Domesticated (7 page)

“I don’t know. I think maybe we did pass a little island. I bet that was Cocos Island,”
The dumb bitch continued, not about to let my father have a conversation with me.

“What ocean is this?”
I asked, wishing I could take it back. She didn’t know. Adriana was the exception to the rule. My father never met her at Yale, she didn’t come from good stock, and she wasn’t the same class as we were. She was the help. She had to try harder to fit the role.

“Adriana knows we’re in the Atlantic. That’s a silly question. Eat your pasta,”
My father ordered. The fire coming from Adriana’s eyes warned me of what to expect. I, of course, was right.

She was sitting on my bed when I came in from my one and only shower the whole trip. I’m not sure where Katie was, probably with one of the maids. Adriana pushed herself back and raised her arms with a glare.

“What?”
I feigned ignorance.

“You think you’re smart? You like making me look like an idiot in front of your father? Lay across my lap, Sewer Rat. I’m going to show you who is in control here. I promise. It’s not you.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked toward the inevitable and lay across her lap, taking the slaps from her hand on my bare ass like a trooper. I didn’t cry, though. I used the blows to count how many times my father and I had to shovel sand to get to the treasure. Pretending I was somewhere else always helped with the spankings.

I jumped when Sam poured more wine into my glass, startling me from my sore bottom.

“Sorry, just saw your glass was empty. Wouldn’t want the princess to have to ask for anything.”

“Do you not know who I am?”

“Nope, don’t care. All I know is you’re under the assumption that you’re better than me. Lady, money doesn’t do that, not in my world. Why don’t you tell me? Who are you?” Sam asked, probing a foot to the bar of the table and resting an elbow while his condescending eyes waited for my response.

Well shit. “I am paying your salary today. I’m sure it’s a lot. I’m sure your boss wouldn’t approve of the way you’ve treated me.”

“Treated you? Are you serious? I’ve tried to be nothing but nice to you. You have a rod stuck so far up your cute little ass, it’s not even funny.”

Cute? That’s the word I heard. He thought I had a cute little ass? “I do not.”

“You do, and it’s not necessary. I’m not your enemy. I’m just here because I needed something to do this summer, I love the ocean, and I love these machines and the technology behind them. Can’t we just get along? I was really looking forward to being assigned to one boat for the summer. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll even wash your feet for you if you’re that deserving. Sorry, scratch that last part.” He smiled a boyish grin, trying to be nice.

I relaxed my stiff shoulders and dropped my eyes to his crotch. “Fine, whatever. You’re just the help anyway. I suppose it doesn’t matter who drives my boat.”

Both his hands clapped together and he boasted. “Perfect. To happy sailing,” he said, tipping my bottle of Challis-North toward me and then to his lips.

“Do you have any idea how much that bottle of wine cost?”

“Nope, don’t care, either. Let’s make a deal. I won’t brag about how much money I don’t have if you don’t brag about how much you do have, deal?”

“You’re quite the dick. You know?”

Sam laughed, which in turn, filled my lungs with laughter. As hard as I fought it, his lively attitude was contagious.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I say it in the nicest way possible. You’re a bitch, so I guess that makes us even.”

My normal, bona fide self would have fired him again for calling me a bitch, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. I was sort of into the company. He was fun, and he wasn’t going to stop being that way because I insisted.

“Just stay out of my way,” I ordered, batting my eyelashes over the brim of my glass.

“No. I can’t do that. We’re at sea. I don’t want to stay locked away inside, navigating a yacht that can navigate itself. What if miss seeing a dolphin, or better yet, a pirate ship?”

I rolled my eyes and handed him my half empty plate. He took it, picked up a piece of shrimp, and popped it in his mouth. I shook my head and walked away, swaying my hips in animation just for him. I could feel my cheeks peeking from my bottoms and hoped he noticed, too.

“I would like more wine when you’re done eating my food,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. He was looking. His eyes were directly on my ass. No doubt about it.

I wasn’t really planning on listening to Sam when he suggested I come to the yacht at five thirty AM the next day. I didn’t need to see the sun rise. I told him I wasn’t going to be there and he informed that he would be if I changed my mind.

I only did it because I was up. I was awoken by a nightmare from hell. Only it wasn’t a nightmare. It really happened. I just chose not to think about, trying to forget it. I didn’t even take care of myself before leaving. I showered and walked out to the dark beach, along the shore in a somber mood. I felt sad and alone, trailing my feet along the lapping waves that were not quite reaching them.

I was planning on just boarding and sitting on the bow until Sam arrived. He was already there, sitting on my bow. What the hell? Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Ah, knew you’d come. Just made coffee. How do you take it?” This guy was on something. Nobody was this cheerful at five in the morning.

