Seduced

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Diamonds are not Forever

Housework, yes it is one of my compulsions made even more so by Master's untidy habits, and the fact the house is now up for sale. I had begun to clean even places I had previously overlooked before.

Today's messy subject was the bottom of the wardrobe. Master is one of those men who can just put something away and forget its existence. No matter how messy it is if he closes the door on it, it is quite forgotten. As I was doing this and attempting to make some order of his possessions I discovered on top of the set of drawers in his wardrobe a ring box. It was red velvet and looked new. I opened it and almost dropped the box when I sighted its contents. Contained within was the most beautiful and expensive ring I had ever seen, something a film star would wear.

Gingerly I removed it from its crimson velvet bed. It was heavy white gold, the band half an inch in width. They had to be real diamonds. I wanted to scratch the glass with them to be sure, but was too afraid. There was one very large central rectangular stone with two matching ones set either side. The rest of the substantial band was inset with them also, it was the most beautiful thing.

My thoughts returned to the day Master had given me the silver ring with the bluebird on it, I could not imagine being given something like this. Instinctively I knew this was probably worth more than my Father's car, maybe even more than our entire family home! I slipped it on to my wedding finger feeling great disappointment, it was way too big for me, and on further observation it did not fit on any of my fingers.

I could not imagine a man would buy a ring like this and not have it fit perfectly, it made no sense.

The sinking thought came to me then, he did not buy this for me...

Thursday afternoon Master came home very early, he had ordered me on parting that morning to iron his best shirt. I hate ironing and rarely do any, I don't even believe I am remotely good at it. However though inexperienced I did it to the best of my ability, looking at it long before deciding the garment would be up to his standard.

He breezed past me in the doorway, he did not acknowledge me at all. I did not move from my place, and he went straight to the bathroom. I was torn, but he had not given me permission to rise. I waited, he showered, emerging from the bathroom, towel about his waist; water droplets still beading on his flesh. He did not give me so much as a glance, nor did he free me from my post.

He was a long time in the bedroom, he never took this long to dress. When he did emerge I could hardly recognize him as the man I knew. Removed from his usual blue collar attire Master looked like a celebrity. Black suit well cut, stark white shirt I had so carefully ironed, a tie about his bull neck. I did not know this man. He collected his car keys, wallet, and phone, patted me under the chin and told me to be good. The door slammed, I heard the keys in the lock, and he was gone.

This evening I sit alone, I have some music on for ambiance, and the computer for solace. I would give almost anything to see what he is doing at this moment.

*****

He sat silent in the kitchen, it was late, well after midnight. Again he passed me in the doorway, I could smell perfume on him mixed with his aftershave, he never looked at me. He simply went to the kitchen and sat in the dark. I felt very afraid.

Master can have an overbearing melancholy about him when one of his black moods strikes. It's so oppressive I feel I am being buried alive. I have not seen him this way since he fell, that dreadful day that sealed little Cleo's demise. I long to go to him, comfort him in his blackness, but I do not dare. Instead I sit quietly hoping he will call to me, but he does not.

One o'clock passes neither of us has moved, the music is still quietly playing in the background. My knees are beginning to bother me, but not as much as his brooding silence is. I wait yet another hour, my body now equally as uncomfortable as my mind is, finally making my decision for ill or good to retreat to the bed alone.

*****

Friday morning I wake, it is still early, his absence in the bed disturbing. He should be at work, however I know today he will not be. I creep from the covers pulling my blanket about me, I feel like I am approaching a wounded lion in his den. He is still there, asleep on the table top, his long hair the color of a wheat field in high summer cascading over its dented surface, and set before him is the little red velvet box.

Perhaps he will like some coffee? I know it is most important I try to assuage his hurt. I am fairly sure I understand what has happened, he is a man who does not take refusal well. That woman he has fallen for Brigitte, is a creature so like himself, cold, cruel, and heartless, and today he feels what he so routinely without thought, does to others. I want to feel pity, though even I feel a sense of appropriate justice has been done.

