Morgan
held her breath and checked out her profile in the mirror. She always
thought the over-used phrase “heaving bosom”, so favoured by
trashy romance novelists, was a chauvinistic exaggeration, but no;
the tight boning on the heavy leather corset squeezing her organs and
soft flesh in different directions created a scenario exactly as
described. Her lungs were unable to fill with air and her shallow
breaths forced her breasts to nearly smash into her chin on every
inhale. She felt dubious about how she looked. Her waist was nice and
cinched, and the shiny black material glinted in the lamplight, but
the soft swell of her tummy was forced down into her hips, making
them much larger, and she thought she just looked comical. She was
still debating over it when her roommate opened her mouth.
“Morgan,
sweetie, you look amazing!”
“I
REALLY don’t think so, Sarah…”
“Oh,
Bullshit, you look SEXY. You look like an hour glass, like for real!”
Morgan
peeked back into the mirror; her friend was right. Only, she’d go a
little further and say she was more like an hour-and-a-half glass. “I
really don’t think so. I mean, yeah, if we were going to be a part
of a show or something, sure. But this is just too extreme for
drinks.”
“Sweetie,
we’re going to a CLUB. You have to look sexy.”
“Sarah,
we’ve been over this already. The Marina is not a CLUB. It’s a
bar. Sure you can dance there, but we’re going for DRINKS. I’m
not out to pick up some stranger and have him rub himself all over me
trying to get into my pants. I’m going to sit in a quiet corner of
a clean bar that I know and love and hang out with my friends. I
can’t be this trussed up for something that simple. How did I ever
let you talk me into even considering this?”
Her
friend sighed, knowing it was already a lost battle. Morgan was firm
about not going out feeling so ridiculous. She wanted to go have a
good relaxing time, not worry about whether or not her hips looked
too big. She placed her hands against the wall next to the mirror,
leaning into the brace as her friend tugged at the laces undoing
them. She took a big breath as the ribbing peeled itself from her
skin, and she turned her head, smiling at the other girl.
“Thank
you Sarah; for helping me AND for not forcing me to go through with
this.”
“Oh
it’s alright. I just wish you would have worn it. I’d never be
able to pull this thing off, and ONE of us has to be the bombshell…”
The
smile tugged at the corners of Morgan’s eyes, and she chuckled.
“Maybe for Halloween, yeah?”
**
When
Morgan was finally out of the stiff corset, she perused her closet in
silence, looking for just the right thing to actually wear out. She
meant it when she said she wanted to be comfortable and just enjoy
her drinks with her friends, but there was a little something more
that she couldn’t admit to her roommate. There was going to be
somebody special there tonight, and she wanted to look good. Every
time she knew she was going to see him, she wanted to be pretty for
him. These urges were strange to her. She wasn’t physically
attracted to him, not in the least. Not that he was a bad looking
guy. He just wasn’t her type, at all, yet she found herself nearly
obsessed with gaining his approval. She wanted to be WANTED by him.
She couldn’t understand it, but she went through the motions of
appeasing that little voice in her head urging her actions.
She
finally decided on something eye-catching but not slutty. Her top was
cut low and her skirt was cut short, but she still looked
respectable; and oh-so enticing. She fought with herself in her head
over how she would act that night. She knew she was capable of
shameless flirting, and she wanted desperately to pull out all the
stops, but she always managed to talk herself out of it. It wasn’t
fair to him, she would never actually make good on any of the
promises her body would make in the progress, and she didn’t want
to lose him as a friend. She still cherished his existence in her
life, she didn’t want to change that, but still she needed to be
wanted by him.
**
The
smoky air of the bar filled Morgan’s lungs and she tried to act
like she hated it, shooting dirty looks around at the people with
cigarettes dangling from their lips and fingers. The truth of the
matter is that the sensation actually exhilarated her. She liked the
slow and sweet burn as it entered her nose and she breathed in
deeply, instantly and intensely grateful to not have her lung
capacity hindered by the restrictive material of the leather corset.
She surreptitiously pulled the polluted air in as she walked through
the room to the back where she knew she would find her table. She saw
him sitting at the head, or what would have been the head, if it
weren’t a large round table. The room revolved around him, in her
eyes; he commanded the attention of everything and everyone. He
wasn’t particularly handsome, and he wasn’t rich... He was just…
large. He had big energy, and he did big things. He was dangerous and
he exuded confidence, and Morgan knew that he could do absolutely
anything he wanted.
“Hey,
babe!” he stood up when she got closer to the table. Her other
friends grinned up at her, but quickly went back to their
conversations.
