Possessive by Lena Little
5
Poppy
The next morning I’m up bright and early, although my world still feels a bit like it’s a baton that was tossed in the air last night and still hasn’t come down…still spinning.
Even in my dreams I imagined the things that Paul did to me, made me feel, made me do…all of which were things I didn’t even know I had in me. I wonder if Pandora’s box may have been opened last night and if so I’m shocked at what I found inside.
It’s crazy to think how quickly your life can turn on a dime. I look down at my arm and see the beginnings of an amazing tattoo, a way to honor Grandma Rose. And my lips purse and I look out the window of the public bus I’m on knowing it will never be finished.
I can’t see Paul again, even though I want so badly for him to finish what he started yesterday night. I never had time for boys, or men for that matter, but Paul has lit a fire inside me. Too bad he’s the only one with the matches. As the bus rolls down the street, I watch all the people going about their way, none of them seem to be heading anywhere they actually want to be going. At least that’s what their faces telegraph, not to mention it is the first workday of the week.
Did I make a mistake running out on Paul when he clearly offered me a solution to what could quickly become my own life? With a mountain of debt of my grandma’s hospital bills and only one way out of it, I have to get to work. The only question is whether that constitutes a lifetime of indentured servitude to a multinational corporation, or cleaning houses, or waiting tables…or accepting a…proposal…that includes a different kind of ‘work’ altogether, although I’ve been assured I don’t need to do anything other than “lay back and enjoy the inevitable.”
My skin crawls at the thought as the driver announces the stop for the courthouse. Just as he’s shutting the door I dash out of my seat and race for the door.
“Almost missed it,” he states, pushing the double doors back open.
“Yeah, I’m missing a lot right now,” I reply, hopping onto the sidewalk and disappearing into the labyrinth of bodies.
Even though we just met not much more than half a day ago, I already miss Paul. Missed him so bad I barely slept. I kept tossing and turning, replaying how I ended things, taking off like someone who can’t be an adult and stand up for what they believe in and what they want. What irony, considering I feel I’ve been adulting my whole life. When your mom has you and then goes and dies in an abandoned building with a needle in her arm, you have to grow up pretty darn fast. Thankfully grandma took me in all those years ago and kept me out of foster care. Money was tight so there wasn’t really the time or finances to support the regular kind of extracurricular activities for kids, or at least for me when I was still growing up.
Maybe that’s why Paul appeals to me so much. He offers control, discipline, and stability. But it’s not only the paternal aspects that Paul provides. I’m attracted to him in the physical realm just as much in the mental. He’s ruggedly handsome, intense, and we even shared a funny moment there at the end. I want his hands on me. Need his hands on me. But will those be hands that grab me and claim me like they did last night, or more the kind where he flips me over his knee and demands obedience when I do things that jeopardize my own well-being? In the end, he does want me to be a good girl, for my own benefit. Albeit his good girl. He was basically demanding to be my caretaker, while also being the spark inside my stomach that gets me going sexually…and to a level, I still can’t comprehend. But that’s the teacher in him, the older man, the man who knows what he wants, a real man. A possessive man.
And I love all those things about him. How he completes me in so many facets.
But last night I only really allowed his beast to appease my physical aspects. He tasted me and I tasted him, in an unbridled way that would make my Kindle catch on fire if someone were to read my story. A far cry from my previously unexciting, mundane existence.
How would things have turned out if Paul had met me under different circumstances? If he hadn’t caught me at such a vulnerable, wild moment? Then maybe what we could have together wouldn’t make much sense to him, wouldn’t appeal to a man who surely has women throwing themselves at him left, right, and center. Come on, Poppy. The guy has his hands on women’s bodies all day, probably tattooing dolphins and sunflowers below their bikini lines, not to mention what position are those women in when he’s tattooing their lower backs with some elaborate tribal tattoo? Heck, he’s practically in position to mount them right then and there. How could he resist other women when they’re lining up and paying him to do things to their bodies. He might as well be a gigolo without the social stigma. Clearly, we’re from two different worlds. He needs a random girl every once in a while for hot, sweaty, no holds barred sex and I need stability.
Why am I talking myself out of this? And why was Paul acting like I really was the one? And my woman’s intuition was most definitely telling me it wasn’t an act. At all. Then again maybe I’m just naïve.
I drag myself up the courthouse steps, the lack of sleep starting to kick in now.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it from my backpack, quickly reading the message.
All that debt, just gone. Wiped free. Clean slate.
The taste of bile rises in my throat.
Offer expires tomorrow night. Your choice. Where else can you find ‘work’ that pays this well? ;)
I want to chuck my phone against the thick stone walls of the government building, but instead, I drop it like it’s just morphed into a dead rat in my hands. It lands smack dab in the middle of one of the square plastic bins the security guards at the front of the building are manning prior to my passing through the metal detector.
“Any computers or sharp items, miss?”
“No,” I say, slinging my backpack from my shoulder into a separate bin and stepping through the metal detector…which of course goes off.
“Right this way miss,” another of the men says, smirking at his partner.
