desk with a smile. I checked the items and then the price. It came to two thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine dollars.

“I know I spent more than this,” I’d said. “I saw the price on the shoes.”

“Well, you caught me,” she’d said. “You’re not supposed to see the price tags. So if you don’t tell anyone you saw it…” She paused and smiled to let me know it really wasn’t that big a deal. “I’ll tell you. Mister Drazen asked that the bill say this number no matter what. He said you’d get the joke.”

“I get it all right.” I’d signed, trying not to smile too wide. But as I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror, I smiled again.

Gabby had done my hair to cover the bite marks, tsking the whole time and making me giggle. I’d told her what I could about the night before, leaving out the parts that made my thighs black and blue. She did a church lady voice that made me laugh so hard I thought I would break a rib. We were in the bathroom playing with my makeup bag when the doorbell rang.

“God,” I said, “this is ridiculous. I feel like I’m going to prom.”

“You didn’t go to prom.” Gabby ran some hand cream over her fingers. “You and Darren stayed in the limo making out.”

“And you and Bennet Provist? In Elysian Park?” I popped tubes and pencils into my little makeup bag.

“Yeah. Excellent prom.”

“Mon!” Darren shouted from the living room. “You have a gentleman caller!” Oh God, was Darren going to embarrass me? I ran out to do damage control.

Jonathan was by the doorway, looking too big for the space, wearing a tuxedo cut for him and no one else. He and Darren were smiling.

“Yes, sir,” said Jonathan, “the dance is chaperoned.”

“I want her home by eleven.”

I stepped into the living room before the joke got old, and Jonathan saw me in my new black dress. He liked it. He pressed his lips together to suppress a smile that would have mortified me in front of Darren and Gabby.

“You clean up nice,” I said.

“Obviously you were intending to clean up in that old thing as well.”

I snapped my bag shut. “Good thing the Salvation Army was open late.”

He held out his hand, and we laced our fingers together.

“You met Darren, I guess?”

“Yes. He mentioned his shotgun.”

“This is Gabby.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jonathan said.

“Hi.”

“Okay, great,” I said. “Let’s go.” I pulled him out the door. I saw Lil standing outside the Bentley, which looked damn near vertical parked on my hill.

Darren stood in the door and wagged his finger. “Remember what we talked about. Not a minute later, young man.”

Jonathan walked backward a step and waved to Darren. “Eleven tomorrow morning, yes, sir.”

“Hi, Lil,” I said. “How did you enjoy my hill?”

“Quite a ride,” she said. “I want to try it in the Jag.”

“Be careful.”

“I was born careful, miss.” She opened the door for us. I slid in, and Jonathan got in right after and sat facing me. Behind him, the partition between us and Lil was shut. We sat quietly for ten seconds. My eyes must have eaten him alive as much as his undressed me. By the time the car started rolling, we were on each other, lips searching, tongues twisting, hands testing how far they could get before we risked wrinkles and stains.

He put his hands up my skirt, and when he felt the garter, he whispered oh into my ear. But I cringed because he’d gone up high enough to touch the bruises. He pulled back and said, “Let me see.”

I pulled the skirt to the top of the stockings.

“Monica, are you shy all of a sudden?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“I guarantee you I’ll freak out.” His tone told me he didn’t mean “freak out” in the same way I did.

I pulled the skirt up to reveal the black silk garters, and though the fronts of my legs were fine, he could definitely see the damaged insides.

“I did this?”

“We did it. I shouldn’t have worn garters, but they were so pretty.”

“Turn around.”

I turned to face the back window, my knees on the seat cushion, my hands on the back of the seat, steadying me. He touched me when he pulled my skirt up, his fingers barely grazing my skin. He didn’t hurt me, but the anticipation of pain made me flinch anyway. He kissed where I hurt, lips soft and yielding. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kissed the backs of my thighs.

“Don’t be. It was worth it.” He pulled my dress down and gently guided me back to sitting. I took his hands. “I just got a little bruised, but I was never scared.”

“I feel terrible.” His elbows rested on his knees, a posture I remembered from the morning I saw him talking to his ex-wife on the back patio. His eyes searched mine, looking for any hidden anger.

“Okay, stop it. Really. I’ve never had sex like that in my life. The bruises will heal. My brain chemistry is what’s totally f**ked.”

“That’s a high compliment. I should say thank you first.”

“You’re welcome.”

He held his hands over my thighs. “I’m afraid to touch them.”

“Do it.”

“I’m going to San Francisco for a few days. By the time I get back, these should be healed enough I won’t have to worry about hurting you.”