“Sol!
I feel likes it’s been forever!” she stood up on her toes to hug
him around his neck. She used to go straight for the waist hug, he
was so much taller than her it was a much more natural position to
fall into, but lately she’d found herself pressing against him
more, and more obviously.
“It’s
been what, four days?” he chuckled as his hands hovered over her
waist while she clung to his shoulders.
“It
might have been. Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you…” She let go
and pulled back, intentionally letting her fingers trail down his
arms as she removed her body from his.
“Do
you have a drink yet?”
“No,
I just got here…”
He
put her wrist in his hand, careful not to grip her palm, and tugged
her towards the bar. He steered her around the barstools with a hand
to her shoulder blade and stood behind her protectively as they
waited for the attention of the bartender. She leaned back into him
trying not to enjoy the feeling of his large strong body, stalwart
against her back.
‘Fuck,
this isn’t some stupid romance novel’, she berated herself, ‘I
never should have tried that stupid fucking corset on…’
She
didn’t move away from him, however. And she MIGHT have wiggled ever
so slightly within the cage of his frame. She couldn’t tell if he
stiffened against her, but he did back up half a step, giving her
more room. She kept her disappointed sigh (directed both at him for
retreating, and at herself for not controlling her actions better) in
check and smiled brightly as the bartender finally noticed them. Sol
handled the ordering and stepped away from her, closer to the bar so
as to be better heard, and she leaned against the bar top, ready to
help when the drinks came out. She nearly jumped out of her skin when
she felt another arm on her back, sliding to reach up towards her
neck.
“Sweetheart,
I thought you would be late,” two lips found her neck and kissed
gently before the arm became two and she was pulled back into a tight
hug.
“Glen!
I’m so glad you’re here!” It sounded so false to her own ears,
but she really meant it. She was glad to see her boyfriend. She
twisted in his grasp in order to hug him back, face to face, but it
just felt so awkward, their movements out of synch. Glen didn’t
seem to notice, however, he just wrapped tighter around her, putting
his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. Morgan felt a strange pang
of guilt, like she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Hey,
man! How’s it going?”
Sol
had turned around and grinned at Glen as they fist-bumped over her
head. They were chatting about something they had done a few days
earlier, the last time they’d actually seen each other. Glen’s
hand slipped down to wrap possessively around her waist and she
leaned into his shoulder, every ounce of her body portraying the
loving and faithful girlfriend.
**
They
were all comfortably sitting around the table, draining their mugs
and sipping their cocktails. Morgan’s was having little effect, but
she knew it would end up blindsiding her if she continued drinking
for much longer. Alcohol was always slow to take effect on her, but
once it did it did with force. Sol was pleasantly slippery, she could
tell by the slightly lop-sided grin, but he was still speaking
carefully. Glen was already sobering up; he had to be on campus early
the next morning. His position as a graduate assistant in the lab at
the university meant that he was usually working or too tired to come
along with the group when they managed to get together. She was glad
he’d come out, and her fingers twined around his in his lap as they
sat at the table. A song came on over the loudspeaker of the bar and
she perked up. It wasn’t one of her favourites, but she knew it.
She jumped to her feet, and looked down at her boyfriend with her
best approximation of puppy-dog eyes. He glanced back up at her and
winced.
“Pleeeeeease
Glen,” she whined at him.
“Morgan…”
he sighed, as he let her take his hand and hold it to her chest.
“What’s
she want, man?” Sol looked between them, only a little confused.
“She
wants to dance,” Glen looked back at Sol, a pained expression
colouring his features.
“Oh
come on, you never dance with me… pleeeeease,” she tried to flash
some dimples, but knew she didn’t have any. She hoped she looked
cute enough to arouse her boyfriend’s sympathy at least, but it
seemed it wasn’t working.
“You
know I can’t dance, Morgan…”
“But
I really wanna,” she pouted. The song was already ending, but now
she had her mind made up. Maybe the liquor was starting to hit, but
she wanted to dance.
“Hey
man, if it’ll make her happy I can go with her. If it’s alright
with you, that is,” Sol held his hands up as if to gesture ‘I
mean no harm’, and he seemed a little reserved, but he extended the
offer anyway.
“I
don’t care, as long as it makes her happy,” Glen smiled in relief
at Sol, glad that he could make his girlfriend happy without getting
his hands dirty.
Morgan
didn’t care that they were talking about her like she wasn’t
there, she was going to get to go play in the music and she bounced
in excitement. She bent down to kiss her boyfriend, intensely
grateful even though he wasn’t going to be the one she’d be
dancing with, hugged him tight around the neck.
