As it turned out, I drove home alone.
Alice insisted that as it was "her night" she wanted to get a last drink at the bar. I had offered to stay with her, but she told me I looked tired and that she wanted to be alone. I was grateful to get out of there.
But now, driving back, I was less happy. What was into her tonight? Could she be trusted alone? Should I have left her that drunk by herself? I promised myself I would phone by eleven to make sure she was safe.
Back in the house, ready for bed, I phoned her. "Yes?" she answered quite curtly. I could hear laughter in the background. Male laughter.
"Alice?" I said. "Are you okay? Should I call you a taxi? Pick you up even?"
"No, no, Bobby. You stay put. Go to sleep and don't wait up. I met a friend and we're going to be a while." The male laughter came back, louder. Before I could respond the phone snapped dead.
Of course, I couldn't sleep. I told myself I was being paranoid, that she would never cheat on me. Anyway, I had made her cum that very evening. She would be back.
But it wasn't until five in the morning that I heard the door open. She stumbled through. Without even bothering to shower she began undressing and, in her underwear, clambered into bed beside me.
She reeked of a man and hard sex.
I started to turn to her. She grabbed me round the chest and pulled herself against my back. Her chest and crotch were soft there and I could smell the pungent odour of their lovemaking.
''How could you?" I managed.
I struggled in her grip.
"Let go of me!" I came to face her. But her smile stopped me dead in my struggle.
"Baby, stop." I felt myself overcome with exhaustion and despair. "Don't be so uptight mister. I had my little fun like I always do. I bring in the bread and it's only right I get to relax sometimes. You're still the man I love. You keep my bed warm, after all." She snuggled her nose against mine, her brests warms and soft pressed into me. I wanted to turn away but couldn't, somehow. "It's just that I deserve it. You'll understand."
And she kissed my forehead and hugged me again. The scent of her and her lover came up on me. It choked me, but I was still hard and comfortable in my flesh. I was subdued.
She reached a hand under the covers and found the cause of my angst. She began stroking and twisting her hand over my shaft. I watched her eyes, more happy and beautiful and terrifying than I had ever seen them. I was indignant, berated, small. And so aroused by her power and her beauty that I came in a matter of moments. She giggled, snuggled up to me and we fell asleep.
---
In the morning, she was up before me, bright and fresh in the kitchen. I was left with shame and a new, heavy respect for her that never left me. Her airs became more casual, her manner more authoritarian.
"Sweep the patio," she told me on Sunday, handing me the broom.
One evening after a big meal I had made for her, she slipped her feet from her shoes and settled them on a dining chair. "Honey, could you give my feet a rub, before you put away the dishes?" I hesitated and she watched me as always. I got to my knees and obeyed.
I always obeyed.
Something had come over me. It was like a curse. The further I slipped into the hole, the more I rationalised what I was doing and where I was going. She had a command over me. To back out was to admit what I was doing. It was easier to tell myself we were a modern couple, I was supporting a strong woman and things would change when I got back into work.
On that front however, nothing changed, and my place as Alice's domestic servant only became more established.
We still slept together, but at her insistence I would always go down on her first. Sometimes her pleasure ended there and I would be forced to go and finish myself off in the bathroom or just struggle with my frustration and agony if, as often happened, she passed out on top of me. Sometimes I was allowed to ride her after doing my duty and I would make the most of it, as happy and as free as a heroin addict with a new hit. But as sex became more rare and valuable to me, that pussy was too much and I would be spent in moments.
I found myself less inclined to speak to strangers or look myself in the mirror. Less inclined, almost, to think. I undertook my duties to her and her pleasure with zeal. If only I performed them well enough, she would go easy on me, we would both be happier and all would be well.
Instead, she would sometimes stay out on the weekends and this would only frustrate me more. She would come home smelling of guys. Initially, every time she went out I told myself I would end it. But she came back too frisky, too beautiful. She always convinced me to stay. Eventually I began telling myself I deserved this for not getting a job.
After six months, she got out of me that I was feeling unhappy about my degree going to waste. She said nothing at the time, but that evening brought back a bunch of files from her pro bono and lesser cases.
"Could you help me out with this?"
I protested. I didn't want to be handed charity work. She laughed.
"This isn't charity, baby. This is the dregs."
"Then I won't do it." I suddenly felt anger rising up in me. "I'm supposed to be a Partner! I passed the Bar a year before you did."
There was silence. We were standing in the living room. I felt what I said being a mistake and Alice let it hang tentatively in the air.
She sat down on the couch. Crossed her legs. She had taken to wearing less and less conservative clothing. Like she was getting comfortable with being both feminine and powerful. The tight, thin cotton ran back on her thighs.
She pointed to the files on the dining table.
"Bring those over here."
After a moment of battling eyes I sighed, picked them up and brought them to her.
"Now sit down, and go through them for me."
I hesitated, then sat down beside her. Almost immediately she pushed me off the couch onto my knees.
"There." she said.
I waited, the files on the floor before me and a heel resting against the back of my neck. "Why?" I said, unhappily.
"So I can supervise you," she said, as if explaining it to a very small and dumb child.
She outwaited me. I opened the file. Tbe TV clicked on, the news. Her heel stayed on my back and I began doing her work.
---
From then on she brought home more and more files for me. All the stuff she didn't want to do. Our relationship became more that of slave and master. This was about six months since I had been fired and I was beginning to give up hope of being rehired in the city. How had my life vanished so hard, so quickly?
In winter, two weeks went by without us being intimate. She stayed out often. I was given too measly an allowance to do anything else. She was asking for receipts. It was like I was giving her more and getting less trust or respect in return.
I decided to confront her.
One Wednesday night, or rather, Thursday morning, when she had been staying out late, she came back to find me not, as usual, in our bed, but sitting up at the table.
She was wearing a dress for once. A short, glitzy, purple one, that I had seen her wear on one of our first dates.
I was in my pyjamas and regretted it.
"Alice," I said. "We need to talk. Please sit down."
She didn't break her smile, which was indulgent and angered me further. She was drunk and didn't care. But she allowed herself the seat.
"This has got to stop. Or I've got to go." I opened my hands. "There's nothing in it for me otherwise."
I looked at Alice, who was of course, still smiling. She rested her chin in her hand. "Bobby. Is this because I've been so busy? Is this because I haven't been treating you?"
"No," I shook my head. "It's not just that, it's-"
But Alice was on her feet, taking me by the hand again. "Come on."
She pulled me through to the bedroom and I felt myself losing the words to protest.
The room was dark and Alice didn't bother to flick the lights on. She just rustled me inside. She kissed me on the mouth. I responded but knew better than to take it as an invite to start undressing her. I felt her smiling mid-kiss. She bit my lip, then pushed me back onto the bed.
"Stay," she ordered.
I heard her walk away and a drawer opening. The sounds of her searching through her drawer. For what? I wanted to get up, but stayed put. I couldn't see well enough in the dark anyhow.
She came back to me and, after a cruel pause, straddled me on the bed. She let something, only a mass in the darkness, fall on the covers beside me. She leaned over me and kissed me hard. Took her head in my hands.
This
