After her conversation with security ended, she turned back to her guest, “I have plans today. Please make this quick.”
His eyes scanned up and down her petite form. “Yes, I see you are dressed for business. What do they call that, business casual?” The vulnerability of her light weight pants and top made her uneasy. Refusing to take his snide bait, Claire remained silent. His tone turned sultry, “I’m not complaining. I always found the casual Claire as sexy as the one who rocked designer dresses.”
Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us.
- Jane Roberts Chapter 18
Claire looked up into the sparkling velvety brown eyes. Damn, she’d been seeing those same eyes and that Cheshire expression all night long. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she exhaled, “Please, I have lunch plans, and I’d like to change. Question what you want and go.”
“Do you only entertain in the entry, or may we sit?”
His gentlemanly tone was difficult to resist. “We may sit.” She led him to the living room. As they sat, him on the sofa and her in a chair, she added, “I know you enjoy coffee, I’d offer you some. But, the last time I got you coffee, it didn’t work out so well for me.”
Tony smirked, “God, Claire you’re something else. I can’t imagine anyone else joking about that.”
“Well, see, you misinterpreted. I wasn’t joking. I’m actually still pissed as hell.” This wasn’t something she could have said while they were married. And definitely not something she would have said in a restaurant, even a restaurant devoid of other patrons. Some details of their life could only be discussed in private. His rules regarding privacy and appearance were as ingrained as punctuality.
“Good for you.” He leaned toward her, his eyes devouring her entirely, until she questioned her own presence. “Your ability to admit your displeasure is refreshing. It encourages me to be honest, too.”
Claire did her best to glare, “Honesty. That would be a refreshing change.”
His expression remained soft and so were his words, “You should know ...I am sorry.”
The world as Claire knew it, shifted. Perhaps it was an earthquake, they do happen in California. Why couldn’t he be domineering or abrasive? That she could resist. But, apologetic, in the depths of her soul, she never expected to hear those three words.
“What?” She tried unsuccessfully to subdue the overpowering trembling. The volume of her voice rose exponentially with each phrase, “You’re sorry?” The years of submission, incarceration, and domination bubbled out. No, not bubbled -- gushed. This was not his house. She was not sequestered away from the love and support of others. She’d say whatever she wanted, and then tell him to leave. If he didn’t – she’d call security. They were after all, on her call log. “Well, Tony, I believe I need a little clarification. Tell me what exactly you’re sorry about. I’ll gladly give you a few options.”
The fury surging through her veins wouldn’t allow her to remain seated. She stood and paced, around the coffee table, in front of the large windows, back to the chair and again to the coffee table. She felt his eyes on her, as she made multiple slow and methodical loops. Her mind was a whirlwind, a tornado, of words. Each syllable vehemently rushed to get out. Instead of opening the flood gate, Claire took a few deep breaths. She wanted to proceed slowly, clearing away the debris cluttering her mind, and choose the right words. Finally, she began, “First, you’re sorry for invading my privacy for years, years before I even knew you existed. Second, you’re sorry for kidnapping me, isolating, controlling me, and manipulating me. Third, you’re sorry for lying to me, pretending you cared and oh yeah, marrying me. Fourth, listen carefully Tony, this is a big one... you’re sorry for framing me for attempted murder, resulting in incarceration in a federal penitentiary.” She sat back down, arms once again crossed over her breasts. It was the most direct she’d ever spoken to him, and it felt liberating. Unfortunately, the resentment coursing through her veins wouldn’t allow her to relish her new found independence.
She expected her words to incite anger; after all, she’d experienced his anger before. Nevertheless, carelessly and unapologetically Claire forged ahead, “I would prefer the words, but you are welcome to say, one through four, if that’s easier for you.”
He leaned forward. Cautiously she looked up into his face. Her body trembled. The cause may have been the fury she’d just released, or perhaps fear of his anticipated reaction. Then she took in his expression and without warning the trembling stopped. His eyes were soft, the color of melted chocolate -- even sad, overflowing with regret. He reached for her hand and gently tugged. Slowly, Claire released her appendage, allowing it to sit in his large palm. Tenderly he closed his fingers encasing her petite hand.
“I am deeply sorry for one and four.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “I did provide you with an alternative destination for number four.” Claire exhaled audibly, Tony continued, “I am not proud of two, but three would never have happened without it.” His tone deepened and slowed, “I am not, and never will be sorry for three. And, for the record, I never lied about or pretended to love you. I didn’t realize it at first, but I have loved you since before you knew my name.” He slowly lifted the hand he held and lowered his lips to the firm soft skin. “And, you forgot our divorce. I am sincerely sorry for that also. Had I known you would be released so soon, we could still be married.” He placed her left hand on her knee, and stroked her empty fourth finger. “You could still officially be mine.”
