Control (10 page)

As though I were his child, not his wife.

And boy, had I ever been used to excusing bad behavior when I was a child, of turning my anger inward, which resulted in my bouts of depression. I thought that Robert had offered me emotional stability and security. Instead, I was living the same kind of existence with him that I had with my parents, being controlled by him as if I were his daughter and not his wife.

It took me a full two months to feel comfortable driving the SUV. I’d told Robert before we even went to
the dealership that I’d had an SUV in my twenties and was scared to drive them. I’d taken a corner too fast and the vehicle had rolled. For those couple of seconds as the SUV turned top over bottom at least twice, before stopping on the grass, I’d honestly thought my life was over. I’d promptly gotten a car with a lower center of gravity.

So while my husband thought the SUV was a safer car because I’d had a fender bender, my experience with one left me terrified.

But my fear hadn’t mattered to him.

Just like my desire to have a baby didn’t matter to him.

I was remembering everything now, things I had dismissed because I thought I was being ungrateful to a man who had given me so much. Robert had had to have the final say in where I set up my business. He insisted I choose a locale in downtown Charlotte. The idea was appealing, as I knew the market in Charlotte would be bigger, giving me more potential business. But I wasn’t interested in a megashop where I spent practically all hours of the day working. I wanted a smaller store, one where I could offer personal service to customers. I wanted to grow my business one customer at a time.

But the big issue for me was the commute. Spending over an hour in traffic every morning and again every evening was far from ideal. I wanted a business closer to home.

Robert told me the only way I would make any serious money was to have a shop in downtown Charlotte.
As someone who’d run a successful company for forty years, he claimed he knew what he was talking about.

So I had acquiesced, deferring to his experience. I reasoned that I should have been grateful that he was willing to fund my dream in the first place.

Looking back, I realized I’d done that a lot. I expressed my opinion about something, perhaps something I wanted to do or someplace I wanted to go, but if Robert disagreed or wanted to go somewhere else, I gave in.

In my heart, I knew why: the sense of gratitude for him coming into my life and offering me a whole new world. I’m sure it’s a feeling many women who marry wealthy men have. That you’re never really on equal footing and don’t have the right to complain.

I’d opened the shop in downtown Charlotte, but it didn’t take Robert more than a few months to complain about the commute, the expense of the monthly lease versus the business I was bringing in. Then we were shopping for leases in downtown Cornelius, where I’d wanted to open Distinct Creations in the first place.

There were many, many times over the course of our marriage that I felt my view didn’t matter to Robert, when it was his way or no way at all. He had this annoying habit of walking away from me in the middle of a conversation when he decided it was over. Every time, I hadn’t bothered to push whatever issue I’d been discussing. Robert was the handsome older man I’d married, and I knew that many women would kill to be his wife.

The fancy cars, the fancy trips. The upscale restaurants. All the privileges that money could buy.

Well, another woman could have it.

I was done.

I was in no mood to go to work for the remainder of the day. Because I was going to Sharon’s appointment, I’d already arranged for Spike to be at the store, along with Tabitha and Maxine. The shop was in good hands.

Our house, with its six bedrooms and five full bathrooms, was surely big enough for someone to get lost in, at least for a while. I went downstairs to the movie room and curled up on a big leather recliner.

There, in the darkness, I bawled my eyes out.

I didn’t know where Robert was. If he was still upstairs. If he’d left the house. If he bothered to look for me in any of the rooms. But a few hours later, when I had to go to the bathroom, I finally left the comfort of the theater and quietly crept up the stairs.

I didn’t see Olga, but I heard her humming. She was
in the kitchen cooking. A pot roast, if my sense of smell was correct.

I made my way to the upper level, then down the hall to the master bedroom. I held my breath as I opened the door, fearing I would see Robert.

He wasn’t in there, and I gave a sigh of relief. I knew I would have to see him again at some point, but right now I needed my space.

I gathered my toiletries and pajamas, things I would need for the night, then crept out of the master bedroom and all the way down the hall. I was sneaking around like an unwanted houseguest.

Which was exactly how I felt. Like an unwelcome guest in a home that no longer felt like mine.

As much as I wanted to be anywhere but here right now, all I really cared about was being away from Robert. I wasn’t even in the mood to face any of my friends. I still needed time to deal with what had happened—and what it meant—before I spoke to Sharon or Spike.

I chose a bedroom at the far end of the hall. Symbolically, it was as far from Robert as I could get on this floor.

Still in my clothes, I climbed into the bed. Then I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unable to stop wondering about all that had gone wrong and how I’d gotten to this point.

Should I have known? Not necessarily that Robert would lie to me about the vasectomy, but that he would take advantage of my naïveté in some way? A few of my friends had warned me against marrying a man who
had already been married and divorced, but I hadn’t listened. They’d warned me that a much older, much wealthier man might end up controlling me. That for all I might gain, I might end up losing myself.

