Every interaction I'd had with women had been within certain parameters, boundaries that I'd set. Annie, so natural and easy, full of sweetness and kindness, she threatened everything. With every laugh and casual touch, she broke down my barriers better than a well-trained riot squad. She was so guileless, so unpretentious and genuine, I had no idea what to do with her. Frankly, she bewildered me.
What I did know was that I had to touch her. I didn't think I could go another day without holding her in my arms. All sweetness and softness, her luscious curves, those lips. I was done with just looking. I needed more.
But I couldn't enter into some rom-com type relationship with her, playing the chivalrous boyfriend who brought her flowers and complimented her on her new hairdo. That wasn't me. Long gone were the days when I could engage in anything resembling normal boyfriend/girlfriend interactions, openhearted and open-armed, trusting the future and whatever life might bring as we held hands and skipped together off into the sunset.
No, I needed her on my terms. I just didn't know if she would accept them.
After she fled, I stayed up late in the library, savoring my Scotch. But even my family's Scotch now made me think of her. She was insidious, her charm far more dangerous than anything I'd ever encountered.
I'd gotten so good at isolating myself. I prided myself in my ability to read people, sensing their thoughts and motivations perhaps even before they knew them themselves. It helped to stay in control, manipulate others, and avoid that worst of all possible feelings: vulnerability.
But that was the problem with Annie, she didn't have any subtext. She wasn't saying one thing and meaning another. She said exactly what she thought, no matter how unwelcome that thought might be. She didn't dress to seduce, yet I found her more seductive than any woman I'd ever known. I didn't know how to play my usual games with someone so straightforward.
So I'd offered her a whole new game board. I sipped my Scotch, gazing into the fire. I had no idea how she would respond. I'd set out the trap. Now all I had to do was wait to see if she took the bait.
* * *
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* * *
The next day was Saturday and it was a long day. She avoided me like it was her job. I felt my old familiar surliness returning, and I thought about throwing a bit of a tantrum. I could demand attention like a toddler, reminding her she'd been hired on as caretaker. That meant she needed to take care of me. But that would only be satisfying for a moment. I wanted to see the longing in her eyes, the heat I'd only caught a glimpse of so far. I wanted to fan those embers into flames. Tantrums tended to have the effect of a cold bucket of ice water. The resounding splash might provide momentary satisfaction, but the aftermath would prove terribly unsatisfying. So, I let Annie avoid me, scurrying around the corner if she heard me drawing near, fleeing outside as I entered the kitchen.
Longer still was Sunday. On Sunday, she spent the whole day back at her mother's house. I knew it was in her contract. I'd agreed to the terms. But why the hell did she have to go away like that? Twenty-four hours seemed excessive. She belonged here with me. I roamed the halls, finding the gloom and crumbling opulence oppressive. I used to enjoy my post-apocalyptic dwellings. It appeared as if Annie had taken that away for me, too.
I even ignored an invitation to a video call from a woman who liked things just as twisted as me. The kinkier I got with her, the further I pushed her boundaries, making her suffer, the harder she came for me in the end. She and I had had some marathon sessions, going all night in a dance of dominance and submission.
But what did I do, alone in my haunted house? Did I do what any sane, rational red-blooded man would? Just a click away waited hours of indulgence most men would pay dearly for, and this didn’t even involve a monetary transaction. This was a woman in a stable but boring relationship who liked to play naughty while her partner was away.
I declined. I knew I was losing my mind, but I didn't want her brand of kink at the moment. I wanted Annie. I didn't even know if she'd enjoy playing the way I did, but I had to find out. Her sensuality and responsiveness, combined with her untouched innocence created a potent drug. I was clearly addicted.
Guess what I did instead? Did I drink myself into a stupor? Good guess, but no. Did I write Annie a love poem, comparing her eyes to twinkling stars and her lips to ripe berries? Hell no, I hadn’t undergone a complete personality transplant.
I worked out. Over the years since the accident, I’d taken grim satisfaction in bulking up. It felt like a personal act of defiance, getting powerful and huge even as my skin remained scarred and my foot mangled.
Pumping iron, adding weight, I groaned and grunted through grueling sets. The thought of Annie’s wide eyes when she’d come upon me fueled me on. I’d been surprised to find her there, seeing me without my shirt. Not many had. I knew my back wasn’t a pretty sight. She’d gasped when she’d seen me. But then she’d stayed right where she was, open-mouthed at the sight of my chest. That was the look I wanted to see again.
