Surrender Your Heart Read online

  I can’t be completely oblivious for a year, close my eyes to what’s happening in the world, but frankly, I feel the temptation. Said world has become too crazy, too little that we can change about it, too much suffering. Building a fence and retreating into a bubble might not be a brave way to deal with it, but it’s understandable.

  Carter doesn’t ask. We leave the room quickly, head for a less ambiguous space next: The cocktail bar.

  It’s silly, because it’s been just the two of us, and Marlene when we dine, but I’m grateful for the wardrobe Carter has provided me with. In my usual gear, I’d feel seriously underdressed in these sparkling, exquisite surroundings. We’re on one of the higher floors, fourth or fifth I’m guessing, the beach and ocean laid down below and the skylight above…

  “Wow. Those are real stars.”

  I can see Marlene trying to hide a smile while Carter isn’t shy about it. “I wanted as much natural light in the building as possible. I’m glad you like it. What would you like to drink? There’s nothing Marlene cannot mix.”

  “Pina Colada,” I say, then I get daring. “No wait. Sex on the Beach.” Whatever insinuation this might carry, it’s also a very tasty beverage. If Marlene’s mixology talent matches her cooking skills, I’m in for a treat.

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Carter says.

  I’m doing a little better after having been able to move around more, talk to my Mom…Upon closer examination, this arrangement looks a little less crazy. It seems doable. At least, until I’ve figured out where to go from here, because I still have a hard time imagining a whole year in this place.

  Everyone seems to think it’s the right choice to take a timeout. In a way, I do have many choices now about how to spend my day, a freedom not deterred by classes or work shifts. In some way, it’s terrifying, because I’m not sure what to do with all that empty space. It’s a chance that has been dropped into my lap, but part of me still rebels against it, because it wasn’t my choice.

  Am I the crazy one? Maybe I should make the most of it, lie back and enjoy. Our conversation regarding ties comes back to me, and I’m grateful Marlene arrives with our drinks.

  A few sips of the fruity cocktail go a long way to calm my nerves. This is more like something I’m used to, going out with the girls, have a few drinks and good conversation…but of course, it isn’t, can never be the same. We’re all on equal footing in our little group. I wonder what they would say if they knew about my situation. As it is, they have probably heard I’m taking a time-out. Haley, always juggling kids and the job, and Lara who works longer hours than the rest of us…would they envy me?

  The fact that it is a woman who pulled all the strings, does that make it any better…or worse?

  I don’t know anymore.

  “I know you’re still adjusting,” Carter says. “That’s all right. You’ll have all the time you need, and in the meantime, you can ask me anything. I don’t have that many secrets.”

  “Thanks…I guess.”

  If only I knew where to start.

  That night, though, I’m taking my chances, tempting her, testing myself. After the rather pleasant evening, I am back in my bedroom, not tired, still restless. I shower and dress for the occasion, but she keeps me waiting. At some point I fall asleep on the covers, wearing nothing but a set of lace and satin lingerie in a dark red.

  Why not, since I have so many to choose from? Her gentle touch rouses me from sleep, fingers brushing over my arms and legs. I keep my eyes closed, but I know she knows I’m not asleep anymore. When she is gone, my heart is racing, warmth pooling between my legs, and I’m too wired to fall back asleep again.

  * * * *

  I’m alone at breakfast. Marlene informs me that Carter had to leave unexpectedly, but that she’ll be back as soon as possible. I feel the tug of something, an impossible, irrational emotion. I miss her already. There’s something heady about a person focusing on you completely, surrounding you, even if it’s wrong. It’s something too easy to get used to.

  Maybe, while she’s away, I should try to get to a phone.

  Back in my suite, I look in the mirror, against all reason marveling at the change. I don’t wear make-up, my hairstyle is the same, and yet a few days of not having to observe a clock makes much of a difference—and the clothes.

  Carter had one week, to look at me, decide I was the one and assemble everything she considered necessary to introduce me to a lifestyle I could only dream of so far. Looking back on my first, panicked moments here, I cringe at the memory of wanting to hold on to my old clothes.

  What am I afraid of, really? Carter, feeling me up in the dark with those warm, careful hands?

  I try. I realize that while I can ask for every comfort, food, clothing, books, I don’t have anything to write on. I’ll need some supplies, if I want to study—or if I want to formulate and escape plan. I better not write that down though.

  I spend the better part of the morning walking around, memorizing the way to the rooms I’m allowed into, encountering a few locked doors. The pool is off limits for now when Carter is not in the house, Marlene informs me regretfully, but if I wanted to read in the sunroom…Beautiful high ceilings and a skylight much too high to escape. I pick a couple of books from the box and sit in one of the comfortable couches, sipping the iced coffee Marlene brings me.

  I wish I could chat with Haley or Lara, or even Marcie though we don’t have much in common.

  Carter said I could ask her anything. I should make a list then, right? I will have questions for her when she comes back, no doubt about it—if she comes back. No, that’s a stupid thing to think, of course she’ll be back. She doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who invests so much in a project and then steps away. She has a goal in all of this.

  The realization should be sobering, not coming with this foolish excitement.