My industriousness in the kitchen slowly rouses him. I try not to look as he wakes and tucks the ring box sheepishly into his jacket pocket, yet we both know he has. I long to tell him I love him, because in spite of everything, I do, so very, very much. I place the coffee before him, it is strong and black, with spoonfuls of sugar. He drinks it slowly, with not a word for me. I sit at his feet, he slowly drinks looking about the room. For all his sartorial splendor he appears the King who has lost his crown.

The day was spent in mutual silence, I know Master well after all these years, making speech unnecessary between us to fulfill his wishes.

Later that evening Master's brother arrived, I guess in his unscheduled absence at work this day his brother sensed trouble. I served them both dinner and retreated from the kitchen to let them talk. It was bad of me, but I so wanted to know all the juicy details. So I hovered nearby straining for every word.

"She'll hurt you Bro."

"I want her Svend." Master's voice was raw with emotion. "She understands me, she knows who I am."

Master's brother shook his head. "I've seen her kind, she will chew you up and spit you out. She's beautiful, but not worth it."

"What would you know!" Master spat.

"You can't afford her Brother."

"Don't tell me what I can't afford!" Master was indignant now.

The elder man made a sound of frustration as he poured another drink.

"Well, she refused your ring didn't she? Most women would have been all over you if you had of presented them with that. Think! She is chasing millionaires all over Europe. You are going down a sorry path brother, be satisfied with what you have."

I knew he was referring to me.

Master made an exasperated, strangled sound, and the glass he was drinking from crashed to the floor as he angrily swiped his arm across the table top. His stalwart brother did not flinch, he was used to his younger siblings temper tantrums. He calmly poured another drink.

"If you think she's so fucking fabulous why don't you just take her?" Master yelled without warning. He rose from the table abruptly, the bottle of scotch teetered dangerously, before miraculously righting itself.

I jumped as he strode purposely into the lounge, grabbing me by my collar and hauling me into the kitchen before his brother, who was still calmly sitting at the table.

"Take her! Go on, fucking take her! That's what you want isn't it!"

He thrust me roughly at Svend and went into the bedroom. I stood there awkwardly, his brother's cool gray eyes on me as we both listened to the bedroom being torn apart.

Some minutes later he emerged with a bag, which I presume was packed with my belongings. I did not have many. He threw some clothes in my direction, snarling at me to put them on.

"I don't care what you do with her, get her out of my sight!"

I saw his brother hesitate. I thought for a moment they might actually come to blows, he looked gravely at Master, put his half finished drink down looking at me as I frantically dressed. I could not believe Master would truly send me away. I was already teary eyed.

I felt a touch on my arm, fleeting gentle. Master took the entire bottle of scotch and upended it, he drank deeply looking at his brother in open defiance.

"Nobody, including you, tells me what to do. Now get out!"

Again the gentle urging touch, his brother was guiding me to the door, the door I had rarely stepped through in all these long months, out into the lingering summer twilight. Master never even watched us leave. As we drove away I looked back, the front door remained ajar.

Master's brother had a very lovely car, much nicer than any car I had ever had the privilege to ride in, it was a new Audi R8, black and shiny with leather interior. He was silent as he drove, he put on the radio. I looked out the window at the streets and buildings as we left Copenhagen. It was a long drive to his brother's home, some three hours. We crossed an immense bridge I could not believe the length of it, and we did not get to our final destination, Arhus until dark.

The homes in this area were expansive and beautifully maintained. Quiet streets, green lawns, and manicured gardens. I could see why Master had suggested we come here. I had often wondered what it might be like as a girl to live in a place like this?

The automatic garage door gaped wide and we drove into its dark maw. He grabbed my few belongings and escorted me inside. His home was beautiful and spacious, it appeared he lived alone. However unlike Master his domicile was very orderly and clean. There were vast areas of pristine, shining hardwood floors, and the carpets were white. One could see this had at one time been a loving couples home. Pictures of her were everywhere. She was golden and beautiful, her image smiled back at me, from the mantles, the book shelves, and his great mahogany desk in his study as I passed by, following him like a small, lost, child as he showed me where everything was.

