Girl In Pieces Page 6

  If not with Josh, then someone else. Hadn’t I said those words to him? Hadn’t I warned him that I’d fallen a little bit in love with what we’d done and if he didn’t want me, I’d go looking elsewhere? He’d called my bluff and I’d skittered back into my vanilla bedroom and hid, nursing a wounded heart. I thought there was no way anyone would make me feel the way Josh had.

  The thoughts of a stupid, lovelorn little girl.

  I didn’t need a boyfriend, I needed a teacher. I wanted to learn what I was capable of and I definitely wanted to learn how to go back to that cosmic space where I existed times infinity and felt everything. There’d been no fear there, no insecurities, no money problems, nothing but pleasure and adoration. I didn’t need Josh. I just needed someone I could learn to trust as much as I’d already trusted him.

  And now I knew how to find my someone else.

  SEVEN

  You must be willing to obey. New or experienced subs, but I have expectations and you must meet them. Skinny girls only. I like my art beautiful.

  U & me 1 night only. BBW ok. Be my queen and Ill be u daddy. Like spankings? lol I got u 1 4 you birthday.

  In town for one night at a motel by the airport. Wear your prettiest dress but not one you don’t mind getting dirty.

  It took only a cursory glance through the online personals to discover that the public school system had failed 80% of the men in the city. There was no chance I could ever take a man seriously who couldn’t be bothered to spell out the word “you” or who referred to himself as “King Cock Master.”

  While the Men Seeking Women section looked like poorly spelled pornography, the Women Seeking Men section read like an erotic poetry class. No wonder we were all stumbling around blind and lonely when we couldn’t even make our personal ads speak the same language.

  The women who longed for someone to dominate them were haunting and eager. I wanted to meet them so I could tell them they weren’t alone. They were too painfully beautiful in their honesty. And they were plentiful.

  I work in a bookstore, one girl wrote. I spend my days answering people’s questions and getting books down from high shelves. I’m smart and quiet and I do my own taxes. I’d really like to spend my weekends tied up.

  My husband traveled and I was a stay at home mom. Now I’m divorced, the bread winner, the bread maker, the oil changer, and the spider killer with only a four year old for company. I have a babysitter on Tuesday nights and for one night a week I want to give up all control.

  No one ever asked me how I liked to be touched. No one ever asked me how I liked to be kissed. I spent 20 years thinking it didn’t matter until I read a book last week where the hero tied the heroine to her bed and promised he would do nothing to her unless she asked for it. I do not want to be silent anymore. Also I’d like to have my hair pulled please.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Lying on my living room floor, watching the neon lights from South River Bar play across my ceiling, I clutched a copy of my magazine and felt infinitely reassured to know I belonged to an army of women. A kingdom. That I was smart and kind and chubby and there were others just like me, women who held their own all day long and just wanted to be naughty and free of restraints except for the ones our lovers tied us up with.

  Discovering these women was exhilarating.

  Finding the one for me, however, proved difficult.

  Most of the ads I read every day were all wrong. The men didn’t feel Dominant, they just felt horny and a little pervy. They either sounded too overzealous about hurting me or a little too uneducated about what obeying actually meant. Some of them felt scary and others felt fake, most felt porny and greasy and too many of them didn’t know how to spell, which turned out to be a hard limit for me.

  I learned a lot about my hard limits from reading those ads.

  “They aren’t real people,” Gwen said one day over lunch when I confessed I’d been scanning the personals and was thinking about answering some of them. “I mean they are real, but they aren’t real real. Until you meet them, they are just words. And people lie.”

  The lying part really upset her.

  “They tell you what you want to hear up front, but then you get something entirely different once you give them your virginity,” she said, shaking her blond head. “It’s all downhill from there.”

  Then, helpfully, she added, “Max has a cousin. Cute too. I could give him your number.”

  I doubted Max’s cousin knew much about Japanese rope bondage. I politely declined and went back to scouring the personals for someone who just wanted to pull my hair and tie me to their wrought iron bed. And spank me. Maybe. With their hand. Or a belt. I was a little nervous about other toys.

  I almost answered an ad from a guy looking for someone who wanted to drive around town with him and make-out, or more, in his car. Dogging he called it, which I discovered was the act of doing “things” outside where one might be seen. With the hope of being seen. What drew me to his ad was that he was more excited about making out like teenagers than he was about doing more. I liked it.

  It amazed me how there were words for such specific activities. It amazed me that there were enough people out there who sat around day dreaming about doing them.

  It made me feel all kinds of boring and sheltered.

  His ad reminded me of how I felt kneeling in front of a group of strangers as Josh tied me up. At first I’d been embarrassed, but then I could hear small gasps, quiet moans, sighs, and the unmistakable crossing of legs. I had made them feel something and that had been an incredible sort of turn on, an exhilarating sort of power. I had no idea I’d get excited about being watched.

  That seemed to be a common theme these days, discovering I was capable of enjoying something I would have considered absolutely unacceptable before.

  I didn’t answer his ad though, mostly because I was easily embarrassed and after a week of looking I’d started to feel nervous about it again. If one of my best friends could hurt me so easily, then what damage could a stranger do?

