Captive (Social Experiments #1)

BOOK: Captive (Social Experiments #1)
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Social Experiments:

CAPTIVE

By Olivia Storm

 

All material contained herein is Copyright © Ms. Olivia Storm 2015. All rights reserved.

ISBN PENDING

https://www.facebook.com/MsOliviaStorm

https://msoliviastorm.wordpress.com/

***

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your preferred ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

BLURB

Warning: This is an adult novel intended for readers 18 and older.

Jacob MacFadden is a man with a bright future and a single burning desire - his best friend Yvonne. Since early adolescence, Yvonne’s self-destructive patterns have led her into the arms of abusive jerks but never into a relationship with the man who cares for her most. And since Jacob has mended her broken hearts since high school, the time has come for a change.

Convinced he can sculpt Yvonne into a wiser woman, Jacob throws everything on the line to forge his masterpiece. Abduction is only the first step.

It’s time to do things his way.

 

Chapter 1

 

As I stirred awake and alone in my bed, my tired mind gradually released the fading remnants of my dreams. Lips at my throat, a warm body nestled at my side, silken strands beneath my fingers. My eyes opened and the dream goddess evaporated like smoke, a ghost who only visited in my deepest slumber.

Every day starts and usually ends in the same tedious way. I drag myself from bed, shamble half-asleep into the restroom, and I jolt myself awake under the cold water while coffee brews in the kitchen. I never remember to set it. My roommate holds that responsibility and saves me from a day of dragging ass around the building.

I’m not a morning person. The same can’t be said for the woman who shares my apartment. Yvonne is a dynamic force to be reckoned with - the kind of girl who would pop out of bed like bread from the toaster with her make up all in place if she could. She presets my coffee brewer each night, and if I don’t respond to the persistent ringing from the alarm clock, she personally comes to shake me from bed. You know, after a night of haunting my dreams.

No, we’re not a couple. This is a relationship of convenience, and it had benefitted both of us until Yvonne began her final two years of nursing curriculum. When she left her job to meet an increasingly crazy clinical schedule two years ago, almost all of our financial responsibility was placed on me.

On the upside, whenever I’m incapacitated with a wicked cough, she’s there for me with noodle soup and hot toddies.

On the downside, she’s not my girl. No matter how much I wish things could change.

After tossing on appropriate clothes, I ran my fingers through my towel-dried, dirty blonde hair and exited the steamy bathroom to face my day. The aroma of strong coffee lured me like a siren’s call into the small kitchen. I surrendered to habit and checked the line for voice mail from my six tenants. They never seemed to have complaints, but my grandfather instilled the morning and evening ritual.

“You’re picking up a little weight, Jake.”

“What?” I spun from where I stood at the counter.

Yvonne lounged at the dining table in her pajamas; pink striped shorts that showed the toned length of her legs and barely covered the curve of her round bottom. An oversized pink top slid to one side, baring her shoulder. Her demure smile warmed my blood.

“The good kind, I mean. Have you started going to the gym again?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Jogging around the block and work on the basement mostly.” Relief flooded me and calmed my nerves. I felt silly that her opinion agitated me, my self-conscious mind the product of a decade of school age teasing. Mentally, I’d always be the fat kid.

“Keep it up and you’ll be bigger than Greg soon.”

My elation popped like a cheap balloon.

I muttered an unintelligible response. Honestly, I’d just as soon punch Greg in the face before accepting that we’re alike in any way. Greg’s the douche Yvonne met at the university. They’ve dated four months and “jerk” is an understatement.

With caffeine fueling me, I headed out for a few hours of class followed by a busy work shift. Three days of the week my schedule was shit, but it gave me a free weekend and two days to cram through my assignments. And it provided time to handle jobs that cropped up in the two buildings in my care. I was the on-site repairman and landlord, all rolled into one friendly package.

Aside from maintaining the property inherited from my grandparents, I work at a popular pet store as a canine obedience trainer. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I have to be some kind of a loser. I throw myself into my schoolwork, the girl I love is fucking another man, and I have a shit job at Animal Kingdom on top of it.

I’m not entirely dissatisfied with my life. I know school isn’t forever. Eventually, Yvonne is going to realize that the thing she needs is right in front of her. For now, she does what I expect. She goes for the better looking guy with his killer smile and prestigious role on the football team. The guy who’s going to dick her and leave. It’s predictable. She hasn’t changed at all.

A quiet home was a welcome blessing when I returned to my brownstone nestled on our quiet residential street in Back Bay Boston area. Without stopping by the fridge for an afternoon snack, I ventured upstairs and collapsed on the sofa in our shared living room. Yvonne showed up an hour later wearing her dull blue scrubs. I had a pink polka dot set wrapped, hidden, and waiting for her graduation along with a brand new pediatric stethoscope. She had aspirations of working with hospice kids and making their final moments bright.

This is the girl I fell in love with during my high school days. She’s self-absorbed, high maintenance, but absolutely beautiful on the inside once you get to know her.

Just for your knowledge, I’m a graduate student at Boston University. My education rules my life and doesn’t leave a lot of room for the fun shit a guy my age is supposed to be doing. If Grandpa was still alive, he’d chastise me about getting away from home more often and finding a hot girl. Prior to my grandmother’s death, I’d politely endured multiple lectures about procreating and giving them great grandkids to spoil.

