Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

“I hate you,” I say, sobbing in his arms, hating myself more because I can’t even mean the damned words.

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The man who inflicts the pain is the man who offers the balm, holding me against the warmth of his body and whispering soothing words in my ear. Gabriel is a constant that never changes. He takes care of me now like he does after he lashing me with his belt or palm. His behavior when he emotionally hurts me is the same as when he physically tortures me. I don’t have the strength not to take this olive branch he offers. I don’t have the strength not to fall into him. As always, he’s there to catch and carry me through his cruelty. As he lifts me into his arms and moves toward the stairs, I already mourn my surrender.

Gabriel

Every living being fights for one thing. Freedom. I claimed a woman and took that away from her. Instead of putting her in a cage, I clipped her wings to prevent her from flying away. In time, some caged creatures are tamed. Some remain wild forever. Valentina falls in the latter category. Her spirit is too strong, but my will is stronger. My need is fiercer. I’ll break her, over and over, make her submit to me time and time again, until we both blow out our last breaths.

She’s my black kitten.

She’s my forever.

Her tears move me, but not with the perverse lust I feel at her erotic pain. This pain cuts me. I carry her to our bedroom and nudge the door open. This is one of those occasions I want to love her gently, giving her comfort to make up for what I won’t give––the freedom she is fighting for. The love she deserves.

Making quick work of undressing us both, I lower her to the bed and cover her body with mine. I feel between her thighs to test if she’s ready and find her slick. Always wet for me. I don’t wait. I put my cock at her entrance, part her folds, and pierce her pussy.

When she moans and writhers I give her more, and when she starts panting I give everything, taking her body to a place where pleasure is freedom. She clings to me with her arms and legs while her orgasm crushes through her. Our coupling is uncomplex, pure, and complete. Trapped in each other, our bodies connected, for a few blissful moments we both forget.

Valentina

Comes morning, I go back to pretending. It’s the only way to survive. It’s not like anything other than my heart is suffering. Lots of people are worse off. Look at poor Jerry. I have it good. I’m lucky. It could’ve been me with a bullet in my brain. Who needs freedom and love? I’m done wallowing in self-centered pity. There are other people to consider.

Today is the first day of Charlie’s new treatment. I gave my consent, because I couldn’t come up with any arguments why we shouldn’t try. We have nothing to lose. I wait anxiously outside the television room where Christopher is working with Charlie. I asked to stay with my brother, but Christopher said it would hamper his efforts and inhibit Charlie. Gabriel sits next to me in the hallway on Magda’s infamous Louis Vuitton love seat, the one Oscar almost ruined, holding my hand. He acts like a good husband, and we don’t speak about yesterday.

I jerk from my thoughts when the door opens. Christopher exists first.

“How did it go?” I ask, jumping to my feet.

“Very good. We made progress.”

“Really?”

Charlie follows. He looks happy, calm, and very awake, awake as in present in the moment.

“Hey.” I touch his arm. “How do you feel?”

“Gre–great.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Sta–starving.”

“How about a burger?” Gabriel asks. “I can start the barbeque.”

“Bu–burger.”

“Wood or gas?” he asks.

“Woo–wood.”

Charlie loves a wood fire. He can stare at the flames for hours.

“Let’s go take care of lunch, then. Afterward, we’re up for a game of football with the guards.”

Gabriel takes Charlie and leaves me alone with Christopher. As much as I resent my husband, I love him for this.

“Do you think the sessions will make a difference?” I ask.

“I do.” The doctor shifts a briefcase from one hand to the other. “We’ll start with general relaxation exercises and then work on speech.”

“How much of his old memories does he have left?”

“It’s hard to say. I can only know if I take him back into the past. Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if he remembers us the way we were before the accident.”

“Ah.” He puts down the briefcase and removes his glasses. “Mrs. Louw––”

“Valentina, please.”

“Valentina,” a note of caution slips into his voice, “it’ll never be like before.”

“I know. I was just hoping…”

“It’s normal to miss the old personality, the person before the brain damage, but it’s not conducive to dwell in the past. It’s better to accept the present and to optimize on what we’ve got.”