  Maybe I’ll get my answers tonight. In the meantime, I’ll be reading Gone Girl. If that isn’t ironic?

  It’s odd, having the whole day with nothing to do except read, a long neglected pleasure. In the past couple of years I’ve been juggling my time between the café and the university, squeezing in the occasional time out with family or friends, never too long, often with my mind going in various directions.

  There was always something to remember, something to do, and I never seemed to get to the end of it. This kind of living has come to a somewhat jarring halt. I’m still winded. Part of me resents Carter for it, another…Against the odds I’m starting to feel more relaxed. I have a roof over my head, somewhere far, surrounded by palm trees, close to the ocean—which I haven’t seen yet up close, but still. I have food. For the major part of time, the company of a beautiful mysterious woman who has promised to make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I lay the book aside for a moment, staring out at the ocean. Yes, I have reasons to be uneasy with this arrangement, no kidding, but what if I stopped questioning it, trying to find a way out and just go with it?

  I wonder what it will be like, between us, after sex.

  I am curious, about the woman underneath that confident, used to taking charge exterior. I have dated, fallen in love, had relationships—a few anyway—with women who were familiar, like me, lower middle class feminists trying to make sense of an insane world. I’ve never met anyone like Carter, and once I’ve unlocked that door, I can’t help imagining what will happen once we are naked together. Her hands on my body. I can draw the sensation from memory, now, and it’s not hard to go further than that.

  My knee-jerk reaction has always been to be the good responsible girl—quitting job and studies like that, who does that? Certainly not me. My grades might not be exceptional, but I kept them up. I get good tips, because I’m friendly and efficient. This brings me back to the $1000 tip, the moment our eyes first met. I feel hot and feverish in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. What if I want this to happen? I don’t have anyone to answer to, apparently not even my boss or advisors. Th
ere’s no one I’m cheating on.

  If she’s as good as she says, I might not regret taking a year off after all. I go back to my reading, though the thoughts and images keep playing at the back of my mind. I’m changing to The Handmaid’s Tale for a moment, realizing that Haley and Lara went with quite a few of my picks. I’m drawn back to my present, and Carter, in a heartbeat.

  I’m not caught up in someone’s dystopian fantasy, am I? I don’t suppose she wants me to have a child for her. Now I’m going a little crazy, but the stray idea provoked by my dark reading material leads me to realize once more how little I know about her. How long has she been out—or is she? Has she been married? Is there a child, family? The list keeps growing. I’m no psychologist but, based on my observations and the measures she has taken, I’d say experience made her this cautious. Maybe this is crazy, but I want to know more. I want to know what made her think that the only way something could happen between us involved this much money. I want to understand her.

  I want her to be better than the fictional men I’ve been rolling my eyes about.

  * * * *

  I discover that the stereo has a variety of channels, but nothing with news. Not being able to go online is a relief and has me antsy at the same time. Finally, even though this is technically still the scheduled vacation time, I go back to the library and study the curriculum, check for books and articles I’ll need. Carter hasn’t been kidding. The books are all there, plus an online subscription for the most important journals, which I of course, can only access offline—I can’t help it, my jaw drops. This is a student’s dream. It costs a fortune to get all of those.

  I try to get to other sites, but of course they are blocked. Not a chance to quickly update my Facebook status to “I got kidnapped”.

  It makes me wonder what questions I would have to answer at this point, about how I didn’t try hard enough to get away—but what are my options really? Bang on locked doors, throw myself out of a window, no, wait, they are locked too, because technically I’m still on suicide watch. That thought chills me, and I push it aside quickly. I’m not a violent person. She hasn’t threatened me with anything, and I don’t think I can come up with anything in return to force her to let me go, let alone something physically aggressive. Maybe, at this point, I don’t want anyone to find out about all this, because I’m not as badass as the women in the stories I like, on the contrary. It makes me cringe, because I feel like it’s weak, that part of me who could enjoy being the accidental princess, her company, dressed up to her satisfaction, in her hands.

  Carter Forbes still has a lot to answer for, but when Marlene asks me what I’d like for dinner, she also informs me that I’ll have to take it by myself.

  I am disappointed.

  * * * *

  Nevertheless, what if she is wrong? Carter seems to be the person who fills people in only when it serves her. Maybe she changed plans. Maybe she’ll be here for dinner after all. I want to be prepared, in any case, for dinner and all possible eventualities.

  I stand in the bathroom for a few indecisive moments, then I decide to take full advantage of the moment. It’s either that or driving myself crazy, crazier about all the ways this could go terribly wrong.

  I find Marlene and ask her for a glass of bubbles, a little cocktail before dinner which she promptly provides. My next request is a little more delicate even though I don’t intend to go into details. Oh well. She’s a woman. She’ll know, but then again, she probably is aware of Carter’s intentions anyway.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Elliot, I can’t do that,” she says, her eyes wide, expression a bit shocked that I would even ask for something like that. I sigh. Maybe I’ll have to go into specifics after all.

  “I know Carter doesn’t want me to have sharp objects, but I swear, I’m not going to destroy anything with it, and I’m not going to try to kill myself. I just want to shave my legs.” …and trim in other areas, maybe, but that is definitely something I won’t spell out for Marlene. I’m blushing as it is.

