Captive (Social Experiments #1) (3 page)

“
Fuck.
If you do that again I won’t have much choice,” I gritted through my teeth.

“Do what? This?” She knew exactly what she was doing, squeezing her muscles around me in rhythmic pulses. “Come for me, Jake. You always do it right.”

I’ll say this much. Gloria is the only woman I have ever had a joint orgasm with. In my head I imagined Yvonne bent before me, her body massaging mine in such an intimate way. My balls tightened, I groaned, and just like that her body convulsed around me. The sweet, hot rush and tight cling of her wet pussy drew my own release. All I heard was my name in the wrong voice.

Gloria wasn’t Yvonne, and she never would be.

“Haven’t you missed this?” she purred, gyrating her hips back against me. The movement was briefly enticing.

My cock remained semi-hard, defiant to the very end. I shook my head and stepped away from her to clear my thoughts. It took only a second to haul my sweats and boxer briefs back into place after I tossed the used condom into the waste bin beside the bed.

“You’re a great lay, Gloria, but that’s all it is. This won’t happen again.” My conscience wouldn’t allow dishonesty. I couldn’t get her hopes up that this was a shot at reconciliation.

“That’s what you said the last time. You fucked me in your car outside of school, remember?”

Mid-March, I’d foolishly offered her a ride home on some dismal, rainy afternoon. Instead, she had ended up riding me before I even took the truck out of park. I blame the wet shirt she wore. Or maybe it was the skin-tight leggings.

“Yeah, well… that shouldn’t have happened either, Gloria.”

“It’s that rich chick living in your place, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Yvonne,” I lied awkwardly. I didn’t make eye contact. I’d always been a piss poor liar and after two years of dating, Gloria saw through me.

“Geez. I always thought you had a thing for her but you’re really hung up on that bitch, aren’t you?” She rolled over and pushed up on her elbows. Her casual sprawl drew my gaze down her bare legs. My cock twitched, but ultimately remained useless.

“Nobody needs a reason to dump you, Glo. Grow up. Maybe once you get your hands out of a man’s pocket, he’ll want to stay with you.”

“Yeah, well, at least I rent my own place and don’t mooch off my lovesick bestie.” She flopped back against the pillows and made no effort to cover her sweat-sheened body. Content as a kitten, she lounged in the afterglow of our sex.

Her words stung more than I dared to let on.

“You know where to find me if you need me, Jake. Though I’m not going to wait on you. Fair warning.”

I fucked her again with her face buried against the pillow to muffle her passionate cries. This time, the position and desired depth of my strokes had nothing to do with it. I didn’t want to see her face. Didn’t want to view the smug satisfaction as she achieved orgasm.

For the first time in two years of intimacy, I decided to behave like the biggest dick I could be. Two years of verbal abuse, financial exploitation, and no true affection fueled my impulsive act of reprisal.

Her walls practically quivered around my cock, orgasm so close, yet just beyond her reach. A little twitch of my fingers against her clit would have hurled her over the edge, but I pulled out and ripped the condom off to blow my load on her ass. A wayward streak of sticky come landed in her sweat-dampened blonde curls. I wiped off on her right cheek and rose from my kneeling position behind her on the bed.

“Jake?” Gloria’s startled voice called after me. Her breaths heaved, escaping in small pants. She’d been so close that I heard it in her voice. “Come back here.”

“No thanks.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed after me.

I removed my wallet and pulled two crumpled twenties from it. I tossed both on her and turned away. “Paying my whore what she’s worth. Goodbye, Gloria.”

A foul-mouthed string of epitaphs followed me to the door.  

Chapter 3

My job isn’t as difficult as I make it out to be. It pays decently for the work required on a typical day, but some of my clients send their dogs for a reason. The newest addition to the student roster is a 180 pound mastiff with a hard on for jerking his owner’s wife up and down the street.

The guy want me to perform a miracle and train him into a well-behaved gentleman in less than a day. If I were the damned dog whisperer, you bet your ass I wouldn’t be struggling to keep food in my house. I’d have my own television show and live the good life.

But that isn’t the case and I’m now doomed to a six week training course with this fellow. We work a couple hours a day, three times a week. Despite my part time schedule, I get better results than the full time staff. Mr. King loves me. It’s just too fucking bad that I don’t earn commission for all the people requesting me personally by name because their rich country club pal spread tales about how little Fifi potties outdoors now.

“Why don’t you go ahead and clock out early, Jake.”

Harrison, one of the day shift managers, is also one of the few guys I know with enjoyable company. I met him shortly after moving to Boston. Between his father’s encouragement to work long hours and my studies, we haven’t had a chance to kick back together recently at all. His father, Mr. King, actually owns the pet store. They could have passed for brothers, dark hair and boyish good looks. Mr. King blamed his youthful appearance on his vegan diet and love for animals.

“What? And have some free hours to myself?”

My friend punched my shoulder. “Yeah. I’m going to meet up with Rodney and Kirk at the bar, and I’ve decided to drag you with me since Bobby can’t come. You’ve missed out on the last few.”

“Is Kirk’s band playing again or something?”

“Nah, he’s off tonight. Just us, some steaks, and pints of Guinness.”

The idea tempted me. It really did. Kirk’s band wasn’t too bad actually, but they were loud. And Rodney and I always had the best discussions. He was in my Forensic Science classes a few years back.

“I’d love to, man, but Yvonne had her last day of class and I promised her pizza.”

“She still living with you?”

“Yeah? Where else would she be?”

“Hot piece like that, I figured she’d be living with her boyfriend or something. She still dating that hockey guy?”

That had been Levon, last year’s flavor of douche. He played with the Boston Bruins and had spoiled her with lavish gifts until she caught him fucking a hot blonde in his apartment.

