The weeks became a month, then two. Martha and I remained living apart, but we saw each other often--far more often than I imagined her relationship with Olivia had permitted before my intervention.
His smile was subdued, almost sublime. "Yeah, there was a mess that needed some cleaning up." He stepped away from the frame, moving slowly towards my desk. "I thought you were going to call me while I was on the road."
Another oops in a short lists of issues with becoming Olivia. It's not like she had it on her calendar, I thought. "Sorry." I softened my tone, trying to sound sympathetic. "I've had a lot going on of late."
Craig smirked. "You didn't even have a couple of free hours to call and talk dirty?" He slowly shook his head. "You've been a bad girl, Liv."
There was something in his voice when he spoke those last words--something I didn't care for in the least. Living the last two months as Martha's mistress and lover had given me some insight into the dom/sub dichotomy, and I caught the vibe Craig was giving: he was showing dominance over me.
Was this the basis of their relationship? Olivia played mistress to Martha at home, and submissive to Craig at work? Jesus, how was I to do that? While I had wanted to be with Craig--oh, how I'd wanted that--the way he spoke, his body language . . . the way he was walking around to my side of my desk . . . he was intent on stepping into my space, and I'd been of a dominating sort of mind for a while . . .
I stood--almost sprung--from my chair and established my boundaries. "In case you haven't heard," I said coldly, "I've had to deal with one of my staff trying to kill herself." I set my hands upon my hips. "I've not had an easy time around here."
It was as if Craig wasn't listening to the tone of my voice, or picking up on my body language. He moved to within a few inches of me, then stopped when we were literally nose-to-nose. Though he was tall, in my heels I was just as tall, so his opportunity to intimidate me with his height was out of the question.
"That silly bitch tried to off herself a couple of months ago," he growled softly. "What else is keeping you so busy you can't help me jack off over the phone?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Playing dominatrix again, are we?"
Now it was my time to smirk. "Who said anything about playing?"
"You were never good at it."
"How would you know, Craig?" I crossed my arms. "You ever give it a try?"
Perhaps it was the way I phrased the question, or the tone of my voice, or . . . who knows? I don't. But a light that had been in Craig's eyes up to that point--something that said, "I'm being playful with you, Olivia"--it vanished. In its place was something else: something cold, something . . . dangerous? If he's a dom, and he feels you're trying to dom him, I thought, then he's not going to be happy.
But I wasn't seeing "Not happy" in his eyes. No, I was seeing something along the lines of, "I'm going to smack you, bitch". I was seeing, "I should knock the shit out of you."
Craig stepped into me, his body hard against me. He was trying to push me into my chair, to knock me back and down, to exert his control over me. I wasn't having it: I staggered one step backwards, but remained on my feet.
There was cold flame in his eyes. "You're pissing me off, Liv."
I knew my own eyes were shining like black ice. "You only have yourself to blame."
"Get on your fucking knees."
I heard it then. I knew we'd gone beyond playing dominate and submissive. Craig was pissed, and he wanted to take it out on someone--and he wanted to take it out on me in a particular way that I was never going to allow. "Fuck you."
"What did you say?" His tone wasn't so much angry now as it was menacing.
My stomach was beginning to flip-flop as I understood where this could lead. "I said fuck you, Craig." My right eyebrow shot up. "Do you need to me explain?"
"You never speak to me that way!"
"I'll speak to you however I like. And whatever dom act you're trying to lay on me . . ." I smiled bravely. "It's not working; it never did."
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. My eyesight was working at preternatural levels now, and I noticed the slight movement of his body, of his arms--of his hands. "Fucking bi--"
"You touch me," I said in a whisper, "and they're going to hear my scream in the neighboring state."
"They'll just think you're enjoying it."
"You willing to risk that?"
It gave him a momentary pause, wondering if I would scream were he to lay his hand upon me. "You remember that time you leaned over you desk," he whispered back, his head turning towards my right ear, "and let me fuck you up the ass?" He chuckled. "You were moaning so much I had to stuff your panties in your mouth." His lips inched towards my face. "Don't you remember how you so enjoyed being my slut?"
I took a long, slow breath, then let it out as an exasperated sigh. "Can't say I do," I said, my lips curling in disgust. "And with that, get the fuck out of my office."
For a moment I thought he was going to grab me, and I was ready to take action: to scream, to bite, to do anything to fend him off. "I'll leave when I'm ready."
"You better reassess your position." I cast my eyes downward for only a second before I returned my gaze to his. "Leave, or you're going to find your balls in the back of your throat in thirty seconds."
I picked up my mobile and held it next to my face. "You want me to call the EMTs? Or would you like to make the call?"
When he realized I wasn't backing down Craig stepped back a few feet, then made his way towards the door, sidestepping the whole way, while keeping his eyes locked upon me. "You win this round, Liv--"
"It's O-liv-i-a," I said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "Don't ever come in here again, you douchebag, unless it had to do with business." I nodded towards the door. "And any time we're in a close room alone, I'll scream, just to fuck you." I stepped from behind the desk. "You understand?"
Craig said nothing until his hand rested upon the doorknob. "You're giving orders now," he said softly, that hint of menace still in his voice. "But I can wait. And when the time comes . . ." He shook his head. "You're going to wish you'd gotten on your knees."
I'd had enough. "Get out."
"You won't see it coming," he whispered, the opened the door and slipped out, closing it behind him.
It wasn't until I was once more sitting that the shakes hit me. I couldn't stop; I felt all the fear I'd held within trying to escape, and I couldn't hold it inside. Tears began running down my face as I realized just how--crazy Craig had been. How much he wanted to harm me, to violate me--
How much he wanted to debase and destroy me.
I did nothing for the rest of the day. I couldn't forget his last words, and my mind conjured images of him watching me, stalking me, taking me, raping and beating me. I tried to push them away, but like my fear, they wouldn't stay contained. They kept at me, over and over and over . . .
By the time I readied myself to go home, I knew I had to do something. I had to remove Craig from my life.
I knew what I had to do.
And I knew how it should be done.
Things sounds serious. Well, with two weeks to go, what did you expect?
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