One Week Three Hearts: (6 page)

"You're being so cruel." Her frown's lower lip trembled as she stabbed her fork into a piece of teriyaki chicken. "You have no idea what it is like to go through what I did."

Matt paused his chopsticks halfway to his mouth and glared at her. "Who's being cruel again?"

The fork slipped back to the plate. "I'm sorry," she said.

Why am I apologizing?

"I don't understand why you are acting this way towards me," Rose said. "First you ignored me in the car, then you put me in a separate bedroom, made me dress up like we were going to have a completely alternate version of this dinner, and now this… I don't even know what 'this' is. Can you back off for a few minutes so I can finish my dinner?"

Rose pushed her half-eaten plate of food away. "Forget it. I'm not even hungry anymore."

"I know your limits better than you do," Matt said. "You can pick yourself up and walk away at any time. You know I won't stop you. The keys to the Jeep are on the bar if you know how to drive stick. If not, call a cab to bring you to some hotel and send me the bill." He ate the last piece and finished off his glass of water before meticulously wiping his mouth with the napkin.
 

That icy cold look reappeared. "Or take the next flight out and run back to Jason so he can keep coddling this self-pitying garbage routine of yours. He'll take it for about six more months before he leaves," he said. "And if he goes, then I'm gone too."

Is he serious?! That's it. I'm done with this.

Rose stood up, reached into the bodice of the makeshift dress thing, and released one of the clamps. The chain fell down her cleavage, and its weight pulled on the other one still attached. Rose verbalized the resulting pain under her breath. The remaining one couldn't come off fast enough.

Mental note if he ever has me wear these things again: don't pull them off too quickly.

"It's hard for me to be the one to tell you the truth," Matt said. She couldn't hear any regret in that admission.

Matt warned not to put the other main piece of jewelry on the table when she pulled at the fabric folded around her waist. The thin wire adorned with crystal beads clinked on Matt's empty plate, and his wince in disgust gave her a small sense of satisfaction.

As soon as Rose turned towards the direction of her bedroom, she felt his iron grip on her wrist, and she reluctantly turned to face him. "Before you go," he said. "Tell me what you expected when you agreed to come here."

"I don't know," she said with a heavy note of irritation in her voice. "Clarity. A change of scenery. Relaxing with you and Jason. Something like that."

There's his sarcastic half-smile that makes me instantly regret whatever I just said.

He coupled that with a slight shake of his head. "You still don't get it. You thought we'd have some sexy party time alone, and again with Jason. Then I'd go back to Shanghai as if everything was the same as before."

"I told you I'm not a unicorn," he continued staring at her with those clear soul-piercing eyes. "You have to put me on the same level as Jason in order for this to even remotely work out. That means you trust me the same way you trust Jason. I'm telling you the same things I would say if it was Jason in Shanghai and the situation was reversed."

Matt pulled her into his arms, and she noticed how different it was compared to a hug from Jason. His arms were all hard, sharp angles that could slice her in two. Jason's hugs were ones of comfort and security. Everything about him she pushed to the side the last few months since that fateful night bubbled up all over again. He was right; she put him in a toy box and couldn't see how very real this was.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for me across an entire ocean, not being able to hold you or do anything while you were ripping yourself apart over what happened?" He buried his face in her hair, and that's all it took for the water works to cascade down her cheeks. "You cut me off from helping you. And now I need you to trust me, Rose."

Last night's granite convictions chiseled into broken pieces, and Rose's analytical mind roared to the forefront. Matt tore through her since the minute he picked her up from the airport, and it served some hidden purpose she couldn't quite grasp. He was a designer who planned things with precision, and the events leading to this point confirmed any kind of consent definitively transferred power to him.
 

Rose's exposed raw heart screamed to extend comfort for the small humility he shared, and it drowned out the cautious warnings. Her hands crept up his muscular back and her arms squeezed around him as she watched the waves breaking on the rocks in the distance.

"Good girl," Matt said. "Now, let's work on the trust. I already told you that I know your limits, and you'll probably never use this with me. But if I ever go too far in the physical pain department, you say the word 'bubbles' and I'll stop whatever I'm doing. Okay?"

