Surrender Your Heart (5 page)

The fact that it
is a woman who pulled all the strings, does that make it any better…or worse?

I don’t know
anymore.

“I know you’re
still adjusting,” Carter says. “That’s all right. You’ll have all the time you
need, and in the meantime, you can ask me anything. I don’t have that many
secrets.”

“Thanks…I
guess.”

If only I knew
where to start.

That night,
though, I’m taking my chances, tempting her, testing myself.
After the rather pleasant evening, I am back in my bedroom,
not tired, still restless. I shower and dress for the occasion, but she keeps
me waiting. At some point I fall asleep on the covers, wearing nothing but a
set of lace and satin lingerie in a dark red.

Why not, since I
have so many to choose from? Her gentle touch rouses me from sleep, fingers
brushing over my arms and legs. I keep my eyes closed, but I know she knows I’m
not asleep anymore. When she is gone, my heart is racing, warmth pooling
between my legs, and I’m too wired to fall back asleep again.

* * * *

I’m alone at
breakfast. Marlene informs me that Carter had to leave unexpectedly, but that
she’ll be back as soon as possible. I feel the tug of something, an impossible,
irrational emotion. I miss her already. There’s something heady about a person
focusing on you completely, surrounding you, even if it’s wrong. It’s something
too easy to get used to.

Maybe, while
she’s away, I should try to get to a phone.

Back in my
suite, I look in the mirror, against all reason marveling at the change. I
don’t wear make-up, my hairstyle is the same, and yet a few days of not having
to observe a clock makes much of a difference—and the clothes.

Carter had one
week, to look at me, decide I was the one and assemble everything she
considered necessary to introduce me to a lifestyle I could only dream of so
far. Looking back on my first, panicked moments here, I cringe at the memory of
wanting to hold on to my old clothes.

What am I afraid
of, really? Carter, feeling me up in the dark with those warm, careful hands?

I try. I realize
that while I can ask for every comfort, food, clothing, books, I don’t have
anything to write on. I’ll need some supplies, if I want to study—or if I want
to formulate and escape plan. I better not write that down though.

I spend the
better part of the morning walking around, memorizing the way to the rooms I’m
allowed into, encountering a few locked doors. The pool is off limits for now
when Carter is not in the house, Marlene informs me regretfully, but if I
wanted to read in the sunroom…Beautiful high ceilings and a skylight much too
high to escape. I pick a couple of books from the box and sit in one of the
comfortable couches, sipping the iced coffee Marlene brings me.

I wish I could
chat with Haley or Lara, or even Marcie though we don’t have much in common.

Carter said I
could ask her anything. I should make a list then, right? I will have questions
for her when she comes back, no doubt about it—if she comes back. No, that’s a
stupid thing to think, of course she’ll be back. She doesn’t seem to be the
kind of person who invests so much in a project and then steps away. She has a
goal in all of this.

The realization
should be sobering, not coming with this foolish excitement.

Maybe I’ll get
my answers tonight. In the meantime, I’ll be reading
Gone Girl
. If that
isn’t ironic?

It’s odd, having
the whole day with nothing to do except read, a long neglected pleasure. In the
past couple of years I’ve been juggling my time between the café and the
university, squeezing in the occasional time out with family or friends, never
too long, often with my mind going in various directions.

There was always
something to remember, something to do, and I never seemed to get to the end of
it. This kind of living has come to a somewhat jarring halt. I’m still winded.
Part of me resents Carter for it, another…Against the odds I’m starting to feel
more relaxed. I have a roof over my head, somewhere far, surrounded by palm
trees, close to the ocean—which I haven’t seen yet up close, but still. I have
food. For the major part of time, the company of a beautiful mysterious woman
who has promised to make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I lay the book
aside for a moment, staring out at the ocean. Yes, I have reasons to be uneasy
with this arrangement, no kidding, but what if I stopped questioning it, trying
to find a way out and just go with it?

I wonder what it
will be like, between us, after sex.

I am curious,
about the woman underneath that confident, used to taking charge exterior. I
have dated, fallen in love, had relationships—a few anyway—with women who were
familiar, like me, lower middle class feminists trying to make sense of an
insane world. I’ve never met anyone like Carter, and once I’ve unlocked that
door, I can’t help imagining what will happen once we are naked together. Her
hands on my body. I can draw the sensation from memory, now, and it’s not hard
to go further than that.

