The Experiment Pt 08

Finally, the last installment (for now), and the resolution as promised. I want to thank everyone who has commented, and to anyone who reads and continues to comment, thank you in advance. And thank you for the kind words of support after the fires in Southern California. My family is safe, and that's what's most important. It's impossible not to feel the loss regardless, and the only way to process this grief will be more writing, specifically about my time in SoCal with Bear. Until then, thank you for indulging my unstable heart and giving my fictional couple life.

Also, I've submitted this for the Pink Orchid Event. I admired many of the stories from last year's event, so I'm throwing my hat into the ring. For those that find my story from the Pink Orchid page, please know this is a multi-part story. My heroine has found her own path to pursue what she desires, but there are stumbles along the way. No one is perfect. Being a woman of agency does not preclude you from loneliness, jealousy, and insecurity. What does count, in my opinion, is recognizing what can sabotage your own happiness.

Part 8

We ended up eating a salad, but it was made in tense silence and eaten in fatigued snippets of conversation. I could only get another tepid peck at bedtime, a coldness from him that hurts far more than any lashing or punishment Mr. Damian could give me. The only thing that keeps me from sobbing in heartbreak is the thought that tomorrow is Friday. Curled up on my side, huddling into my pillow, I tell myself to wait for tomorrow. Wait for the evening that I cherish more than anything else, to finally have him all to myself.

I go through my work day with hopeful anticipation for tonight, the semi-giddy happiness that my older coworker always notices, pointing it out to Caleb. She teases me with frequent cracks. Look out everybody, Siena's gonna slave drive us to get done early because it's Friday. It's a little heavy handed, even for her, but I think it's her passive aggressive way of acknowledging her own guilt that I worked late last night. And I answer her teasing jibe with one of my own, saying that I do expect to leave right at 5 no matter what anyone else has or hasn't finished.

Caleb jokes along with me, even making his own in-jokes about my sharp-eyed measurements, seeming happy to have this inside joke with me over the other coworkers. Another thing that sets him apart, something that links me and him. I know this is just another innocent facet of his crush, but I wonder how much I contribute to it, or how much I'm hurting him.

At 5:08 pm, I text Damian as I'm walking to the bus stop to say I'm heading home. The bus arrives two minutes later and I'm happily thinking about tonight, debating what I should or shouldn't wear, when I get a phone call. From my boss.

Ultimately I answer it, and cringing, listening to her explain how my coworker Russ who was supposed to work tonight has a family emergency and can't do the data readings. She'd ask someone else but they haven't had the practice of doing the measurements yet. I ask her if Caleb can do it; she says he's already got plans. Something I very much doubt because I know he'd work the overtime if asked, and more aggrieving, to know my boss just straight up lied to me because she'd rather I do it. Eagle-eyed Siena needs to do this over the newbie.

I tell her how Friday nights are the only night I get to spend with my two-job boyfriend, how this night is literally sacred to me. I even let my emotion come through, my voice shaking when I say we really need this right now. It's been rough for us lately.

Knowing she's pushed her limits with me, my boss lays it on thick. I'm so good, I'm so valuable to the lab and our mission. Blah Blah blah.

I'm already on the bus home, I counter. Please, I really need this night for us to be together.

My boss goes in for the jugular. If I don't come in, she'll write me up. She really doesn't want to do this, but I'm needed. This project is important to our investors.

Fine, I'll head back in, I say, furious. Beyond angry as I've ever been in my life. So angry I hang up on her before I let out a stream of obscenities.

I get off the bus and cross the street to wait for the next one going back to my work. I text Damian and tell him what's happened. He hasn't replied since my earlier text that was saying I was on my way home; I assume he's probably on his bike and can't reply. I call his phone and it goes to voicemail, which is fine. I leave him a message saying I'm so sorry I'll be late. My boss is an evil bitch who threatened my job if I didn't stay over. Please wait for me and I'll try to be home by 7:30. Just text me when you get this.

I don't get back to my work until almost 6:00. The lab is empty of everyone, dark and still. I throw on my white lab coat and angrily snap on some gloves as I stalk over to the little containers, so angry I debate smashing them to pieces. But the little plants are not at fault, and I still care about science more than the fury at my cunt-faced boss. I get to work with my laptop and my phone rings just as I'm measuring away.