His eyes scanned up and down her petite form. “Yes, I see you are dressed for business. What do they call that, business casual?” The vulnerability of her light weight pants and top made her uneasy. Refusing to take his snide bait, Claire remained silent. His tone turned sultry, “I’m not complaining. I always found the casual Claire as sexy as the one who rocked designer dresses.”
Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us.
- Jane Roberts Chapter 18
Claire looked up into the sparkling velvety brown eyes. Damn, she’d been seeing those same eyes and that Cheshire expression all night long. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she exhaled, “Please, I have lunch plans, and I’d like to change. Question what you want and go.”
“Do you only entertain in the entry, or may we sit?”
His gentlemanly tone was difficult to resist. “We may sit.” She led him to the living room. As they sat, him on the sofa and her in a chair, she added, “I know you enjoy coffee, I’d offer you some. But, the last time I got you coffee, it didn’t work out so well for me.”
Tony smirked, “God, Claire you’re something else. I can’t imagine anyone else joking about that.”
“Well, see, you misinterpreted. I wasn’t joking. I’m actually still pissed as hell.” This wasn’t something she could have said while they were married. And definitely not something she would have said in a restaurant, even a restaurant devoid of other patrons. Some details of their life could only be discussed in private. His rules regarding privacy and appearance were as ingrained as punctuality.
“Good for you.” He leaned toward her, his eyes devouring her entirely, until she questioned her own presence. “Your ability to admit your displeasure is refreshing. It encourages me to be honest, too.”
Claire did her best to glare, “Honesty. That would be a refreshing change.”
His expression remained soft and so were his words, “You should know ...I am sorry.”
The world as Claire knew it, shifted. Perhaps it was an earthquake, they do happen in California. Why couldn’t he be domineering or abrasive? That she could resist. But, apologetic, in the depths of her soul, she never expected to hear those three words.
“What?” She tried unsuccessfully to subdue the overpowering trembling. The volume of her voice rose exponentially with each phrase, “You’re sorry?” The years of submission, incarceration, and domination bubbled out. No, not bubbled -- gushed. This was not his house. She was not sequestered away from the love and support of others. She’d say whatever she wanted, and then tell him to leave. If he didn’t – she’d call security. They were after all, on her call log. “Well, Tony, I believe I need a little clarification. Tell me what exactly you’re sorry about. I’ll gladly give you a few options.”
The fury surging through her veins wouldn’t allow her to remain seated. She stood and paced, around the coffee table, in front of the large windows, back to the chair and again to the coffee table. She felt his eyes on her, as she made multiple slow and methodical loops. Her mind was a whirlwind, a tornado, of words. Each syllable vehemently rushed to get out. Instead of opening the flood gate, Claire took a few deep breaths. She wanted to proceed slowly, clearing away the debris cluttering her mind, and choose the right words. Finally, she began, “First, you’re sorry for invading my privacy for years, years before I even knew you existed. Second, you’re sorry for kidnapping me, isolating, controlling me, and manipulating me. Third, you’re sorry for lying to me, pretending you cared and oh yeah, marrying me. Fourth, listen carefully Tony, this is a big one... you’re sorry for framing me for attempted murder, resulting in incarceration in a federal penitentiary.” She sat back down, arms once again crossed over her breasts. It was the most direct she’d ever spoken to him, and it felt liberating. Unfortunately, the resentment coursing through her veins wouldn’t allow her to relish her new found independence.
She expected her words to incite anger; after all, she’d experienced his anger before. Nevertheless, carelessly and unapologetically Claire forged ahead, “I would prefer the words, but you are welcome to say, one through four, if that’s easier for you.”
He leaned forward. Cautiously she looked up into his face. Her body trembled. The cause may have been the fury she’d just released, or perhaps fear of his anticipated reaction. Then she took in his expression and without warning the trembling stopped. His eyes were soft, the color of melted chocolate -- even sad, overflowing with regret. He reached for her hand and gently tugged. Slowly, Claire released her appendage, allowing it to sit in his large palm. Tenderly he closed his fingers encasing her petite hand.
“I am deeply sorry for one and four.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “I did provide you with an alternative destination for number four.” Claire exhaled audibly, Tony continued, “I am not proud of two, but three would never have happened without it.” His tone deepened and slowed, “I am not, and never will be sorry for three. And, for the record, I never lied about or pretended to love you. I didn’t realize it at first, but I have loved you since before you knew my name.” He slowly lifted the hand he held and lowered his lips to the firm soft skin. “And, you forgot our divorce. I am sincerely sorry for that also. Had I known you would be released so soon, we could still be married.” He placed her left hand on her knee, and stroked her empty fourth finger. “You could still officially be mine.”
