Reluctant Consent (5 page)

Denise
gave her head a sharp shake.
 
She
really needed to focus.

“We’re
going to eat,” Andrew said.
 
“Then we’ll
talk.”

Denise
shuddered.
 
“I don’t have an
appetite, Andrew.”

“I
know.
 
I’ll help.”

“What?
You’re going to force food down my throat?”

He
ignored her comment.
Very big of him.
 

“Tell
me about the boys -- your brothers -- remind me.”

She
shook her head.
 
“I’m too
nervous.
 
I’d like to just get it
over with.”

Andrew
shot her a look.
 
Level, calm, but a look.
 
“So you’re really looking forward to this idea, eh?”

“Give
me a break, Andrew.
 
How do you
expect me to feel?

“I’d
like it if you felt happy.
 
Excited.
 
Relieved.
 
But I get it you don’t.
 
I’m sorry it feels so bad to you
Denise.
 
I swear it’s not going to
be.”

Denise
sighed and rolled her eyes.
 
He
wasn’t the one marrying a throwback to the Revolutionary Period.

Andrew
grimaced.
 
“One day soon, Denise, I
am going to tell you not to roll your eyes when we’re having a disagreement.”

She
stared at him, mouth open.
 
Tears
were forming in her eyes and she was so mad she wanted, yearned to fling
herself from the car.

He
patted her leg.
 
“One day.
 
Not today though because believe it or
not, Denise, I am cutting you a break.”

Denise
shut her mouth and pretended to look out the window.
 
She was bewildered.
 
By many things of course, including the fact her crotch was suddenly, blazingly,
hot
and damp.

“Please
Andrew.
 
I’m too nervous to eat.
 
Can you please just tell me what you
expect?”

“I’m
not trying to torture you, Denise. You need to eat and I thought you’d want to
talk in private.

“Well
I wouldn’t.
 
In public I can’t get
mad at you and call you a dick so you won’t have to whip out your belt in front
of decent citizens and startle them into heart attacks.”

 
“You’d be surprised how many decent
citizens discipline their wives.”

“God
I hate that word.
 
Just tell me.”

“Discipline?”
 
He shot her a glance.
 
“I’m sure you do hate the word.
 
It goes against your life style.”

“Then
why?”
 
The words burst out of her
mouth.
 
“Why did you fall for
me?
 
Since I am so undisciplined?
You never did love me, did you? You want a woman you can crush and force to do
your will!”

Andrew’s
hand shot into the air and grabbed
her own
waving one,
forcing it firmly down to his thigh where he kept it.
 
Not hurting, but not letting go either.
 
“I did love you, Denise. I still love
you, and I have no desire to crush you.
 

“This
isn’t the time for a philosophical discussion.
 
You won’t be able to hear it --“

“I’m
just a dumb emotional woman, Andrew?
 
Too dumb to understand?”

He
let go of her hand, a laugh escaping.
 
“God.
 
You’re really trying
to push my buttons!
 
Look, Denise,
it’s simple. And I do realize it is foreign to you. “
 

“And
the other 90 % of the world save some primitive tribes with plates through
their lips.”

“That’s
racist.
 
Which is beneath
you.”
 
I say again, you would be
surprised by the number of people who live the way I am suggesting.”

Her
mouth opened, and he waved a finger.
 
“Ah Ah! Quiet!”

Again,
the horrible discomfort and confusion of realizing her vagina was wet.
 
What. The. Fuck.
 
Was the mere presence of a barbarian
enough to make her DNA de-evolve?

“I
know this stuff is new to you and I promise to help you any way I can.
 
There are books you can read.
 
Women you can talk to…“

“The
Stepford Wives,” Denise muttered.
 

Andrew
ignored her.

“I’ll
be patient.
 
Now is not the
time.
 
What do I expect, you
asked?”

Denise
nodded.

“I
lead
..
 
You follow.”

Denise
snorted.

Andrew
ignored it.

“I
expect you to tell me honestly how you feel and what you think.
 
I promise to listen and carefully
consider.
 
But someone has to be in
charge, and that’s me.”

“Never
heard of egalitarian relationships, bud?”

“They
don’t work.
 
And I said we’d talk
philosophy another time. Zip it.”

There.
 
Her brain said.
 
That wasn’t too bad, was it?
 
He commanded
,
I
obeyed
.
 
And my pussy is wet.
 
Again.

“So
I listen to your opinions -- which you have expressed respectfully -- but I make
the decisions.
 
I have no desire to
micro manage your life, Denise.
 
But I want to know what you’re doing with your life and if I have a
problem with how you’re doing something, something important, I’m not talking
about the way you make the bed…“

“Why
don’t you make the freaking bed?”

“I’ll
be happy to make the bed.
 
Quit
interrupting me. If I have a problem with something I’ll tell you about it,
explain my expectations. You can tell me what you think.
 
