Comfort Object (29 page)

“Lay your head in my lap,” he whispered. “Right here.” He made me lay my face against his thigh, and he stroked my hair for half an hour without uttering a word.

Sometimes he got in a mood; sometimes he got quiet and let the strain show, and this was one of those times. And I loved him at times like these, as much as I let myself love him. I loved that he showed me the weakness and tension that lurked underneath, the self-doubt and exhaustion he hid from everyone, perfect movie star that he was. As he just sat and played with my hair for half an hour, I ached with love for him. I began to cry after a while, thinking about saying good-bye to him one day. We were so close, so excruciatingly intimate with one another, and yet so divided that he signed over a paycheck to me every week.

“What, Nell?” he said when he felt my tears falling on his thigh. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I said. Then, “I like to be with you.”

It immediately felt like too much to say. He was quiet for a while; then he said, “Tell me your name, Nell. Your real name.”

It was an awful thing to ask at that moment, when I was desperately trying to keep my heart from falling even harder for him.

“I can't.”

“Helen?”

“No.”

“Ornelle?”

“Oh, Jeremy. Please just call me Nell.”

“I want to know! I looked at your passport. It didn't help.”

My passport said Nell, just like everything else.

“At least I know now that your birthday's next week. What do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“For your birthday. What do you want?”

You. To be able to love you. To stay with you forever like this, even as your concubine, as your whore.

No matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't have it. This life wasn't for me, as much as I was falling head over heels for this man.

“Just tell me what you want. I'll get you anything.”

I sighed. “I don't want anything. I hate my birthdays.”

He sat still another moment, caressing my nape, then suddenly pushed me out of his lap.

“You don't ask for enough, do you know that? You'll never get anything out of life.”

I stayed on my knees, my hands clasped in my lap, while he glared down at me.

“I would have given you whatever you asked for, Nell. You're never going to go anywhere. You're never going to get what you want if you don't learn how to ask.”

“Maybe I don't want to go anywhere. Maybe I don't want anything,” I said quietly to the floor. I didn't know why the tears were pooling beneath my eyes.

“Come in the bedroom,” he said, pulling me by my arm.

He used me hard that night. He was cold and deviant. He gagged me, which I hated, restrained me, and beat me hard. He fucked my ass and my ass only, whispering depraved threats and epithets in my ear. “You're just my whore anyway, aren't you?” he whispered. “I really don't care if I know your real name.”

The next morning on the plane, he still seemed angry. I kept silent and shifted in first class beside him the whole way to Istanbul, feeling sore and beaten.

I was his whore, that was for sure, but at least my name was still completely my own.

Talk

The flight to Turkey was shorter, and arriving in Istanbul was much less insane, the crowds smaller and more manageable. The hotel room was less high up, the food much less tasty. We would be here barely two weeks before making the short journey to Bulgaria, so I wasn't even inclined to unpack. I did, though, in my stilettos and ass plug, while Jeremy looked on.

“
You're staying right here. Put it all away
.”

A couple of days after we arrived, Martin paid Jeremy a visit. I assumed immediately it had something to do with me and with sex, and wondered if Martin knew how to double penetrate women like Kyle did. But instead I was ordered to my room to “bury my nose in a book” while they talked, and they talked late into the night.

I didn't pay attention to what Jeremy and Martin talked about until they started to argue in loud, sharp voices, which were quickly muffled by another voice, which sounded like Kyle's. So Kyle was there too, and I was banished to my room. They were having some kind of powwow, and I was completely certain that it was about me. I crept over and put my ear to the door, but I couldn't make anything out, just legal mumbo-jumbo terms and Jeremy hissing that he wanted it to
stop.

My body froze.
He was getting rid of me
. My blood buzzed in my ears.

It seemed impossible, but what else could it be? If Martin was here, it had to be about my contract, how to get out of it. I thought of what I might have done to upset him. We didn't always get along perfectly. I wasn't always a perfect sub, but still, he'd given me no indication that he was totally unhappy with me either. Not until now. “
I want it to stop
.”

