Why was she even here? This part of her life was over, it was done. She supposed she had to make that totally and finally clear to him, then maybe he could move on the way she had.
She thought he had moved on, actually. They had barely spoken these past six months. And they hadn't been together in nearly two years. But, then he called, 'please meet me at our old spot, I need to talk to you.' It was important, he also said.
Anna hugged her knees while she sat on the steps outside the house, so still and empty like it had been for ages. She didn't know if the lady who owned it had visited for the past few years, the area seemed almost abandoned.
The grass would have been much taller if he hadn't been keeping it trimmed, but she couldn't help but notice he had gotten lazy on pruning the pine trees back. They seemed to be encroaching more fully into the tiny lawn, almost creating a wall of greenery between the house and the street.
The whole area seemed somehow menacing. The empty feeling and the total isolation. She briefly wondered about the danger of meeting him here, but pushed the thought aside. This was Wayne, after all. He wouldn't hurt her.
Wayne was older than her - much older. She had been enamored with him from the first time she saw him. He was tall, over six feet, and his golden-brown hair had quite a few grays in it, just the way she liked it. He sometimes sported a beard, but tended to shave it in the summer.
He was rugged, too, he worked with his hands and had a physique to match. His work kept him in shape, with a toned chest, strong legs and almost zero stomach. She remembered sneaking glances over at him, feeling a warm desire inside her. But what she hadn't realized at first was that he was had been watching her too.
20 years his junior, Anna was a short girl whose physique wasn't anything like his. She was pudgy and soft, not fat certainly but she carried more than a few extra pounds. Her hair was similar to his, a golden-brown, sans the grays. Her eyes were a piercing bright green.
They had worked together once, that's how they met. Years of flirting went by, getting more and more intense each month. She couldn't remember the exact moment, but there was a day when they both realized, looking at each other, that the tipping point was behind them. They both knew at the moment, the other felt the same way.
Of course, they'd had to keep their relationship hidden. Because of their work, and also because Wayne had a girlfriend. He broke up with her six months into...whatever they had, and Anna had been willing to risk work finding out - it's not like they were doing anything wrong, two consenting adults - but Wayne was concerned. So, to protect Wayne, she had agreed. But it had bothered her. They had nothing to be ashamed of - so why did it have to stay hidden?
A crunching sounds caught her attention - he had arrived. It was odd that she had beaten him, the whole time they were together he always made it first. It had made her feel wanted. Special. He got out of his truck and slammed the door. He had a bag in his hand. That must have been what delayed him. Maybe he grabbed lunch.
"I'm glad you showed," Wayne said, smiling at her.
"I said I would. What did you want to talk about?"
"In here," he said. "I don't want to talk outside."
He unlocked the door and stood aside, letting her through first. She stepped in under his arm and found her nostrils assaulted with the smells of pine and dust. Clearly, no one had been inside for a while. She wondered if anyone other than the two of them had been here.
She heard him step in behind her and close the door. And lock it. The sound made her nervous, because it brought up old memories. Not unpleasant ones, just old ones. Ones she had left in her past.
She turned to look at him. "Okay, now what did you want to talk about?"
"No, upstairs," Wayne said, pointing to the spiral steps. She frowned.
"No, I'd rather not. We can talk here."
Wayne grimaced. "Please? It'll be easier upstairs."
She paused. Why? There was nothing upstairs. Just a bathroom and a bedroom. And lots of memories. She shook her head. "No, I don't feel comfortable up there. Let's sit in the living room." She walked towards the couch, remembering the memories this room held. Far fewer of them, thankfully.
After a moment Wayne followed. She sat down on the couch, but he stayed standing. He seemed agitated, his hands clamping down on the back of the chair, then pacing back and forth, banging the top of the counter. Suddenly he turned towards her.
"This isn't working," he said.
"What isn't?"
"This. Us," Wayne said. "Not being together. I want it back. What we had."
She sighed. So much for being past all this. "I'm sorry, but I thought I made myself clear. We had a lot of fun together, but I'm in a different place now. As wonderful as this," she said, gesturing between them, "was, it's not something I want anymore."
Wayne looked pained. She stood up, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if it hurt you, but I thought you understood. I don't want to hide anymore," she paused, then spoke softer. "It's been over two years since we've been together. It's clear our lives have gone different directions and this is not possible anymore."
She turned towards the exit. She hated hurting anyone, and it would undoubtedly be easier on him if she left quickly. Though she was still deeply attracted to him, she had moved on, and it was time he did too. She was about halfway to the door when it happened.
His hand grabbed her arm in a vice like grip, twisting her back towards him. His other hand grabbed her chin, almost totally enveloping her jaw. He held her face inches from his, breathing heavily.
"Wayne!" she said, panicked. "What the hell! Let go!" She struggled in his hold. "You're hurting me!"
His grip didn't slacken. "Not possible?" he growled. "Anything is possible. And I'm not done with you." His eyes blazed, a dark and hungry look.
A sick, sinking feeling ran through her. "Let me go." She said. She tried to speak firmly, but her voice shook.
"No," he replied simply. "We're going upstairs." He let go of her face and started pulling her towards the stairs. She pulled back, stretching the skin of her arm under his grip. She knew she'd have a massive bruise there, but it didn't matter, she had to get away.
He growled and tossed her forward against the stairs, which meant another bruise was going to bloom on her shin. Before she could react he grabbed her hair, grasping it in his fist close to the scalp and yanking on it.
She couldn't help it, she cried out. "Stop it! You're hurting me!" tears sprang to her eyes. What was going on? This wasn't like him, not at all. Wayne started up the stairs, dragging her along with him. She scrambled to keep up, feeling strands of her hair being pulled out with every step he took. She stumbled down the hallway, half blind from the tears the pain was causing as he heaved her along.
Suddenly, she was tossed from his hold and she fell on her hands and knees on the bed. She scrambled backwards, but he was already there. He pushed her forward and pinned her down, her face mashed into the bed and his knees on either side of her. His hands were on top of her forearms. Totally pinning her, he learned down towards her ear.
"Do you understand now, my little slut?" he whispered, his hot breath on the side of her face.
She struggled against him. "I'm not a slut!" she said. "Let me GO!" she wasn't sure if he could even understand her, her voice was so muffled. But even as she shouted that she wasn't a slut, being this close to him, no matter the circumstances, she could feel herself getting wet. She could feel her desire building, but she had to ignore it. This was over, she had moved on. Hadn't she?
And then he laughed - a cold, cruel laugh that sent a shiver up her spine. It was like he knew what she was feeling.
"Oh the things I could do to you," he said softly, lifting one hand off her arms and brushing it across her hair. She shivered, but she didn't know if it was from fear or desire. "I know what you like. And I know you like this. You like being forced, and used..." his hand wrapped slowly around the back of her neck. "You like being treated like the little fuckslut you are." He said quietly.
