Exploits (5 page)

A hand clamps over my mouth, "Shut up, the neighbours will hear you."

I don't care, just keep moving. I DON'T CARE. (Houston, we have lift off!) I wasn't even conscious of my voice moaning out of me. Now I'm done. It's official. This is the man for me. He looks like a god, and finally he's giving me what girls have been talking about since high school. I'm not going anywhere. Just keep doing that and I'll stay with you.

Chapter 8

A Good Woman Stays Home

One thing I loved about being with Gary, was the lifestyle. It was chaotic and wild. Perfect Cape ocean-view bike runs at least twice a month along the coast.

Sometimes doing the wine route, other times following the scenic coastline to the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve, where we'd end up swimming naked together on secluded beaches we had to illegally hike to
;
endless pubbing and clubbing, from Mercury Live to Stones in Tableview; socialising eight days a week. It kept me motivated.

I can't say when the switch happened. It was that insidious. He often kept me waiting at work, insisting on fetching me. So my best friend was the security guard. He was a very nice guy, with fair hair and big blue eyes. A tall and lanky dude who came from the same town as Gary. I worked in a particularly seedy and crime-ridden area at the wrong end of Adderley Street; so waiting outside after dark
was not even a consideration.

When Gary came to the door, looking through the glass to see me laughing and joking with Mr Security Guard, I was completely unprepared for the jealous repercussions. He could have any girl he wanted. I knew my place. I would
never
cheat on him. A: I didn't have the energ
y–
(you've heard the expression, ‘I'm fucked’, right?
)–
and B: I loved him so much, I would have laid down my life for him.

I was the recipient of the sulky-silent treatment all the way home. Not knowing what I'd done, I can take it no longer and as we walk inside I broach the subject.

"What is your problem?"

"Why were you talking to him?"

"Gary, he is the security guard. No one else is there at that time! What must I do, sit and stare at the wall? He's just a friend."

I get The Look. Wow, he must be angry. He fetched his own beer.

"What were you talking about?"

I look at his face and know he's a cobweb away from violently angry. I know that look and I never want to see it again.

"Music. We like the same music."

I get the ‘
yeah right!
’ look.

Half an hour later I sit down with him in the lounge, waiting for dinner to finish cooking. He looks across at me with those smouldering blue eyes and states, "You don't love me."

WHAT!

He's breaking up with me because I spoke to the security guard about the kick ass rock band, Feedback?
Are you kidding me?
He's ripping my heart out of my ribcage with his wounded stare. I can't lose him.
I can't
.

I can barely breathe, "That's not true. I do love you."

"Prove it."

I'm shaking. Why am I so afraid?

"How?"

"Never talk to him again."

Okay, that’s impossible. I work there. How can I never talk to the man who opens and closes the door for me? It's irrational. I know I can't keep my word if that's what he wants.

"I can't
not
talk to him. That's unreasonable."

Silence.

I know Gary. I've been with him for a long time. So I get on my knees and crawl over to him. This always works.

He pushes me away, "I don't want you anymore."

Cue: Sledgehammer. Pounding me into emotional smithereens.

Tears. I can't help it.

"Why not?"

"I don't want what another man has had."

I'm shocked breathless. "Gary, nothing happened! I
promise
."

"You were alone. You just said so."

God give me strength.
"That doesn't mean a thing. I can't wait in the dark for you. Gary, I would never ...”

Saved by the dinner buzzer. I get off my knees and walk in these ridiculous heels to the kitchen. Gary has rearranged my wardrobe. Tight, tight or tight. Jeans even tighter. He criticised me endlessly, until I became his image of arm candy. I serve dinner. I'm not hungry and go to the coldly spacious bathroom.

That night was the first time Gary and I did not engage in any form of physical activity, other than our very first night in a frigid bed. The situation was bad. Cataclysmically bad.

* * * * * *

Days followed days. I tried to maintain my distance from Mr Security Guard. I had to explain why though. And I felt really stupid telling him about the fight. We had an arrangement. We would sit across the office from each other. Chat from afar. As soon as we heard a car door or any activity, I would pretend to work, he would pretend to be listening to his earphones. I guess it was obvious. The silent confrontations each day, between my friend and my lover, at a door I walked through each and every day at work.

But, tonight is pool night. Finally I can have a sense of normal. I rush dinner, get ready, when the bullet impales me.

"It's just the lads tonight. Sorry woman. I need time alone with them. We're all sick of women interfering."

I'm deflated. I try to justify it. I can see that he needs time alone with his friends. That's not unreasonable.

"Okay."

How stupid of me to think that this issue would be just tonight. This was the beginning of the end. I watched him pick up the case with his pool cue in it. He looked dashing, he smelled fuckable. I loved his smell. (He was the pheromone lord!)

Chapter 9

Two slippery Nipples and a BJ

By now, I know most of you think I'm exaggerating and writing a load of rubbish. If you do think this, then you are so very lucky. This is my life. It is my normal everyday reality. And if you've never been someone's walking blow up doll, then consider yourself blessed. (I was in a dysfunctional relationship and I didn't even know it.)

The first step to becoming someone's slave, is the severing of all previous ties. You deliberately cut off your network. And it's easy to do. It started for me with my
friends of colour. Lovely, kind people. Gary was the worst racist I have ever known. Blondie hated dark skins. He had a derogatory statement for anyone who wasn't vampire white.

Because I loved and respected my friends, I 'phased' them
out of my life (because I didn't want Gary to hurt them). I knew they wouldn't understand. Then came my family and old friends. In his opinion my mother hated him, my brother was gay – (he was homophobic too) – he had an issue with every single friend, (even Adelle), until all I had were his friends girlfriends. I did everything he told me to do.

