Strapped Down (9 page)

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he says, with the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes. “I hope you get some much needed peace.”

“I think you need a break from me,” I say.

“Never.”

Then, sadly, I watch him walk away.

***

Shortly after the plane takes off, I begin to feel under the weather. I can’t quite put my finger on it, other than it being that out-of-it feeling I usually get before a bout with a bad cold or fever. By the time we approach the descent, I shiver, despite being wrapped in several blankets provided by the flight attendant. When the plane lands I am too weak to grab by bag from the overhead compartment.

“Ma’am are you okay? You don’t look so well,” one of the flight attendants asks.

“I don’t think so…” I say between chattering teeth. She is kind enough to have someone drive me out in one of those golf carts. I know I look terrible when I see my mother’s facial expression.

“Shyla! Oh my goodness, what’s wrong?” By this point, every bone in my body aches. Two times on the way to her apartment, my mother pulls over her car for me to puke on the side of the road. “We should take you to the hospital,” she insists.

“No mom, I want to go home,” I say, weakly. “It’s probably just food poisoning.”

Once we arrive, she helps me undress and tucks me into bed. Three comforters do nothing to stop the shivers despite my body being drenched in sweat. I don’t ever recall having been this sick before, it’s as if my body is finally crumbling underneath the weight of the stress it has endured. I sleep for hours and whenever I wake, I am still so tired that I immediately fall back asleep.

On Thursday evening, my mother peeks her head into the bedroom. “Shyla, doll, you’re phone has been going off a lot. Should I answer it?”

I rouse my achy body up from underneath the mountain of comforters. “No, gimme, I’ll look,” I say, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“If this fever doesn’t break by tomorrow, I’m taking you to the doctor, I don’t care what you say.” I am too weak to even try and resist. She hands me the phone and brushes my sweaty hair out of my face. “My god, you’re boiling up. I’m bringing you some soup. You need to get some fluids in you.”

“I’m too nauseous, mom.”

“Just try a few spoons, okay?”

She steps out and I take a deep breath to conquer the normally simple task of trying to check my messages.

There is a voicemail from Chad, so I quickly call him to let him know how terribly sick I am.

From there, I see several missed calls from Taylor and then several unread texts.

Mr. Sexypants:

You’re not answering my calls. What’s going on?

——

You’ve got me worried here. Please message me.

——

Okay I’m going to get your mother’s number from Kristin and call her.

The last message was sent just minutes ago. I laboriously press the touchscreen to call Taylor.

“Shyla, what the hell? You said you would call me once you landed. It’s been an entire day.”

“I’m sick,” I utter. It must sound pretty awful, because he seems to understand how much so right away.

“What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”

“Everything, I can’t get out of bed, everything hurts, I have a fever, I can’t hold any food down.”

“Are you going to the doctor?”

“I don’t want to move.”

“I wish you would have stayed home. I would have taken care of you. Should I have a doctor go to your mother’s house?”

“I’m so tired…I’m going to sleep.”

“Shyla, you sound out of it. Do you know how high your fever is?”

“Taylor don’t worry. My mom is watching me, okay?” Mom comes back into the room with the chicken soup. “I have to go eat soup,” I say like a child who has no other choice but to obey her mother’s commands.

“Call me as soon as you feel better, okay?”

“Yes.” I hang up the phone pretty rudely, no strength remains for manners or pleasantries.

Mom hands me the bowl and I take four slurps of soup before I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open. “Honey, I hope you don’t have mono,” is the last thing I hear her say before I doze off.

The following morning, a ray of sunlight peeks through the shades right onto my eyes, awaking me. Finally, I feel human again as I sit up. My cell phone is dead, rendering me unable to find my bearings by checking the time. I walk out of the bedroom and notice that I am in a pair of my old Christmas footies littered with dozens of jolly Santas.

“Mom?” I call out.

“In the kitchen!” She calls out. “Oh you look so much better,” she says as I turn the corner.

“Wow, I don’t know what that was.”

“You pretty much slept for 36 straight hours.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 11:13 on Friday.”

“Wow! Whatever it was hit me like a freight train. I was fine and then all of a sudden-bam.”

“I thought maybe food poisoning, and then I started to worry something like mono, but it looks like you’ve turned a corner.”

