The Owner

Where love dies

I walk out of the room having taken an eternity as he looks at me gleefully. He's smiling that sweet smile that melts me. As promised today it's D day and I like to keep my word. But dear God, where do I start?

I can feel the cold edges of my fingers telling me not to. The thin sweat makes me feel sick. My heart cannot hold itself but pump away in anxiety. I can barely breathe. But before I lose conciousness, I must first try.

I'm smiling, "Pete, come here."

He looks at me wondering, probably questioning this bold move.

"Come here."

He comes. Walking slowly, he's eyeing me. He halts his frame in front of me and it obstructs the door.

"I need to explain to you some things." I say, smiling still, needing to breathe.
"When you kiss me, begin, then let me come to you. When you want to pull me over, ask me before you touch me. When you feel the need to hold me from behind, warn me that you're in the room."

It's suddenly quiet and my mouth is mum. Okay. I've done it, now it begins...

"I don't understand." He seems confused. "Why?"

"Because it calms me." I say simply.

"But why should I?" He insists. I can read his face and I can tell the brick wall it's hit.

There's a simple solution. "Sit with me." Holding his hand, I lead him to the bed. I sit on the foot and guide him next to me. There's at least  a foot of space between us.
He seems to notice and is more perplexed than ever. "Don't you want me around? Do you not want to be around? It's okay. We don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable, you know that right?"

It may not be in the right direction but at least he's thinking.

" This has nothing to do with you. I just need you to do these small things for me because they calm me." I'm still smiling but I don't know how.

A moment passes and he's still thinking. This thinker. Quiet but sure he is.

"You don't need to know much other than it calms me. That's all there is to know. "

"Why? There must be more. No one just says the things you have. I have dated many women..." He trails off, eyeing me, hoping he's not making a mistake. I'm still smiling. " And none of them have said to me the things you have. Did something happen to you?"

I haven't seen him like this. I don't know him well  honestly but I know the face of concern. "It's nothing to think about." I reassure him, rubbing his hand.

"No." His voice is stern and it has me shocked. " Your hands are cold, palms are sweaty. I can feel your rapid pulse. You're anxious. There's a mile of space between us right now. Are you afraid of me? " He seems curious.

He's hit the jackpot but I had not intended to take things this far. Since we are here though, strangers, I'll try. "Yes"

"Why?" The question comes in succession.

"Because I'm afraid of all men." I'm done hiding. I can feel tears wetting my thighs, like a locked gate holding pressured water. I can't think. I'm only hurting. I can feel myself writhing under my skin. Inside, I'm burning red and bright and it's consuming me.  I can feel the the images wanting to come back in. I can feel the darkness of the night clouding my mind. I can see the fragments of photos trying to slip through, of the freshly painted blue window grills. I can see the cracked cream paint on the wall and the green that lies below the peeling paint.

I can feel the cold of night just like I did that night. My back carved and my knees bent like a slave in submission. He's pulling my hair, holding me down by my neck, calling me baby, saying he's glad I'm sweet. He's just going and going and...

I find myself gasping. His hand is on mine. I look up to find I'm in the room with the smile I long to see. I'm relieved. I can finally breathe and he gives me a moment.

"Baby, I think..." He begins.

"Don't call me that." It escapes me. I look at him, hoping I haven't scared him off.

He's smiling now.  "Whatever happened to you, I'm so sorry. You don't need to tell me."

Magic words those are. I scoff, glad it's over. "Some things are worse than death." I smile back.

Whatever happened to casual sex, I think.