My knee-jerk
reaction has always been to be the good responsible girl—quitting job and
studies like that, who does that? Certainly not me. My grades might not be
exceptional, but I kept them up. I get good tips, because I’m friendly and
efficient. This brings me back to the $1000 tip, the moment our eyes first met.
I feel hot and feverish in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature.
What if I want this to happen? I don’t have anyone to answer to, apparently not
even my boss or advisors. There’s no one I’m cheating on.

If she’s as good
as she says, I might not regret taking a year off after all. I go back to my
reading, though the thoughts and images keep playing at the back of my mind.
I’m changing to
The Handmaid’s Tale
for a moment, realizing that Haley
and Lara went with quite a few of my picks. I’m drawn back to my present, and
Carter, in a heartbeat.

I’m not caught
up in someone’s dystopian fantasy, am I? I don’t suppose she wants me to have a
child for her. Now I’m going a little crazy, but the stray idea provoked by my
dark reading material leads me to realize once more how little I know about
her. How long has she been out—or is she? Has she been married? Is there a
child, family? The list keeps growing. I’m no psychologist but, based on my
observations and the measures she has taken, I’d say experience made her this
cautious. Maybe this
is
crazy, but I want to know more. I want to know
what made her think that the only way something could happen between us
involved this much money. I want to understand her.

I want her to be
better than the fictional men I’ve been rolling my eyes about.

* * * *

I discover that
the stereo has a variety of channels, but nothing with news. Not being able to
go online is a relief and has me antsy at the same time. Finally, even though
this is technically still the scheduled vacation time, I go back to the library
and study the curriculum, check for books and articles I’ll need. Carter hasn’t
been kidding. The books are all there, plus an online subscription for the most
important journals, which I of course, can only access offline—I can’t help it,
my jaw drops. This is a student’s dream. It costs a fortune to get all of
those.

I try to get to
other sites, but of course they are blocked. Not a chance to quickly update my
Facebook status to “I got kidnapped”.

It makes me
wonder what questions I would have to answer at this point, about how I didn’t
try hard enough to get away—but what are my options really? Bang on locked
doors, throw myself out of a window, no, wait, they are locked too, because
technically I’m still on suicide watch. That thought chills me, and I push it
aside quickly. I’m not a violent person. She hasn’t threatened me with
anything, and I don’t think I can come up with anything in return to force her
to let me go, let alone something physically aggressive. Maybe, at this point,
I don’t want anyone to find out about all this, because I’m not as badass as
the women in the stories I like, on the contrary. It makes me cringe, because I
feel like it’s weak, that part of me who could enjoy being the accidental
princess, her company, dressed up to her satisfaction, in her hands.

Carter Forbes
still has a lot to answer for, but when Marlene asks me what I’d like for
dinner, she also informs me that I’ll have to take it by myself.

I am
disappointed.

* * * *

Nevertheless,
what if she is wrong? Carter seems to be the person who fills people in only
when it serves her. Maybe she changed plans. Maybe she’ll be here for dinner
after all. I want to be prepared, in any case, for dinner and all possible
eventualities.

I stand in the
bathroom for a few indecisive moments, then I decide to take full advantage of
the moment. It’s either that or driving myself crazy, crazier about all the ways
this could go terribly wrong.

I find Marlene
and ask her for a glass of bubbles, a little cocktail before dinner which she
promptly provides. My next request is a little more delicate even though I
don’t intend to go into details. Oh well. She’s a woman. She’ll know, but then
again, she probably is aware of Carter’s intentions anyway.

“I’m so sorry,
Ms. Elliot, I can’t do that,” she says, her eyes wide, expression a bit shocked
that I would even ask for something like that. I sigh. Maybe I’ll have to go
into specifics after all.

“I know Carter
doesn’t want me to have sharp objects, but I swear, I’m not going to destroy
anything with it, and I’m not going to try to kill myself. I just want to shave
my legs.” …and trim in other areas, maybe, but that is definitely something I
won’t spell out for Marlene. I’m blushing as it is.