He pulls a metal detecting baton from his belt and motions for me to step on two yellow footprints. He rolls his upper lip underneath his lower one and then puffs them both out at the same time, making a tsking sound.
“I’m gonna need you to raise your arms and spread your legs.”
It’s at that moment that I know I wish I had Paul by my side. Fear spears my gut and I try and think fast. “Is there a woman here who can wand me?”
“Well…normal girl who works the front desk called in sick today. We can probably call in another security specialist, but they’ll have to come from across town. Might take an hour…”
“…Or two,” his partner adds.
I do as I’m told closing my eyes and inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Let’s get it over with.”
Immediately I feel the wand drag over my clothes, more pressure applied as he reaches my breasts.
A moment passes and I open my eyes to see him looking my body up and down. “You’re not hiding anything underneath there are you?”
“Hiding anything?” I retort. “The wand didn’t make a fucking sound.”
“Guess we better check then, right Officer Devlin,” he ‘confirms’ with his partner.
“Yep. Never can be too safe.”
My arms are shaking. I’m so pissed at this situation and not only that, I know they’re going to get away with it. All I can think about is how I wish this was an episode of The Sopranos and I could tell Tony about my incident. Tony would take care of it, and them, for me…in a way that is definitive. The worst part is I did have my own Tony Soprano, and I ran out on him. Why would he help me now? And what kind of chicken shit person would run to him now asking for help after what I did?
And how many girls have these two charlatans run this ruse on?
The wand swats between my legs and then over my ass.
“Enough!” I yell, marching over to the two bins with my things.
“But we’re not done.”
“Oh yes, you fucking are!”
I hightail it up the courthouse steps toward the second floor. “Uh,” I grunt.
“See you when you leave…miss.”
“See this,” I shout back, flipping them the bird, which only causes them to laugh out loud.
I storm into the office of public records. “Who’s in charge of the damn wills and trusts?” I ask aloud, yet under my breath, reminding myself that these aren’t the people who did me wrong and that I need to calm down, especially if I want the information I’m after.
But immediately I get a whole other kind of information, as in Paul’s whereabouts.
“I just need to know when Parole Officer Santos will be returning,” he grits to the woman behind the counter.
“Why is he so important? You can just sit here and hang out until he gets back. I’ll keep you company.” The big busted woman in the low cut top that looks anything but official, leans her forearms on the counter and then flops her damn near perfect D-cup breasts over the top of her arms, exposing enough cleavage to make the Grand Canyon look like a muddy puddle.
I zero in on Paul’s eyes, which only narrow further on the woman’s eyes, not her breasts. “I just need to sign the paper, ma’am, to tell him I checked in.”
“Oh, you can check in with me, if you know what I mean. My shift ends in forty-five minutes.”
“Unbelievable. Tax money goes to support this kind of…”
He turns on his heel and takes one step toward the door, and I forget to take one step behind the pillar next to the entrance.
“Princess,” he says, his mouth dropping open.
I’m ready to turn and beat feet for a second time, but surprisingly there’s no malice in his voice or his eyes.
I go to speak but the words don’t come out. Instead, I give him a pinky wave and then close my eyes slowly at the stupid gesture. I’ve never even done a pinky wave before. Why now?
He closes the distance between us, completely, grabbing me by the upper arm, but in a way, the woman at the counter can’t see.
“That your kid, big guy?” she calls.
Paul ignores her and I try my best too.
“Come back here and let a real lady show you a thing or two.”
“Why. You!” I start.
“Not here. Not now,” Paul shakes me. He lowers his lips right by my ear and in a gruff tone sounding like a Mac truck slowly rolling over gravel he adds, “I’ll take care of her later. But first…you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Meet me at the Starbucks around the corner in five minutes. I’ve got some records I need to pull,” I tell him.
“Now you’re the one treating me like a kid. You didn’t like it from her, so what makes you think I’ll accept it from you?”
He’s got a point, and my Starbucks offer was just a bluff. It was the first thing that came to mind and I had no intention of going there in five minutes, or ever again considering his possessive nature. He reminds me of a loyal dog, a dog nonetheless, but I mean that in the best of ways. I treated him bad but all he knows is he wants to get right back next to me, even if that means camping out at a multinational coffee chain, likely for days on end. Paul is anything but corporate-looking. The suit he has on again does little to fool me.
“Okay, just step outside. Give me five minutes.”
“I’ll be here, and don’t think for a minute I’m ever letting you out of my sight again, Little Girl. There are still consequences for your last act of defiance. I won’t let you regress into that kind of behavior again, no matter what it takes to teach you.”
A chill races over me, goosebumps covering every inch of my flesh. Then a jolt of heat sears me. “Let. Go. Of. My. Arm,” I stand my ground.
“Not until you promise me you’re not going to try any more stunts.”
I may have done a bad thing yesterday, but I’m not a liar. I don’t want to promise because maybe I can hold him off or call security, then again why would I want to call security on a man who has been nothing but good to me, not to mention the security in this building leaves everything to be desired, as I saw just two minutes earlier. “Okay,” I agree, moving toward the woman who just insulted me.