"My home is your home." Was all he said.

He deposited my bag in the master bedroom leaving me with no doubt what my duties to him would be. I could not hate this man, yet he was not the man I loved.

It was late. I was tired, more tired than I had realized, it had been a trying day. He was not ready for bed, he poured some white wine for us both in some thin crystal glasses. He even made me laugh as he made his glass sing as he rubbed the edges of it. I felt like a little girl in his presence, and I am sure to him some twenty years older I was.

I squirmed with guilt when I thought of what I had done to his baby, he could never know.

I was struggling to drink my wine, I have never liked it, and it was making me even more weary, and a little woozy as well. He put his hand on my hand, and I realized he still wore his wedding band. I had never noticed it before.

"Kom." This time I did not disobey him.

His master bathroom was beautiful, all dark marble and black fittings, best of all her pictures were not here. I was glad, it seemed sacrilegious to do anything in her presence. He stood before me, and as the water filled the large jacuzzi he undressed me ever so slowly. He was much better at foreplay than his brother was, I hated to admit this. He was calmer and more experienced, he took everything slow, delighting in lingering pleasures.

He removed my top, I had nothing on under it, his eyes alighting on my inner arms and the ugly scars there. I realized he had not sighted them before, he ran his fingers over them, they tingled.

"What is this?" He looked at me earnestly, his gray eyes searching my face for the answer.

I looked to the floor trying to lose myself in the patterns in the marble, I would not speak of that dark time to anyone. I could not. He continued to undress me like I was a small child, tenderly, slowly. He never pressed me for an answer like Master would have. He then undressed as well and guided me to the bath. The water was warm, relaxing, and unlike bathing with Master this bath was large, luxurious and deep. The water came up to my chin. He sat opposite me drinking his wine that sat perched on the rim of the tub.

He was heavier set than Master, slightly less defined, but still very handsome. His hair was slightly thinner and longer, a shade darker than Master's was, he had many intricate tattoos on his shoulders and arms. The designs all flowing onto the other, they were on further study very beautiful. I had never looked at this man so closely before, I had always been afraid.

He shifted his position in the tub closer to me, I heard the grandfather clock in the great room chime midnight, a clear resonant sound. He pulled me onto his lap, the water sloshed and spilled from the sides of the tub, he was every bit as strong as Master was. I did not fight him and let this quiet, gentle, man do as he wished. I had never felt so calm. He looked long at the tattoo on my belly.

"He should not have done that to you." Was all he said. Yet he had locked me up in Master's absence? I did not understand.

He kissed me lightly on the neck and the face. I closed my eyes and unlike that first time many months distant, I did not pull away. To my surprise I found I was reciprocating his kisses in kind, and they progressed from light fleeting touches to deep kissing on the mouth. He loved me in a way Master never had, he truly saw me, the real Lidia. Not an object, not a slave, not a platform to fueling his own ego. Just me, the girl I really was. I cried tears of astonishment and joy.

He lifted me from the bath, and tenderly dried my tears.

"Do not cry Lidia." He said in his awkward English, smiling at me, he had the same, winsome, smile as his younger brother. He dried me off, and wrapped me in his oversized, black bathrobe. I had not felt this way since I was a little girl. I watched him carefully, sitting on the bath mat like a lost refugee, he was a magnificent man. He was Master, yet older, wiser, and kind.

He guided me into the adjoining master bedroom. I stopped to look at her picture that graced the bedside cabinet.

"May I ask her name?" I could not help my curiosity, reminders of her were everywhere.

"Ona." He replied, as he turned back the covers on the bed. He seemed not at all upset to utter her name, or speak of her. His four poster bed was very high, I had some difficulty climbing in and maintaining some sense of dignity. He just watched me and smiled, I sensed he was glad not to be alone. He turned out the lamp and lay beside me.

"Tired?"

"Yes," I said, and I was.

He pulled me into his embrace, finally letting me settle my head beneath his solid arm. I could hear the beating of his heart, it was most comforting. My eyes closed and I realized in one of my last thoughts before sleep took me I could understand his words much better than I had before.