I did
anything and everything I had to, to keep him happy. So, when Gary pushed me away and kept me at a distance, I was miserable.

I still could not take my eyes off him. He was stunning. No man, (other than Calvin Klein models), looked that jaw-dropping in nothing but plain old blue jeans. And he chose to walk around in just the blues so often that I was in a
permanent state of arousal.

Gary kept me at arm's distance for two weeks. He rejected every advance I made, but had to feed the beast. I cannot convey how it shattered my heart (and self-estee
m–
the little I had left
)–
that he refused to speak to me, to engage with me in any way, until I was fast asleep. For two weeks I was woken with him skewering me in the middle of the night. When he was done, he'd just roll over and go to sleep. Two hours later he'd wake me up again. Just a shake.

"What?" I'd mumble sleepily.

He would smile. I would fall for it, thinking that redemption was going to be mine. When he pulls my head into the top of his thighs, I give him what he likes.

My hopeful eyes would meet his, just to be met with that triumphant gloat.

He was killing me with degradation and humiliation. (I fell for this multiple times. Ha ha. You can tell I'm a natural blonde.) And I had no one I could share my pain with. My only real friend now, was Gary.

Once he'd decided that I'd suffered enough for being attractive to other men, he took me back. Gary style. The dynamics were changing faster than I could comprehend. But I was just so grateful he wanted me. He picked me up from work, drowning out any conversation with blaring Metallica. I stared sullenly out of my window at the back end of Table Mountain. The beauty lost on me in my haze of misery. Craving him with every breath and hating him for my sufferance.

When I got home, I walked in through the door expecting to simply make dinner. The kitchen was the first room as you walked in through the door. I dropped my Gucci bag on the table and put the kettle on. I opened the fridge and took out the cold brew to slake his hard day's thirst. He's wearing his wicked grin.

My heartbeat accelerates. Oh, how I've missed that look. His eyes sparkle deceptively as he puts his noosed tie around my neck. He takes the beer and places it onto the table next to us. His grin is a smile now. He's touching me. YAY, thank God he still wants to touch me. My dress falls to the floor. My bra follows. I step out of my shoes and become diminutive, looking up at him, wondering what he's
going to do. He pulls off his button-down work shirt and drops it to caress my dress. With my leash he leads me to the bedroom. I'm melting. The thought of him has my body in biological response-ready mode.

He pushes me rather forcefully onto the edge of the king sized bed. Face down. I hear the zipper and my body explodes when he unlocks me. Tears of gratitude and relief well up. I'm into it. The rhythm. I feel the hardening before he ices my cake and instantly feel robbed as he pulls out of me and sprays hot ectoplasm all over my naked back. I swallow hard, fighting back bitter tears. I'm given hope again as the noose tightens and he pulls my head back by the hair. He re-enters the chamber of secrets and starts doing his thing again.

Hope restored! I'm used to his games. If Gary is anything, he's unpredictable. And he gets bored easily. The bedroom dynamic was constantly morphing, an endless kaleidoscope of sadistic creativity.

I am shamed when he pulls out and repeats the process. When he does it a third time, I am broken. He pulls me up off the bed backwards, with the noose tight around my throat, and turns me to face him. I cannot meet his eyes. My emotional pain is too excruciating. I don't want him to
know what he's just done to me. I stare fixedly at his amazing pecs, my eyes caressing the shape that is perfection.

A commanding hand lifts my chin until I finally look into his eyes with my own. I hate Gary. He knows me better
than anyone ever will. He loves to make me angry and hurt, because my eyes turn a deep sapphire. He deliberately shames and humiliates me, because he relishes my eyes when they’re that shade of blue. I know that my eyes are betraying me, because his smile communicates that he has achieved what he set out to.

He hasn't spoken a word. Neither have I. I wait for the next instruction. He sits down on the kohl black sheet and pulls my body by the tie to stand between his legs. He looks at my erect nipples and a gloating smirk morphs his handsome
face. He waits expectantly. I remember belatedly that this is my cue. (Hah! No pun intended).

I kneel and watch his eyes close, as a low moan escapes his throat when my warm mouth cossets one of the twins. He flops back and the noose gets tighter. I can hardly breathe and with the erection in my mouth, the lack of oxygen is making my vision blur. I've read about people dying like this. Squashing my fear, I choose to trust him. It's odd, but it's an adrenalin rush. Erotic extreme sports has entered our dynamic. He finally relinquishes the leash.

I'm in!

I loosen the tie slightly as I become the dominant partner. Looking down at my victim who is enjoying lying back with expectant anticipation. I've learned the art of masochism from Gary. And it's pay-back time.
I'm hornier than a blowfish, but I've waited this long, a little while longer won't be any harder to take. Those hands grip my hips, and I take the noose off and restrain his hands to the bed with it. No way is he interfering in this.

Ha!

His eyes opened and I saw startled surprise. I smile back at my master. He's forgotten that he's trained me well. Sub or dom, top or bottom, I can do both.

I learned the Asian art of making love using all of the pelvic floor muscles. My body can do better than my lips can. I ride him until I anticipate the precipice, and using the nurse’s technique of stalling a detonation, I make him wait. It's a brilliant technique. 

I start the slow build up again. He's my victim now, and I'm relishing torturing him. I fondle my own pink skin and watch his eyes cloud with anger. The motion doesn't stop. My body is working its erotic pleasure on him, he moans loudly ... I cut it off again.