“Well, sweet trip this has been, showing up so I could puke and sleep.”

“It seems like you needed your mama.” She couldn’t be more right.

“Is there anything to eat? I might consume my own foot if I don’t get something in me.” There is never a shortage of food when I visit mom’s. She pulls out some leftover meatballs she had prepared the night before and makes a sandwich. “This is heaven!” I proclaim between giant bites. Afterward, I take a much needed shower as I have been marinating in my own sick sweat for days now. After my cell phone recharges, I call Taylor. He answers immediately.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he says.

“Same here. I don’t know what that was. It was a huge blur. I ached to my bones.”

“It’s probably the stress. Takes its toll on the immune system.”

“Maybe. I never get sick. The good news is now I feel like a million bucks. Who wouldn’t after sleeping for a few days?”

“Come home.”

“I will! I’m leaving tomorrow morning. My poor mom has been stuck taking care of me. I at least have to give her a day of conscious Shyla.”

“Well I guess you were able to be a kid again in a way. Your mom nursing you and all.”

“I guess you’re right, but not in the way most people idealize.”

I surprise my mother with a shopping spree (shopping is our favorite bonding activity). At first she relents, but eventually, I get her guard down and we shop for several hours. When we return to her home, we order take out and rent a movie, our second favorite bonding activity. While we are waiting on the food we chat for a bit.

“I promise, I wasn’t being nosey, but you kept getting calls from a Mr. Sexypants. That couldn’t have been his real name.”

“Yes mom, it’s his family name, the Sexypants clan,” I say sarcastically to hide my embarrassment.

“Is this a new boyfriend?”

“Yes.”
Don’t give me that look mom; that I’m-so-concerned-you-are-moving-too-fast, but I’m trying to hide it look.

“Is it serious?”

“Yeah, it is. I wasn’t expecting something serious so quickly after Rick, but he’s amazing mom. He’s everything
--
gorgeous, funny, smart, caring, attentive…”
What am I doing?
I am supposed
to
play it cool, but I want her to love him as much as I do and even more than she loved Rick.

“So were you going to tell me about him or were you going to wait for me to ask as usual?”

“I would have had I not been comatose these past couple of days. His name is Taylor.”

“Taylor? Where’d you meet?”

“A coffee shop. I spilled coffee on him, just like a cheesy rom-com.”

“What does Taylor do?”

“Have you heard of Holden Industries?”

“Holden Industries? Yes, I have.”

“He’s the CEO.”

“The CEO?” My mother sits back a little bit. Her facial expression goes blank for a moment. I wasn’t expecting her to tap dance, but still, her mood change catches me off guard.

“Yeah mom.”

“Is his last name Holden?”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice.”

“Something wrong, mom?”

“Honey, I wasn’t going to say anything, because I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I just can’t ignore it. When I was changing your clothes…”
Shit, she saw the cuts. Fuckfuckfuck.
“Your arms, and the bruises. What’s going on?”

I try to think of any story that could possibly cover all of it, but there is nothing. If I tell her Eric attacked me, she will lose it, I mean lose her fucking mind. “Mom…I’m fine. The bruises were from a minor car accident. A fender bender. Some idiot behind me was texting.”
I am such a piece of shit liar.
“I meant to tell you about it, but well, then I got sick.”

“Wow, you had lots to tell me. And the cuts?”

“That’s why I wanted to visit, to catch up in person. The cuts? They…they are what they are, but I am fine. I swear mom. It was the first time in so many years.”

“But why?”

I remain silent.

“Is it your new boyfriend? Is he hurting you?”

“No! No, mom. It’s not Taylor. It’s not anyone. It’s just me and I have dealt with it.”

“I can’t just take that for an answer.”

“Yes you can. I am an adult now mom. I’ll be fine. I am actually happy, I feel more alive than I have in a long time. A lot of that has to do with Taylor. You’ll just never understand why I do it. I know it looks horrifying to you, but I’m not trying to hurt myself.”

Her eyes shift around, as if she has a million thoughts running through her head and is desperately trying to contain them. She then abruptly stands up and marches to the bathroom. After a few seconds I follow her. “Mom? Is everything okay in there?” I ask through the door.

