Page 12 of Bind Me, Sir

Her knowing smile made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. “She doesn’t work Saturdays, but I’m sure she would come in if I requested she join us.”

I shook my head and moved off in the opposite direction, needing the pool to cool my desire to tie Natalie to the altar. Disheartened by her absence and yet relieved all the same, I focused on enjoying my weekend away from the city.

Same as Friday night, I didn’t actively participate in scening with the woman Adam had brought to the church for my enjoyment. Garret, however, gave the woman what she craved—and she joined her girlfriend in giving him what he wished, “double the pleasure, double the fun” as he would say. Both sucked his cock, laved at his balls until his spunk covered their faces which they cleaned off one another with their tongues at his command.

Lily sat on Adam’s lap across the church from me, naked and gyrating, their murmurings while staring at one another and making love creating a sense of despondency inside me I hadn’t before experienced.

I slipped out of the church, breathing in the warm, summer night air as the door clicked shut behind me. Wishing I could change my mind as easily as my surroundings, I made my way back to the house and the empty bed, ready to head home for the rest of the weekend rather than attempt to enjoy what was left of it.

Chapter Six

Natalie

I had gotten the call from the parents of Luna’s best friend, requesting I pick her up from their house. Not even yet dinner, and my sister had helped herself to their liquor cabinet and passed out cold on their living room floor.

They had threatened to call the cops—not for the first time—and I’d sped my old Toyota to their house, desperate to make things right. Again.

I half-dragged my sister to the car before handing over to the Olsens every bit of cash in my wallet which didn’t begin to cover the cost of the liquor she’d drank and spilled all over their floor.

My head pounding and eyes aching, I drove my snoring sister home, the stench of booze surrounding her doing nothing to help my twisting stomach. She grumbled about my jostling her indoors, and I couldn’t bear to look at the 8x10 picture of our parents hanging inside the entryway.

I had caused my father’s drunkenness—had I somehow been the one responsible for Luna’s as well?

We stumbled up the stairs, and I bit my tongue to keep the tears and curses over her stupid choices to myself. Irresponsible—yet hurting, Luna refused counseling. Refused to grieve in the way she needed to move on with her life.

I sat beside her while she snored, her face half-buried in her pillow, my eyelids drooping from exhaustion. Leaving her side meant not being available if her body attempted to drown in her own vomit. Throwing up would have been the best thing for her—to rid her body of the massive amount of alcohol she’d ingested, but she didn’t.

She slept heavily, but roused when I shook her every hour or so. Had she remained unresponsive and clammy, I would have taken her to the ER for alcohol poisoning.

Eventually, I slept, jerking awake every so often to check on my snoring sister.

Morning finally brought early light around the shades, and I cursed the five o’clock digital reading from the bed stand beside me.

Luna slept peacefully, and inwardly grumbling, although relieved, I finally left her there, climbing into the shower and trying like hell to prepare myself for the confrontation to come.

Luna didn’t disappoint.

“Fuck off, Nat,” she grumbled the second I tried to sit her down for a chat.

“Do you want to die?” I asked, my voice as raised as my blood pressure. “Do you want to leave me all alone, wasting the life that Mom and Dad fought so hard to give us?”

“They aren’t here to enjoy the fruits of their labor,” she said with such rancor and sarcasm, my heart hurt, “so what does it matter.”

At least she hadn’t known I blamed myself for their deaths. I expected she would have tossed that in my face as well if she had. I slumped into a chair at the table across from her, glancing at the bowl of crisped rice she attempted to eat. “You need to get some professional help,” I said, all trace of anger gone from my voice—as empty as my soul that bitterness fought to fill.

“No,” Luna responded as she always did, pushing the soggy cereal around in its pool of white.

“Please.” I grasped her hand across the table and leaned forward, needing her to make eye contact, needing her to listen. “You’re on a destructive path, and if you don’t start making better choices, start attempting to live, you’ll wind up six feet under, resting beside Mom.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she snipped and stood abruptly, knocking her chair over.

My breath caught. “Luna—”

“Forget it. Forget I said that.” She grabbed up her bowl, slopping some onto the table top. “I’m not going to kill myself, so don’t get your panties all twisted up your ass crack.”

“If you don’t choose to get some help, I’ll do what I need to do to keep you safe.”

She glared at me, her bloodshot eyes red-rimmed and full of hurt. “I haven’t once inflicted harm on myself or even attempted it—you have no fucking leg to stand on to toss me into a psych ward.”

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