“Can’t that wait
for a few more hours?”

That’s the
point, though, I don’t want Carter to be around. This is where I’m having
trouble with playing the role that’s expected of me. I’ve been taking care of
these things forever—having them taken out of my hands, even if those are
small, inconsequential things, bothers me. I have a closet full of amazing
dresses, skirts, and bathing suits. I want smooth legs, damn it, is that too
much to ask for?

“I promise, I
won’t tell. Please.” All of a sudden, this small piece of independence has
become very important, more than the bubble bath in the giant tub, with a glass
of champagne on the side. I want to do this, badly—and then I think, whatever.
It’s not like Marlene can tell anyone.

“Listen, when
Carter comes back, I’m sure she’d like something to take her mind off
business…so I want everything to be ready. I want to be ready.” I break the eye
contact, because I’m not able to do this otherwise. “You know what I mean. I’m
sure you also know exactly how I got here, so I’d think you could help me with
one little thing that would make me more comfortable. I am not going to hurt
myself.”

When I look up,
Marlene’s demeanor tells me she’s still uneasy, but she nods. “I’ll get you
what you need. I’ll be right back, and I want you to give it back to me when
you’re done. Just this once.”

“I can do that.
Thank you.”

True to her
word, she is back with one of the pink razors you love to hate, but use anyway.
I’ll make do.

When she’s gone,
I sink into the warm water, laughing at myself. What do I need a relaxing bath
for? I did nothing all day except read and walk around for a bit. Frankly, I’m
not a fan of exercise, but I should find something to do. It would help if I
could go to the pool by myself. I have to talk it over with Carter. What is she
afraid of? Where would I go?

I put on a short
red dress and flat sandals, and for the first time, I add some jewelry to the outfit.
This is all mine. I shouldn’t feel like a thief, or a gold digger.

I don’t put on
evening make-up. I’ve never been a make-up person, and so my skills are
sketchy, not that I ever thought they matter. A bit of lipstick and perfume
will do. As much as I was creeped out, scared even in the beginning, I find as
much fascination in exploring the possibilities of my new self.

This is all
between me and Carter, and to some extent, Marlene…and the person who broke
into my apartment, drugged and brought me here, but I don’t want to think about
this now. Even taking into consideration that concepts of beauty vary, that
many of them are ridiculous standards enforced by patriarchy, which I don’t
give a damn about...I have to admit I like what I see in the mirror. I’m not
exactly a model photoshopped for a magazine cover, just a woman in clothes that
fit her well. I’m excited.

I find Marlene
and give her the razor back as promised. The dinner table is set for one.

All of a sudden,
I want to cry, but instead, I force a smile.

Carter will be
back.

Chapter Five

Vacation time
will be over at some point. I’ll continue my studies best I can under the
circumstances and I’ll lay off the alcohol in the middle of the week, soon. As
long as Carter is absent, I don’t see the necessity for such responsible
behavior. After all, she took every responsibility from me—I have no
obligations whatsoever at this moment. Don’t run away, don’t hurt yourself,
I’ve upheld my part.

Slightly tipsy,
I wander back to my quarters, restless and eager for Carter to return. So far,
our exchanges have been both: frustrating and intriguing, the verbal and the
tactile ones. I want her back. I want more.

It makes me
giddy to rummage through the selection of lingerie. I had a couple of those at
home, but this is the real deal. It’s like a store with only items that fit me.
Actually, the abundance shouldn’t give me a guilty conscience at all. The
clothes, underwear and shoes were probably made by people who can earn an
actually living, not like your usual store-bought clothing. At least I hope
Carter has that much of conscience for global responsibility. I chose a short
black satin nightgown over a lacy bra and a thong. There’s a chance she’ll come
back tonight. Fantasy or truth, I almost don’t care anymore.

It feels like a
fantasy at first, or a dream, the familiar soft touch, sliding over the satin
fabric, my legs, back up and underneath the hem of the nightgown.

Yes, why not
go there, get it out of your
system and mine?
I’m okay with it. Whatever her deal is, I believe her that whips and chains are
not part of it, pain isn’t, so it’s all good. I might be a little off balance,
and a little blitzed, but yes, it’s good. Her fingers slide between my legs. My
body has a will of its own, my legs opening to accommodate her teasing,
tickling above the flimsy fabric, and then it’s gone altogether. I gasp, hands
flailing, but I try to compose myself, best I can, keep my eyes closed. I don’t
want to spook her—yes, like it’s all up to me.