“Yes , I think I am feeling a little out of it. Hopefully, I didn’t catch anything from you.”

“Oh no! I would feel so bad.” I expected more of a fight, but her running off like this - seeking refuge in the bathroom - is uncharacteristic of her. She usually pushes and pushes and pushes. It’s why I find myself avoiding her sometimes.

The doorbell rings and I retrieve the takeout. She emerges silently from the bathroom with a defeated smile on her face and we enjoy Paranormal Activity 2 in her dark apartment. The movie allows us to move on from the tension of our previous conversation. Normally, I don’t get frazzled by even the scariest of movies, but I wonder with my newly developed edgy nerves, if a horror movie was a good idea. Once it’s is over, I look to her, find she is asleep on the couch, and cover her with a throw. As I silently tip toe away, she faintly calls my name.

“Yes?”

“You should really think about what you’re doing. This Taylor guy may seem exciting, but all new shiny things do. You may have a chance with Rick again, but if you go too far in with this young man you’re dating, there will be no turning back.” Rick is safe, he is kind, he is stable. This I have always known. But I want the man who makes me feel the exhilaration of teetering off the edge of a cliff.

“I know mom,” I whisper to assuage her. The truth is, there is already no turning back. There was no turning back the very moment Taylor and I locked eyes in the coffee shop. When Taylor laid his hands on me in the car, I knew that Rick’s touch would never have that effect on me. When he offered me the job, it was an invitation:
Leave it all behind, come on this wild ride with me.

I accepted without looking back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The drive to the airport is quiet, almost tense. I believe it’s because my mother is upset about the cutting. Despite the visit not going according to plan due to my dengue fever or whatever the hell it was, it was exactly what I needed. I feel lighter, like I am ready to re-enter the world.
My god do I miss Taylor; down to my bones.
I don’t mean just his physical absence, but there was a distance between him and I before I left. He is in a constant battle of trying to respect my needs versus his strong physical desire to connect with me and make me submit to his sexual desires. And because I won’t open to him fully, because I have cocooned myself, the only way he can avoid the sting of my rejection is to stay away.

There we were together in his study, as he told me one of the most intimate moments of his life, being ripped away from the woman who saved him, and I return this by shutting him out, telling him I was fine when I wasn’t. Telling him I was his, but then snatching it all away just as abruptly. I imagine in a way for him, he must be like a teenage boy in his first intense relationship: experiencing all of the same confusion, intensity, and insanity. Having to talk to my mother, try to explain to her who this man is, and how he understands me in a way that she never will, reminds me just how incredible our bond is. Taylor never made me feel like a freak for cutting, he gets it, he understands the compulsions. I don’t have to make excuses like I do with everyone else. I don’t have to reassure him it’s not really me like I do with the others.

And now I am ready. I am ready to swim back to shore after floating adrift.

“Alright, here we are,” my mother says as she pulls up to the departures area.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“That’s what mamas are for!”

“You should come visit soon. I’ll pay for the ticket.”

“Oh you don’t need to do that. As soon as work dies down, I will.”

I give her a kiss and grab my carry on. She steps out of the car to hug me. “Remember what I said to you last night? Make sure you really think about what you are doing. I mean for the long haul. So often the things that seem good in the present may not be the best for us in the longterm.”
There she goes again, with her meddling. You’d think she had lived with Rick all these years.
“And if things get hard, or if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine. I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.” I believe she held hope that the breakup between Rick and me was just a phase, and now she is seeing that it really is over. She credits Rick for “healing” me, but it was never really him, it was always me.

As I sit in the plane, my anxiousness to see Taylor builds with each minute. It’s like waking up on the other side of that fever has purged me from the fog, I feel strong and clear, ready to take my life back from Eric’s haunting presence. I want to give Taylor everything I have been holding back, let him know that
I am his
. I must overthrow Eric’s conquest of my body.

When the plane lands, I am frenzied
.
S
eeing Taylor is now an emergency; it won’t wait another second.
We have worked so hard to get him to open up. I won’t abandon him like people have done in the past or let Eric rip me out from his clutches the way Taylor was ripped out of the mystery woman’s arms so many years ago.

