Part One: The Caring Dominant
Beth was an accountant for a small firm. She had a lot of multitasking to do at work. She had to do a lot of things to do that weren't in her job description: getting coffee, filing, bookkeeping. Things beneath her. Beth was smart and she knew it. She had a Masters in Mathematics, she had phenomenal SAT scores, GRE scores, IQ scores. There was a lot of evidence to prove she was intelligent. Her friends knew she was smart. She made witty remarks on girls' nights out, good puns, great jokes, jokes about politics, comments about literature. Beth was fun to have around. She made the other girls feel smart. She deserved better than this job she had. She was on the look out for a better one. This Friday night she went home, poured herself a stiff drink, turned on her favorite detective show, cursed her job momentarily and forgot about it within the hour. Saturday she slept in. Saturday night was going to make up for the week gone by. Another week in a long line of thankless, insulting, degrading weeks.
Saturday night was her best friend's bachelorette party. Jaynah was getting married to a rich corporate lawyer. He had the right clothes, the right real estate in the city, the right job, he said all the right things at family dinners. He had the right stuff. And that's what Jaynah was looking for. She wanted what was supposed to be the perfect man with whom she could decorate what was supposed to be the perfect home, with whom she could populate what was supposed to be the perfect family. Jaynah was going to be a housewife. Jaynah was quitting her thankless and insulting job because her Mr. Right made enough money.
Beth was happy for Jaynah but felt a tinge of jealousy as she performed her primping rituals for the evening. Beth chose her black smoky eye shadow and red lipstick. She chose her perfect little black dress. It was her favorite dress. She slipped on a garter skirt, vintage style, and Cuban heeled stockings. She wore Bettie Page heels with rounded toes and a slight platform. The heels were very high but Beth knew how to walk in them. She had thirteen years of ballet experience. She could walk in anything. Everything Beth wore accentuated her curvy figure, something Beth took pride in, something most men (and women) didn't appreciate.
The party was at a club downtown in the business district where well dressed professionals often went straight from work. Jaynah chose the place for its high end décor, for its extravagantly garnished drinks, and for the good looking and rich potential suitors for her friends. Beth met the girls at the club. They were all letting loose, letting it all hang out. She was ready to do so as well. She sat in between the red-headed Jaynah and Ashlynn, a very slender, girlish looking blond. Beth ordered a Manhattan. She liked the harshness of the bourbon and hoped the bartender would see fit to put two maraschino cherries in the bottom of her drink. Some Manhattans were so inferior.
After about an hour Beth noticed there was a man there. There were many men there, but there was one in particular. He noticed the girls because they were making so much noise and because a group of raucous girls was not the norm at that bar. He was across the way from their table and he bought drinks for the girls. Two rounds of sex on the beach. He was tall, had thick brown hair, was wearing a skull t-shirt, and was muscular. He seemed to be eyeing Beth lovingly. He was swallowing her whole with his eyes. Beth didn't normally get the eyes from men at clubs. She was curvier than her friends. Not fat. She had more of an hourglass figure. She had thick, wavy dark brown hair and blue eyes and Mediterranean skin. For some reason this guy took a liking to her. Her. Not the others. Not the skinny blond. Not the big breasted redhead. But to her. Beth was susceptible to the eyes because she wasn't the one to normally get the eyes. She was vulnerable because she wanted to be the beautiful one for a change.
The man watched Beth with her Manhattan and with the two rounds of drinks he sent over. Then he watched her with her girlfriends. He watched her make her witty remarks. He paid careful attention to the way she crossed and uncrossed her long legs smoothly, elegantly, as if with years of practicing that one movement, as if she knew she was being watched. The man was a good judge of character. He watched Beth toss her hair self assuredly, a rare beauty sitting amidst commonplace good looks, yet there was something else there, something beneath those confident remarks, that poised posture. Beth was shy and the man could tell. This shyness was most appealing to the man and he decided he needed to talk to her, to see more of this confident shyness, he needed a chance to work his charms on her. He needed to get her within his reach, his grasp. He too was confident with his words, with his movements, with the powers of his charms.