“Um, just a splash of cream. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for the sun…and you.” He smiled. Damn. I should have taken care of myself like I always did. It was coming on strong already. I carefully watched Sam fill my cup, studying his face. He didn’t look anything at all like Garrison. Sam was sort of perfect, but all guys like him looked that way. Brains, good blood, and looks didn’t really coincide. Take Garrison. I didn’t know a smarter man than him. I don’t presume he got a whole lot of second glances, though.

Garrison was tall and gangly-like. He had a long nose with a bump right in the middle. His hair was always slicked to the side with a sharp line showing his scalp. The black thick frames on his glasses drove me nuts. They were always at the end of his nose. I constantly wanted to push them up.

Sam was sporting a shadow of a beard and his hair wasn’t kept at all. It actually looked like he’d just crawled out of bed. He wore khaki shorts with big pockets and an orange shirt. I was sure Garrison had never worn a pair of flip-flops like that, not even on the yacht. If he did come out here, it was one day, and like my father, he stayed in the air conditioning and worked.

I sipped my coffee and smiled.

“What?” Sam questioned my sudden happiness.

“Mi Esperanza Coffee.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t say…huh. It makes you sound ignorant.”

“No, it’s laid back way to ask what the hell did you just say?”

I couldn’t help it. He was sort of infectious. I giggled. “It’s my favorite coffee. I would know it anywhere. My assistant, Olivia, must have had it delivered here.”

“Say it again.”

“Mi Esperanza Coffee. You can only get it in Honduras.”

“Ah, coffee for the rich.”

“What are you doing here already?”

“I didn’t leave. I stayed.”

“On the boat?”

“Yeah, I mean I left for a while. Had a few beers on The Strip and a steak. What did you have?”

“Really? We’re going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Small talk about trivial nothings. You don’t care about what I ate for supper last night any more than I care about your beer and steak.” My head hurt already. I couldn’t do this. Sam needed to go back to being the navigator.

“You are the most uptight bitch I’ve ever met in my life. Can we just have a normal conversation? Tell me about you. What do you do?”

“What do I do when?”

“Anytime. You obviously make very good money.”

“What time is the sun coming?”

“Six fourteen. So it’s your husband’s money?”

“My husband paid for this yacht. I don’t need his money. I have plenty from my father.”

“Oh, I see. A trust fund baby.”

“What do you do?” I countered, betting he was nothing more than a bum, jumping from job to job. Why else would he do this?

“I teach second graders how to add and subtract.”

“You’re a teacher?” That surprised me. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Yes, back home. I’m here for the summer working for my Uncle Fat.”

“Uncle Fat?” I repeated the funny name.

“It’s really Matt, but everyone calls him Fat Matt. I call him Uncle Fat. He owns the charter service you hired me from,” Sam explained unnecessary information. I didn’t care about Fat Matt. He was a school teacher?

“You don’t look like a teacher,” I assured him.

“Really? What do I look like?”

I snorted with a laugh.

“Watch it little girl. I’m bigger than you and we’re right close to hungry sharks,” he teased, looking out to the ocean. “What do I look like?”

“Oh, a DJ, maybe,” I suggested, letting my eyes skim his body again. I was going to have to go to the bathroom soon.

“Funny you should mention that,” he sang, clicking his tongue with a wink.

“You’ve done that, too,” I stated. “Let me guess, you’ve done a lot of things.”

“I have, but I always teach from August twenty-something to May twenty-something. I’m going to go get this boat on the road—water,” he corrected, leaving me to the dark waters, cool morning, and I didn’t know what mood now.

I stared after him walking away. Good. I didn’t want to deal with his cheerfulness, and then I wished he hadn’t left. Wondering if the song was for me, I listened to the tune coming through the yacht’s speakers, something about being cold as ice. I made a mental note to look up the name Foreigner when the radio host informed me of the classic rock song, coming at me from 1977.

Sam came back a few minutes later, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat beside me while we headed out to sea, magically drifting toward the red skyline. I rolled my eyes when he started talking about a descriptive writing assignment he gave his second graders once.

“Does a second grader even know what that means?” I asked, interrupting. Jesus this guy talked a lot.

“Seven-year-olds can know what anything means if you take the time to teach them. Anyway, as I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” he teased, batting his eyelashes playfully. And once again I laughed at him. “The assignment was about the sunrise. They had to write one paragraph describing it. Let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

“Describe the sunrise after we watch it.”

“You’re sort of eccentric, you know?”

“No. I’m just weird. I’m too poor to be eccentric. You’re eccentric.”

“I am not,” I protested.

“You are. Shhh. It’s no fun unless you hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Yes. Quiet,” Sam whispered, placing a finger over his lips and then pointing toward the end of the ocean with the same finger and a stern look.

I smiled at him and sat up straighter, placing my elbows on the table in front of us. The contact from the chair added more sensations to the building between my legs. Trying to keep them at bay, I listened. He was right. The sun made its appearance, vibrant and alive. The sound of the waves passing beneath us, dramatically changed the way I saw it.

