it?” I ask as my curiosity wins out over my fear.
His hand hovers over the album for a moment, then he pulls it away. “Go ahead,” he whispers.
He’s challenging me, dangling the mystery in front of me like a shiny object, hoping to keep my attentions. “What’s in it?” I ask again. I search his eyes for any silent indication, but they appear black in the shadows.
When I refuse to give in, he does it for me. He opens it with a quick flick of his wrist and pushes the album closer to me.
Me. It’s a photo of me.
I recall the memory. The intense view of the city sprawled out before me. The feel of the sapphire blue Faleuro dress against my skin. The stab of self-consciousness as Charles takes my photo against the window.
“Wow,” I whisper. I can feel him staring at me, studying my reaction to it. It’s a wonderful pose, and for a moment, I believe it’s a different woman. Surely, I’m not that photogenic.
Charles turns the page to show me the next photo, a variation of the same pose. My eyes are cast downward towards the floor as the edges of my smile tease my lips.
And then, the third photo.
A straight forward shot of myself, naked on the hotel room bed on the night of the Blind Girl Party. My hands are bound to the bedposts with gray ties and my eyes are obscured behind the red blindfold.
I tear my eyes away from it before he can turn another page.
“No,” Charles whispers. His hand brushes against my cheek. “Look.”
“Charles…”
“Look at yourself,” he urges. His fingers move across the photo, tracing the edge of my body. “Look at how beautiful you are. The color of your skin, the curve of your breasts.” He meets my eyes. “You’re perfection, Alice.”
I step away from the vanity, blinking quickly to try and wipe the image from my mind. “I think you might be a little obsessed with me, Mr. Kent,” I say, making light of it.
“Would that upset you?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “No...” He raises an eyebrow in my direction, taunting me to tell him the truth. “Maybe.”
Charles closes the album and my eyes drift around the room. I recognize the portraits along the walls, similar to those hung up in his office. Except these are far less ambiguous than the others. I can clearly make out the nudity in these portraits.
“You have specific tastes,” I say.
“Yes, I do.”
“You can obsess over me, but you can’t love me?” The question spills off my tongue faster than I can stop it.
His playful eyes dance in the dark. “Still think I’ve underestimated you?” I don’t answer. “Alice…” His hands grasp my shoulders as he closes in on me. “Let me have you again.”
“What’s stopping you?” I ask. “We’re alone in your house in the middle of nowhere.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not that kind of man, Alice. You know that.”
I nod. “Consent,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “Getting a woman to beg for it is far more powerful than taking it from her.”
A shiver travels down my spine. I take a step back to gather my thoughts, but also to hide the desire in my eyes from him. “You won’t touch me unless I tell you to,” I say. I peek over my shoulder at him.
His chest heaves in and out as he holds himself back. “Alice—”
“Sounds like torture,” I say, toying with him.
“It is.”
“Charles…” I watch him twitch. “You want me to beg you for it?”
“Yes…” he whispers.
I sit down on his bed. My body quivers. “Would that make you happy?” I ask.
“Very.”
I pause and take a breath to calm myself. “Is that all this will be then?” I ask. I hear him moving in the darkness. “A relationship with you—”
“Alice.” He places his hand below my chin and tilts my face upward, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You’re trembling.”
“You frighten me,” I stutter.
His lips curl. “You’re lying,” he says.
“No…” I turn away.
Charles kneels down in front of me. “Look at me,
His hand hovers over the album for a moment, then he pulls it away. “Go ahead,” he whispers.
He’s challenging me, dangling the mystery in front of me like a shiny object, hoping to keep my attentions. “What’s in it?” I ask again. I search his eyes for any silent indication, but they appear black in the shadows.
When I refuse to give in, he does it for me. He opens it with a quick flick of his wrist and pushes the album closer to me.
Me. It’s a photo of me.
I recall the memory. The intense view of the city sprawled out before me. The feel of the sapphire blue Faleuro dress against my skin. The stab of self-consciousness as Charles takes my photo against the window.
“Wow,” I whisper. I can feel him staring at me, studying my reaction to it. It’s a wonderful pose, and for a moment, I believe it’s a different woman. Surely, I’m not that photogenic.
Charles turns the page to show me the next photo, a variation of the same pose. My eyes are cast downward towards the floor as the edges of my smile tease my lips.
And then, the third photo.
A straight forward shot of myself, naked on the hotel room bed on the night of the Blind Girl Party. My hands are bound to the bedposts with gray ties and my eyes are obscured behind the red blindfold.
I tear my eyes away from it before he can turn another page.
“No,” Charles whispers. His hand brushes against my cheek. “Look.”
“Charles…”
“Look at yourself,” he urges. His fingers move across the photo, tracing the edge of my body. “Look at how beautiful you are. The color of your skin, the curve of your breasts.” He meets my eyes. “You’re perfection, Alice.”
I step away from the vanity, blinking quickly to try and wipe the image from my mind. “I think you might be a little obsessed with me, Mr. Kent,” I say, making light of it.
“Would that upset you?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “No...” He raises an eyebrow in my direction, taunting me to tell him the truth. “Maybe.”
Charles closes the album and my eyes drift around the room. I recognize the portraits along the walls, similar to those hung up in his office. Except these are far less ambiguous than the others. I can clearly make out the nudity in these portraits.
“You have specific tastes,” I say.
“Yes, I do.”
“You can obsess over me, but you can’t love me?” The question spills off my tongue faster than I can stop it.
His playful eyes dance in the dark. “Still think I’ve underestimated you?” I don’t answer. “Alice…” His hands grasp my shoulders as he closes in on me. “Let me have you again.”
“What’s stopping you?” I ask. “We’re alone in your house in the middle of nowhere.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not that kind of man, Alice. You know that.”
I nod. “Consent,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “Getting a woman to beg for it is far more powerful than taking it from her.”
A shiver travels down my spine. I take a step back to gather my thoughts, but also to hide the desire in my eyes from him. “You won’t touch me unless I tell you to,” I say. I peek over my shoulder at him.
His chest heaves in and out as he holds himself back. “Alice—”
“Sounds like torture,” I say, toying with him.
“It is.”
“Charles…” I watch him twitch. “You want me to beg you for it?”
“Yes…” he whispers.
I sit down on his bed. My body quivers. “Would that make you happy?” I ask.
“Very.”
I pause and take a breath to calm myself. “Is that all this will be then?” I ask. I hear him moving in the darkness. “A relationship with you—”
“Alice.” He places his hand below my chin and tilts my face upward, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You’re trembling.”
“You frighten me,” I stutter.
His lips curl. “You’re lying,” he says.
“No…” I turn away.
Charles kneels down in front of me. “Look at me,
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