SATURDAY
Danielle woke to find the spot next to her empty, she reached out, but the sheets had cooled already. She'd had a hard time getting to sleep, and she'd lain quiet in bed, thinking, long after David's breathing had slowed and deepened.
He'd been true to his word, she'd cooked for him, and he'd read the paper while she did. He sat close enough for her to talk to him if she'd wanted to, but far enough to be near yet not speaking. She'd never been a great cook, but that evening she'd found peace in what she was doing. She'd dragged it out far longer than she had to, but he'd never checked on her. They'd had venison, followed by her secret recipe for chocolate lava cake. She'd needed that little boost of chocolate. After dinner, they watched a movie, and then they went to sleep.
Nothing happened, at all.
David was polite and intelligent company, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened all week. She'd asked him to leave her alone, but she'd never believed he would. As she'd listened to his even breathing, a faint disappointment had settled in her stomach. The greedy part of her wasn't happy.
Now she was awake again, and it was true weekend. If she stayed in bed longer, she could avoid David a few more minutes, but it wouldn't matter. He'd do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.
A nervous energy chased Danielle out of bed, and she slinked to the bathroom, checking around each corner to make sure David wouldn't catch her. He didn't, and he wasn't in the bathroom either. Danielle jumped in the shower and let the rush of warm water calm her down.
After the shower, she stood naked in front of her wardrobe. David would keep her to his rule even in her own home, she was sure of it, so it would have to be a dress and shoes.
At the end of her second run through every dress she owned, Danielle let her head fall back and stared up to the ceiling. She was stalling. David wouldn't eat her, well, maybe he would. She blew out a frustrated breath and grabbed a dress at random. The brown one, fine. She slipped it over her head and fixed her cleavage. It wasn't the best idea to walk around in this one without a bra or a scarf, but what choice did she have?
She slammed her wardrobe shut before she could change her mind, slipped on some black heels and made her way over to the kitchen to find breakfast ready on the table. David looked up from his newspaper and gestured toward the coffeepot.
"Help yourself."
"How generous of you."
David smiled and said, "Grumpy?"
"Bite me."
"Later."
"Oh, shut up."
She'd just finished plating her breakfast when David said, "I like the dress, but you'll want to change your shoes, we'll be on the move a lot."
"I can keep up in these."
"Your choice."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"You're not telling me? Are you a child?"
"In time, Danielle, and do something about the attitude, it doesn't suit you."
"What are you going to do about it?"
David put his cup on the table and fixed his eyes on hers. "Keep pushing if you want to find out." He gestured at the spread on the table. "If you want to start today nice and slow on the other hand, then sit down and have breakfast. It'll be a long day either way, I promise you."
"Can you at least give me a hint?"
"Nope."
Miffed, Danielle focused on her breakfast. She had to fight hard to keep herself from pouting. What was with her? David let her stew and filled his own plate. He'd waited for her, why'd he do that? Why any of this? Why not just tie her to her bed, fuck her all weekend, and then drag her back to work? Why could nothing ever be simple?
She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, and when she glimpsed a smile in the corner of David's mouth, she smashed her tea spoon right through the shell of her boiled egg.
"You're the worst."
--
"Over there."
Danielle parked, and as she turned off the car, her head turned to watch the store across the road. "That's a tattoo shop."
"A good one."
"Sir, the contract states anything permanent is against the rules."
"That's not why we're here." He waved his hand towards the shop and said, "Orson's the only one in town who does what I want." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Did you know there's a special tattoo ink that degrades over six months to a year?"
"No."
"And would you say six months is the same as forever?"
"No."
"Then what's about to happen doesn't count as permanent."
Danielle clenched her teeth and stared at the car in front of her. Her hand was still on the ignition, and she wanted to pull out into the lane so bad, to just drive off and not give in for once.
"Get out of the car."
She pulled the keys from the ignition with an annoyed sigh and opened her car door. They crossed the street, David's hand in the small of her back. He didn't even need to push her, she let herself be led into a new depth of humiliation with her eyes wide-open.
A bell clanked when they stepped into the shop, and an older man greeted them. He didn't have a hint of ink on his wrinkled skin, but the pictures hung up behind his counter told a different tale. Beautiful, intricate drawings, all in black. Geometric patterns, plays on perspective, all shades and lines, simple at first glance, but something drew the eye back to reinsure itself, only to find a new detail in the deceiving drawings.
"Do you like them?"
Danielle blinked and tore her eyes from a picture that showed a woman on her knees, a thin length of chain drawn along her thin waist. "Yes, they're beautiful."
Orson smiled and said, "Thank you." He looked over at David. "You have the design?"
"Not yet, but if you have a pen and a sheet of paper, Danielle will draw it for you."
"I'll be back in a second."
Danielle looked up at David as the old man disappeared into the back. "I can't draw, sir."
"That's your problem? I expected you to make this more difficult."
"I can't stop you, can I?"
"You could if you were ready to face the consequences."
"I thought about it, David, but..." She gestured towards the pictures hanging from the wall. "After seeing those, I'm at least willing to listen."