Unwilling (4 page)

She hadn't moved away.

I snuggled in and fell back asleep

* * *

By morning we had separated. When I woke, she was lying there stiffly.

"Are you awake?" I asked her softly.

"Yes," she said. "I don't know what I am supposed to do."

I reached over and touched her arm. She almost pulled away, then willed herself to hold still.

"You're waiting for the other shoe to fall, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"It won't be this morning." I rolled over and looked at the clock. "We're going to cuddle for five minutes then we need to get up."

And with that, I
snuggled
up next to her. She was on the edge of the bed, practically falling off, trying to be as far away from me as she could. I decided to tease her.

"Can you feel the gay germs invading yet?"

She didn't respond. I sighed. "If you're so afraid of me, get out of my bed," I told her harshly. "Thanks for the buzz kill."

I rolled away from her, ignoring her, expecting her to flee the room. Instead, after about a minute, there was a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Being here with you carries a lot of culture shock for me." She paused. "I've never woken up with another person's arms around me like that, much less a woman's. I've never woken up sharing a bed with someone who I hadn't had to give sex to the night before."

I rolled over and looked at her. She was sitting up and the covers had fallen down around her waist. I closed my eyes. "Please cover up a little," I requested. I felt the sheets stir and opened my eyes again. She had pulled the sheet up to her chin and was clutching it to her.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I agreed to this. You saved my job, and I am doing my best to pay the price you demanded. But it's culture shock, okay?" She paused. "I know being gay isn't a disease, that there aren't gay germs or any of that. I know sharing a bed doesn't turn someone gay. I'm not afraid of any of that. But I don't know what you intend to do with me, and that has me deeply frightened. I've had a few boyfriends who like it a little rough, and not a single one of them had a whip like you do. I didn't like what they wanted to do to me. Do you think I'm going to like what you want to do?"

I wasn't sure what to say.

"I know the only reason you demanded this was to get back at me for being such a bitch to you. And I don't think making me kneel or cook dinner is quite what you had in mind. So I'm waiting to find out what your revenge is going to be like, knowing whatever it is, I deserve it, and knowing I'll sit there and let you do whatever it is you decide to do. So yes, I'm afraid of you. But it's not because you're gay. It's because I'm waiting for you to take your revenge. I wish you would just do the worst of it so I know what to expect."

I stared at her, letting it all sink in.

Finally I turned away. "Why couldn't you have stayed a bitch? Taking revenge on a bitch would have been a lot easier." I climbed out of bed.

"I'm sorry," she said. I turned around and she was trying to hide a smile.

"I'm not ready to forgive you yet.
I'm not done being mad at you. You hurt me."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

I started at her. "Fuck!"

"I'm sorry," she said again. "You made me promise to stop being a bitch to you. This is me not being a bitch."

She seemed earnest, but I was not ready to forgive her. I sighed. "We're not going to work this out this morning," I said eventually. "And we're past your slave time for the morning. There's only one shower."

"You should go first," Melissa said. "I can make coffee for us."

I nodded and headed for the shower.

* * *

That night, Melissa drove straight from work to my house, arriving  at five thirty still in her office attire. I'd gotten home only a few minutes in front of her. She knocked and I let her in.

We stared at each other for a while. I was half undressed, as I'd started to change clothes. I almost kissed her, but turned away.

"I have a key for you," I told her. I kept keys on a set of hooks in the kitchen. I retrieved one, returning in time to see her closing the closet door after hanging up her coat. I handed the key to her.

She took the key and slipped it into her purse. "I am early."

I looked away. "You don't have to do anything I order for another half hour."

"That's not what I was trying to say," she said. "I'm early so I have time to change clothes." She lowered herself to her knees in front of me, still wearing her business clothes.

God, I wanted her.

Melissa bowed her head and stared at my feet. I stared at the top of her head.

"Is there anything in particular you would like to see me wear?" she asked. "And do you want me to make dinner tonight?"

Yes, I wanted to see her naked. I didn't tell her that. "Dress however you like," I told her. "And yes, I'd like you to make dinner."

"May I ask a favor?"

"You may ask, Melissa."

"Will you talk to me for a few minutes while I am preparing dinner? I have a small offer to share with you."

"Yes," I told her. "I'd like that." I reached out and caressed her cheek then turned on my heels and headed to my own bedroom to finish changing. I heard the spare bedroom door close.

I stalled in my own bedroom until I heard her leave the guest room and head to the kitchen. I gave her a few minutes before joining her. When I arrived, she was digging through the refrigerator and pulling out vegetables. A package of chicken was already sitting on the counter. She pulled out some carrots and bell peppers, setting them on the counter next to the chicken, then closed the refrigerator and turned to look at me.

Neither of us said anything, but I watched as she crossed the kitchen and lowered herself to her knees in front of me again.

Every time I looked at her kneeling to me, my libido shot through the ceiling. She was already so damned sexy, and to see her submission pushed all my best buttons. I could barely keep my hands to myself.

"You don't have to keep doing that," I told her.

She glanced up at me. "I thought you liked it."

"I like it more than is good for you," I told her, licking my lips. "Get up, Melissa. Make us dinner, please."

"Yes, Alexandra," she said. She said my name slowly, almost as if she were caressing me with my own name. No one ever called me that. I was Alex to everyone.