Once the flight attendant gives the signal to disembark from the plane, I hastily rip my carry on from the overhead compartment. It’s stuck enough that when I whip it out, it sends me back onto the belly of a middle-aged man behind me. “Atta girl,” he says. The embarrassment doesn’t stop me from escaping the plane like a caged rabid cat. I do one of those controlled “runs,” not swinging my arms, but moving my legs as fast as they can go, looking like I have a very long stick up my ass as I roll my bag out of the gate. I take a quick glance at a reflective metal panel on the wall.
Crap.
I kind of rolled out of bed, threw on sweats and made a ponytail. My original plan was to go home as Taylor had to be in the office until mid-afternoon. I roll into one of the airport bathrooms and rummage through my suitcase, attracting the stares of travelers passing me as they enter and exit the lavatory.
My makeup bag, perfect!
Quickly, I apply some blush, cat-eye eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick. I pull my hair out of the ponytail and shake it vigorously, spraying it with some leave-in conditioner to get out the ponytail bump.
This attracts the stank-eye from a teenager next to me, washing her hands at a sink, presumably because I got her
in
the eye with the spritzing.
Too bad kiddo, one day you’ll get it.
Next, my outfit.
What the hell did I pack?
No sexy undies, I was with my mom after all. Instead, I grab a blue midi dress for my unfulfilled plan to go out to a nice dinner with mama-dukes. I dress in a stall, removing all of my underwear
.
I take a deep breath and fan myself as I emerge. All this vigorous public bathroom makeover shit is making me sweat.

“You clean up nice, mama,” the bathroom attendant says to me.

“Uh, thanks!” I reply, nearly out of breath.

Harrison is waiting for me outside of baggage claim. I apologize for my tardiness.

“Is Taylor at H.I.?”

“Yes, I believe his plans where to be there all day until he met up with you.”

“Okay, take me there directly.”

“Do you want me to tell him we’re on our —“

“No. I want to surprise him.”

I arrive at about 11am, hoping he is not in one of those meetings that required him to be in the office today. The elevator seems to move impossibly slow to the 45th floor. I find Marsha at her usual place in the reception area on my way to see Taylor.

“Shyla!” she says warmly. She was always one of my favorite people at H.I. One of the few people I have ever met that is sincerely nice, no bullshit motives behind her enormous kindness.

“Marsha, so good to see you! Sorry to be in a rush, but is Taylor in his office?”

“Um, yes, but he’s in a meeting.”

“Oh. Who’s it with?”

“Henry.”

“I’m going in.”

“Um, I don’t know if I’m supposed to —“

“Don’t worry about it. I got this.”

“Oh, on your way out, I have something for you!” She tells me as I charge towards his office.

I abruptly let myself in through the large cherry doors. Both Henry and Taylor jump in their seats. Taylor stands up. “Shyla, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“We need to talk,” I say as I look out of the corner of my eye at Henry, who I am sort of pissed at again for fucking my best friend.

“Okay…let’s just…you and I,” Henry awkwardly points to himself and then Taylor. “Okay…yeah…we’ll pick this up later,” he says as he slithers out the side of his chair and closes the door the office behind him.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“Well, uh, yeah I’ve missed you too. Is this how you usually act when you’ve missed someone? Like you’re going to kick their ass? Did I miss that memo?”

I lock the office door and walk over to his desk, resting my hands on the edge. “I need you to fuck me. Here. Now.”

He is taken aback for a moment, and then I see the “sex switch” flip on. It’s always in his eyes and his sly grin.

“So you want me to fuck you? That’s what this is about?” He says, calmly walking to the side of the desk as he trails a finger over its edge.

“Yes. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, but I need you.” I gulp. As soon as he turns it on, I melt into warm pudding and completely lose the dominant sex empress act.

“I’ve never fucked anyone in here before.”
I find that hard to believe.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, they say.”

“They say,” he repeats in a mocking yet seductive tone. “I’ve always wondered who is this mysterious
they
that people reference?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”
Is he really fucking with me right now?

“Is there some sort of organization that is the authority on platitudes and philosophy-lite that goes by
they
?” He inches closer.

“No, not that I know of. I can google it for you if you’d like.”

“You’re a smartass,” he says as he pulls me by my waist against his body. He is hard; granite hard. It must be the sexual frustration.

