The Art of Submission (9 page)

Cool blue eyes looking me over critically,
disapprovingly. A condescendingly deep sexy voice is laughing at
me… making feel inadequate. He keeps laughing at me, tormenting and
teasing me with my paintings and his perfect mouth… no… please…
no.

NO!
I wake up
wet again, but this time it’s not from arousal; it’s from my own
tears. I’m sobbing into my pillow, whimpering like a pathetic
imbecile. I eventually fall back to sleep. This time, forbidding
myself to dream.

I’m wakened to the sound of someone at
my door. It’s really late in the morning/early afternoon, and I
feel hung over. I jump up and grab the first thing I see to wear
and quickly put it on. It must be my landlord or else they would’ve
buzzed on the speaker. I rub my eyes and answer the door. To my
shock and horror, Mr. Greer is standing on the other side.
How the hell did he get into the
building?

“Well hello tittylicious.” He says eyeing my
chest. His voice is deep and he has a disturbing smile on his
face.

Yuck.
Did he
really just say that? What are we in junior high? I feel myself
blush from head to toe and then I realize the reason he’s said it
is because of the fitted t-shirt I’m wearing. He pushes the door
open and lets himself in
uninvited
.

“What are you doing here?” I finally
force myself to ask.
Like I don’t
know.
He ignores my question.

“So how was your ‘dinner with friends’?” He
asks snidely.

“My what?” What’s he talking
about?
Oh shit. My lie
. “Oh,
that. Umm… It was fine.” I’m inwardly rolling my eyes at myself for
my inability to tell to a simple white lie.

“Uh-huh. Sure it was,” he says with his
I’m-calling-bullshit tone.

He’s moving slowly toward me and I turn
away from him for just a moment so I can get a sweatshirt to cover
myself. When I turn back around, he’s right on top of me. He grabs
me by my waist and pulls me close to him. He’s only inches away
from face, and he’s so close that I can feel and smell his breath
when he speaks.
Yuck.
It
makes me nauseous.

“I’ve been thinking about you and how
delectable you tasted the last time we got together Isabel. I quite
enjoyed myself. How about you? Did you enjoy yourself?”

Oh my God.
Yuck
. Did I let him do that to me? I feel the
bile rising in my throat at the thought.
Holy waste of space
- that horrible cologne; and
his voice – it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me.

“
I wouldn’t know if I enjoyed it or not
Mr. Greer, since I was so completely wasted when it happened.” I
say with enough sarcasm and contempt that it takes him by surprise.
I push back on him and free myself from his grip. He stands there
staring at me, stunned. Then his look changes to into something
else… something more sinister.

“Well, trust me
darling
, you and your delicious pussy enjoyed
it.”

Seriously, what a disgusting a-hole.

Oh shit.
His
eyes have changed from brown to black, and he’s standing
stock-still like a predatory cat ready to jump. I have to get him
out of here.
I have to get out of
here
…

Just then I hear a loud thump from across the
hall followed by yelling. My neighbors are arguing again, and I’ve
never been more happy to hear them screaming at each other. They
make just enough noise that it distracts Greer and I make a dash
for my door. I open it, step into the hall and motion for him to
leave. Luckily my neighbors who live on the other side of me, a
young couple, are standing in the hallway, too. They look at me,
then at Greer, then at me again. Greer looks embarrassed and
shuffles out of my apartment. He leans over to me on his way
out.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers with
his eyes narrowed at me. Then he politely smiles at the couple and
leaves.

Holy pressure cooker
- that was close. Not done with me yet?
Yuck.
I look appreciatively at the couple, but
they just look back at me with a puzzled response. They have no
idea how grateful I am to them right now. I won’t complain about
their loud music
ever
again.

I feel fuzzyheaded and nauseous, and I
feel as if I’m going to vomit. I shouldn’t have drunk so much last
night; I know I’m a lightweight. Now I feel numb after my encounter
with Greer.
Oh my God.
What
the hell am I going to do about him? I can see now this is going to
be problem I’m going to have to deal with later. Yes.
Later.
I can’t think about this and
I push it to the back of my mind.

I no sooner get inside my apartment and my
door speaker buzzes. Now what? If Greer thinks I’m letting him back
in here, he’s got another thing coming, and I swear to Book of
Revelations I won’t be as nice as I was earlier. It buzzes
again…“What?!” I snap.

“Isabel. This is Dylan Young. Can I come
up?”

Holy purple
cannibals
. No, no, no… Why is
he
here? This is not my day. I can’t even
respond. My body betrays me and I buzz him in. I’m frantically
pacing in front of my door. What I am going to say to him?
Keep it together, Isa.
My breath
–
oh hell
. I run quickly to
the bathroom and brush my teeth and tongue ineffectively fast. I
look quickly in the mirror and all I get is a hand through my hair
when I hear a knock on the door. Okay. I can do this. Just …
breathe
…

I slowly open the door.
Oh good Lord Almighty
. He’s
absolutely beautiful. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray slacks and a
white long sleeved business shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top. His
stance is sexy as hell; his feet even with his shoulders and both
hands by his thighs. He has his car keys in one hand, jingling them
nervously at his side. His head is down, but his eyes are cast
upward staring at me. He licks his lips and to my amazement, he’s
not looking at me disapprovingly. He actually looks,
pleased
.

He asks if he can enter. Of course. How
rude of me. I was so caught up in his good looks I forgot to invite
him in.
Nice going, Isa
. He
steps inside and casually glances around my apartment. Then I see
his eyes spot my paintings and he starts to move towards them to
get a better look.
Oh no
. I
quick step in front of him and ask what he wanted to talk about.
I’m standing so close to him that I can smell him. What is he
wearing? It’s so
enticing
… He
smells clean; like he just showered. He looks and smells so
mouth-watering that I’m having a difficult time
concentrating.