I pull my phone out of my lab coat and see that it's not Damian calling, but it's Caleb. I debate answering, and feeling too unsteady, ultimately let it go to voicemail. Then I listen to his message; he's apologizing profusely, the sound of rushing road noise heard in the background. He's on his way back to the lab and should be there in about 20 minutes, give or take with rush hour. He had no idea my boss was just going to call me. The only reason he knew what happened is Russ texted him. It's really unfair that my boss picked on me and took away my Friday night. He knows how important my Fridays are.

I tear up when I delete the voicemail. He sounded genuinely apologetic, and upset. And I know he meant it when he said he'd have volunteered if my boss had asked. He'd inconvenience himself just to be nice to me. Because that's what you do when you like someone, you put their needs above your own. You want them to be happy.

Still no text back from Damian, but I go back to measuring, trying to get as much done for Caleb. Just as promised, he shows up just past 6:30, practically sprinting into the lab and tearing off his jacket to get started.

"Thank you so much-"

He waves me off before I can even finish, throwing on his lab coat. "You need to get out of here, just show me where you left off."

I hand off my paperwork and he practically yanks the clipboard from my hand. "I finished taking all the measurements. You just need to double-check and then record it."

"Or just trust you, and record it," he states with a smirk.

"Or that." I take off my lab coat, watching him dive into the work. "Thank you for sacrificing your Friday night. It was super generous of you to come back when you were almost home."

"You were half-way home, on the bus," he counters, leaning down and squinting at the containers.

"Still, I really appreciate it," I say, slinging my purse over my shoulder. "Thank you, Caleb."

I stare at him meaningfully, waiting till he looks up at me. There is more than the good-natured coworker showing in his brown eyes, a deeper look that knows those feelings cannot be reciprocated. But I smile anyway, I smile at the friend who I appreciate. His cheeks turn a little pink, a broad smile to see me looking at him gratefully.

"You're welcome, Sea. Now get out of here!"

I wave goodbye and dart down the stairs, then out the door, running towards the bus stop. I've done the math and it would still take longer to wait for Damian to fight rush hour to go north and get to me and then head back, versus me just taking the bus home.

I make the bus just as it pulls up to the stop, dashing on just as it starts to rain. Grateful to at least for the moment be off my feet, I pull out my phone. It's almost 7:00 pm, and there's still no reply from Damian, which worries me.

Don't know if you got my messages, but I'm heading home now. My coworker Caleb showed up to take over so I could leave. I'm on bus now, should be home in 20 minutes.

I stare at my phone, watching the dots go across the screen, then stop and start again. Finally a reply.

Be safe. I shall see you soon.

See you soon. I love you.

My heart rate eases down to something other than pure rage alternating with panic. I take a deep breath and settle into my seat, closing my eyes for a brief rest on the bus ride.

After a journey that feels like it took hours instead of minutes, I burst from the elevator out into the loft. His motorcycle was parked in the garage so I know Damian is already home. I'm pulling off my rain trench, shaking off the drips of water and kicking off my work clogs simultaneously, trying to do all of this as quietly as possible. I can see him sitting on the couch, keeping his back to me. Strangely, it reminds me of being at the Dungeon; where I was the stranger entering his space, the foreign surroundings that startled and intrigued me. But this has become my home because he is here. He brought me here. He wanted me here. But I suddenly feel afraid.

I walk towards the couch, smoothing my clothes out, taking a deep breath. As I come around the couch, he's simply sitting; his phone is lying idle on the coffee table, one arm propped up on the arm of the couch. He's still wearing his black vest and crisp black dress shirt, the tailored black pants that fit him to perfection, the attractively ominous outfit I love; Mr. Damian has waited for me.

His eyes glance up, seeming to finally notice me. I immediately kneel at his feet, just beside the coffee table.

"I apologize for my lateness. It was very kind and generous of Mr. Damian to wait for me," I say with my head bowed.

He says nothing for at least twenty seconds.

"Miss Siena decided to come home."

