Page 80 of Into the Blue
“For what?” I ask, knowing that he’s increasing security because of my measures.
“Ah. You had your question. It’s only right that we keep things fair right?” I sit back in my seat and he interlaces his fingers. “You have an MBA.”
I sit back in my seat, as well. “That’s not a question.”
He raises an eyebrow at my tone. “Why are you still working at a strip club?”
“We live in a patriarchal society where men feel that sex workers are public property and have zero respect for consent or boundaries,” I repeat, drolly. “The first question any employer will ask is for employment history. They either think I’m punking them and laugh me out of the interview or they solicit me for sex with zero intention of hiring me.”
His frown is a tangible thing that affects his energy in the air as it takes on a negative edge. “Who?”
“Ah. I thought we were keeping things fair.”
His frown deepens, but he crosses his arms. “Fine.”
“Where is my phone?”
“Smashed at the bottom of the bayou.”
“What?!”
“Whatever you were doin’ in here, can’t get out. Can’t talk on a phone that don’t exist. Now, that was two questions.” His lips lift in a devious manner at one side and suddenly, I don’t feel as confident as I once did. “First, why won’t you tell me who your Pa is if he’s the reason you’re in Clayton Terrace?”
I swallow the panic and try to respond as honestly as I can. “I don’t know what you’ll do to him. I haven’t really resolved what I need to and I need him alive to do that.” God, that was vague. I don’t mind taking my clothes off for Milo or Blue. But I know that his patience in torturing me by withholding my release is far too great.
And fuck. I still haven’t truly recovered from last night.
Confusion colors his face, but he asks his next question. “Who is your Pa?”
The quiet in the room expands…
And expands…
And expands.
If I have a choice between telling him the answer and anything else, I have to choose anything else.
When it’s clear what I've chosen, he commands, “Leggings off and get on the desk.”
Not once did I finish that night. My muscles sore from trying to come, but never truly reaching that peak.
It turns him on to be at his mercy, to know that he has this power over me that can’t be alleviated without him.
He enjoys that I need him and lords it over me just the same.
I growl and curse, pulling his hair and no relief comes.
He’s enjoying this more than he should—If he knew the truth he wouldn’t be.
And what’s worse? I know it’s because he couldn’t comprehend that I’m as big a threat to him as I am.
A month passes with more of the same. Except when I’d wake in his arms, it was as if he had forgotten he was Blue no longer and instead Milo took me to the place I was desperate to get to.
Sometimes before I woke and others when he’d wake to catch me looking at him. With my days in this house under his watchful eye, I had nothing to do, but dread the evenings and look forward to the morning.
At night, after he learned of what new ploy had fallen on his business—dealing with the fall out—he would come home and take that frustration out on me. We’d fall into the habit of restraints and games and then questions about who my father was dwindled to nothing whenI gave him nothing. Instead, he would ask about my life, my interests, and my family.
It was a fucked up mind game because what I learned about him came from how he responded to my own answers, like riddles, when my answers were forthcoming. Still I enjoyed it, the mind challenges and him teasing me all night. It was something to look forward to when I couldn’t’ leave this house because of his growing fear of whoever was attacking Dupont.
