Page 158 of Tell Me What You Want

“No,” I say, firmly.

Rebeca opens the dressing room curtain, and I see Marisa, Lorena, and the store owner, naked on the couch. I’m speechless. Rebeca circles around me and surrounds me with her arms, taking my breasts in her hands.

“They’re having a very good time. C’mon, let yourself go.”

I drop the corset and remove her hands. I step away. I get my clothes, bend to put on my pants, and start to get dressed. I don’t want to look; I want to leave as soon as possible. Quickly, she grabs me by the hips and grinds against my butt.

“C’mon, Judith ... you want it. You want to open your legs for me. Don’t deny it.”

“I said no—let go of me!”

My words make the other women look up. Rebeca steps away. She doesn’t touch me again, but I don’t like how she’s looking at me. She seems pleased with my discomfort. As soon as I dress, I’m out of there like a flash and without a word.

By the time I get home, I’m incensed. How could I have been so dumb? I think of Eric and want to tell him what just happened. I call him and hear his frigid tone on the other end of the phone line.

“Yes, Jude ...”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Does your head hurt or anything?” I ask, worried that he might not be well.

“No.”

“Have you been dizzy or vomited?”

“No.”

“OK, then why didn’t you come back to the office this afternoon?”

He doesn’t respond. His silence bothers me.

“If it’s because of what happened at the office today, c’mon, it was nothing.”

“Maybe it’s nothing to you, but it’s something to me.”

“I’ll remind you I’m an adult, a grown person, not a child like your nephew, who you can scold anytime.”

“Go ahead ... make me angrier,” he snarls.

His lack of trust bothers me, but I need to tell him what’s just happened.

“Eric—”

But he’s mad, and he cuts me off.

“I don’t care for Miguel. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“No, listen to me, Jude. What would you think if tomorrow I let your beloved supervisor touch my hair while we have breakfast? I’m sure she’d like it. Oh, and maybe she’d love to give me a little kiss. Shall we try it?”

Just thinking about it makes me ill. I close my eyes, and given the example, I understand his frustration.

“OK, message received.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear you finally understand. It’s one thing for you to give permission for a woman to touch me. It’s quite another for a woman, who you know wants me, to touch me without your permission. Do you get it now?”

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