I can’t help the
sharp intake of breath, and by now, it doesn’t even matter anymore. She knows
I’m awake and enjoying myself, proof hot and liquid on her curious fingertips.
There’s movement, and the sound of footsteps. I need a moment to realize what
that means, and when I do, every single emotion of the past few days comes
crashing down on me. Caution is out of the window.

“No, you don’t!”

I’m on my feet
in an instant, a bit wobbly, but determined.

At the door,
Carter turns to me, looking surprised. I don’t know if my outburst or my out-
fit
is the reason. I’m slightly distracted by hers, the casual-looking shirt and
skirt, definitely not business gear. She must have been back for a while.

“What do you
mean?” she asks softly.

“Do this. To me.
Keep leading me on and then run away.”

“What do you
want me to do instead?”

Did she really
not get a clue when she took off my panties a few moments ago? I step into her
personal place, close enough for our bodies to touch, initiating the kiss
without hesitation or regret. The next moment, my back is against the door and
she kisses me back, hard and deep—and her hand is back to where it was before,
my body overwhelmed with heated, amazing sensations. I am melting, dissolving
into her touch, astonished at the intensity of whatever this is, and I realize
that earlier, I had something else on my mind than a quick make-out session
against a vertical surface. I mean, what is all that careful seduction worth if
in the end, it’s going to be like this? I can’t help it, can’t pretend I
haven’t given this a lot of thought even since before she first put her hand
underneath my nightgown.

“Is that okay
with you? Is that what you want?” Carter whispers against my ear, her fingers
pressing harder, their rhythm perfect and magic. My answer is a moan, and I
nearly collapse to the floor, but she holds me up throughout every hot pulsing
wave of incredible pleasure. She cups my face in both hands and places a soft
kiss on my lips, a gentle smile on her face. I’m sure she’s barely refraining
from saying “I told you so”. I could tell her so many factors played into this
moment, experience, maybe, but that’s by far not the whole story. I can see how
I didn’t even allow myself to be with anyone, because I was so worried about
distractions and disappointments—that doesn’t kill the longing for human
contact, the kind that goes beyond a friendly hug.

Then, there’s
this little detail I’m almost ashamed to acknowledge, but her way of turning
the tables, taking charge, really turned me on, and obviously her taking me
here without asking is part of that—isn’t it? I thought sex would clear up
something between us, but I might be even more confused than before.

“Does it
matter?” I ask, my voice clearly reflecting my post-orgasmic state. “When did
it start to matter to you what I want?”

“It does. It
always has,” Carter says firmly. Her hands are on my arms, and she’s steering
me to the bed. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t what I had planned either. You surprised
me…I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m here now, I’m listening to you.”

“I don’t want to
talk, not right now. I want…”
You
. Even after the fact, it’s a tough
admission to make. I’m attracted to her, have been from the first moment. I
want this to mean something. I am losing my mind.

“I know.”

Carter seems to
sense the shift in my mood, and she steps forward to embrace me. “I told you. I
want to give you everything you need.”

She slides the
straps of the nightgown from my shoulders, and it falls to the floor, leaving
me wearing nothing but the lacy bra. Carter reaches behind me, a swift movement,
and it’s gone too. I’m standing in front of her, spell-bound and completely naked,
to her gaze and her hands.

The bed sheets
are cool against my back, making me shiver, but only until she’s on top of me.
I want to touch her. I have barely formed the intention when she pins my wrists
above my head, oh God, I had no idea this would make me so hot, the reality,
the memory of us talking about restraints.

She lets me help
her get out of her clothes, and then takes off her bra and panties in quick
impatient gestures.

I almost laugh,
but hold back the impulse, knowing I would have to explain myself, but really?
After all this planning, the careful execution of what Carter called a
nefarious scheme, this is not the elegant consummation of a fantasy that is now
ours—this feels more like the impatience of teenagers, like there’s no
tomorrow. For us, maybe there isn’t, but the dire thought vanishes quickly when
she’s back with me, her passionate kiss and wandering hands inciting me all
over again.