“I’ll
be back soon”
“Have
fun, sweetheart,” he kissed her back and pushed her towards Sol.
She shot him one more look over her shoulder before grabbing Sol’s
hand and pulling him to the other side of the room where a small
raised platform (sort of like a stage) sat, with a patch of floor
used by the patrons for viewing bands or dancing to the music pumped
through the sound system of the bar.
Sol
looked slightly uncomfortable, like he didn’t think he should be
there with her, but she smiled up at him and locked her fingers
together behind his neck. She moved with the music, louder where they
now stood, and hopped from one foot to the other. She had impeccable
rhythm, but she had a bad habit of dancing off tempo. There was just
something about dancing in simple and symmetrical counts 1-2-3-4,
1-2-3-4 that almost hurt. Luckily Sol was able to keep up, finding
her personal cadence after a few false starts, and moved with her. He
was careful never to grip her waist, something for which she
shamefully felt regret, but did not stop her from holding on to him.
Morgan
looked up at him, watching him. She examined his features hard while
he wasn’t paying attention to her, and tried hard to understand her
feelings. She loved Glen. She didn’t know what she would do without
him. She hoped to somebody marry him, maybe have the dream: two point
five kids, white picket fence, a dog in the yard, everything. Glen
was everything she wanted in a man; he was taller than her, but not a
giant, he was a genious, kind and sensitive, warm and loving. She
couldn’t say he and Sol were complete opposites, they were friends
for a reason, but fundamentally they were nothing alike. She was
physically attracted to Glen; she LIKED the way he looked. Sol was
just… not pretty. She was sure that he was some girl’s type, but
definitely not hers. As she let her eyes rove over his features she
tended to actually feel disgust with what she saw if she stared too
long. She couldn’t put her finger on just WHY that was, but she
found a little solace in its existence nonetheless.
If
she was physically attracted to Sol, she would definitely be in
trouble. She might end up doing something she’d truly regret, more
than the flirting and the teasing touches.
She
felt Sol’s hands slowly come into contact with her body, as if they
were fighting something to get there, and they lay softly on the
middle of her back. They slowly grew more bold and his touch became
more firm. Her head spun a little, but she continued her dancing,
intent on not letting her façade slip. She pretended she was
completely sober and completely comfortable with him touching her.
She pressed in closer, glancing up to meet his eyes and smiling at
him. She knew it was dazzling, it was her special smile reserved for
getting Glen to give her what she wanted. Sol’s fingers dug into
her skin for a brief moment, his eyes haunted with a shadow of
sadness before flickering away a moment later. She closed her eyes
and breathed in deeply, regretting it instantly. He smelled
incredible.
“Morgan,
sweetie, I have to go home! It’s gotten too late; I have to be in
the lab early tomorrow!” Glen shouted in Morgan’s ear, breaking
her from her daydream. She turned to face him, tripping over her own
toes and falling against him, away from Sol. Sol’s large hand
reached out to grab her arm, so she wouldn’t fall all the way to
the ground and Glen hugged her tight to his chest. She looked up and
saw them meet eyes before Sol abruptly let go of her and stepped back
an inch.
“Do
I need to take you home, Morgan?”
“No,
I’m fine. I want to keep dancing,” she shouted back at him.
“Are
you sure? You haven’t had too much to drink?”
‘yes,’
she said to herself.
“No,
I’m fine, I promise. See?” She pushed away from him a little,
much prouder than she should have been that she stood up straight
without swaying, “I’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve got Sol here,
I’ll be safe.”
There
was no doubt in Glen’s eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, and she
fought her body’s reaction to tense up. For some reason she didn’t
want Sol to see Glen kissing her, but knew it was an irrational
thought. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back,
deepening the embrace before letting him step away. He kissed her on
the forehead before turning to Sol again.
“Take
care of her for me, will you? You know how she gets when she drinks
too much.”
Sol
smiled, only a tinge of discomfort in his eyes, and shook Glen’s
hand, saying his goodnight. Glen left with a glance back over his
shoulder at the woman he loved and then disappeared in the crowd of
the bar. Morgan turned back to Sol, smiling brightly and covering up
the excitement that bubbled over unexpectedly in her stomach.
“Still
wanna dance, or did I tire you out?”
Sol
looked down at her and she stared back at him. Her body had a mind of
its own; her posture was perfect, she stood up straight, shoulders
back. Yes she had her chest pushed out, and her lower back hurt from
the way she was sticking out her ass, but as comical as she felt she
knew her stance just enhanced her gentle curves.