Maybe I’ll see it your way.
 
If not…
”
 
He paused.

She
looked up and met his eyes.

“I’ll
expect you to follow my wishes.
 
If
you don’t,” Andrew shrugged, “we have a problem.
 
And I correct you.”
 
His eyes found the rear view and after a quick look he steered the car
to the edge of the highway, and idled.

Denise
was flushed, looking down.

“Don’t
look away from me Denise.”

Oh my god.
 
We’re starting now.
 
This was no joke, like the friendly
teasing
“zip it” from earlier.
 
Heat crept up her neck.
 
She pulled air into her lungs.
 

“Bring
your eyes back here, Denise.”
 
His
voice was kind.
 
And
completely no nonsense.

Denise
clamped down on her back teeth and forced herself to look back up.
 
She found a nice spot just past his
right ear.

His
lips quirked in an almost smile. “Pretty good. Another inch this way.”

He’d
made it easy, again.
 

She
made her eyes go the next inch and he smiled warmly at her.

“So.
 
I expect. You fail. I correct. Got it?”

She
nodded, dumb.

“No,
Denise.
 
Not good enough.
 
I want to hear verbal confirmation.”

He
smiled at her, apparently knowing how hard this was and yes, he was trying to
help her and she felt so grateful.
 
But at the same time she wanted to scream obscenities.
 
Do violent harm to him.
 
And run away.

Denise
wet her lips.
 
“Got it.”
 

He
kept his eyes forward but let his hand drop to the space between them. Fingers
wriggled, beckoned for hers and she reluctantly placed her hand in his
palm.
 
He looked at her and lifted both
of
their hands, caressed her cheek with the back of
his fist, knuckles sliding down her cheekbone and resting on her mouth.

She
pursed her lips and gently kissed his fist, immediately blushing and turning
away.

Andrew’s eyes widened in surprise.
 
His cock twitched to life. Quite
unknowingly, she’d offered him a gesture of compliance and acceptance.

Chapter Three

    
Denise stood in a
plush elevator as it ascended regally into the heights of
The Old Arcade
.
 
Under
normal conditions she loved this building and liked to take the old iron
stairs, climbing slowly, watching people stroll the balconies and the bottom
floor, teens blindly descending the stairs while thumbs flashed over keyboards,
mobs of younger children racing upwards, shrieking.
 
One of the oldest buildings in the city, it was a rare
example of Art Deco architecture and Denise could spend days here wandering
around.
 
Today she stood rigid in a
relatively fruitless attempt to prevent visible shaking.
 
One arm crossed and pressed against her
stomach, the seat of all her nervous reactions.

     
This is not a big deal.
 
I’m getting married in order to raise
my brothers.
 
Women have entered
into these types of arrangements for years. Let’s face it. Loads of marriages
stay intact for convenience sake, companionship and safe sex too -- for the
lucky --though even those were often missing.
 
Wonder
how many ’convenient’
marriages incorporate the additional joy of being married to Mr. Male
Chauvinist Spanko Freak?

     
The elevator
door opened and Denise pulled herself upright, dropped her arm, forced her chin
up, and stepped out.
 

 
She shouldn’t have been surprised to
find Andrew waiting for her, but she wished he hadn’t.
 
She could have used the short walk to
the office door to add a little more steel to her spine.
 

    
He took her elbow and
brought her to a stop with gentle pressure.
 
She yanked away from him instinctively, but she did stop her
progress.

       
Andrew leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
 
“Good morning, Denise.”
 
He smiled down at her.
 
“I’m going to take your arm again.”

        
Denise breathed out through her nose, stuck her tongue in her cheek and
refrained from slamming her elbow into his gut.
 
Andrew cupped his hand around her elbow – probably
because he sensed what she wanted to do with it – and steered them into an
office.
 
A young woman sprang up
and rushed in front of her desk to greet them before zipping back towards the
door she protected.

    
She rapped once, and
then pushed the door open.
 
“Mr.
Cross and his fiancé.”
 
Stepping
back, the woman gestured them into the room.
 

    
“My name is Denise Marrow.
 
Not ‘His fiancé’.”
 
Denise stated.
 

    
 
It was 2011 so the young woman rolled
her eyes as she returned to her desk.
Wonder
if she’ll get a spanking?
         

    
Andrew grinned.
 
He dropped Denise’s elbow and crossed
the room, one hand at the small of her back --
herding me like a sheep -
- the other shot out to shake the man’s
hand.

    
“Denise Marrow,”
Andrew said.
 
“Charles Kincaid, my
lawyer.”

    
Ignoring Kincaid’s
outstretched hand, Denise nodded curtly and plunked herself in a chair.

 
        
“Allow me to
apologize for my fiancé,” Andrew said.
 
“This is a big step for us.”