  It wasn’t until I came home late one night after meeting Julie and Tyler for dinner that I made up my mind. It was a knee jerk reaction to heartache and maybe not my best moment.

  I’d turned the corner near my apartment and there was the pink convertible parked on my side of the street, a block away from the bar. I imagined Josh asking her to park far enough away from my building so that I couldn’t silently stalk their relationship from my bedroom window.

  Mi-chelle. She had a gym bag in the back seat and dry cleaning hung from the window. There was a Taylor Swift CD on the passenger seat and an empty container for a vegan salad.

  I lingered too long wondering if she and Josh ever parked somewhere they might be seen to play. His hand between her legs, pushing her back into the cream leather, whispering against her ear as he used his fingers to make her moan and sigh. The thought made me nauseous.

  I trudged up the street and as I approached my building, the street level door to Josh’s apartment pushed open and there he was. He wore a long sleeved shirt beneath a Batman t-shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to his elbows showing off his muscular forearms. He roughed his hair, dug out his wallet, and paid a Chinese delivery guy for a bag of food. I watched, feeling my nausea turn to jealous longing and back to nausea. How many times had we ordered Chinese food and picnicked on his living room floor to watch Sherlock on the BBC?

  Two lanes between us and this was the closest we’d been in a month.

  He must have heard the screaming in my head because he looked up as the Chinese guy took off for his car. We stood there for minutes. Hours. I couldn’t see his thoughts, couldn’t analyze his emotions, but he stood there opposite me and didn’t make a move to cross the street. He didn’t make a move to go inside. We just stood, feeling each other panic.

  She’s waiting, I thought. Food is getting cold.

  He looked away, ran his hand through his hair, then turned and pushed his way back inside.
r />   Told you.

  I climbed up to my apartment and answered the first ad I came across for a man seeking a sub to teach. I was lucky there were no misspelled words, but I’m not sure it would have mattered.

  * * *

  Tonight’s the night. Tonight’s the night. Tonightsthenight.

  “Coming!” I shoved one leg into yoga pants, hopped towards the front door while threading the other leg through. “Just a second!”

  The fist hit the door again, three deep thuds that rattled the door on its cheap frame. I knew it wasn’t Sherman about rent since he’d already been by two days earlier to remind me I was two weeks late. Again. I’d managed to scrape up about a third of what I owed him and promised the rest on my first pay check. That had emptied the last of my bank account and he knew it, had watched as I’d tried not to cry when I’d pulled up my bank statement online and wrote the check for the exact amount left in my checking account. Right down to the last penny. He’d watched me embarrass myself begging for more time, promising the same promises I’d made dozens of times. He shook his head and told me we couldn’t keep doing this and I’d said I know I know, I’m sorry, but by that point I couldn’t stop the burn of humiliation in my throat or the tears welling behind my eyes. He’d high-tailed it out of my apartment before the waterworks started.

  Sherman wouldn’t come back until he had to.

  I patted my hips to make sure everything was in place before setting the chain lock and opening the door an inch to peek out.

  My brother lifted two fingers in his version of hello.

  “Brian?” I pushed the door shut enough to unclip the chain and move out of the way so he could come in. “Have you ever actually been in my apartment?”

  “Har har.” He huffed and shouldered his way inside, made it halfway through the living room before stopping and glancing around blankly like maybe he hadn’t ever been in my apartment after all. It was sort of not true. He’d been there, but not long enough to have an actual conversation. “The couch is new.”

  “No, just in a new spot.” I shoved a wayward bra from the back of the couch under a throw pillow. “What’s up, bro?”

  “I hate it when you call me that.” He sucked in a breath, glanced around at the various seating options, and chose the chair by the window that was remarkably free of random clothes or books. “I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s been more than a fucking month. Can’t remember the last time you stayed away that long.”

  I plopped cross-legged in middle of the room facing him. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Too busy to answer your phone?”

  “Kind of.” I turned my attention to running my fingers through the purple, fluffy rug beneath me. “I got a job but I’m still working on design stuff on the side. I’m pretty exhausted by the time I get home.”

  “You got a job?” Brian ran a hand across his jaw which I realized had been shaved smooth. He looked ten years younger, baby faced despite his compact, muscular body. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved his scruff. I squinted and gave him a once over. He’d cut his hair too and his clothes looked newer, or at least less wrinkly. Mysterious.

  “It’s no big deal.” I shrugged. “Just something steady to help me pay the rent.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been calling. You’re pretty behind.” His usual vitriol seemed shockingly absent all the sudden. I had no idea where this clean shaven, gentler Brian had come from and it unnerved me. We hadn’t had a normal conversation, especially one about money, since before dad died.

  “I’m working to catch up. Literally. I punch a clock and everything. Very retro.” I watched him mess with the fraying fabric at the end of the arm of the chair. It seemed shabby and tiny with him slumped into it. “I think after my next paycheck I should be just about caught up. Hopefully Sherman hasn’t tossed my ass out by then.”

