Pure Obsession {WIP}

09 | Pretty When You Cry

  The rest of the shower was uneventful.  Daniel stayed silent, thinking to himself while he finished washing my hair as well as his own.  I kept my back to him, my arms wrapped securely across my chest in a silly attempt to hide my breasts.  Of all the feelings bubbling underneath my hot skin, nervousness and insecurity made me the most ashamed.

  Even when I stepped out of the marble encasement, I wanted to be covered from head to toe in robes to hide every part of me from his wandering eyes.  Every pale scar stretching across the curves of my body, the pudge in my stomach, the way my thighs jiggled with each step, made me feel sick when Daniel - sadistic and demented as he is - physically looked like he had been carved by Michelangelo or Bernini.

  I was grateful when he held a towel open for me and wrapped it around my body.  I had stood there like a child, allowing him to wrap the giant, fluffy towel around my shivering body.  He seemed indifferent to my exposed nature, but I'm sure he couldn't have drawn himself away from his racing thoughts to examine my body if he wanted to.

  On the outside, he was silent; but on the inside, he was dealing with a crisis of sorts.  A storm was raging in the depths of his emerald eyes that likely wouldn't subside anytime soon, regardless of whatever kindness I had to potentially assuage him.  That same storm was brewing a tension thick enough to suffocate us both in the foggy haze of his bathroom.  I would be stupid to be the first to draw my blade and cut through the tension by asking a potentially off-putting question, despite having many.

  The only good thing for me to do is stand there with the towel clutched tightly to my body while I watch Daniel move in and out of the bathroom.  It doesn't take long for him to emerge from his walk-in-closet fully clothed in a charcoal button down with the sleeves rolled just above his elbows and black slacks.  He runs a pasty cream through his inky tresses, giving it a luxurious shine and definition I didn't quite take the time to appreciate when we were just two people meeting to discuss my college and career at that coffee shop.

  He doesn't acknowledge me once, nor does he seem to even acknowledge himself when he's standing in front of the mirror.  I can see him looking at himself and searching for something hinting at his own existence.  Anybody looking in could tell that although he is scanning his reflection in the mirror, he may as well be staring into the abyss.  

  I bite the inside of my cheek, holding the towel tightly against my skin crawling in goosebumps.  It isn't until my stomach betrays me and grumbles, echoing across the marbled room, drawing Daniel's attention.  His gaze picks up from the other dimension he must have been lost in as he turns to face me.  My cheeks red with embarrassment and skin prickling from the cold, I look down and pretend that my toes hold my interest.

  "Come," he grumbles, taking long, powerful strides towards me.  He grips my arm and turns me to the direction of his closet.  I don't make an effort to pull away or resist.  I simply let him bring me to his closet which is about as big as my own room.  Jackets, slacks, dress shirts, and suits are hung neatly in rows assorted by color - but mostly by degree of blackness.  Dark cabinets line one wall holding either shoes, watches, or human heads.  I can't say I would be too surprised to see any of them.  

  Before I can stare like a fool at the most organized closet I've ever seen, Daniel yanks the towel from my body and shoves a parcel of folded clothes into my now stunned hands.  "Put these on."  He grunts sternly and brushes past me, folding the towel and hanging it back on the hook he retrieved it from previously.  

  I look from him to the clothes he gave, admiring the sage-green color of the shirt and flipping it up to run my fingertips along black jeans.  Something drifts down my leg and lands gently on my foot, making me jump at the odd sensation.  When I look down, Daniel is following my gaze with a hot stare as I bend down and pick up a pair of black, lace panties.  A thong, to be more precise.