Obsession Ch. 04

In the days after the performance, I began working back into routines that resembled my life before Julian. I had to put myself onto a schedule in hopes of creating enough distraction. My apartment began to look like its previous state; I had never been a naturally neat person, but it became a more comfortable clutter rather than the mortifying disaster it had become in my depression. Despite the planned meals scheduled by alarms in my phone, the excruciating trips to buy the day's groceries, and long aimless walks, there was no catharsis. I tried to sit down to my easel and force something and found the effort brutalizing.

There were moments without distraction where my mind wandered. I felt this cavernous discontent that I seemed unable to shake. I'd be doing dishes, elbow deep in suds, and I'd feel a keening in the pit of my stomach. I'd imagine Julian, walking quietly behind me and grabbing my hair to keep me still. He'd trail bites down my neck unable to contain himself, roughly pull my hips back out toward him and take me roughly. "Focus on what you're doing, or I'll stop." He'd admonish at my hands gripping the counter. I realized that for the first time in years I was single, but more than that, I wasn't satisfied with fantasy anymore.

I phoned Jacques in a moment of pure desperation. "Where do you find people who want to tie you up that isn't creepy?"

"There's this incredible new invention, the internet. You've heard of it, right?" Despite his snarky tone it felt nice for him to be acting normal, less like he had to walk on eggshells.

"I hate those dating sites, they make me feel so desperate. Besides, I never know what to say."

"Well, I suppose . . . a bondage club?"

"Is that where you go?"

"A Gay BDSM club is a little too niche for this town, don't you think?"

"Oh, right. I never thought of it like that."

"You should not go to those places alone." He warned.

"Right." I dismissed.

"And if you can go to a sex dungeon you can come back to work!" He objected before I hung up.

I began a cursory search of BDSM clubs in close proximity and instantly felt intimidated. The closest one had a dress code and a warning—Remember that if your outfit wouldn't turn heads in the street – don't bother to wear it-- insuring that I would never step foot in that club. Quickly admitting defeat, I pulled up the first social kink site that appeared from my search. Without thinking, I grabbed the collar that Julian left at my apartment weeks ago. It was waiting in the space between my bed and wall where we had left it after a particularly intense scene. I buckled it on, and took a few unremarkable faceless pictures in bed and uploaded them before logging out.

That evening I received a call from Sara that set me reeling.

"Are you home right now?" She seemed upset.

"I am." I pronounced, uncertain.

"Can I stop by? It won't take long. I promise. I'm right here."

I sat down at my kitchen table, becoming disconcertingly aware of my heartbeat. We hung up and I wasn't sure what I should do. I might have called Julian if I hadn't deleted his number from my phone. I didn't have enough time to prepare before I heard a timid knocking at my door.

Standing mussed and red-nosed in the fluorescent light of the hallway, she stood before me. I had to keep my composure when I asked her in.

"I came from Julian's." She explained.

"Okay." I gestured for her to take a seat. "Do you want water? I can make tea." I offered fretfully.

"I can't stay long." She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, seeming embarrassed. "I have a few last minute things. . ."

"Of course." I took the remaining chair. "Are you okay?"

"No. I know something's horribly wrong." She bit her lip and reluctantly continued. "Something happened. I'm so embarrassed!"

I pulled a handful of napkins from the counter and offered the stack to her in lieu of tissues.

"Thank you." She dabbed at her eyes.

"Sara, what happened?" I pressed.

"This girl, a student-- she confronted me very aggressively in the restroom at the art show reception. She kept talking about these rumors and how could I be so blind about Julian and one of his students." She began twisting the paper napkin between her thin fingers until they frayed and began to break off onto the table. She looked up in a pleading way. "I can't talk about this to anyone. My parents already have their doubts about Julian. They'll never forget about something like this even if he's totally innocent."

"Did you talk to him about it?" I asked, measured. I tempered my rage and uncertainty. Maybe that was why the atmosphere was so strange at the performance. I knew about rumors at the small art school, controversy was fire-fodder. If someone claimed to have slept with the gorgeous adjunct conductor, it would be all over the campus in hours. It didn't mean it was true.

"He brushed it off. Said it was ridiculous I would ask. Cadence, do you think something happened?"