“Nah.” I shook my head. “She goes through them too often,” I explained. “I think she’s holding out for a millionaire or something. Then I’ll have my second floor back.”

“And nothing to do with it. What’s the deal with Gloria? She came through the checkout yesterday and when I mentioned your name…” Harrison whistled.

I rubbed the back of my neck. Did I feel bad about what I’d done? A little.

After I caught Harrison up on the newest development in my relationship with Gloria, his eyes practically bugged out of his head.

“You didn’t. Dude, just tell me that you’re joking.”

“I did.”

“
Why?
”

I asked myself the same question at least twice since storming out of her apartment. It seemed like a good idea at the time and a surefire way to break things permanently.

“She’s a leech. Good sex doesn’t make up for that.”

Harrison eyed me as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had since there were moments when Yvonne didn’t appear to be any better. “Whatever, man. Anyway, go, get your pizza.”

“Thanks. Tell the guys I said hi.”

We all planned to meet up after my graduation anyway. The guys had planned this for months behind my back, and only let me in on the secret recently. They were treating me to two fun-filled nights at Twin Rivers, where they would likely install an intravenous drip of booze into my arm if they could. I looked forward to the break away from everything.

After I logged my hours I headed out into the late afternoon sunshine. I loved Boston but there were days I missed living in Salem. Not that it was such a small town anymore. Leaving Massachusetts for anything more than a brief vacation never occurred to me. This was home.

The pleasant weather had prompted me to leave my car and walk to work. That was another thing I liked. I saved on so much gas by not needing to drive myself everywhere. People around here knew me by name and I waved to a few in passing as I headed down the sidewalk.

The guys were right, I did need to get out more. With summer coming up I’d make the effort to spend my time with them the way we used to do. They only needed to wait a couple more weeks. Tonight was already pledged to someone else.

I hadn’t lied to Harrison about my evening plans. I’d be a fool to count on Yvonne cooking after her finals, so I made a pit stop for our favorite bacon and pineapple pizza at Mama Maria’s Pizzeria. Yvonne was likely to turn up her nose at the chowder Miss James had brought over. Besides, I tried it at lunch and wanted to hoard it for myself. Due to the weekend, I splurged a little and bought a six pack of the hard cider she liked, too. Greg liked to spend Friday nights out with the frat brothers, which guaranteed an evening alone without his condescension.

“Yvonne?”

Under normal circumstances, I would cherish a silent house. Disappointment soured my mood instead since I’d anticipated a night of action movies on the sofa beside Yvonne. Greg must have changed his mind about guzzling cheap pisswater beer with the guys, or Yvonne made backup plans with her classmates.

Sometimes the girls hung out after a difficult exam and went to their favored bar hangout. Yvonne dragged me along once to a group social where a shy student nurse awkwardly engaged me in conversation about psychiatric nursing and my thoughts on it as a career choice.

Chester, as she had affectionately named our new kitten, greeted me by rubbing his face against my ankle. I leaned down to pet him before I headed into the kitchen to set down my cider and pizza on the dinette table. I glanced at his bowl in passing. Good. Yvonne fed our little guy.

I had just pulled free a slice of pizza when a noise from my bathroom nearly made me piss my pants. “Yvonne?” I called again, suppressing the horror movie apprehension churning in my belly. If a knife-wielding lunatic burst into the hallway to kill me, I had no one to blame but myself for failing to acknowledge the signs.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. The half-closed door afforded me a partial view within the brightly lit chamber. Yvonne wore her favorite jeans again, denim hugging her curves in all the right places, worn thin and white just beneath the pockets.

The contents of her purse littered the vanity, strewn over my clean counter space.

“Are you going out?”

Yvonne jerked and dropped the small cap balanced on her palm. Flesh-toned powder scattered across the counter and into the porcelain sink.

“Holy shit, Jake, you scared me!”

“Sorry. I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear-” I stopped, my gaze locked on her reflection. Cold, unbridled fury seized me and chased away all my other thoughts. A hard nudge opened the door with a bang, slamming it against the wall. Yvonne ducked her head and tried to hide her face behind her dark hair. Too late. I took her by the arm and whirled her around to face me.

“What happened, Yvonne? Did that asshole hit you?”

She tugged away from me, but my grip held firm. “It’s… it’s nothing Jake. I had too much to drink and walked into a door.”

Bullshit. “What the fuck happened?” Her artful application of foundation and powder concealed about half of the shiner blooming around her left eye.

“I told you… C’mon, Jake, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“The hell were you planning to do? Sleep in your makeup for a week?” I demanded.

“Maybe…”

A glitzy top clung to her upper body, hanging from the shoulders and bosom to reveal plump cleavage. Yvonne knew how to dress to enhance her best attributes. She’d worn her shoes into the bathroom in her rush to hide the damage. Five inch stilettos brought her up to my height, and we were nearly eye to eye.

“Did you even put some ice on it? He hit you wicked hard, sweetheart. Come on. Let’s wash this shit off.”

Instead of judging her or losing my cool, I applied water to a washcloth and cleansed her face. Each tear she shed made me want to pound Greg’s face in. I counted them. Every single silent drop. By the time I’d finished wiping away the makeup, I was a master of my emotions. I put on a phony smile and gestured to the pizza on the dinette table.

“You up for a bite to eat?”

“Yeah… thanks.”

I carried the goods to the upper level, balancing pizza on one hand and a pack of hard cider in the other. The brownstone was a four level building, five if you counted the extensive basement system. Like my grandmother and grandfather before me, I kept the first and second floor for my use. The third and fourth floors were individual apartments rented out for a tidy sum to two different families. Nice people. They paid on time and didn’t complain too much. Ms. James, the single mom, always baked and brought Christmas cookies every year. The elderly couple on the fourth level kept the lobby filled with green life and flowers.