Good Girl (26 page)

What was she doing? She was blaming him for
talking to Minx while she was off flirting with other guys? Little hypocrite!
Here he was tearing his heart out over her, while Kali was moving on to the
next man. Now that he thought about it, the guy was good-looking, wearing a
suit like all the corporate-types did, his dark hair tousled the way she liked
his. Who was that guy? Had this little office flirtation been going on the
whole time?

Hunter rode the L train back into
Manhattan, watching the car grow more and more crowded as the revelers poured into
the heart of the city for Friday night. Then the train sat at 8
^th
Avenue for ten minutes. He really hoped he would see Kali on the way back, but
there was no sign of any of the SunTech people.

Now that he’d had some time to think
about it, he knew he was blowing up what he had seen into something much bigger
than it needed to be. He knew that. But he was still angry.

Why was she playing with him like this?
Resisting was one thing, running away was another.

The racing subway felt so good that he
stayed onboard all the way back out to Canarsie. He breathed the ocean again,
and realized that he was still fighting mad. But by the time the train got back
to Bushwick, he was ready to get off.

He went home. In his loft bed, he rolled
and had nightmares all night of being chased by a train. The rushing, rocking
motion had imprinted on his brain. He was groggy and even more upset the next
morning with no work to go to.

It sucked, big time. He was caught in
the grip of a monster that he wrestled with over and over again. The monster
wanted to drag him over to Kali’s place so he could see her. Maybe if he saw
her looking sad, that would crush the red haze of rage that still burned
through him. Maybe it was the way she had been laughing, as if nothing was
wrong. As if she hadn’t been thinking about him all week, like he had been
thinking about her.

He had to see her.

But he was no stalker. It was crazy
madness. His advice to anyone else would be to stay away.

It didn’t matter. It was a feeling
deeper than words, deeper than common sense.

He fought himself minute by minute, hour
by hour. The thought that he wouldn’t see her until Monday made his heart race.
It was only two days! But it was too much.

He abruptly went out to the bookstore
and the health food store. He tried to talk to people, to distract himself. But
he couldn’t focus on what they were saying and finally gave up. They probably
thought he was on drugs, he was so unlike himself. He had to force himself to
go back to his studio and not go to the subway, which led to her place…

As the sun went down, his resistance
finally began to cave in. The thought of trying to lie down to go to sleep was
intolerable. He was already out of his mind. Might as well admit it and get
some relief. He had to see her.

Once Hunter got started, he couldn’t
stop. He ran through the dark to the subway station, already feeling better for
being in motion. Now he had a goal he could focus his fury on.

But as he climbed up the subway steps to
Bedford St. along with a stream of partying hipsters, some self-preserving
spark flared inside of him. He couldn’t rush over to Kali’s place and demand
answers. That could ruin everything.

He took the next street over and walked
towards her place. He ended up at the same chain-link fence where he had watched
her window after their first date. He had felt like a stalker then, like he was
flipped head over heels.

That was nothing compared to now. She
was a temptress, a destructive genie who had gotten hold of him and wouldn’t
let go.

Nobody would believe it of him. The
master every sub wanted. The one who kept them at arm’s length. A friend to
all, but intimate to none. What was he doing creeping after a woman who didn’t
want him?

Because he couldn’t believe Kali didn’t
want him. He knew how her body quivered when he touched her. He knew how she
had given herself to him. She was the one who wanted romance, Goddamn it!
Didn’t Romeo chase after Juliette when he found out he couldn’t have her?

More to the point, was Romeo this angry
and upset? Yes! If Shakespeare ever stalked a girl, then he knew that, too. It
was all wrapped up in romance and “wherefore art thou?” but it really came down
to the same thing: the woman he loved was out of reach, and it wasn’t right.

The woman he loved.

Hunter clung to the wire of the fence
watching the light in her window.
I love Kali.

He should have told her that. That’s
what she was waiting for. That’s why she didn’t believe him.

He had to tell her.

Suddenly the light in her window went
off. He took a deep sigh. It was like a connection to her. She was there, and
she had just turned off the light. She was getting into bed, punching her
pillow like she did every night. He could see the nightie she was wearing. He
could almost breathe the scent of her hair as it fanned over her pillow.

He clung to the fence, closing his eyes
as he imagined her. It was so real. He loved her. He would do whatever it took
to make this work.

He could hardly breathe, his throat was closed
so tightly. All of his anger was gone. Evaporated like it had never existed.
But this feeling was worse.

What if I can’t get her back?

The fence was the only thing holding him
up as he stared up at her window. He couldn’t walk away from her. She belonged
to him. They belonged together. He had to make her see that.

But through it all was a resounding
thrum of doom.
What if I can’t get her back?

To come so far, to open up so much, to
find a woman who fit him in every way, only to watch her walk away? He couldn’t
do it.

He wouldn’t.

He knew what to do.

Early the next morning, he got up and
called florists. Finally he found one in Manhattan that was open early on
Sunday, and he paid double the price to have two dozen red roses delivered
immediately.

He took the train into the city to write
the card. On it, he wrote:
I love you.

He didn’t bother to sign it. She knew
his handwriting. She would know instantly that it was from him.

***

The bouquet took Kali’s breath away. The
roses were magnificent, deep ruby red. Their smell filled the air. It was
thrilling to finally get the words from him:
I love you
…

But he had written it rather than
telling her face-to-face. He wouldn’t risk saying it to her, because she
wouldn’t say it back. He knew that. Sending her the flowers was another way of
manipulating her without risking himself.