With her red-rimmed eyes and her morose posture, Sara was stunning as ever. Sitting in my cramped, poorly lit kitchen, she managed to light up the space she occupied. I knew from the limited time we spent together that she had never struggled for much of anything in life. I knew the infidelity of her perfectly handsome and amorous husband would crush her. Still, she deserved to know the truth. She was about to embark on a lifelong commitment to someone that was not faithful. Sara looked so earnest, I knew I was safe. It didn't make me feel any better.

"I saw the performance last Friday. It was unbelievable. He's an incredible talent. What blew me away, though, was the moment before the performance. I have never seen a man look so in love." It was the truth, I rationalized. "If he has some anxieties about work since the semester is over or about how the wedding will go, I know it has nothing to do with how he feels about you. It's so obvious, he loves you more than anything."

She seemed to deflate a little with relief. "I had feeling you would say exactly what I needed to hear."

I stared across the table from her, feeling cagey.

"Are you ready for the big day?" I tested.

"Actually, it's been surprisingly stressful planning the wedding by myself. It's different when it's your day. It actually got harder to see the big picture. Looking back I think I would have preferred to have someone manage all of it for me." She smiled, looking tired.

"I can't imagine." I badly wanted a cigarette.

"Before I forget." She pulled out a small blue envelope and placed it on the table. "He had this on his bureau." She shook her head in disbelief, "Save the date!" She laughed, embarrassed as I walked her to the door.

"Thank you, Cadence." She locked eyes with me, leaving me in what felt like a fatal pause before walking away.

I was on my couch, staring at the envelope and wondered what it might be like to attend their wedding. I had discussed marriage with Ethan once we had seriously settled down, and while he seemed primed for it, I had never seen myself getting married. I insisted that I didn't need a piece of paper to prove our commitment to one another. I generally felt tied down by traditions. He didn't pursue it further. I tore the elaborate seal off and pulled out the RSVP. A picture of Julian and Sara stared back at me in black and white. He had a goofy grin on his face, and her head was thrown back in laughter. Looking at it felt like a form of self-harm.

I drew a hot bath to soak in, feeling ambivalent. What business did he have with a woman that would save herself for only him? Their marriage was going to be based on a lie. I had seen Julian in full spectrum in the scant months I had known him. I wondered how much of him she truly knew. He was brilliant, sure. His mounting success was sure to give her a life of security that she seemed fully accustomed to. I wondered if that was what she needed, what she wanted from him. I had harbored all of his violent appetites, absorbed his cruelty. Those desires wouldn't evaporate with a ceremony of promises. It was a farce.

I was brought back to her image. Sweet Sara, innocence personified. I thought of her stripped and bound to the Victorian bed I imagined she'd share with him. The silk sheets, the intricate headboard, all so proper and perfect and Julian's bride, wrists tied, rendering her immobile. Her lissome body trembling in anticipation, ripe fruit, unblemished-- to be bitten and enjoyed. I couldn't imagine Julian there with her. I couldn't see him being so cruel to her, but I could. I thought of her helpless to me, Julian sitting in the corner of their honeymoon suite, watching.

I'd make eye contact with him, my voice low in her ear as I stroked her hair, reassuring her that anything I would do would be much gentler than anything I had ever experienced under her husband's wrathful lust. My fingers trailing down her jawline, turning her chin up her pouting mouth to accept my kisses like a chalice. I'd pour affection over her, overwhelm her in sensation, my fingertips dancing on the sensitive silk of her inner thighs. I'd wait, too. I would wait for her to ask for my touch, to force the vulgarity out of her and hover the relief tantalizingly close, millimeters from contact.

Her voice small in embarrassment, forced to enunciate her desires loud and clear and be punished for her impropriety.

"What do you want?" my voice syrupy sweet, an intimation of cruelty.

"Your fingers." A mad blush, her eyes shut against the volume of her need.

"You can do better than that." I'd tweak her small, pink nipples standing to attention, begging for my mouth. A tiny pinch eliciting a squeak from her.

"Please play with my pussy."

"Better." Fingers gently collecting the dew seeping from her pale, bare mound as she shudders and strains against her restraints. Running my fingers over her lips and pushing past to her eager tongue, tickling my skin, fucking her mouth, forcing her to taste her honeyed secretions. Moving methodically, barely touching her quivering cunt, finding her increasingly slick. Watching her anatomy blossom as the blood rushes to engorge her neediness.