I hadn’t listened, and those friends from the restaurant where I’d met Robert had slowly but surely disappeared from my life. At the time, I hadn’t minded—I hadn’t needed their negativity about my marriage. I’d slipped into a world that was me and Robert. A world that included evenings at the beach behind our house, sharing some wine and great conversation, and holding hands as the sun went down. A world that included lying in bed at night and reading the classics that we both enjoyed so much. Charles Dickens, James Joyce and even Jane Austen. In those quiet times together, away from Robert’s hectic world, we were connected on an emotional level—the way I had always wanted to connect with someone. So what if some of my former friends had drifted away? I’d finally met my soul mate, and what was more important than that?

But the truth was, Robert was
not
my soul mate. Today I couldn’t help wondering if there even was such a thing.

For some reason, I thought of the sexy stranger with the hazel eyes right at that moment. No, Robert was definitely not my soul mate. Maybe my subconscious had accepted that fact months ago, which was why I’d started having those hot sexual fantasies about a stranger. As I’d grown more and more concerned about the state of my marriage, fantasizing about the man with those alluring hazel eyes had brought me a sense of
something.

Excitement? Relief?

Escape.

Yes, escape. An emotional escape from a marriage I had known was falling apart.

And right now, I needed him. Needed him to take me away from the pain that was overwhelming me.

I let my mind wander back to some of the fantasies I’d enjoyed recently. Remembering the one where I’d been on the love seat, my thighs spread wide with his face buried in my pussy, I felt a zap of electricity between my legs.

Suddenly, I needed a sexual release. I’m not sure why, at that moment of all moments. Something was changing inside of me. I was becoming more aware of my sexual side. Or perhaps not repressing it anymore.

In my fantasies, he had mostly pleased me. Now, I wanted to please him—if only in my mind.

I wanted to feel the kind of power that came when a woman tried to seduce a man and succeeded. The power that came when you knew the man you desired wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

I closed my eyes. Imagined my phantom lover in front of me with his pants loosened and his shirt off. I ran my hands over his torso, feeling the strong muscles there. And then I pressed my lips against his belly.

Slowly, I kissed a path downward, dragging his jeans over his hips. Then I ran my hand along the length of his cock, which was hidden by his briefs.

It was hard. Thick and long.

I wanted to taste him. I pulled his black briefs down
and his cock sprang free. And I took a moment to look at him.

He looked even more impressive than he felt. His cock was beautiful. With no foreskin, the head was exposed. It was perfectly rounded and wide.

I lowered myself to my haunches, then took his beautiful, hard penis in my hand. I pumped it with slow, steady strokes, looking up at him as I did.

His eyes had grown darker with lust. He was gazing at me with an expression of need that said I had total control of his pleasure.

I guided him to my mouth. Flicked my tongue over the engorged head. His cock throbbed, and he moaned.

I ran my tongue around the tip of his shaft in a slow, wet circle. Then I wrapped my lips around his head and sucked it like it was a giant lollipop.

My lover tangled his hands in my hair. I opened my mouth wider, drew him deeper inside. Took him to the back of my throat. Then I slid my mouth back, my lips still suctioned to his cock. When his head met my lips again, I sucked it, dipped my tongue into the groove there.

He groaned. So did I.

I took him deep into my mouth again, moving up and down his cock faster, using my hands to tease his testicles. Suddenly I was carnivorous, unable to get enough of him. I pumped his cock while I gave him head, using my teeth and tongue to drive him wild.

My pussy was throbbing. And wet. I needed him. But first, I needed to make him come in my mouth.
To know that I had the power to give him the ultimate pleasure that way.

As my mouth worked hungrily, taking him to the back of my throat, I felt his cock begin to pulse in steady, rapid movements. Then I felt warmth on the back of my tongue, tasted his essence. I gripped his thighs and sucked him, drinking every last bit of his seed while his cock convulsed in my mouth.

Then he was pulling me to him, kissing me desperately, sucking on my tongue and my lips. He squeezed my breasts with urgency. He needed me.

As much as I needed him.

“Spread your legs for me,” he demanded, his voice a throaty growl.

I did, and he covered my pussy a moment later, sighing with pleasure as he trailed a finger along my opening and found me wet. He slipped a finger inside me. Then another. And another. He finger-fucked me until I was panting, devouring my lips and swallowing my sobs of pleasure.

“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Fuck me!”

He lowered me onto the bed, spread my thighs and rammed his cock into me.

In my mind, he filled me with powerful, fast strokes. But it was my own hand that was playing with my pussy. I furiously massaged my clitoris, needing relief.

And then, with the image of my lover fucking me wildly, I came hard, my spine and neck arching, a crushing orgasm roaring through me. I bit back my cries of passion, wanting no one to overhear me—but almost not caring if they did.