“I’m gonna fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet, you know that?” I nod. He pulls up my dress. “Ooh, no underwear, you’re really trying to get fucked. You have your pussy ready and waiting for me, huh?”

“Uh huh.” He picks me up and seats me on his desk, leaning past me to reach for the speaker.

“Marsha, reschedule all of my afternoon meetings,” he turns his attention back to me. “I’ll fuck you, but you’re gonna do what I say. Then I’ll reward you with my cock.” I shake my head in jittery agreement. He’s making me pay for making him wait. He rips a cord from his computer and ties my hands behind my back. “You look hot. Sexy as hell. Did you dress up for me?”

“Yes.”

Taylor pulls my breasts out over the neckline of the dress leaving them propped up and exposed. He leads me by the restraints and presses me against the glass window of his office. Then he bends down, and while I expect the requisite licking, I am stunned when instead, he bites the back of my thigh so hard I jump and let out a moan. “Shhhh…” After the initial shock wears, a tingling emanates from the spot. He does it again, biting the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, tugging on it for just a moment, then releasing so that the flesh bounces back. The pain is sharp, it hurts like hell for half a second, but then it tingles like a million little explosions. I can’t help but let out a little squeal again. He pulls his tie off, rolls it up and shoves it into my mouth. “No noise, baby.” That is followed by a mix soft kisses and aggressive, teasing bites around my groin and inner thigh. I have no view of Taylor, only the city in front of me, so I don’t know what is next; each one is its own surprise. The sting of the bites complement the softness of the kisses too perfectly. Eventually, Taylor’s tongue works its way up between my legs and he bends me over for easier access, pressing my cheek against the window panel. Unlike the harsh bites, his tongue is gentle. With my face turned, I am able to watch him on his knees from the corner of my eye. His hair is disheveled, his shirt wrinkled with the top few buttons undone, allowing his undershirt to peak out. Something about him taking me in his business attire in his high-rise office makes me so hot, like a queen being taken by her king right on the throne.

Taylor then stands, reaches over my shoulder and pulls the tie out of my mouth from one end so that it forms a long trail until it slides out completely. He reaches his other arm over my other shoulder so that I can see both hands with my peripheral vision. Simultaneously, he winds each end of the tie in his hands, so that he has a firm grip on it. He wraps it twice onto my neck as if he is about the strangle me, but instead uses it to guide me over to the desk, like a makeshift collar. “Get on your knees on the desk.” As I do, I knock over various folders and way-too-modern desk knick knacks. He presses my face down, and it rests on a manila folder. When I move slightly, I can see the imprint of my lipstick against it.
He’ll smile to himself when he sees that later.
“I’m gonna savor this. Being inside of you. No one fucks you like I do.” He slides into me and feels so intense from that angle. I try my best to keep my moans low, but with his rock hard erection in this position that is asking too much of me. He moves slowly, rhythmically. Eventually he leaves the tie hanging around my neck and grabs my ass with his hands, roughly kneading each cheek, pulling them apart so forcefully it hurts, but them releasing just before the pain can linger. “One of these days I am going to fuck you right in the ass. Not today, you have to earn that. And you are going to fucking howl like a banshee when I stuff my cock in your tight little asshole.” The dirtier he talks, the more I feel that surge of energy inside of me. He then reaches under and grabs my breasts firmly as he massages each one. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” He slides a hand under me and guides me up, so that my back is touching his chest. He is at a new angle inside of me, forcing my bodyweight to accelerate the inevitable.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come!” I declare. He reaches for each end of the tie wrapped around my neck and yanks relentlessly without missing a thrust. In a second, the tie is cutting off my airway.

“Come baby, come for me, I’ve got you.” I look forward and see our narrow reflection in the frame of one of his paintings hanging on the office wall. My naked pale breasts, plump and perky, my hair wild and sensual, my arms tied behind me, a dark tie adorning my neck like a choker. Just to behind me is that gorgeous man, with the thick, silky dark hair and eyes that pierce me, even through a reflection. He engulfs me, he devours me, he owns me. From a distance I hear weak gasps for air from a wounded creature, and then I realize it is me. And I fall apart, but more so now than ever before. I release my body, my soul back to him. It shakes me on the surface and deep inside; I quiver and I contract around his cock over and over and over.