My mouth would trail kisses between her small, heaving breasts down to nibble on swaying hipbones to find her pussy, her legs splayed lewdly, eagerly for me, her back arched in impatience. Peals of pleasure rush past her lips, my tongue teasing in figure-eight around her clit and to her pussy and back. Feeling a deep excitement merely from wrenching ecstasy from her body. Thrilling at the staggered, quickening breaths as she hiccups in a small, pleading voice that she's sosoclose- and pulling back, leaving her on the edge of her orgasm. Fitting my thumb to her tiny opening, pushing in to placate her with not enough sensation, only enough to keep her teetering at the precipice. Glancing over at Julian, licking my lips and asking him in that moment what he wants.

Clearing the distance between us, he'd climb onto the bed, pulling out his aching cock. His fingers threading around her ankles and pulling her down the bed toward him. Tossing the decorative pillows aside, I'd untie her hands from the bed posts and cuff them together before her, dragging her upper body onto my lap and pulling her legs back toward me. Exposing her, holding her open and vulnerable for him. Her pink pussy swollen and glistening with wetness as he moves in, the head of his cock running fluidly back and forth, teasing her opening and grinding against her clit as she groans in pleasure.

Gently, his thickness would begin to sink into her. Lips parted, her eyes shut in ecstasy taking him inside of her. Julian grits his teeth, pausing as her tightness spasms around him. Contracting muscles milk his cock in her warmth. One arm wrapped around her legs, keeping her still, my right hand snakes between her thighs, rubbing her clit firm but gently as Julian's cock pushes insistently until he's filled her. Her eyes screwed shut, feeling him stretch her,

Taking in the sensation for moments before my fingers start moving again, pushing my fingers into her mouth and spreading her own saliva on her small clit, unrelenting in the quick rhythm. She lets out a mewling whine, her breath quickening as she begins to twist her hips, rocking them against my fingers, moving on Julian's cock still inside her. As her orgasm builds, Julian begins gently dragging in and out of her by millimeters, humping against her unable to keep himself still as her moans fill the room. She begins to stiffen, pushing her back against me, crying out in pleasure. Unable to keep still, Julian begins thrusting hard into her, forgetting her delicate inexperience, selfishly taking of her until he's emptying himself inside her in great gasping moans from the back of his throat.

I let the bathwater drain, now cold, and lay there, unsatisfied.

The night wore on, uneventful. I had curled up on my couch in a lacy camisole and matching shorts that Ethan had bought me early on in our relationship. I mindlessly checked my e-mail for commissions and saw my inbox was been flooded with messages.

I scrolled through the messages, dumbfounded. I checked my profile for the kink dating site, and sure enough I hadn't completed it. It had my age, general location, and the picture that I had taken with the intention of putting up something better orchestrated later. The messages were mostly underwhelming. Some were explicit descriptions about what they wanted to do to me, some were cringe worthy in how they already were trying to assert dominance over me in a derisive tone, the odd message with only a quick salutation. It left one message from T_Brautigan. There was an icon next to the name, indicating they were online.

Hi, I saw you were new here. Welcome! Scared off yet by the uncomfortably detailed messages from strangers asking to see your feet?

I clicked on the profile, seeing that they had been around for a while, it held a long list of their various fetishes. They had gained a massive following. They had a single picture, a bed with candle-lit ambient lighting with restraints on the four corners and rose petals scattered on the bare mattress. Just enough to show some personality, vague enough so that anyone with an imagination could interject themselves into the fantasy. I took a chance.

Thanks. How did you guess? Or were you testing the waters for your next move? Not scared off yet, mostly avoiding Low-ly Men.

Moments later an instant message popped up at the bottom of the screen.

A Dark Tower reference on the first date? A girl after my own heart. Next move, hardly. No judgment, but that's not one of my many (listed) interests. What are yours?

Intrigued, I rattled off some of the things that I had enjoyed, and some that I suspected that I would but hadn't experienced. I tried to hide that I didn't have much of any experience, wary. We had chatted for about an hour before he invited me to join him at a friend's party that shared our interests, but the purpose, he claimed, wasn't necessarily sex, rather it served as a primary shared interest of the people in attendance. I hesitated. I didn't want to meet someone at a stranger's purported house party.

