The Virgin Duet

“Are you not joining me for dinner?” I ask, but she doesn’t look at me.

“No.”

I’m surprised by her tone. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, Mr. Spencer,” she spits at me, but still doesn’t make eye contact. She stomps on the treadmill like it personally offended her, and I have no idea what’s happened.

“Why are you calling me that? What’s happened Rebecca?” My anxiety ratchets up, and I go through my mind, trying to think of what’s happened since I last saw her.

Finally she glares at me and answers. “Nothing. Everything is just peachy. Go eat your dinner.”

A rage comes over me and I can’t take her attitude anymore, not when it’s pushing me away. I don’t think about my control or the fact that this situation is out of my hands. I just react. I reach around to the front of the machine and pull the emergency stop button.

For a second I panic, thinking she might fall, but she rights herself and gets off of the treadmill, pushing past me with her shoulder.

“Rebecca, don’t speak to me like that and don’t walk away from me.”

She turns around before she exits the room and gives me a look that would take lesser men to their knees.

“I won’t ever change for you, and I sure as hell won’t apologize for being who I am. If I’m not good enough to be yours in public, then I’m not good enough to be yours at night when your dick is hard.”

I walk over to touch her because the need to comfort her is consuming me, but she takes a step back.

“No! You don’t get the privilege of touching me ever again.” She turns and walks out of the gym, and I let out a frustrated grunt. What just happened?

I follow her to the master bedroom and see her coming out of the closet, carrying a bag.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a panic. My stress levels are peaking and I don’t know what to do. This can’t be happening.

“Moving my stuff to the guest room. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair just as soon as I find another job.”

My panic spikes even higher and I’m in motion. I rush over and grab the bag out of her hands, throwing it on the ground. I wrap my arms around her waist and carry her over to the bed. I’ve finally allowed myself to touch her, and I did it without thinking. My anxiety isn’t grabbing ahold of me. Instead it feels natural to go to her and stop her from leaving by any means necessary.

“What are you doing, Bray? Put me down!” she yells while I carry her across the room, her arms and legs flailing.

“We are going to clear up whatever has gotten in your head. And we are going to do it right now.”

I throw her on the bed and then climb on top of her. I pin her arms and legs down, because she’s still trying to attack me, and I don’t want her hurting herself in the process. In the back of my mind, I tell myself over and over not to hurt her. I’m not my father and I will die before I ever punish my fairy that way.

I need to calm her down and have her tell me what’s wrong. “Talk to me,” I say, and she turns her head away, not looking at me. “Please, Tink,” I plead. I can’t remember the last time I used the word ‘please’.

Then I see her tears.

“What did I do? Please, whatever I did, I’ll make it right.” My heart aches at the sight of her tears and the thought that I’ve done something to hurt my precious Tinkerbell.

Her chest rises and falls as she fights her sobs. “You were so ashamed of me,” she whispers, and more tears fall.

“Oh, Rebecca, why would you say that?”

“Because of today. When I came to your office. You said I needed new clothes.” She turns her head and makes eye contact with me and I can see all the hurt and anger she’s been holding back. “In front of everyone.”

“Oh, my sweet Tinkerbell, no. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. I was just so possessive of you, and having those men see you dressed so sexy made me angry. I can’t stand the thought of someone seeing you like that.” I feel her soften a little at my statement, and I keep going. “You’re mine and what we do together is private. I’ve never had anything like this with anyone before, and I don’t want to share it. It’s my own selfishness that reacted today. It wasn’t anything you did.”

“Whatever,” she says in response and rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve had a good time with people you’ve messed around with before.”

I take a deep breath and admit what I’ve been too embarrassed to tell her until now.

“I haven’t messed around with anyone before.”

“So you just fuck other women but not me? I guess I’m not good enough for that either, am I?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists when I feel her start to pull away.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” I take another deep breath and try to get her to understand. “I mean…what I need to tell you…what I’m trying to say is…I’ve never done anything before you.”

I feel the blush on my cheeks and she looks at me curiously.

“You’re a virgin?” she asks, her eyes searching my face.

I nod my head and wait for her to laugh at me.

“What? Why? How? Are you kidding me? How old are you?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You’re a virgin too. And for the record I’m thirty-two. Are you going to tell me your real age now?”

It’s her turn to blush and avoid eye contact. I release one of her wrists and touch her chin so she’s looking at me again. “Eighteen,” she whispers. But I already know this. It was part of the paperwork when she was hired at the coffee shop, and I looked into that before I ever spoke to her boss about her change in behavior.