The Art of Submission (13 page)

“Yes, it was. Thank you.” I’m not sure why
I’m thanking him, but it just seems like the appropriate thing to
do. He looks puzzled.

“Why are you thanking me?” He asks with a
raised eyebrow.

Hell. I don’t know. Because I am
thankful
. Just a few days ago I
prayed to be with him just once, and here we sit, having just done
what we did. It seems
miraculous
. “Because I prayed that I could be
with you just once...” I just babble on and on. I don’t know what
to say.

“Just once? You only want me this one time?”
He says sarcastically.

Is he serious? No…. I didn’t mean it
like that. This man is so impossible to read. Now he’s laughing at
me again? I’m funny?
Nice
. So
this is how he plays? Okay.

“Are you laughing at me again, Mr. Young” I
ask mischievously.

“No, no. I wouldn’t dare do that,
Isabel.”

He thinks he’s being funny, but I’ll show him
funny. I look down at his exposed manhood and put in plain English.
“Put that thing away and let’s go.”

Dylan

Isabel has a playful side. I like that.
I normally steer clear of women with any kind of personality and
stick with the eye candy. They’re just easier to deal with and
easier to get rid of when I get bored. I don’t have to make
pleasant conversation with them or try to impress them. But,
Isabel, I want to impress her. I want to teach her and guide her.
She’s so talented.
Those
paintings…

Why the hell isn’t she well known? Why
the fuck hasn’t she had a show? One guess –
Greer
. He’s holding her back. It was obvious
when I tried to buy her paintings that he’s pigeonholing her
talent. She’s not local, huh?
Fucking
liar.
And he’s
been
with her. Did she suck his cock, too? Shit… don’t do it
Young…
don’t go there.
When
she returns from the bathroom my alter ego rears his ugly
head.

“Did you suck his cock, too?”

She looks shocked and confused. “Who?”

“You know who. Greer. Your
boss
.” I can’t hide the contempt in
my voice.

She just stands there, doe-eyed and
innocent looking, but I know better. This girl is not innocent.
Someone who can suck dick like that is
not
innocent.
Why the
hell isn’t she answering me?
“Are you going to answer
me?” I demand.

“I… I...”

“You what? It’s a simple yes or no question,
Isabel. Did you or didn’t you?” I’m getting annoyed with her.

“I don’t know.” Her eyes are unblinking and
large.

What the fuck
?
That’s all she can come up with? “So you’re not going to tell me,
then?” I’m practically yelling at her.

Her eyes gloss over and she looks down.
F
uck that.
“Don’t do that.” I
say loudly.

“Do what?” She squeaks out.

“Start
crying
. Look at me and just answer the fucking
question.”

She takes in a big gasp of air,
swallows hard and casts her narrow-eyed gaze at me. “I told
you
, I. Don’t. Know.
What
part of that didn’t you understand?”

What the fuck?
Here we go.

“The one and
only
time we had sex, he got me drunk, okay?
Falling down drunk. So,
I… don’t…
know
… what exactly happened. And I don’t want to know.
So I’m sorry I can’t give you the gory details. Maybe you should
just go and ask Greer yourself if you want to know so damned
badly!”

Her honey eyes are now the color of a solar
flare and burning hot. This little angel has grown horns. We both
just stand there glaring at each other like a couple of boxers
ready to spar.

“Get out.” Her voice is high-pitched and
cracks a little when she says it.

What? She’s kicking me out?
Seriously? Shit.
“So you’re kicking me out?” I ask
stunned.

“Well, it’s either kick you out or kick your
ass; you choose.” She says with fisted hands at her sides.

Hot damn she’s sexy when she’s pissed. “Nice
language.” I didn’t think angels were allowed to use language like
that.

Her response is quick and sharp. “Go to
hell.” She’s furious.

“Been there. Done that. It’s
overrated.” I don’t know what else to say, so I use sarcasm as my
backup. I don’t want to leave so I’m just trying to buy time and
avoid the inevitable – having to apologize to her. Fucking
hell.
I don’t do apologies
.
We both just stand there eyeing each other and waiting for someone
to make the next move.
Fuck it.

“Isabel… look… I shouldn’t have asked.”
That’s the best apology I can manage out.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Her voice is still
angry, but calmer than before.

Her eyes are glossy and she’s blinking
rapidly when she suddenly blurts it out: “I don’t have anything to
hide from you, Dylan. I’m not some complex creature whose every
word has to be analyzed. What I say is what I mean. I’m mortified
and humiliated that I slept with Mr. Greer. He got me drunk, okay,
but I’m not going to make excuses about it. I was nervous and
uncomfortable about him being here and he wouldn’t keep his hands
off of me. He brought over some wine and I drank too much trying to
calm my nerves. I don’t usually drink at all and… well… it didn’t
take much. I’ve tried to make it clear to him that what happened
is
not
going to happen again,
but… he’s… well… quite
persistent
. As for him showing up today, that
was unannounced and completely unwelcome. I kicked him out after he
made a pass at me.” Her voice is back to its silky
softness.

Her response floors me. Her confession
is so heartfelt, and she seems so sincere. It’s difficult for me to
grasp this and I guess it’s because I haven’t encountered many
people like that in my line of work
or in
life
.

So she kicked him out?
Good girl.
That explains why she
sounded so irate when she answered the door buzzer. But the fact
that he made another pass at her after she told him it wasn’t going
to happen again is completely unacceptable. This guy is officially
on my shit list. He had her once and he was lucky to get that. What
kind of a son-of a-bitch gets a woman drunk and takes advantage of
her? I can see now, this is going to be a problem I’m going to have
to deal with later.