The man waited for the two drinks to take their effect on the women and he walked over to the girls' table. He didn't have to say, "Hi." Jaynah, blurted out all slurry, "Thank you so much for the drinks! And you are…?" The music was thumping in the background. Or in the foreground. It was so loud you could barely hear a thing.
"James," he said. "I'm an accountant."
An accountant?
"And who might you be?" He directed his attention towards Beth. Beth turned her head aside.
The other girls looked at each other in surprise, or confusion, or both. No one ever paid attention to Beth. To them Beth was too 'thick,' too nerdy. Especially not likely to pay attention to Beth were muscular dark men in skull t-shirts.
"Beth," she finally answered.
"Care to have a drink? My table's right over there." He gestured towards a high seated table with one lonely drink atop it. He was alone. The girls all turned red and shooed Beth away. Beth and James shared a quick drink. He was charming. Beth was susceptible. She wanted to meet someone. She was never the one that got hit on at bars, or glanced over at the park, or flirted with in the grocery store. No one ever liked Beth.
"Beth," James said. "What do you do for a living?" James was starting her off with small talk. He liked to ease his charms onto women slowly. Start them off with something simple and then move in for the kill.
"I'm an accountant too." Beth was suspicious of James. Why was he talking to her? Why wasn't he talking to one of her more attractive friends? Beth decided to confront James.
"Why are you talking to me? I'm not the skinny blond. I'm not the chesty redhead," she challenged, leaned back in her seat and waited for him to respond, not expecting anything impressive to come out of his mouth.
"I was watching you. I was watching the way you walked to the bathroom." Beth was flattered he noticed her superior control in her high heels. "I was watching the way you crossed your legs under the table. I was watching you talk to your friends. You're smarted than they are." James had pushed all the right buttons. Beth turned her head away again. There it was. That confident shyness.
James swiftly convinced her to go home with him. The girls saw her clutch her purse on her way out, James' hand pulling at her arm. Jaynah gave her a 'thumbs up.' Another girl winked at her. Beth could barely keep up with James' pace to the door.
Is this really happening to me?
When they arrived at his apartment Beth was impressed. It was impeccably designed, immaculately kept with an open floor design. He had a darkly decorated kitchen, cherry wood cabinets that had been stained cherry to give them an almost bloody appearance. His kitchen counters were dark granite and his faucet had a sleek modern design. His dining room table was off to the side of the kitchen and rustic looking, maybe made of older, salvaged wood. His couch and coffee table were in the middle of this large space. His couch was made of a deep orange leather and despite its sleek lines, looked very comfortable and inviting. The coffee table was a large animal print ottoman with a tray over it. Beth could see some steps up to a room to the right of the couch.
That must be the bedroom.
He offered her another drink. She accepted and they sat on the couch together. He put his hand on her thigh. Gently at first, but then he squeezed it really hard, pressing on her curves as if swallowing her leg whole with his hand. He exhaled rather deeply, savoring the feel of her skin, her flesh. Beth sensed the power of his grip, she sensed she had no say as to what was going to happen next. He squeezed her thick thigh. He squeezed her waist, her breast; he pulled at the collar of her dress with one hand, gently pulling at the zipper on the back of her dress with the other. Beth didn't know if she should resist because James was attractive but he was pressing her, moving so fast. She felt his hot breath on her ear. He kissed her. Gently at first, kissing the outsides of her rounded lips, then softly licking them. Then he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her deeply. After a kiss like that she decided to help him with her dress.
Beth, with her dress unzipped, was pulled by James into his bedroom. He pulled off her dress and her panties but left her heels and stockings on. He left all of his clothes on. That t-shirt. He said nothing. She said nothing. He laid her down on her stomach and laid himself on top of her. She felt his weight on her. But then she noticed something: a hook on the wall, just above the pillows. It was very industrial looking and it was drilled into the wall by four sturdy screws. Beth panicked. She squirmed. She tried to get out from beneath him.