  “Can’t that wait for a few more hours?”

  That’s the point, though, I don’t want Carter to be around. This is where I’m having trouble with playing the role that’s expected of me. I’ve been taking care of these things forever—having them taken out of my hands, even if those are small, inconsequential things, bothers me. I have a closet full of amazing dresses, skirts, and bathing suits. I want smooth legs, damn it, is that too much to ask for?

  “I promise, I won’t tell. Please.” All of a sudden, this small piece of independence has become very important, more than the bubble bath in the giant tub, with a glass of champagne on the side. I want to do this, badly—and then I think, whatever. It’s not like Marlene can tell anyone.

  “Listen, when Carter comes back, I’m sure she’d like something to take her mind off business…so I want everything to be ready. I want to be ready.” I break the eye contact, because I’m not able to do this otherwise. “You know what I mean. I’m sure you also know exactly how I got here, so I’d think you could help me with one little thing that would make me more comfortable. I am not going to hurt myself.”

  When I look up, Marlene’s demeanor tells me she’s still uneasy, but she nods. “I’ll get you what you need. I’ll be right back, and I want you to give it back to me when you’re done. Just this once.”

  “I can do that. Thank you.”

  True to her word, she is back with one of the pink razors you love to hate, but use anyway. I’ll make do.

  When she’s gone, I sink into the warm water, laughing at myself. What do I need a relaxing bath for? I did nothing all day except read and walk around for a bit. Frankly, I’m not a fan of exercise, but I should find something to do. It would help if I could go to the pool by myself. I have to talk it over with Carter. What is she afraid of? Where would I go?

  I put on a short red dress and flat sandals, and for the first time, I add some jewelry to the outfit. This is all mine. I shouldn’t feel like a thief, or a gold digger.

  I don’t put on evening make-up. I’ve never been a make-up person, and so my skills are sketchy, not that I ever thought they matter. A bit of lipstick and perfume will do. As much as I was creeped out, scared even in the beginning, I find as much fascination in exploring the possibilities of my new self.

  This is all between me and Carter, and to some extent, Marlene…and the person who broke into my apartment, drugged and brought me here, but I don’t want to think about this now. Even taking into consideration that concepts of beauty vary, that many of them are ridiculous standards enforced by patriarchy, which I don’t give a damn about...I have to admit I like what I see in the mirror. I’m not exactly a model photoshopped for a magazine cover, just a woman in clothes that fit her well. I’m excited.

  I find Marlene and give her the razor back as promised. The dinner table is set for one.

  All of a sudden, I want to cry, but instead, I force a smile.

  Carter will be back.

  Chapter Five

  Vacation time will be over at some point. I’ll continue my studies best I can under the circumstances and I’ll lay off the alcohol in the middle of the week, soon. As long as Carter is absent, I don’t see the necessity for such responsible behavior. After all, she took every responsibility from me—I have no obligations whatsoever at this moment. Don’t run away, don’t hurt yourself, I’ve upheld my part.

  Slightly tipsy, I wander back to my quarters, restless and eager for Carter to return. So far, our exchanges have been both: frustrating and intriguing, the verbal and the tactile ones. I want her back. I want more.

  It makes me giddy to rummage through the selection of lingerie. I had a couple of those at home, but this is the real deal. It’s like a store with only items that fit me. Actually, the abundance shouldn’t give me a guilty conscience at all. The clothes, underwear and shoes were probably made by people who can earn an actually living, not like your usual store-bought clothing. At least I hope Carter
has that much of conscience for global responsibility. I chose a short black satin nightgown over a lacy bra and a thong. There’s a chance she’ll come back tonight. Fantasy or truth, I almost don’t care anymore.

  It feels like a fantasy at first, or a dream, the familiar soft touch, sliding over the satin fabric, my legs, back up and underneath the hem of the nightgown.

  Yes, why not go there, get it out of your system and mine? I’m okay with it. Whatever her deal is, I believe her that whips and chains are not part of it, pain isn’t, so it’s all good. I might be a little off balance, and a little blitzed, but yes, it’s good. Her fingers slide between my legs. My body has a will of its own, my legs opening to accommodate her teasing, tickling above the flimsy fabric, and then it’s gone altogether. I gasp, hands flailing, but I try to compose myself, best I can, keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to spook her—yes, like it’s all up to me.

  I can’t help the sharp intake of breath, and by now, it doesn’t even matter anymore. She knows I’m awake and enjoying myself, proof hot and liquid on her curious fingertips. There’s movement, and the sound of footsteps. I need a moment to realize what that means, and when I do, every single emotion of the past few days comes crashing down on me. Caution is out of the window.

  “No, you don’t!”

  I’m on my feet in an instant, a bit wobbly, but determined.

  At the door, Carter turns to me, looking surprised. I don’t know if my outburst or my out-fit is the reason. I’m slightly distracted by hers, the casual-looking shirt and skirt, definitely not business gear. She must have been back for a while.

  “What do you mean?” she asks softly.

  “Do this. To me. Keep leading me on and then run away.”

  “What do you want me to do instead?”