It was just another huge ordeal in the
struggle to stay away from Hunter. She tried not to think about him, but that
was hopeless. There was a void where Hunter used to be, and she felt shaky and
really scared in the city for the first time. As if she had just woken up and
realized she was living on a precipice.

She didn’t doubt his desire for her. But
she did doubt that desire alone was enough.

His passion for her had grown the more she
resisted him. It was perverse, much more so than the kinky sex she loved with
him. There was some kind of deeper power struggle going on between them, inside
of each of them, and she felt like she was on the losing end. Visions of her
kneeling at his feet and wearing a collar with another woman kneeling next to
her, calling him
Sir
—no way!

Because no matter how thrilling it was,
she wanted a partner. She wanted this passion to lead to the next part of her
life, and then the next. She wanted a best friend, not a master.

She didn’t want their sex games to
become her real life, with Hunter always choosing where they would go and what
they would do. She didn’t want to take on a subservient role in front of other
people. She didn’t want to be trained to do things for him, even if her body
was a traitor begging for it.

The proof was in her own sexual
response. She was in a fever pitch of sexual denial. As much as she tried to
block out thoughts of him—his face, his hands, his laughter, his low-voiced
commands broke through, like he had imprinted them on her. Until she finally
gave in and masturbated, letting herself go in daydreams of him touching her,
pinning her with his relentless thrusting, groaning as she twisted in eagerness
to be filled. But it wasn’t satisfying; there was only her vibrator and the
void of him gone. She held off as long as she could, but she couldn’t help
herself and kept trying to satisfy the maddening desire, as much as she wished
she could stop.

She told herself these feelings were caused
by his training, that he had manipulated this reaction out of her. He was the
consummate sex master. And she was his clay.

He wrote
I love you
on the card,
but what did he really know about love?

That made her think about her mom, and
what kind of love her parents had. She remembered a lot of things her mom used
to say about her dad, getting Kali to sympathize with her troubles because of
how flighty he was, how irresponsible. Her mom had trained her, too—to be the
perfect companion, since her husband couldn’t be.

Kali was done being manipulated by
everyone. As lonely as she felt, as horrible as it was to not see Hunter, she
would rather be alone right now.

She didn’t even care that her mom still
hadn’t called her.

In the past when her mom was upset with
her, Kali was always the first one to reach out. Usually she had to try to talk
to her repeatedly until Jenny relented. There had been some epic battles when
she was growing up, all conducted in silence by her mom. Kali would beg and
plead until her mom gave in and spoke to her. Then Kali would cry from
gratitude. It was silly that it had such an effect on her. Some kids would
hardly think it was punishment to have their parents give them the silent
treatment. But her mom somehow held this iron grip on her, until Kali hesitated
to do anything Jenny wouldn’t like because of the threat of overwhelming
silence.

Fear of being alone.

She was tired of running away from being
alone. That’s why she came to the city. That’s why she could resist Hunter even
though she ached for him.

Now she knew a lot more about how Hunter
had molded her into his play toy because she spent all of her spare moments at
home on the computer finding out more about BDSM. Along with the social
websites, there were authors and educators who posted videos about how to do
bondage and flogging as well as more sexually explicit things like fisting and
vaginal piercing. The more she looked, the more she realized she was not really
interested in going to the extremes. She was definitely more on the “vanilla”
side of things, with a little spice thrown in.

And how could a nearly-vanilla girl like
her please a man like Hunter?

Then she found his FetLife
profile—HuntingArt. She was looking through the friends of Popcorn, the nice
woman Hunter had introduced her to at the Paddles, and there it was. The image
of the tattoo on his back shoulder, that sinuous abstract of a couple endlessly
engaging in sex.

OMG!

The list of fetishes Hunter liked
boggled her mind. Sadism? Slut as a term of endearment? Anal? Really? Who knew?
Though come to think of it, he did touch her everywhere, including her butt
hole. Was he secretly probing her to find out her response? Was he planning on
having anal sex with her?

There was more: domestic servitude, mind
fucks, forced orgasm. Sex in public! Verbal domination, biting, belt spanking!
Behavior modification! Obedience training!

Just like she thought. She should have
looked him up the first time he said he was kinky. That would have told her
everything she needed to know about him. He was a member of dozens of online
groups, had twelve hundred “friends,” and went to lots of events according to
his listings.

Worse, his wall was filled with old
posts from fawning women, telling him how great it was to see him again, how
much fun their scene had been, where was he going next?

Going back in his timeline, she saw that
Hunter had posted in groups and on friend’s walls during the past couple months
while he was dating her. In one post, he was arguing with someone about who had
outed a private house party to the cops. In another comment, he was admiring
the photo of a naked girl with her pubic hair dyed fuchsia like her hair...

Looking closer, Kali realized it was
Minx! Standing there naked, her hips thrust forward showing off her shocking
pink pubs.

Kali banged her desk in frustration. He
had “loved” Minx’s photo the evening before they went out and had sex for the
first time on the water taxi!

After that, she was done for. She spent
hours clicking on his female friends and trying to find out more. At least his
profile had no relationships noted except for “girlfriend” without a link to a
profile name. He didn’t know she had an account on FetLife. She wondered what
he would think of her nickname—Runningaway2.