A Summer Thing

3 - Callie

Trigger warning: domestic abuse

I scooted to the head of the bed and pulled my knees up hoping my own hug would calm me. My heart was racing faster than a thoroughbred.

"What did you say about my mother?" Parker's tone was cruel.

I felt the chill go down my spine. I had heard that tone before — worse. I wanted to say she was a bitch, but I was petrified to even think it.

"I can't hear you, bitch!"

"I said she doesn't like me." I answered, meekly.

"She knows you're a whore." His eyes bore into me. "Look at how you dress."

I was wearing a scarlet red lace teddy. Parker had bought it for me. His insults were worse, since he was the one who insisted I dress this way.

"I only want to please you." He would come to me and it would be out of desire or anger. I held my breath waiting.

He sat on the bed and jerked my legs and I fell out flat. His eyes traveled up and down my body.

I froze as he reached out his hand bracing myself for a blow. Instead, I let out my breath as he ran his hand down my cheek and neck to my cleavage. He loved my breasts, as he gently fondled them.

Parker was a passionate lover. He was always sorry when he became too rough and hurt me. He made love to me to prove just how much he loved me. When I fell asleep in his arms, I knew we could be happy. I promised myself not to anger him, and everything would be perfect.

In the morning, he watched me dress for work. It was difficult to please him and get ready for my day on time. I could tell when I'd done a good job, and he enjoyed it, although often I ended up undressed and late.

I moved to New York to be a model but was only mildly successful. I was tall, but not tall enough. I had met Parker at a club. He was handsome and sophisticated. I could tell he was rich — much richer than the family my mother worked for as a housekeeper.

I considered myself lucky. When modeling didn't work out, they offered me a job working for the modeling agency. I dealt with the talent instead of being one of them. It was a dream job, except being surrounded by successful models reminded me I was never good enough.

Parker reminded me too. He called me a failure, a loser, and a whore. It hurt, because deep down I knew it was true. I was a whore, because I slept with him the night we met. I had slept with other men too. Now I lived with him and he let me shop using his credit cards, and he bought me expensive gifts like lingerie. I'd do anything to please him, because I had to keep him happy.

Delaney rushed over to me when I arrived at the office. "Hey Callie, do you want to shop on our lunch?"

I smiled and agreed. I could count on Delaney to shop, although she could only use cash after her bankruptcy, because she had canceled her credit cards.

"Are your bills paid? You can't shop, unless your expenses are taken care of."

"Says the kept woman."

Truthfully, it worked to my advantage because I charged our purchases and she gave me cash. Parker didn't care how much I spent as long as I always looked beautiful. I was saving the cash for what our boss, Alice, called a rainy day. I knew a rainy day meant leaving Parker, but I never would.

Who else would ever want a kept woman? A whore like me?

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