Nodding, Rose asked why he chose the word "bubbles." The word sounded so comical, but Matt explained bubbles were temporary. He didn't want her to be afraid to use it, he wouldn't stop giving her the release she needed, but he would dial it down without question.

That makes sense. Can I use it if you go off on me like that again?

The second condition sent her mind reeling. He wanted her to do the unspeakable to prove her trust in him while a deep sense of dread collected in the pit of her stomach.

Oh please, no. Please don't make me do this. I beg you.

"You need to trust that everything I say I cleared with Jason is actually something he really did agree to," Matt said. "There are cameras hidden in the top corners of every room. Those are for Jason's eyes. He likes to watch, Rose. It is what he enjoys. Only he can explain that to you, and I hope he eventually does."

Matt spun her around to face the house, and she saw Mikhel moving around in the kitchen area cleaning up remnants from his earlier meal preparation. The blades of his professional sushi knives reflected the kitchen's overhead lights as he cleaned them by hand, then placed them on the counter.

An elaborate black tribal tattoo curved around Mikhel's thick bicep and snaked down to his hand holding a long, dense piece of eel. She focused intently on Mikhel's huge skull ring as he rubbed some sort of oil on its skin. Mikhel greased up the eel slowly; each stroke performed with the greatest care.
 

Lubricating it.
I can't do this!

"I can't," she panicked. "I need to call Jason first. Please let me talk to my husband."

Matt's breath tickled her ear. "Nope. That's not how this works."

His voice softened but she still heard the firmness leak through. "I will give you this promise, although it hurts me that I even have to do so: I will show you Jason's conversation with me about this afterwards. Not before. Please trust me. Is that enough for you?"

No. Bubbles.

His hands were on her breasts and dangerously close to where the clamps left their impression.

"Yes," she said.

***

Still sobbing, Rose ran to her bedroom's bathroom, looked to slam the bathroom door behind her, and realized again that there wasn't a door to close. Barely noticing the smeared mascara under her eyes as she briefly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she turned on the faucet and tried to get as much water from her cupped hand into her mouth as possible before spitting it into the basin.

Mouthwash. Find the mouthwash first. It's in my toiletry bag. Find the toiletry bag.

Grabbing the tightly packed small green bottle sent the toiletry bag skidding off the counter's edge, dumping its contents on the floor. Shaking fingers impatiently pulled at the plastic safety wrapper until she successfully removed it. Rose managed to twist off the cap, and swished the green stinging liquid in her mouth.

Jason. I am so sorry.

When her mouth felt like it was on fire, she again spit into the sink. Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she tried a second round of rinsing her mouth with tap water.

I still taste it. Oh Jason, I'm so sorry. And that smell is on my hands.

The soap slipped out of its paper wrapper to fall into the sink, and one of her fingernails caught an edge when she desperately clutched at it. Willing her disobedient hands to stop shaking long enough to furiously scrub themselves clean, her eye caught the sparkling diamond in her wedding band through the soapy water.

What have I done?

A rasping sound from her throat grew louder as her knees hit the floor in search of the toothbrush that separated from the toiletry kit during its flight from the counter. Cold marble collided with her wet hands, and she was dimly aware the unraveled linen dress trailed behind her.
 

I smell it all over me.

She abandoned the search and crawled to the corner of the walk-in shower. Guilt and shame consumed her when she reached her destination. Somehow managing to reach up and pull the shower lever, lukewarm water from the huge rainfall showerhead drenched her huddled body.

The water cut off after a few precious minutes. Matt towered over her.

"Here," he said, visually annoyed and frustrated. "Read it. And please don't get my phone wet."

Rose grabbed at the phone Matt offered to her, and she tried to focus on the text dated a few days ago enclosed in the colorful chat bubbles.

Matt: Here's a pic of the butler/cook they gave us at the house. Mikhel.

Matt: Says he's half Samoan, half Russian. Looks like a linebacker.

Matt: Sushi chef too.

Jason: Get video of Rose sucking him off.

Matt: Are you serious?!