I finally couldn't stand the anxiety. I had to know. I opened the door to go to the kitchenette under the guise of getting a drink. I glanced over at them as casually as I could.

They fell silent as the grave, staring at me balefully, all three hunched over Martin's laptop.

“I told you to stay in your room,” Jeremy said.

“I was just going to get some water.”

“Well, get it,” he snapped.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and opened it, standing right where I was.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. I meant to sound offhand, but my voice sounded small and scared.

“Everything's fine,” Jeremy said, although his face looked just the opposite.

Martin pasted on a fake smile. “How have you been, Nell?” he asked. “You look great. The job suits you well.”

“Yes, it does.” I looked at Jeremy again, searched for clues to what they were talking about. As usual he was impossible to read. All I could really divine was his frown.

“Go, go on. I'll come in later,” he said, nodding toward my room.

I went inside and shut the door, my heart hammering. What had I done? Kyle wouldn't even look at me, and Martin's smile had been totally forced. He was looking for a new girl. That had to be it. Going over contracts, figuring out how to trap her as he'd trapped me. I climbed into bed, fighting the urge to start bawling. I wasn't going to cry over him. I had given him everything I could. If I wasn't enough for him, there was nothing more I could do.

But sleep didn't come. My mind turned over and over, analyzing my many shortcomings. I wasn't very good at taking pain, to begin with. Wasn't that something Doms always wanted in their subs? The ability to take pain without sobbing like an infant? I also had a way of getting carried away when he was fucking me, doing stuff that a good sub probably shouldn't do, like scratching and biting. And I was always begging in a totally undisciplined way to be allowed to come.

Maybe I read too much. Maybe I was too brainy. Maybe I was too shy. Too reticent in front of the cameras. Maybe he sensed that I was falling in love with him despite my best efforts to the contrary. Maybe he was just tired of me fighting with Kyle.

I waited, curled up under the covers, until the voices quieted and I heard Martin and Kyle go away. Still, he didn't come. I got out of bed and opened the door.

Jeremy was sitting on the couch, silent, staring into space.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “Whatever I did.”

“You didn't do anything.” He sighed. “It's just… Listen, it's none of your business. None of your concern.”

“Are you finding someone else?” I had to ask it, although I didn't want to know the answer. I had to know. “Another girl?”

He snorted. “Another girl? Why would you think that? Because Martin was here? He's my lawyer, Nell. We talk about a lot of things besides you.”

I hugged myself, embarrassed at letting my insecurity show. I expected more teasing from the bemused look on his face, but instead he held out his hand. “Come here.”

I crossed the room. He pulled me into his lap, and I melted against his solid warmth. I burrowed my head into his neck and breathed in the soothing, familiar scent of his aftershave.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I just can't get used to all this. And I'm afraid you're not happy with me.”

“Why would you think that?”

His fingers stroked up my back to rub my nape. I felt all the feelings I'd kept hidden inside struggle to the surface. “I don't know. I guess, just, sometimes…the stuff you do to me—”

“What stuff?”

“Like sending me off to my room. Not talking to me. Sharing me with Kyle—”

“Listen, the sharing stuff, you know, don't read too much into it. I share you because I like to. Because it gets me off. That's it.”

“I know.”

“And you know as well as I do that kinks are kinks. You can't help what gets you going.”

“I guess.”

The fingers continued kneading, calming me. I felt his chest lift and drop in a sigh. “I hope you remember that you're not to get overemotional about this job. The whole reason I pay you is so I don't have to put up with this kind of shit.”

“Thank you for calling my feelings 'shit,' Jeremy,” I said, pulling away.

“You know what I mean. Babysitting your feelings isn't what I pay you for.”

I made an indignant sound that was silenced when he pulled me back against him. The magic fingers began again on my nape. I shivered and cuddled closer. I could feel my body unwind. A moment later his fingers left my neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.