‘Why
am I doing this?’
Sol
smiled back at her, a small and sad smile, “I need another drink.”
“Need?
Or want?”
His
gaze sharpened at her playful tone, and his smile turned amused.
“Are
you coming or not?” He walked away toward the bar and she followed,
a silly grin plastered to her mouth. They returned to the bar top
together, and he stood behind her as before. His hesitance in
touching her remained, but he stood close. She leaned against the
bar, and pivoted to half face him. She tried hard to not school her
features into forms she thought would be more attractive, and hyper
corrected her posture often as she waited for him to finish with the
bartender.
“Are
you going to have anything else?”
“I
thought Glen warned you about me being drunk,” she smirked at him,
knowing full well what his response would be.
“You’re
a big girl, you can decide what you want to do. Another?”
It
almost felt like a challenge, and she stared at him, trying to decide
if she should be a man and accept or if she should play the good
girlfriend and call Glen to come get her before he made it all the
way home.
“Clock’s
ticking,” he warned, with that same smug challenge in his eyes.
“Alright,
one more…”
There
seemed to be a glint of triumph somewhere in his features and he
turned back to the man behind the counter, ordering the drinks.
‘I
don’t want to regret this,’ she told herself. She hated the
conflict in her head. She wanted to be good, and not egg Sol on. And
at the same time she wanted Sol to just shove her against the bar at
her back and press in close. Her breath sped up at the thought and
she shook her head violently to try and shake the image. The more
time she spent with Sol, the more she was sure she would one day give
herself whiplash. She accepted the shot he’d handed her, convincing
herself she was still sober enough to handle it, and she slung it
back, grimacing briefly at the burn in her throat. She closed her
eyes, breathing in waiting for the sting to fade and when she opened
them they were brimming with tears.
“What
the fuck was that?”
“It
was a motorcycle,” He grinned at her, laughing while she shook her
head to somehow dislodge the taste.
“The
fuck is a motorcycle? That was HORRIBLE!” she was angry with him,
and she hit him on the arm, only making him laugh harder.
“You
liked it didn’t you?” The mischievous glint in his eye told her
he knew she hadn’t, he was just playing with her.
“You’re
a horrible person, Sol. I don’t like you.” She pouted at him,
intentionally batting her eyelashes a little. His grin softened, and
his chuckle waned, but he looked down on her with a fondness.
“Hey
Sol, we’re going to head out. Bye Morgan!”
The
rest of the friends she’d been there to see had found them at the
bar, ready to say their goodbyes. She was glad they’d come to let
her know they were leaving, it made her feel special. She hugged them
each and stepped back to let Sol have his turn. He chatted for a
moment with them, catching up on the things he’d missed while he
was away dancing with her, and she watched him. She watched the easy
manner in which he interacted with the other people. He was so
kingly, so regal. It sounded stupid and clichéd, but he was such…
an alpha.
That
was it. She’d figured it out. He was an alpha. He was THE alpha. Of
all the people she knew, of all of the men in her life, Sol was the
alpha. He was the one who was the most capable of protecting her from
harm, the best able to care for her financially, the most successful
and proud. Glen was perfect for her in all the right ways, but Sol
fulfilled some base psychological need for her. She needed to be on
the arm of the most powerful man in the room. If the alpha male
wanted her that meant she was the alpha female. Her feelings, urges,
impulses -- did they really all just stem from his testosterone
levels?
She
felt bowled over by this newly recognized piece of information. Did
it bring her any comfort? Did she feel any more at ease about her
feelings? Did it make any of them go away? The answer scared her. The
unfortunate fact was no, it did not. Luckily it didn’t make her any
MORE attracted to him, but she grieved over the fact that it didn’t
slacken the lust at all. It put the situation in a little more
perspective for her, she was no longer so confused by her thoughts,
but as she scoured his profile with her gaze, taking in every small
detail, she knew that given the right opportunity, in the wrong frame
of mind she would do something dangerous.
He
turned back to her and she smiled up at him, a little more at peace
with herself, but anxiety bubbled up in her chest. She could feel it--
the night was going to end disastrously and she wasn’t going to
stop it.
“Are
you ready to call it a night, too?” he asked her, sadness and hope
mingling in his features.
“Nope,”
her grin felt stretched, but she meant it. She didn’t want to go
home, didn’t want to leave him yet.
“Did
you want to dance some more?”
“Nope,”
she answered honestly. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely
tipsy and she knew she’d never stay on her feet in the shoes she
was wearing.