There's an edge to his low voice that is different; not the playful authority of Mr. Damian, but something darker. I barely tip my head up so I can look at him, and when I meet his eyes... the look he gives me is a deadly serious one. The blue eyes are narrowed in challenge, the jaw set with resolution that whatever I say or do best not be anything untruthful or contrary to his direction. A potent mixture of hostility and dominance that practically fills the air.

I lower my head again and try to adapt to this version of Mr. Damian I've never dealt with.

"Miss Siena deeply regrets that she couldn't get home sooner because of her job."

He doesn't reply, just a quietly judgmental inhale.

"But she would like to make it up to Mr. Damian if he would let her," I say as softly as possible, peeking up at him with a pleading expression.

"Miss Siena flatters Mr. Damian with her generous offer."

I peek up again; his calm expression doesn't match the words he's speaking with thinly veiled animosity. I can feel my will starting to crumble, the fatigue and the emotions buckling under the weight of his contemptuous glare. The green monster has come for me once again, from the most unexpected of people. The monster that assumes the worst, clouding our judgement with ridiculous scenarios and insane suspicions.

But I will not lose him. Not to this, not to something that tried to undo me once before.

"Miss Siena would do anything tonight for Mr. Damian."

His eyes narrow as he assesses me, keeping my gaze as I smile up at him, trying to convey the sincerity of my dangerous statement. After a moment of pause, he leans down towards me, coming inches from my face.

"Is Miss Siena sure she would like to make this promise?" he asks, taking my chin in his hand to gaze directly into my eyes.

I tremble in his hands, filled with a mix of terror and elation.

"Yes, Mr. Damian."

He continues to hold me under his suspicious gaze.

"She should not make promises she cannot keep."

I have to clear my voice, summoning up the Miss Siena that needs to save what is happening to the other halves of our personas. To find the other Damian that loves me, and to convince him of my love.

"I would never make a promise to Mr. Damian that I didn't intend to keep."

He knows I mean this, my eyes starting to sting as I keep staring into his eyes, but he lets me go. Pulling back, he debates while I continue to kneel on my aching feet. Finally, he takes a breath and squares his shoulders back.

"Miss Siena will go over to the bench and sit."

He means the little black bench used for lifting weights, or the restraint of Miss Siena. I quickly get up and walk over to the bench, then sit down facing him.

Slowly he gets up from the couch, strutting over as he undoes the cuffs of his sleeves, leisurely rolling them up to his elbows. He stands in front of me, but out of arm's reach. His gaze is cold, removed.

"Undress yourself."

"Yes, Mr. Damian."

I begin by unbuttoning my blouse and pulling it off, keeping my head down and focusing on my task but feeling his eyes on me. I raise my bottom off the bench so I can pull off my slacks, then quickly sit back down and shove them off my legs. Both garments are neatly laid on the bench beside me, when he extends a hand to take them. I hand over my clothes feeling the punitive intent behind the gesture as opposed to the erotic.

Just as I push down the straps of my bra, he stops me.

"Leave your undergarments on."

"Yes, Mr. Damian."

The blue eyes continue to assess me coldly as I stare back into them, wishing they could know how much I love the man who has control over me. The control wielded by his ownership of my heart. We continue to stare at each other until the blue eyes waver. The hard expression shows a flicker of sadness as he gazes at me waiting for him with nothing but obedience, but he seals it up.

"Turn around and face the wall."

This means he wants my back to him, and my body will run parallel with the length of the bench instead of across it. The position he usually places me in when I will be affixed to the bench somehow. I swing my legs around so that my knees are tucked over the far side of the bench, my feet butting up against the legs of the bench in preparation for some binding.

"Place your hands behind your back." His voice is still oddly cold, the noticeable absence of calling me by my sub name.

"Yes, Mr. Damian," I answer shakily, putting my arms behind my back and crossing my wrists to lie flat against my lower back.

