Carson had offered me a place to stay before we headed back for his car. He lamented the crappy hotel and said it didn't have to be his bedroom I stayed in. I appreciated the offer, but thought that might smother our budding relationship. Besides, I would get paid in a week and, combined with my savings, finally be able to get my own place.
"I wouldn't mind spending a few nights with you," I said.
He chuckled and squeezed my thigh. "You can count on it."
I was in my freshly laundered dress, but Carson had changed into a green button-down and grey slacks for work. We played with each other's fingers all the way back to Benjamin's house. The prospect of going back seemed less daunting by morning. I had let him drive my car again, preferring to rest against his arm.
When we arrived, the tiny lights were turned off and the curtains were drawn. I sighed with relief in spite of myself. Carson cut the engine and we both got out to say goodbye. He wrapped me a hug before cradling my face and giving me a kiss. I returned the kiss with fervor, actually forgetting where we were for a moment.
A glance at his watch told Carson that he was already running later than he thought, so another peck and he was in his car driving away before I had even turned mine back on. When I did, a familiar melody reached my ears - it was the song that had been playing the first time I kissed Benjamin.
After having spent most of the last year and a half bandaging the emotional abrasions that our break up had caused, I hadn't minded hearing the song when it popped up. Given recent events, every layered band-aid had been ripped away and the lyrics gouged my gaping wounds. I pushed the 'off' button with much more force than was necessary.
Inevitably, everything that had happened began replaying in my mind. I swung aimlessly across the emotional gamut in the space of a minute or two. Joy, exhilaration, and anticipation warred with guilt, confusion, and sadness. All of the introspection proved ineffective. My head just throbbed with uncertainty.
A knock on the window made me jump in my seat. Every thought I had was ushered out and replaced by a flood of angst. I rolled down the window.
"Hello," Benjamin said.
"Hi," I said flatly.
"Will you come in for a minute? I'd like to talk to you."
"Um, okay." I was tired of the confusion and hoped to discover his intentions and my own desires in one fell swoop.
We walked inside wordlessly. He had made coffee and poured me a cup how he knew I liked it.
"Interesting night?" he asked.
"I'm not sure you get to ask that," I shot back.
"Have you forgotten the meaning of my mark so quickly?" he said, suddenly steely. The bruise on my shoulder was as bold as ever, hidden just beneath the fabric.
He continued without my response, "I know what you need, Emmy. You need to be controlled, you need pain. I still want you and I know you still want me."
I stood silent and still. My mind stowed away a detailed list of reasons why I should leave. The Emmy in me craved what he offered. Both knew what was about to happen, but neither version of me did anything to prevent it. Guilt prickled at me, but his next words drove it out.
"You've gone so long without the treatment you need. I was giving you maintenance three times a week. You've got quite a bit of makeup work to do."
Every muscle in my stomach and groin clenched. "Over the table, Emmy. As always," he said. I was in the dining room before I could change my mind, bringing the depth and breadth of my need into focus. Bending at the waist, I placed my palms against the wood, fingers splayed. My forearms and elbows were the only other body parts touching the table.
Pausing behind me, his voice trembled with his own longing. "My deprived Emmy. Beg like a good slut," he said. A gentle hip sway would have knocked my raised backside into his groin he was so close. Tracing the hem of my dress, he slipped his right hand beneath and padded along my bare buttocks. Carson had asked to keep my thong. A pang of self-condemnation sprang on me once again.