Clearing my throat I begin. “Good morning. My grandmother just passed away and I understand her last will and testament have been found and executed. I’d like a copy please.”
“What makes you think I’ve got one?” she asks, smacking her gum and then blowing a bubble less than a foot from my face.
I do my best to stay calm. “Because, as her next of kin, I received a letter in the mail asserting such a fact.”
“Well, look at you and your fancy little mouth.”
“Enough!” Paul bellows from the corner of the room. “Give the woman exactly what she wants. Now.”
The lady looks at Paul one time and sees he clearly isn’t going to allow any more of her b.s. She turns in the other direction, making sure to flip her hair in Paul’s direction and repeat his words in a snotty tone under her breath. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Paul referred to me as a woman just now, letting this flirty, jealous, snob know I’m on equal footing as her, even though I’m clearly much younger. Then again, I sure didn’t mind him calling me Little Girl last night either.
Two minutes later she’s flopping a folder onto the counter with the records I requested. “Those can’t leave this office.”
I whip out my phone and quickly take pictures of each of the pages. I check my photo album to make sure the pictures are clear, then respond. “Unlike you, the only thing leaving this moldy, paint chipping office, is me.” I spin on a heel and Paul smirks just as fast as I blaze a trail to the door, grabbing him by the hand and leading him into the hallway.
“You’ve really got some fight in you don’t you.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I throw back at him.
“Oh, believe me…I haven’t forgotten a single thing about you young lady.”
From the top of the stairs, I see the two security pricks ready to hassle me again, looking up at me and laughing until Paul comes into view from the winding staircase.
Their expressions turn to ice and they take a step back, both placing their hands on their tasers.
“Unprofessional jerks,” I snarl as we walk past them, but Paul’s not having it.
“What did you say?” he asks, first looking down at my eyes and then following my line of sight to the two guards. “Did these two give you any trouble?”
“It was just an equipment malfunction, sir. Happens all the time,” the one the other guy referred to as Officer Devlin responds. “See, what happened is my partner—”
Paul takes two big steps forward as the men go to unholster their tasers from their belts. But they’re too slow.
He grabs each of their hands in a crushing grip, their bodies both buckling to the side where Paul’s got a death grip on them. I look at his big, tatted hands, engulfing theirs and I can’t help but allow a shit-eating grin to spread across my face.
“See how it feels to be made to feel small?” I huff.
“What did they do to you?” Paul asks.
“They…” It’s then I realize that these guys’ lives might actually be hanging in the balance based on my response. Having Paul on my side wields that kind of power, that kind of immediate justice. Considering we’re in the courthouse and the man who looks more like a thug than a taxpaying citizen is acting as the judge, jury, and executioner shows just how little faith I have in the government that’s done little to help my grandma and I, not that we asked for any or wanted a handout, and how much belief I still have in real men stepping up and enforcing what’s right and wrong.
And real men are hard to come by these days.
“They…got aggressive with their wands.”
Paul’s forearms shake and I hear bones cracking in the men’s hands. “Where?”
A beat passes and the giant entrance to the courthouse becomes eerily still, although a crowd is gathering on the two floors above.
“Paul. I heard you in that office. You were checking in on parole. I don’t want you to go back to—“
“Where, Poppy. Show me where,” he growls.
Slowly my cupped hands in front of my chest and I wave over my breasts and then my backside.
A five alarm fire goes off inside the man in front of me, the man who gave me so much pleasure hours ago and it’s clear he’s ready to dish out nothing but pain.
Keeping the man’s hands underneath his own he jerks their hands and bends their wrists, squeezing harder and the tasers go off. Despite the close distance they fire, lodging right into the men’s groins and they fall to the ground, boneless, like wet noodles, writing in pain.
My head jerks to the side as a few of the women on the landings above start clapping. “Those assholes had that coming for years. Thank you, sir.”
“None of you so-called men put a stop to this and you all knew it was happening?” Paul extends his long, crooked index finger jabbing the air at each of the men watching from above. “I oughta,” he takes a step toward the stairs and high-pitched yells fill the air, accompanied by the sounds of square-toed leather shoes rushing back to air conditioned offices, the doors slamming shut and bolts being latched.
Then Paul turns his dark orbs on me. “This is exactly why I’m never letting you out of my sight again. We’re in this life together now. The sooner you understand that the easier things are going to be for you. Comprende?”
All I can do is nod my head.
“Any problem of yours is my problem, and you can be damn sure if you have a problem I’m going to get results. Fast. And I’m not afraid to make head’s roll. Your enemies are my enemies, and my enemies…strangely…have a way of disappearing. Forever.”
“Yes, sir,” I agree, even though my response is somewhat out of place and wasn’t asked for.
My muscle man’s six and a half foot frame, or thereabout, stalks toward me, his big mitt grabbing me by the back of the neck, forcefully, but not hurting me…much, and leads me out of the building.
I look back over my shoulder one last time, the two men still down on the ground, and no one coming to their aid. Probably a smart decision.
And running from Paul, was clearly a dumb one because I can run, but it’s crystal clear to me…I can never hide.
No one can.