My dreams were fitful, convoluted, and dark. They we so bad I woke, I was ashamed to say I was begging, begging them to stop. I dream I am forced to return to my home country, yet there is nothing there awaiting me but ridicule, poverty, and shame. It is an unfinished terror that inhabits my nights. I woke him, he was not annoyed with me like Master would be. He comforted me and I returned to sleep.

When I did wake it was late, at first I sat up and could not fathom where I was. I had become so used to Master's four walls it had almost erased memories of anything else. I slid out of the tall bed, I was unsure what was expected of me, out of habit I pulled on my blue blanket and quietly stole through the house. The soft clean carpets felt good under my feet, unlike the threadbare floor coverings of Master's home. The walls were lined with art, beautiful photographs, and sculpture everywhere, even a grand piano shining black, with real ivory keys. Out of sheer curiosity my fingers plucked the notes, I cannot play but I had always wished I had learned. Other girls at school had, but not I.

"You are awake finally." He had been in his office.

I jumped at his voice, snatching my fingers from the piano, feeling like a criminal. "I'm sorry Sir." I stammered.

He smiled leaning in the office doorway. "It's quite all right Lidia. You had a bad night?"

"I'm sorry, Sir." I said again looking at my toes. He walked towards me soundlessly on the carpet. I felt his fingers under my chin.

"Look at me Lidia?" I did, it was hard to, his gaze was very bit as intense as Masters. "Come let's get something to eat. I am sure you are hungry, and I want to talk to you."

I followed him to the kitchen, he made me sit on the bar stool. It felt so very wrong to not be serving him. It took all my will to stay where he had asked, I did wonder if it was indeed some trick that he might punish me for later. He made toast, eggs and bacon, and tea for me while he had coffee. He even remembered how I liked it, white with no sugar. I was at once sorry I had bit him. His kitchen was like everything else he owned, shining and orderly, and I found myself wondering how he kept his home so clean?

He tore me from my practical musings with his unexpected words as he pushed a plate of food towards me.

"Now I want to know truthfully Lidia, if my Brother asks for you to return, and he will shortly. Do you want to go?"

He sounded ever so serious, all I felt was trepidation. I was most fearful to answer him. It had been a long time since anyone had asked me what I wanted, or thought. Silence was my friend, he was Master's brother after all.

"I'm serious Lidia, what do you want to do?"

I could not frame an answer and did not try. I sat and ate instead. He did not press me but continued nonetheless.

"I know you are scared Lidia." He touched my wrist, I was not expecting it. I thought he was going to grab me and I jumped. He was faster, he held my arm on the cold granite countertop.

"Tell me what happened Lidia?" His fingers gently caressing the livid scars. "Did he do this?" His gray eyes on me.

I tried to pull my arm away from his scrutiny, but he did not relent holding me fast. I nodded no, but did not utter a word.

"I see." He seemed disappointed. "I can't make you talk Lidia, but if you want to talk I will listen."

I nodded, he released my arm. I hid the shameful scars under my blanket. I was sure he could make me talk anytime. I knew Master could.

It was a strange day, he never ordered me to do a single thing. I felt lost and bewildered, with no sense of purpose. He spent most of it in his office, the phone rang frequently and he sat a long time at the computer. I do not think he had word from Master at all, and if he did he did not tell me.

That evening he called me to him. I had still not even thought to dress. I was so unsure what this man wanted from me. I did not dare do anything, nor touch anything. I was hungry, but thirst gnawed at me more than my need for food. He stood bare chested, arms crossed, in the center of his sumptuous living room, so like Master I shivered with fear as I slowly approached him. He was different then he had been last night toward me.

"After my conversation with you earlier today Lidia I can see I will have to use a different approach. I understand what it is my Brother has done. I just did not understand how profoundly it had affected you. I know him well, probably a lot better than you do. Sit."

He pointed to the floor before him, I knelt at his feet. He was tall and mighty above me. I examined his toes in great detail, he could have been Master if I did not look up. So I concentrated on that, it was easier on my mind if I could view them as one and the same man.