Yeah, maybe she’s
really that good. Given the way all my plans have been made to come to a
jarring halt, I deserve something in return, don’t I?

I wonder if
she’ll want to use some ties on me tonight—or maybe something else. The
possibilities make me breathless with want, the sensation only intensified by
feeling her wetness against mine, hot, undeniable. Part of me feels smug and
thrilled by the fact I can do this to her.

I wonder about
something else.

“Can I touch
you?”

“Eventually,”
Carter says, anticipation in her tone and smile. She sits back, runs her hands
up my thighs, gently parting them. It’s strange to think that only days ago, I
was worried about tuition, exams and shifts, the usual, and now…I feel
helpless, exposed and so, so hot. She runs a fingertip along the length of my
sex, then dips in between swollen lips. My body tenses in answer, welcoming
her, wanting her deeper, but instead, she raises her finger to her mouth,
licking the tip of it. I haven’t felt like fainting in a while, but I do now.

“I wanted to taste
you from the moment I first saw you in that café, wearing that cute uniform,”
she says. “Nick kept going on about how great his chocolate cake was, and I
wanted to make everyone get out and take you right there on the table.”

“What did you
want to do to me?” My voice is thick with desire. I might not like myself very
much tomorrow, for several reasons, but tonight, I’ll indulge myself, her,
abandon all principles and responsibilities if that’s what it takes.

“Among other
things…this.”

Carter leans down,
her hair falling forward. She tucks it back behind her ears and then plunges me
into a world of pleasure I have never known before. If I ever experienced
anything this good, it’s been too long for me to remember…There’s no before or
after anyway, just this moment, Carter undoing me with her lips and tongue, and
I don’t need to be tied up to let myself go, to give myself to her. I can’t
help the whimper when she slides a finger back into me, pushing my hips against
her to make her go deeper, faster, something to resolve this impossible state,
but she stills her movements, whispers to me.

“Relax. Take
your time. I’ll get you there.”

Oh, it’s not
like I have any doubts.

Every heartbeat,
every pulse focuses my attention sharply towards my core, the caress of her
tongue, the pressure of her fingertips in all the right places, I can’t stand
it any longer…You’d think I’d scream with emotions and sensations this
overpowering, but when I come, it’s with a series of gasps, shuddering against
her.

She holds me
against her while my breathing calms, slowly, and this, us, together, feels so
good I have the foolish notion that everything will change. Sure, she made a bad
call, but I’m in a forgiving mood, and I’m sure we can start over from here…

“Welcome home,”
I murmur against her chest.

Carter brushes a
hand over my hair, disentangles herself from my embrace and gets up. I watch in
disbelief as she picks up her clothes and puts them back on. Suddenly overly
aware of my nakedness, I wrap myself in the sheet quickly and get up too,
almost falling over my feet.

“This is not
fair!” It’s not rational either, but it happens to be the first thing that
comes to mind. “You’re not leaving.”

“I have work to
do.” Carter’s gaze is unapologetic, as always when she thinks she’s right and
accepts no further negotiation. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You crazy
bitch.” I’m not in the mood for sugar-coating, aware that this standoff could
escalate at any moment, and maybe that’s what I’m going for. Maybe I have to
find a way for things to right themselves, make her the guilty, and me the
innocent party. Most of all, I can’t believe how much I’d anticipated sleeping
next to her.

The corners of
her mouth twitch into a wry smile.

“In my world,
that’s a kind of compliment, so be careful,” Carter says. “Anytime.”

She walks out
and locks the door behind her, and in a sudden fit of drama, I bang my fists
against the wooden door until my knuckles hurt. “You can’t leave me like this,
damn it!”

My tears are
mostly from anger, at her, at myself, for being this naïve—where did I get the
idea she’d be the type to cuddle?

I’m still
standing at the door when I hear the raised voices, but they are too far away
for me to make out words. I’ll learn about it in the morning—or not. I guess
I’ve been put in my place regarding what I’m here for, and who has all the
power.

I walk back to
the bed and slide under the covers that still smell like us, like her, curling
up in a space that feels much bigger than before. I am in a world of trouble.