Drinks first, then maybe somewhere quieter? I proposed.

I had arrived at the bar early. It was an understated hotel lounge, which I preferred to the boisterous and overpriced hot-spots that drew in large crowds. It had a good amount of people, enough to feel secure, but not so much so that we'd have to worry about being overheard.

Anxious, I hid in my phone by pulling up an e-book to occupy my mind and nursed a drink. I tried not to check the time too frequently. About half an hour past the agreed upon time, I was about ready to leave. I got up from the sleek, box-like leather chair and in walked Julian.

Dressed impeccably, as though he had been to an opera, his presence seemed stifling. I made a move to walk past him and he put his hand up.

"Cadence. Wait. Can we please talk?"

A small family maneuvered awkwardly around us in the lobby of the hotel. "Oh, come on." I moved to the side to avoid the incoming traffic. "What could we possibly talk about?" I gripped the strap of my purse, furious.

"I have to apologize to you." He spoke quickly, taking my arm. "Please, give me five minutes."

Reluctantly, I followed him back into the lounge. I took a low cream-colored seat close to the exit as Julian ordered drinks.

He sat down next to me and seemed edgy. "What are you doing here?"

"I hate loud bars. I used to like coming here." He all but cringed at my scathing tone. "What are you doing here?"

"My bachelor party is tonight." He looked uncomfortable.

"Oh. Yeah. I got a hand delivered RSVP. Mazel tov."

"I'm sorry, Cadence." His voice was low.

"For what? For lying about the music you wrote? For making your fiancée so suspicious that she came to me for comfort? Or something else? I'm losing track." I hissed.

"You saw Sara? What did she say?"

"She's worried about your very cliché and very illegal teacher-student tryst. Tell me you didn't."

"I didn't." He shook his head, annoyed.

"I didn't think you would." I admitted. "I reminded her how devoted you are." I felt my stomach churning. I felt butterflies around him, in spite of everything, or possibly it was apprehension. I began to gather my bag, smoothing my skirt down to stand. "My gift to you. I have to go."

"She knows."

"What?" The words stopped me in my tracks.

"I told her. She knows. This morning, she confronted me. Asking me why I was so distant. I told her about the affair."

"What the hell, Julian? Why did you do that?"

"Because . . . she asked."

"I had no idea." I tried to think back to Sara in my kitchen. She seemed so composed. I needed to leave.

"I've been trying to call you for days."

"Oh my God." My head was swimming. "What about the Showcase? How could you do that to me? I was humiliated. Why bother with all that about how I inspired you. How could you?" I was near tears, the emotions I had been stuffing back down inside of myself now boiling right below the surface once again.

"I had to say it was for my fiancée, Cadence. It was a very public serenade. What would you suggest I have done differently?"

"I don't know what to believe." I noticed a man at the bar checking his phone and glancing around the room frequently. His gaze seemed to rest on me a moment too long. I wondered if it was T_Brautigan. I didn't remember seeing him walk in. "You have a party to get to."

"Fuck the bachelor party." He all but spat, pulling out his phone and texting something before powering it off and stuffing it back in his pocket.

"Are you serious?" I stared at him, uncomprehending.

"I'm serious." He took my hand in his. "I have something for you. Come with me."

Head swimming, I seemed to lose my footing. I didn't know what it all meant, and I didn't want to ask. It was all too surreal. He led me out of the lounge through the exit. He had a driver that was waiting outside for us. He held the door open for me and I gave a dubious look.

"A private car, seriously?" I moved so he could slide in next to me.

"It was a bachelor party, Cadence." He reminded me before closing the door behind us.

The lights streamed past in the evening dark, blurred in exhilaration through the tinted windows. He took his hand into mine and I glanced at him, nervous. After some time, I had lost track of the neighborhoods we were navigating and the lights lessened to single lamp posts as we drove into the heart of the northern suburbs.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." He squeezed my hand, eliciting a fluttering in my chest.

The car came to a halt in the parking lot of a large building, it seemed to be an old manufacturer since shut down. The windows made an unintentional mosaic of different shades of green and yellow squares, a few broken windows. It looked all at once beautiful and eerie in the dark. Confused, I glanced at Julian who shrugged, pulling me along the gravel path by the hand a little too fast for my high heeled stumbling.