  “Well, maybe this will help.” He hitched his hip up and dug an envelope from his back pocket. When he reached out to give it to me, I almost didn’t take it. It seemed like if I took the envelope, he’d have to do something equally mean to even out whatever kindness he was doing.

  We weren’t always like this. I didn’t used to fear his cruelty or his unkind words about my money situation, my hair, my weight. Once upon a time we used to be friends, though it seemed unbelievable anymore. After a year of silence and mistrust, we barely knew each other.

  Without comment, I took the envelope and peeled back the top flap. Inside there was cash. Oodles of it. I had to count it twice to be sure there was actually $2,000 in crisp, straight from the bank bills. It took a moment of staring, of trying not to shake or cry or scream before I could look up. It seemed like if I accepted this token, if I got excited in any way, he’d snatch it from me and set it on fire just to spite me. Shit, I needed this. I needed this gift so badly.

  “What--” I swallowed. I shook my head. “What is this, Brian?”

  He shrugged. “It’s from Josh. For the page and the ad work. I thought you’d appreciate cash over a check you’d have to wait through the weekend to get into your account.”

  I stared at the cash, then at him, then back at the cash wondering. Wondering if maybe his dark spell had finally lifted. Wondering if he’d given up hating me for whatever wrong he thought I’d done to him when dad died. Wondering if he’d been replaced with a pod person or an android. Not really minding if he had.

  “Brian…I don’t know what to say. I don’t…you have no idea how badly I needed this. This will get me caught up on rent. It’ll get me some groceries. Shit. Shit. I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem to cut it this time.”

  He coughed and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “It’s not a big deal. Technically you did earn it. And it’s not like I did anything but deliver it for Josh.”

  “Thank you. I’m serious, thank you. And tell Josh…” His name slipped out before I could stop it, a little heart throbbing puff of air I hadn’t spoken out loud in weeks. I had to swallow his name again like a hard lump caught in my throat. “Tell him thank you. A lot. Smother him with appreciation.”

  Brian grunted, a familiar wrinkle forming across his forehead. He was far too big for my puny little apartment and he seemed to feel it crushing him. He eyed the door each time he shifted positions, too obviously eager to leave as soon as absolutely possible.

  “Tell him yourself. Aren’t you attached to his hip anyway?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been busy.” I folded the envelope without looking at my brother and climbed to my feet. I couldn’t go see Sherman today and I couldn’t get to the bank until Monday, but I needed to be careful with this much cash. I needed to hide it.

  My apartment came outfitted with a sealed fireplace. When I’d rented it, I thought it was cool and hip. Despite being sealed, it still let in drafts in the winter and mostly just ate up a huge chunk of wall space I could have otherwise fit bookshelves on. It did come in handy for having all these little nooks and crannies where bricks had either been pried loose or fallen out over the years. Inside one of these little brick holes I kept a box with a spare key and a lighter. I put the envelope in there.

  “Everyone at the bar thinks you have a new boyfriend. That true?”

  I laughed. “Wow the rumor mill is generous. No new boyfriend, although I do have a date tonight.” I gave a little celebration dance which actually brought a brief grin to Brian’s face. “First date. I was just getting ready when you knocked.”

  “He nice?”

  “Don’t know. He seems nice.” I shrugged and wandered back to Brian’s side. “Anything’s better than the whole lot of nothing I’ve had lately. Well, almost anything. Well, maybe not quite almost anything. Not axe murderers or Republicans or guys who like NASCAR. Definitely not those guys.”

  “I’ve ah – I’ve actually been seeing someone too.” He twisted his hands across the arms of the chair and I realized his whole weirdness was because he was nervous. Nervous about this moment, about telling me his secret. I
lowered myself back to the rug and grinned up at my big brother.

  “Get out. Is she cute?”

  A very tiny splotch of pink messed up Brian’s otherwise grouchy, scowly expression.

  “Very.”

  “And nice?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “If she’s not nice all the time, she’s not worth it. Trust me. Take it from a girl who has been there done that.”

  “Sometimes is a lot better than the whole lot of nothing I’ve had this year.”

  I grinned and nodded. “Yeah ok. Can’t argue with that.”

  Brian’s cheeks pinked again.

  “She’s not not nice. We’re still getting to know each other and she’s got baggage. But I like her company.” He cleared his throat and smoothed his palms down his thighs to his knees. It was so weird seeing him boyishly nervous. “I have no idea why she’s wasting her time on me.”

  “Me either.”

  He grunted again, but I thought I saw a tiny smile starting to curve his mouth before he pushed himself to his feet. “I should let you get ready for your date. Try not to talk too much and give away how annoying you are.”

  “Har har.” I scrambled after him, giving him a childish shove out into the hallway. “Thanks again, Brian. It was nice not fighting for 5 minutes.”

  “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” He made a noise of annoyance at my neighbor Avery Alston as she appeared at the top of the stairs and he had to sidestep her armful of groceries. She smiled and he didn’t but if she noticed she didn’t look any less pleasant. She nudged her glasses up her nose with her shoulder, hiked a bag higher on her hip and got out of Brian’s way.

  “Need a hand?” I leaned in the doorway and watched the red head lean into her doorway next to mine and fight to get her keys out.