But you need a girl to have kids, and the only girl I want shares my home while sleeping with other men. Does that make me a pussy? Probably. These days, I don’t know which one of us needs to change the most - her habitual need to fuck creeps or my crush.

“Good day at class?” I called over to her as she trudged by.

“Yeah. I really am divided between the NICU and working hospice when this is all finished. I ran the entire day to kiss up to the day shift nurses at the hospital just in case.”

“Good. Maybe someone will appreciate it enough to give a reference when you do decide.”

“That’s my hope.” She flashed me a cheery smile and stepped toward her bedroom door. A mewling cry escaped her  purse.

“Yvonne… did your fancy bag just meow at me?”

She stopped, turned slowly, and looked at me with an abashed smile. “Busted.”

Yvonne unsnapped her Coach bag and pulled a out a small, bedraggled kitten. Its striped orange coat was matted and dirty. One blue eye was fastened shut, glued by filth and alley debris.

“Two teenagers were trying to drown him, Jake... and I just couldn’t leave the poor thing there. Look at him.”

“Trying to drown him?” I sat up a little straighter in my seat.

“Yeah. I took their photo with my cell phone and said I’d call the police if they didn’t give him to me and leave.”

“You should still report them, Yvie. Animal cruelty is a prison offense now.”

“Okay, I will but… can we keep him Jake? Please?”

When it came to animals, I preferred dogs for the obvious reasons. Cats shed, claw things, and they had an aversion to glasses of liquid. Gram’s old tom died a month after she did, at the ripe age of 22 years old. He tipped over glasses of OJ and bottles of beer until the day he died, and he even seemed to smile at you as he did it.

I wasn’t a cat person.

“I don’t know, Yvie…”

“I’ll take care of him, I swear. He won’t be a bother. I’ll go out right now and get him the basics.”

Her begging and pleading worked: she convinced me. Yvonne left the little fuzzball in my lap and she dashed back out. She didn’t even change out of her scrubs. A little under an hour later she returned with an armload of basic supplies. We scrubbed him in her bath tub, she blow dried him, and then I dumped a bowl of soft cat food while she prepared the other essentials.

“I’ll make a vet appointment for him to get neutered,” I called to Yvonne over my shoulder.

Yvonne stepped into view and smiled at me. She hadn’t changed her clothes, so her damp t-shirt revealed the lacey outline of a pale pink bra. “Thank you, Ja-”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re paying me back for this one.”

“I know, Jake. I will. But just look at him, sleeping so peacefully.” The kitten lay curled up on the couch beside me, oblivious to how much I would have preferred to find him another home. “Okay, I’m going to get cleaned up now.”

Damn. It’s like she knew I had been checking her out. “‘Kay. I’ll be right here.”

Yvonne kissed my cheek then stepped through the adjacent door into her room.

For a few moments I allowed myself to daydream. I imagined her clothes hitting the floor and the cling of her undergarments. Yvonne loved to shop, frequently returning home with some bag featuring a pricey boutique logo. My active imagination chose the lacy yellow panties Yvonne left hanging to dry in our laundry room a few days ago. Neither the show on TV nor my essay on classical conditioning stood a chance against the visions my mind conjured.

“Hey! Earth to Jacob. Are you listening to me?”

My attention snapped away from the television. Yvonne waited with her hands on the hips of her low jeans, standing seductively with her thumbs hooking into the belt loops. It revealed enough skin to earn a lingering stare before my reply. “Yeah?”

“I need a ride. Like now. Pleeeease,” she begged me. Before I could decline with an excuse, she bent both knees and dipped, pressing both hands together in a gesture of prayer. “
Please?

Her smiles could melt ice, and I didn’t have a chance once she turned one on me. My best friend and the oblivious object of my affection had me wrapped around her finger. I rolled my eyes and dragged it out, pulling in a theatrical breath next, and then humming thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”

“Jake, please!” She knelt down on the floor beside the couch and stroked her fingers lazily down the kitten’s back, stretching her arm over my thigh to reach him. I agreed wholeheartedly with his purrs and wished she would stroke me instead.

“I dunno…”

“I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

Bingo. “You’ll mop the floors and clean the fridge too,” I told her, grinning cheekily.

“Fine.” She jumped up to her feet.

I sighed and resigned myself to the fate of enduring my service as her chauffeur. It was usually thankless duty, but someone had to do it since Yvonne lost her driving privileges. Too many unpaid parking tickets. I had put my foot down by refusing to give her the money.

I set my laptop aside on the sofa and saved my document’s current progress. Graduate school was killing my will to live a normal social life. I don’t see Yvonne as much lately or the rest of our friends. Visiting the gym and maintaining my usual habits took a back seat to the rigors of an educational career.

“Okay. Where we goin’?” I asked. A me-shaped indentation remained in the seat when I stood, and my joints loudly popped. Yvonne’s nose wrinkled at the protesting sounds. Stretching felt better than expected.

“I’m going to meet up with Greg at the movies, but I won’t make it on time by bus now thanks to our nameless guest.”

BOOK: Captive (Social Experiments #1)
8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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