As I lay there, my fingers between my legs, savoring every bit of my orgasm, I knew that my fantasies would not be enough.

I wanted to experience the real thing.

At some point I must have drifted off, because the sound of the bedroom door opening woke me with a start. I looked up to see Robert standing in the doorway.

“There’s dinner downstairs,” he announced.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

I glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. It read 6:42 p.m. “I want to be left alone.”

“Are you going to hide from me forever?”

Maybe I should have gone to my shop. At this hour, Spike, Tabitha and Maxine would have locked up for the night. I could leave now, get a head start on the work I normally did in the morning. Every day I made an assortment of arrangements that customers could walk in and buy, without having to order them in advance. Rose bouquets for anniversaries, arrangements that brightened a sick person’s day. Something special for a man courting a woman.

Sighing, Robert stepped fully into the room and closed the door. Clearly, he wanted us to talk.

I stared at him, my heart pounding. I wasn’t ready for the talk I wanted to have with him. I’d thought about it for hours after I’d fucked my phantom lover, could think of nothing else. It was pretty clear to me what I had to do, and I was dreading the reality of it.

I threw the covers off and sat up.

“I told Olga you weren’t feeling well.”

“At least that’s true,” I mumbled, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“She was very concerned. She wanted to stay and take care of you tonight. I pretty much had to force her to leave, with the promise that I would call and have her come back if you wanted me to.”

I said nothing.

“I’m hoping we can talk,” Robert went on.

“There’s really nothing to say.”

“You’re still angry. I understand.”

I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. “No, Robert, I don’t think you do.”

“I wasn’t up front with you. I hurt you.” He paused, stepped toward me. “I do understand. I’m sorry I didn’t handle things differently.”

Differently? What exactly did that mean? That he
wouldn’t
have had the vasectomy? Or that he still would have had it, but been honest about it?

It didn’t matter.

“I think we’ve said all there is to say about this.” My head hurt, my pulse was racing. But I needed to go on. “If you truly realize the extent to which you hurt me, then you’ll understand that you undermined our marriage. I thought we were partners, but your decision…You left me out of a decision that directly affected my life.”

“A life I gave you,” Robert said, with a pointed look. “Before I met you, you could never imagine
living in a house like this. Traveling to the places we’ve traveled.”

“I didn’t marry you for this!” I gestured at the massive room.

“Giselle and Christine said the same thing. And yet when they left, they demanded that I pay them thousands a month.”

I had heard Robert arguing often with his ex-wives, had heard him threaten to cut off support payments if he was upset with them. I had never asked him any questions about his personal affairs, feeling it wasn’t my business. Now I was certain that he had tried to control them the way he had me.

“I’m not them.”

Robert raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“You think all that matters to me are material things?” I asked. “I loved the Robert who courted me with gentleness and persistence. The one I would lie with in bed at night and read great literature. The one who would take time out of a business meeting to call and tell me he loved me. But you turned into someone else. You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

“I gave you a life better than any you could have ever imagined.”

“So I have no right to be mad at you.” It was a statement, not a question, because it was clear that’s what Robert believed. “I have no right to want a baby.” My God, I couldn’t believe he could be so shallow. That he could believe since he had all the money, it meant he should have all the power in our relationship.

But more so than that, I couldn’t believe
I
had
subscribed to that belief. Because I had, even if I hadn’t meant to. I had lived my life as though I didn’t deserve to be Robert’s equal.

“I’m trying to keep things in perspective,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“What perspective is that? That I have no right to expect anything in this marriage other than what
you
choose to give me?” I asked, unable to keep the anger from my voice now. I was glad Olga wasn’t here to overhear what might turn into an ugly argument. “That’s bullshit!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant. And you know what’s sad? In my heart I believed it, too. I always did what
you
wanted as I kept things in
perspective.
But no more, Robert. No more.”

“Let’s have this conversation when you’re in a better mood. Perhaps in the morning.”

And as Robert had done so many other times when he decided to end a discussion, he turned his back on me. He turned his back and walked out of the bedroom.

Appalled, I hustled after him and pushed in front, blocking his path. His eyes filled with surprise. “There’s no other way to say this than to just say it. I’m leaving you. We have nothing left.”

That got his attention. He raised an eyebrow, but then his expression turned skeptical. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” I didn’t bother to give him another speech as to why. All that mattered was the bottom line. I was moving on with my life.

“Oh, Elsie.” Robert actually chuckled softly. He was
being patronizing again. Treating me like a child who didn’t know what she wanted.

“I’ll probably go stay with a friend, but for now, I’ve moved into that spare bedroom.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“If you say so.” He could think what he wanted. I wasn’t going to argue with him.

“What’s this really about?” Robert asked, his voice rising.

“We’ve discussed that.”

“I don’t accept it!”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”