I approach her slowly. When I get close
enough, I grab her upper arms and pull her to me. She’s so little
and delicate. I just want to smooth things over.

“So you think you can kick my ass, huh?”

She’s looking up at me with wide eyes again,
but this time, they’re like liquid amber.

“I didn’t really mean that. You’re just so…
so…” She trails off.

“Frustrating?” I ask ironically.

“Well. Yes. But I think you already know
that, don’t you?” She asks flatly.

“Who? Me? Never….So let’s say we get out of
here now?”

“Yes, please. And just for future
reference, Mr. Young, I
do
think I could kick your ass.” She has that mischievous look
in her eyes again.

Me likey.
But
before we go… one last thing. “Isabel, I don’t want to argue with
you anymore tonight, but I have to make something clear. I don’t
want you doing what we did tonight, with anyone else.
Ever
. From now on, it’s only me. Do
you understand?”

“Yes. Of course.” She answers without
hesitation and she watches my mouth intently.

I grab her chin and look deep into her eyes,
our noses only inches apart. “Say it, then. Say you
understand.”

With sleepy eyes and a soft sexy voice she
says, “I understand, Dylan. It’s only you now.”

That’s my girl.

**********************

Isabel

Well, it’s nice to know that Mr. Young
has a sense of humor. I like that. He’s so completely different
than any man I’ve ever been with. Besides the fact that he has
money, he has a good job, a nice car, and a house or two - he’s
charismatic, handsome and
Dylan
. Wow. That’s actually intimidating to
think about. I hope he doesn’t think I want him just for his money.
I’ll admit, the thought is nice, but money doesn’t equate to
happiness.
For the all the money my father
had, he was cruel and unhappy.

As he tidies himself up, I excuse
myself to the restroom to do the same. When I come back out, I see
him trying to ever so casually look at my paintings. I can’t
believe he
really
likes them.
I never thought anyone would appreciate them except me, and here
the art collector known as Dylan Young has bought three of my
pieces and is admiring my other work.
I
must be dreaming.

Out of the clear blue, he asks, “Did you suck
his cock, too?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks heated.

What…? What’s he talking about? Who?

“You know who. Greer. Your
boss
.”

What? He just went from content to
angry in 60 seconds flat. Where is this coming from? Why is he
asking about Greer again?
Those
eyes
… It’s like they’re burning a hole into
me.

“
Are you going to answer me?” He
persists.

Holy steam valve
- he’s
really
mad. I
don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know if I did that to Greer or
not. I start to stutter out an answer, but he cuts me.

“…
Did you or didn’t you?” He says
condescendingly.

No – it’s not a simple yes or no
question. What is he, a lawyer, too? I tell him I don’t
know.
I don’t.
Damn it, why
can’t I just lie to him and say no?
Because you’re a wretched liar.

“So you’re not going to tell me, then?”

He’s actually
yelling
at me. I flashback to when my father
used to yell at me at like that;
the sound
of his voice screaming in head, the sting of his belt on my
back
….
Don’t cry, Isa. Don’t
cry. He is NOT your father.

“Don’t do that.” He’s even louder than
before…

Don’t do what?

“Start
crying…”
His eyes are cold and hard.

I’ll cry if I damn well want to, but no
- I am
no
t going to cry. Not
here, not now. I
AM NOT
going
to cry. I will not give him the satisfaction.
Suck it up, Isa.
He wants to know so badly?
Fine, I’ll tell him. “I told you
, I.
Don’t. Know.
What part of that didn’t you
understand?”

I hate being backed into a corner. Who the
hell does he think he is? He’s not even my boyfriend. He’s… I don’t
know what he is, but he has no right talking to me like this. I
don’t care if he’s a so-called dominant. I will not allow him to
interrogate me like this.

We had sex once and I was drunk. It was
horrible and humiliating. What does he want to hear? I’m humiliated
every day having to work with that douche bag. It was stupid and I
have shitty judgment when it comes to men. If he wants to know so
badly, then he can damn well go and ask Greer for himself.

“Get out.” I can’t believe I told him that,
but he needs to just leave.

“So you’re kicking me out?” He asks
incredulous.

It’s either kick him out or kick his ass; his
choice. He looks like he did when I slapped him, but then his voice
immediately softens and he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Nice language.”

What? He can go to hell.

“Been there. Done that. It’s overrated.”

Nice
. Sarcasm?
Really? That’s all he has?

“Isabel… look… I shouldn’t have asked.” He
says shuffling from foot to foot.

Is that his idea of an apology?
Pathetic
. Come to think of it, mine
wasn’t much better after slapping him, but no, he shouldn’t have
asked.

Before I have the chance to filter my
thoughts, I blurt it out - everything that happened with Greer and
how. Why does he want to know all this? I got completely drunk and
got laid by my boss. It’s embarrassing. I don’t want Dylan to hate
me or think that I do that sort of thing all the time.
I don’t.
I just need to stop
babbling.

His eyes soften a bit after my
confession and I hate to admit it, but I feel better now that he
knows the circumstances. I just hope he believes me. I wish I knew
what he was thinking right now. He looks so damned sexy just
standing there massaging his neck with his right hand, his head
cocked to one side. I’ve seen this look before; the first time I
saw him at the gallery. So, either he’s bored or irritated. I hope
neither. He slowly walks towards me and pulls me to him.
Yes. Let’s just kiss and make up,
please
.

“So you think you can kick my ass, huh?” He
asks with raised eyebrows.