Jason: Yes. Very.

Matt: Are you sure?

Jason: Stream it if you can.

Matt: OK

Rose looked up through her tears at Matt quizzically, and she stretched her arm up to give the phone back to him. Before he turned and headed to the doorway, she noticed the scale of his frustration from his tightly closed mouth and how his lips disappeared into a fine angry line.

He glared at her from the doorway. "That's your husband, Rose. Your husband. Jason."
 

Wait. Please explain this to me. I don't understand.

It was too late. Matt left her sobbing in the shower with the tattered and torn remains of the wet fabric loosely piled around her. Realizing the magnitude of the conversation made her head unbearably heavy, and it collapsed into folded arms around her knees.

***

Rose couldn't tell if her tears mourned for Jason, herself, or their marriage.

Leaving the sarong's tattered remains in a wet heap on the bathroom floor, Rose emerged from her half-hearted attempt at a proper shower with stinging eyes from scrubbing off the makeup. Looking into the mirror would probably reveal how red-rimmed and bloodshot they were, and she deliberately avoided confirming her suspicion in order not to launch into another crying jag.

The empty king size bed served as a reminder to Jason's stark absence. Rose desperately wanted to hear her husband's voice confirm Matt's revelations, but there wasn't a way to get in contact with him. Loneliness gnawed at her stomach. The dinner seemed like hours ago, and there wasn't an obvious way to discern the time.

Abandoned. Left to rationalize the situation alone.

Why Jason? Why?
 

The sound of splashing compelled her to walk towards the west-facing bedroom window. Matt's arms cut through the lap pool's dimly illuminated water like sharp scissors. Transfixed by precise movements that barely displaced the water around him, every other forward stroke afforded Rose a brief glimpse of his face as he expertly timed his inhales. He pronounced each complete lap with a powerful kick off the wall; this transformed into an effortless underwater glide that propelled him almost to the pool's midpoint. His arms reappeared and the mesmerizing process restarted.

The same hands that guided her head into Mikhel's lap an hour ago now grasped a ledge. Matt effortlessly lifted himself out of the pool. Water rolled down his shoulder blades as he reached for a towel hanging over a chair's back. Rose lost sight of Matt as he made his way to the great room that separated the two bedrooms.

Matt stood dripping on the tile only a few feet away. Even after the evening's emotionally draining events, a deep ache for his affection trembled her hands clutching the towel closed around her body. Instead of openly confessing her desires, Rose confronted him about Jason from her doorway.

"What's to explain? Your husband likes to watch you with other men," Matt said as if he was stating something perfectly rational. "I told you that, and you didn't believe me. Why are you asking me to repeat myself?"

"I don't understand!"

His impatience radiated like a flashing stop sign. "I also told you that it wasn't my place to talk to you about this," he said as he brushed water off his arms with the towel. "Ugh, they are putting way too much chlorine in that pool."

"Please be serious for a minute," Rose pleaded.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Really, Rose. You embarrassed Mikhel and I when you ran off like that," he said. "Get some sleep because we have an early start tomorrow. I'm going to show you the volcano."

The audible click of his bedroom door's lock signaled finality. There wouldn't be any further discussion.

Rose noticed a small red glow in one of the room's upper corners.

***

WEDNESDAY

The helicopter seatbelt couldn't restrain the adrenaline pumping into Rose's heart when the pilot opened the door. Numbed by the chilled air, Rose ignored the headset banter, and focused on the powerful activity beneath them. Bright red magma shot up from the enormous crevasse below. The overpowering sulfur smell made her cough uncontrollably. It smelled like death, and the light lunch the helicopter tour company provided earlier wanted out of her stomach.

Regardless the activity, brief imagery from last night's brutal introduction to her husband's desire randomly flashed in her mind throughout the entire morning. As they navigated the tour company's small parking lot, Matt's palm pressed into the small of her back similar to how he pushed open her thighs as she lapped at Mikhel's engorged cock. The vivid memory jarred her enough to stumble over a crack in the pavement. She couldn't bring herself to thank him when Matt grabbed her upper arm to steady her.