“I don’t take kindly to people not returning
my messages…” He says in a deep commanding tone.

Oh no
. I don’t
know what to say to him. How could I have considered what he said
when I deleted the message. Damn me! Why did I do that? He
looks…
angry
- and sexy as
hell. Wait… he came here just because I didn’t return his call? I
can’t bring myself to look up at him.

All of a sudden he reaches over, grabs
my chin and tilts my head up so that our eyes meet, and he commands
me to answer me. I’m so shocked by his action,
by his touch
that I can only do as I’m told. I
tell him I didn’t listen to it and that I deleted it. I can’t
believe he just did that. He actually
touched
me. It was … incredible. Like
electricity.

He looks irritated with me. As much as I’m
turned on right now, he’s frightening me, but his eyes soften a bit
when I back away from him.

“I see. Since you didn’t listen to it, I’ll
tell you in person what I said…”

What? He’s actually considering giving
my paintings back? Is this guy for real or have the heavens finally
smiled down on me for once in my life? Just then I realize how
close he’s actually standing to some of my other paintings and I
feel slightly panicked. I can feel myself fidgeting. I think he’s
going to say something else but I interrupt him. I can’t talk to
him in here. Not when he’s only feet away from my paintings
and
my bed.
I ask him if we
can talk somewhere else and to my surprise, he’s agreeable to that
idea and even offers to buy me lunch. How polite.

Now I just have to put some clothes on. I’ve
been self-conscious since the moment he stepped foot into my
apartment. I need to cover myself.

“Can I change first?” I ask him.

“Why? You look
fine
.”

He thinks I look
fine
? Okay. I suddenly feel shy in front of him
and feel myself blush at his gaze. He’s just so…
Dylan
. I’ve decided right now that
the term
Dylan
will encompass
all things stunning, sexy, beautiful and dangerous.

We immediately leave and head outside.
He points towards his car and I immediately recognize it as the
very same one from the other night. So he was here? Why didn’t he
come up then? I find it very unlikely that he knows someone else in
this building, unless he was here to have them arrested. He
interrupts my thoughts and makes some comment about this being one
of many cars.
Must be nice.

We walk towards the car and he surprises me
by politely opening the passenger side door for me. He’s such a
gentleman. No one has ever done that for me before. Suddenly, I
feel very ladylike. How is it that someone who was so rude to me on
the phone yesterday can be so polite today? He’s a conundrum.

I thank him, not quite knowing what the
proper etiquette is for letting someone open the door for me, but
this time, I use his first name, and it feels so good to say
it.
Dylan
. I like the way it
rolls off my tongue.
I’d like to roll my
tongue over a few other things of his…

On the drive over to a nearby café, I take
the opportunity to look him over more closely. His hair is thick
and layered cut and the dark brown hair is broken up by gold
undertones. He has a strong jaw line, a slightly upturned nose and
a very handsome profile. His bottom lip is full and almost pouty. I
try not to be obvious about staring at him, but I can see he’s
watching me with sideway glances. He finally looks over at me,
catching me red handed, and all I can do is smile lamely at
him.

Once we get to the café, he again
politely opens the door for me. A girl could get used this. As we
walk into the café, I feel myself becoming more and more anxious.
He looks so determined and self-assured, so…
Dylan
.

We sit down near a window. I sit waiting for
him to tell me what this meeting is all about, and I can’t help but
feel like I’m in a dream. Me sitting, looking up at him, waiting
for his next command. I’m getting aroused and damp at the
thought.

“Isabel. The reason I wanted to meet you face
to face, was so that we can discuss your paintings. Am I to
understand that you want them back?”

Of course I want them back. He already knows
this and he also knows I can’t afford to buy them back. Are we just
here to rehash yesterday’s conversation? I hope not. As I sit
thinking about how he rebuked me during our previous conversation,
I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Can you please just answer this…”

He really wants to know the
reason?
Okay, here it goes. I tell him why; because
they’re deeply personal to me, and I feel my tears starting to
choke me. When I look up at him, his usually cool blue eyes look
warm.

“I see. And you didn’t want to sell
them?”

God no! I try to explain that Greer
was
very
persistent, but he
cuts me off.

“
Is he your boyfriend?” he asks
narrowing my eyes at me.

What? Where did that come from? I want to
scream FUCK NO, but again my instilled good manners shine
through.

“No. Absolutely
not
.” I tell him emphatically. I’m impressed; I
think that’s the loudest I’ve ever spoken to him.

“Is he an
ex-
boyfriend?” He asks with one eyebrow
raised.

I think I’m going to be sick. Why is he
asking me this? I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Not exactly.” I whisper.
Please let this go.

“What then,
exactly
?”

Oh God. He’s wants me to say it? Please
don’t make me say it out loud. Please…
If I
don’t say it, then it didn’t happen.

“Isabel, answer me.”

Wow. That tone. It’s so forceful. I can’t
deny him. “We slept together. Once.” I say it barely audible in
hopes that he didn’t hear me.

I am going to be
sick
. What is it about this man that I just can’t lie
to him? I steal a glance at him and he looks angry.
Really angry
. I wish I knew what he
was thinking right now. I wish I knew why the hell he wants to know
this.
Holy rats in a trap
-
I’m so embarrassed. I slept with my boss, and now he knows. He’s
going to think that I do that sort of thing all the time; that I’m
easy. I want to scream at him
I’m not like
that
!