I'm waiting for the restraints to be placed on me, the black leather cuffs specifically since I didn't see him holding any rope. I continue to wait patiently while he is also standing idle, remaining behind the bench and out of my sight. After many seconds of silence, I hear his footsteps walking away. Then I hear the sound of a drawer being opened, the lower pitch of the bedroom dresser. He's getting clothes out. The sound of fabric moving, a belt being undone; he's getting undressed. An unusual move that he typically does not undress until Mr. Damian intends to have penetrative sex with me. More sounds of fabric rustling, then the thud of boots going across the floor. He's walking away towards the kitchen, the jingle of keys, and then the humming motor of the elevator grows louder. I hear the metal grate being pulled up and slammed closed again, and the drone of the elevator quietly sinks away.

My punishment for the evening is to be left alone. And wait.

I sit in stunned silence for many minutes, hoping that perhaps this is a test and he'll return shortly to see if I remain where he left me, if I can remain in the awkward hold with my arms still held behind my back. But I know it's not a test. It's a mean, vengeful move to punish me. To hurt me as much as he was hurt when he waited for me.

My tears fall on my bare, cold legs. I allow myself a few minutes of pity, then I get up and clean off my face in the bathroom. I stem the tears and get dressed. Then I call his phone, and he does not answer. I don't have the will to leave a message; I can only send a text.

I know you're angry. All I can say is I love you. Will you please at least text me?

There's no point in holding my breath for a reply. After another 45 minutes of silence, I change into jeans and throw on a light sweater. Then I order an Uber, grab my wallet and my helmet, the helmet he bought for me, and toss them both into a backpack.

I give the Uber driver the address of his uncle's restaurant, but I don't intend to actually go there. Where I want to go is the little bar at the end of the strip mall, and desperately hope to find the person who might actually help me.

When I get to the bar, it's a little after 10:00 pm. The same grizzled bartender greets me gruffly, and unenthusiastically fills a glass with the fizzy soda water from the bar. There are a few couples seated at tables, and a man playing the video poker machine on the opposite end of the bar. The only other patrons sitting at the bar besides me are another pair of women who look around anxiously, dressed for something nicer than a video poker bar. Most likely girls that Artem invited, not knowing what they were getting themselves into.

After ten minutes of sipping my sugary soda water, and trying to smile at the pair of women in a friendly way, Artem bops in with a cocky swagger. He immediately greets the girls and then spots me. His face is a huge grin at first, but dims slightly when he realizes I'm alone.

"Siena! Did my brother bring you?" he playfully asks.

I shake my head, letting him study my red eyes and fatigued smile. He steps in closer, leaning down towards me.

"Siena, are you ok?" he asks in a surprisingly modest tone.

"Go ahead and help them first. Then I'd like to ask you something," I reply with a nod towards the girls.

He pauses for just a studious moment, then nods stoically like I've directed him on some important mission. He turns towards the girls and heads back to their end of the bar, chatting them up while making their drinks. The girls are intrigued by my forlorn state, and if anything add some mystique to the usually transparent show-off. I can hear Artem saying I'm a good friend of the family, almost amused that he doesn't reveal that I'm actually his brother's girlfriend.

After a judicious amount of flirting, he comes back to me, leaning onto the bar so he doesn't tower above me.

"So," he begins, then pauses to throw a towel over his shoulder, "how may I be of assistance?"

I take a deep breath, when he adds-on, "Assuming this has something to do with my foolish little brother."

"If you were Damian, where would you go if you were pissed off?"

Artem raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Is this why you are here alone?"

I nod my head sheepishly, feeling more foolish than anything or anyone.

He scoffs and mumbles something in Armenian under his breath. "What has he done?"

I take another deep breath, and he sees my hesitation.

"If you do not wish to say, it's ok. But-" he pauses, "I know he is not an easy person. You know this already, yes?"

I nod again. "Yes, I do. But I'm not easy either. We're having a big... misunderstanding. Mostly because I had to work late tonight when I was supposed to meet him at home."

He's listening patiently, nodding. "So, you worked late. He was upset. You fought, then he drove off. Yes?"

"Yeah, that's it."

He quirks his mouth in a frown. "I can tell you where he is will not be with anyone. When he is angry, he does not want to be found."

My heart sinks at this and it shows on my face. A credit to his skills of being an attentive server, and an outrageous flirt, Artem is a quick read of my emotional fluctuations.

"There is more you should know."

I wait as he gives the girls a quick glance before leaning in closer, stirring up a bit of mystery while also giving me a sympathetic look.