After a shower, I settled down in front of my computer and instead of working out some of my pent-up sexual tension like I should have, I did some research into advances on my various medical conditions. I didn't do it often, but I had to admit, when I did look into the subject the pace of medical breakthroughs was astonishing. Fifteen years ago when I'd gotten injured, doctors simply didn't have the technology to repair my foot. Now, it seemed new practices abounded, promising new approaches and methods. I stayed up late, clicking on links, reading descriptions of case studies and experimental procedures.
At one a.m. I shut it off. The thing about all those cutting-edge reports was none of them came with any kind of guarantee. I'd learned over the years, doctors would promise anything if they knew they'd make big money doing it. Back in the day, there'd been nothing my parents wouldn't have paid to make me well. And they found plenty of doctors who assured them they had the miracle cure. None of it was covered by insurance, of course. Charlatans, all of them. The disappointment my parents felt after I suffered through yet another painful, invasive procedure only to experience no improvement? That was nothing compared to my utter despair.
It took me a while to fall asleep. I took a painkiller. Nights had been easier under a heavy haze of alcohol. Mornings, however, never used to exist when I self-medicated like that, and tomorrow morning Annie would be returning. I didn't want to sleep through half the day while she was around.
* * *
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* * *
It turned out I could easily have slept until noon. She came back early Monday morning, but she continued to pull her disappearing act at the slightest sound. Finally, around lunchtime, I found her in the kitchen. She startled as I entered the room, looking up at me with big eyes.
“So what's your plan here?” I asked her directly. “Are you going to hide from me 24/7?”
“That depends.” She put down her fork and crossed her arms over her chest.
“On what?”
“On whether you're going to offer me any more crazy propositions that I can't stop thinking about.”
I grinned. “You can't stop thinking about it?”
She flushed, looking down at her salad and picking up her fork again to toy with it. “I didn't say that,” she protested lamely.
“Yes, you did say that.”
With a sharp exhale, she raked a hand through her curls in frustration. “Well, I didn't mean to say that.”
I raised up my hands to signify a truce. “Listen, I'm not going to hunt you down.” Even if that was exactly what I wanted to do. “I'll leave you in peace. But if you want to come find me, you know where I'll be.”
She looked down and bit her lip. She snuck a quick glance up, briefly, but then looked down again. Bastard that I was, I loved seeing her so agitated. “You’re impossible.” She shook her head.
“Come tell me all about it tonight in the library.” I forced myself to leave. This was a decision she needed to make. I knew wha
t I proposed went far beyond anything she'd ever done or experienced before. But honestly, fulfilling my half of the bargain would take me far outside my comfort zone as well. I hadn't exactly made a habit of sharing all my innermost thoughts and feelings, and I told her I'd answer any questions she asked. I planned on following through on my end of the bargain, as long as she did, too.
That night, I fully expected to not see her at all. I got comfortable in the library, fire crackling in the fireplace, Scotch poured by my side, and I settled in with a good book. I wasn't picky when it came to reading. I devoured it all, from classics to best-selling thrillers, from dry nonfiction biographies and histories to the latest thinking on current events and politics. That night, I planned on getting through a book I’d just found online about successful next-gen marketing campaigns that took advantage of social media. I wasn't the CEO of Douglas Distillery the way my father had wanted, but I sat on the board of directors. I knew the brand was stagnant. Maybe something in the advice could be applied and breathe life into the nearly 250-year-old brand.
When Annie appeared at the door, I was honestly surprised. I knew her seeking me out wasn't exactly the equivalent of accepting my offer. But at the very least, it meant she was considering it.
“Come in,” I welcomed her. “I promise I won't bite.” Unless that's how you like it. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, her hair down, looking young, sweet and nervous.
“What are you reading?” She settled down next to me on the couch, playing it casual like we were two schoolmates studying for a quiz.
I set the book aside. “Nothing half as interesting as you.” She brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it, as if she were struggling to work out the answer to some kind of a problem. “What's on your mind?”
“I want to know how you got injured.” She looked up at me with a directness in her gaze, a fist at her hip as if she were steeling herself for an argument.
“Yes,” I replied calmly. “You've made your desire known on many occasions.”
“Then why do you have to make this so complicated?” She waved a hand in the air in frustration. “Why can't we just talk like regular people?”
“I am quite outside the norm, I'm afraid. Deviant to the core.” I wasn't going to apologize for it. I was who I was. What she had to decide was what she wanted to do about it.
I stretched my arm along the back of the couch, not touching her, yet encircling her in my warmth. I could sense her response to my closeness, the way she leaned into me, her teeth nipping at her lower lip. She wanted more, too, she was just afraid of it. I reached my hand into her hair, slowly caressing, winding her curls around my fingers like fine silk.
“I'll tell you anything you want, Annie. I see your mind racing, full of questions. Now's your chance. Ask me, and I promise I'll tell you everything.”