I was speechless. I’m sure I’ve seen many sunrises, but this one was different. This one was magical. I’m sure it was only minutes, but the exhibition seemed to take hours. Time stood still. The sun itself was just peeking out of the horizon, and its brilliant rays already shined brightly and began to warm the air. I marveled at the glistening reflection of the sun on the ocean and a thrilling sensation of awe swept over me.

“Tell me what you saw,” Sam requested in low, serious tone.

I looked into his eyes, noticing for the first time they were green. Did I even know what color Garrison’s eyes were? He never looked at me like this, like he was searching my soul.

“Tell me,” he whispered again.

“I saw a breathtaking display of radiant colors. Bright streaks of red, pink, and orange slowly overcame the dark blue and purple of the twilight sky. The sky resembled a prism with all the colors blended perfectly into each other, and now I can feel the heat warming my skin,” I answered in a melodramatic tone while our eyes stayed fixed on each other’s.

“You’re way better at this than second graders.” He smiled and I giggled. I didn’t know what was going on with me, but this guy brought something out in me that I had never felt before. It was so unfamiliar, so foreign, but yet welcoming.

“I’m hungry,” I said, needing the ice between us. Whoa. What was I doing?

“Me, too. Let’s go make eggs.”

“You make eggs. That’s what you’re getting paid to do.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Sam said, taking my arm by the wrist. “I’m getting paid to drive your spoiled ass around the ocean, not cook for you. Come on. You scramble eggs and I’ll clean some fresh fruit.”

“Sam,” I protested by posting my feet.

“What?”

“I can’t scramble eggs.”

“Why?”

“I don’t do that stuff. I have someone to do it for me.”

Sam’s sucked in lips didn’t go unnoticed. He was making fun of me. “You don’t know how to make an egg?”

“Shut up. I’m not doing that. I don’t have to do that,” I defensively assured him. Asshole. I turned on my heels, back to my chair, but Sam turned me back. Holding onto my shoulders, he guided me toward the cabin.

“I’ll show you. Don’t be like that. We have hours out here alone, just you and me. Let’s have fun.”

“No, you’re making fun of me,” I pouted.

“I am, but it’s all in fun. I’ve never met a grown woman that couldn’t scramble an egg. You’re probably eligible for the Guinness World Records or something.”

“I’m not going,” I tried again. Sam wouldn’t let me turn back.

“I’m joking. Get the stick out of your ass and let me domesticate you.”

“I don’t need to be domesticated,” I argued, but not too much. I still let him guide me to the small but sufficient kitchen. I felt like a second grader. I literally didn’t even know how to turn the damned stove eye on.

“These are eggs.”

Dropping my shoulders, I gave him a warning look with a head tilt.

“I’m joking. I’m joking. You make it so easy,” he taunted.

My breath caught in my lungs when he moved behind me, directing me on how to do the little task that most girls knew by the time they were ten. “Didn’t you take home economics in school?” he asked, cracking the egg on the side of the pan.

“No. Girls like me didn’t belong in a kitchen. We didn’t need to be taught that,” I answered in a voice that wasn’t mine. This man was doing something to me. Why?

“What happens if we have a zombie apocalypse and you need to survive?” he asked, cracking the next egg from behind me.

I laughed. “I can do it now,” I said, taking the next egg from his hand. I needed him to back up. The undaunted urge to grind my ass into his crotch was getting stronger and stronger by the second. The wetness between my legs and the throbbing sensation gained just as much strength.

Sam stayed put until I cracked two more eggs. Four should be plenty. I smiled when he handed me three more, explaining how he was a growing boy. I stirred my first ever domesticated meal, trying to control the urges searing between my legs, and between the two of us. I didn’t understand it. Something was going on that had never gone on before, not with me anyway. I didn’t have emotions. Emotions were a sign of weakness. I was far from weak.

Sam whistled while doing his task. I never heard anyone do that before, not in real life. I heard it in songs, and movies, and television, but not like this. It was—hmmm, calming. I could do it, but I didn’t. I learned from Carlos, our gardener one year. He taught me, but Adriana made me stop when I tried to show my dad what I learned. I was so proud of my new ability.

“Dad, look what I learned,”
I exclaimed once he joined us at the dinner table. I barely got out two blows before I was stopped by my lovely stepmother.

“Ladies, don’t whistle. I don’t want to hear that again. Do you understand?”
she asked, deflating my excitement. Looking to my dad for support, his eyes never left the stocks in the newspaper. Of course, I got a spanking later that night for my excited outburst.

Looking over my shoulder, I wondered if I could still do it. I hadn’t tried in years. Sam cut the ends off the strawberries, whistling a slow theatrical tune. My heart fluttered a little when he smiled and winked. Now what the hell was that? I was getting sick. That had to be it.