The Perfect Scandal

Chapter Twenty

"What are you planning on doing with your life?"

I looked up from my citation page. "What?" I questioned, unsure as to why Mallory was asking me. It's not like it really mattered to her,

She picked her book back up and pressed her nose into the pages. "Don't feign stupidity, Miss Holland."

"I'm not sure."

It was true, sadly. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. What could I even do? If I wanted to be much of anything, I'd have to stay in college, even longer than I already had been. The only thing I had going for me was a Bachelors of Arts, and what was I going to do with that?

Not much.

I could go for nursing, my RN or LPN, but I didn't want to wipe butts and clean puke. So probably not. I couldn't teach anyone, unless it was a kindergarten Art class, as my skills matched that of a five year old. I could teach an abstract course, where the rules of art no longer applied. Maybe I could work in a bank, handing out money all day. Or I could go back to waitressing, or the coffee shop-- even Comatose. They loved me at Comatose. I could get my job back easily.

Mallory sat her book back down, spreading her legs out and open. She patted the mattress, I assumed beckoning me to her. I shut my laptop, leaving the empty bottle of scotch on the bed, and crawled to meet her. I positioned myself with my back to her chest, in hopes that she'd untie my harness.

To my excitement, she did. The jute slowly loosened, unwinding around my breasts. It left line indents on my chest, slightly discolored due to the decreased flow of blood and possible bruising. That caused me to look at my ankles. They were discolored as well, pinkish grey, and I knew I would bruise. This was going to be fun hiding from Kalob; the bruises in both places.

Mallory placed her hands on my shoulders after tossing the jute to the ground like the other set. She pulled me back, forcing my back to recline on her chest. Her soft legs wrapped themselves around me, similar to a koala bear, and my head rested against her shoulder. I could smell her, her natural scent. It was delicious; slight floral mixed with some minty  scent. Maybe it was her shampoo and body wash? It seemed plausible.

We stayed there for a while with Mallory combing through my hair with her fingers until I interrupted the pleasant silence. "Why did you choose me?"

"Why?" She repeated, questioning my question. "Why does that matter?"

She skipped a beat, stroking my hair faster than she had originally, but regained her tempo. It seemed as if she was caught off guard, not expecting me to ever ask her that question, but I was curious. Why me? Was it because she found me attractive? Or she pitied me? Or was it all a coincidence? My mind swam with the possibilities.

"I'm curious," I shrugged, turning my head to look at her. "Please? Tell me?"

Mallory stopped playing with my hair. Her hands found refuge around my stomach. Blue orbs looked down at me, flickering and studying my face. "You want the honest answer."

I nodded. Of course I did. I didn't want her to lie to me.

"I thought you would be an easy target."

That was a slap to the face.

"You seemed unsure of yourself: in over your head. I thought that if I offered you enough, you wouldn't be able to refuse me. I also thought you'd be easy to keep in line because of your, well, ignorance, but I was obviously wrong."

She laughed at the last part, and I couldn't help it, but I did too. Though I did have a lot going on, I was/am headstrong, at least that's what my mom and dad always told me.

"You were at least right about one thing; I couldn't refuse your offer, even though there's times where I question my sanity because of accepting it."

I could have died then: satisfied and content with listening to the woman's laughter. And it wasn't her smug, "holier-than-thou" laugh. It was genuine, melodic, and thick like molasses. It was the kind of laughter that brought contentment into your stomach; like a mother listening to her child's laugh. The sound shook me down to my bones, reverberating in my muscles. It left a feeling of satisfaction, a simplistic joy. This is what maple syrup sounded like; rich and thick, almost too sweet. I wanted to listen to her laugh for the rest of my time.

Her fingers started tracing designs on my stomach, but Mallory kept ahold of me. I didn't mind it; I enjoyed the feeling. I enjoyed her attention. God, what I wouldn't do for her constant, uninterrupted attention.

"If I gave you the opportunity to end our contract right now, would you?"

"No!"

The word flew from my mouth, I didn't even have to think about it. Of course, it'd be nice to be rid of the burden of constantly obeying someone, but to be rid of Mallory? To never have contact with her again? To never be tied up? Hell, to never have sex with her? That'd be unthinkable.

Mallory was silent afterwards. She picked up her book, keeping one arm around me while the opposite hand held the novel adjacent to my own arm. I laid against her quietly, not sure as to what had ruined her mood. But, I had a feeling that it was my response. Not necessarily because of the answer, but my lack of hesitancy. Maybe I showed too much enthusiasm; I was too desperate. Maybe she'd end our contract because I was so eager to respond in the negative.

"Miss?"

Not responding, Mallory untangled herself, slid off the bed and headed towards the bathroom, book in tow.

I threw myself back against the pillow, grabbed the nearest blankets and smothered myself with them. What was I going to do? I couldn't hide my attraction to Mallory any longer, though I knew it wasn't love. But these emotions weren't in the contract. I was supposed to have a real lover, not just Mallory. I was contractually obligated to make sure I didn't gain feelings for the older woman. She wouldn't give up her life to be with me; divorce, scandal, you name it. And how many others had she had prior? How many had she let go because they had developed feelings?

But that didn't matter. Her opinion on the issue hadn't changed, from what I could decipher. And that meant I was royaly screwed.