She climbed to her feet. I leaned against the wall, watching her. She washed her hands, then the vegetables, and began cutting them up. She got into a groove then said, "Will I be doing all our cooking?"

"Yes. And the grocery shopping."

"Who is paying for the groceries?"

I pause
d. That was a good question. "Is splitting the bill fair?"

"Yes," she said. "If I am cooking, I would prefer to do the shopping, but it means I will arrive late. If there are things you would like me to cook, you can tell me."

She glanced over at me. I nodded.

She chopped for a few minutes.

"Was that all you wanted to talk about?" I asked her.

"No," she said. "It was awkward with both of us trying to use the bathroom to get ready this morning. I was going to offer a solution." She paused. "I have a small dressing table I use at home. It has a mirror. I could bring it over and set it up in the guest room. We would still need to share the shower, but after that I could be out of your way entirely."

"Do you need help moving it?"

"
Only if you wanted to. It comes
apart. But if I go get it on the way home tomorrow, I'll be late. And I'm cutting up the last of the fresh vegetables."

I thought about it. "Let's go get it tonight and we can go grocery shopping together on the way back. When we get home, you will have time to give me a pedicure before bed."

"Yes, Alexandra," she said.

After that we talked about other things while she made dinner for us. It was difficult to not help, but I let her do everything. We ate less leisurely than we had Monday night, then I checked my email while she cleaned up. Shortly she returned to the living room and knelt in front of me again.

"I am ready to go whenever you are, Alexandra," she said. "Can we take your car? It's bigger."

I let her stay like that for a while before setting my laptop aside. She hadn't moved, simply continued to kneel in front of me, her head bowed. I reached out and caressed her cheek and was startled when she leaned her face into my hand.

* * *

I made her take her clothes off before the pedicure. I kept mine on. When she returned to the living room with the pedicure kit she had picked up at her apartment, I'd pointedly leered at her. She blushed but didn't say anything.

I reclined on the sofa while she knelt in front of me. I gave her one of my feet. Her hands were gentle, and it looked like she intended to take her time. She spent a few minutes
working on the foot before she looked up at me. "Am I allowed to ask questions?"

"You just did," I said, smiling at her.

"You know what I mean," she said, smiling back.

"Yes, you are allowed to ask whatever you want. I don't promise to answer."

She nodded and returned her attention to my foot. "When did you know you were gay?"

"Oh, let's start with the easy ones right off the bat." I laughed. "I was a teenager. That's when I started dressing like I do, too. Partly in self defense. Other kids treated me like I was weird, so I started dressing like it to give them an excuse." I paused. "I should probably outgrow it, but I get a lot of attention, and I've grown to like it."

"Did you ever date boys?"

"A few in high school. One in college, but by then I knew they didn't interest me. I told Steve 'yes' a few times just because he was insistent. I had a nice time, but when I let him kiss me good night, it felt like I was kissing a fish."

She laughed. "I've had a few kisses like that."

She focused on my foot for a while before looking at me shyly. "Do you like sex?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Not really," she said.

"Then someone is doing it wrong," I told her.

She didn't respond but bent over the foot again. She knelt down and kissed it. I stared at her, but neither of us said anything about it.

"Do you want the nails painted?" she asked me.

"I never paint them," I told her. "It's up to you."

She looked up at me. "I have a blue that matches your eyes." She pulled it out of her pedicure kit and showed it to me. I smiled at her before leaning back into the sofa and closing my eyes again. She painted my toes carefully and fanned them dry before telling me, "Other foot, if you please."

I shifted on the sofa so I could easily give her the other foot whi
le continuing to recline indulge
ntly.
She barely had moved my foot into her lap before she asked her next question. "How old were you when you first kissed a girl?"

"Nineteen. I was in college. There were girls in high school I wanted to kiss, but I was afraid to find out if they felt the same way."

"I was younger than you then," she told me.

"Why you kissed you first boy? I was sixteen."

"I was seventeen," she said. "When I kissed a girl."

My eyes popped open. I saw no guile in her face. "Seriously? You?"

"Yep. Stupidest thing I ever did."

"She wasn't gay?"

"Oh, no, she totally was, but she wasn't out, and someone walked in on us. She was kissing me back until we got caught, then she turned mean." Melissa paused. "You asked why I was such a bitch to you. Two reasons. The first was because I was jealous."

"Jealous of me?"

"You walked into the office on the first day, and you were dressed so outrageously."

"I wasn't outrageous," I retorted. "I was in a conservative black on black."

"It was black, but it wasn't remotely conservative. And I was immediately jealous that you could be so comfortable. I wanted to be like you."

I took my foot away from her. "You are full of shit. The nice girl thing was working for you, but these lies are not."

She stiffened into a proper kneel, right there on the floor in front of me, with her head bowed. "I'm not lying, Alexandra."

I got off the sofa and prowled around the room before turning to her. "Finish your explanation," I said curtly.

"You walked in, dressed to draw attention, and you got it. Everyone looked at you. We had that staff meeting and everyone kept looking at you."

"And before it was you they would look at."

"And around the office you flirt with all the other women. Some of them even flirt back with you, even the married ones. Everyone likes you."

"So all that was because I stole the attention from you?"

"No. It's because you were so comfortable with who you are."