An
amused smirk graced his lips and a single eyebrow rose. She must have
been a little sloshier than she thought, but she strangely didn’t
care. Maybe the two had something to do with each other?
“Well
than, what would you like to do?”
She
could hear the chuckle, and she liked it. She liked it when she made
him happy. “I don’t know, I’m just not ready to go home yet.”
“Well,
we don’t have to stay here. We can go to my place, play some video
games?”
That
was a great idea. She loved video games. “Yes. Yes, I want that.”
He
looked down on her with amusement and affection. He wrapped an arm
around her shoulders and placed his cheek on the top of her head in a
hug. Shaking his head, he led her away by the wrist out of the bar
and to his car.
**
“You’re
so bad at this!”
“Fuck
you, I’m a girl, I’m ALLOWED to be bad at this!”
“I
thought you chicks were all about girl power and feminism and all
that.”
“When
have you ever known me to turn down an offer to carry my things or
open a door? I LIKE being weak and defenseless.”
“You
know, I’ve NEVER heard a woman say that before.”
“Yeah
well, I’m an utter cliché. I like my men big and strapping and
stupid.”
“That’s
a lie and you know it. Glen is the smartest guy I know.”
Morgan
suddenly felt tense. She didn’t want Glen brought up for some
reason. She tried to stuff down the thought that it was because if
Sol was thinking about Glen then he was reminded that he couldn’t
have her. Was it her imagination that he suddenly looked a little
more subdued now?
“You’re
right, that’s a lie. But it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate
being shown a little care. Just because I’m a capable individual
doesn’t mean I’m not small and delicate.”
They
lapsed into a silence again, continuing the fight on the screen. She
wracked her brain for something cute and witty to say; something to
lighten the mood again. Sol paused the game and stood up.
“I
need another drink.”
**
Sol
had had more than another drink. He had ended up pulling a bottle of
bourbon off the shelf and every once in a while he would take a pull
from it. Morgan had asked to taste it. She didn’t hate the taste,
but it definitely wasn’t her favourite. She was a girl and she
liked her fruity drinks. While Sol had a pretty impressive store of
liquor in his home, he wasn’t that adept at mixing things, so she
wasn’t able to keep up with him. She couldn’t decide if that was
a bad thing or not.
“I
can’t do this anymore. I can’t focus on the screen,” Sol tossed
the controller away and put his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes.
“That’s
alright, I was getting tired anyway…” Morgan leaned back, and
observed him. She liked watching him. It felt like she was privy to
some big secret. She felt like she could read him well by now. They’d
been friends for years, but everybody else was always fooled by his
front. He had a bad habit of wearing masks, but she thought she could
see through them and right now she saw tension. He was rubbing his
hands over his neck and his eyes were squeezed shut. She bit her lip,
weighing her options, before plunging in with both feet.
“Here,
let me…” She got up from where she sat on the floor beside him
while they were playing, and sat behind him on the couch, forcing him
between her legs. She placed her hands over his and removed them,
then rubbed her fingers over his muscles and tried to knead away the
tension. He leaned back into her, groaning at the sensation. He moved
his neck this way and that, giving her access to some of the more
painful knots. She couldn’t help herself as she spread her legs a
fraction more and moved forward, melding her body to his. She moved
her fingers from his neck to his shoulders, ignoring the voice in her
head yelling at her to stop. She moved in long slow and firm strokes,
and kept quiet. She felt his shoulders rising as his chest filled
with air on every inhalation, and his breaths were coming shorter and
shorter. She leaned forward, screaming at herself all the while, and
blew softly on the nape of his neck as she continued to rub. She felt
him tense, but he did nothing. She did it again, and the air rushed
out of his lungs. His hands shot up and gripped her wrists, holding
them still.
“Morgan,
don’t…” His voice was full of pain, and he sat stiffly,
refusing to turn to look at her.
He
held her hands still, his body frozen with tension. She considered
her next move carefully. Stop what she was doing, respect his wishes,
and pull back? Or did she push him? She was capable of seducing him,
she knew she was. But did she really want to? She stared hard at his
profile, calculating all of the factors. He was definitely a good
looking guy, but she still wasn’t attracted to him. In fact, the
idea of even kissing him was enough to turn her stomach. That should
have been enough, it honestly should have been. But it wasn’t. She
needed him to want her. She craved it.
She
was about to do something very stupid, and she knew it.
She
leaned down over his shoulder, placing her cheek against his. She
felt him tense even more underneath her, and she stilled for a
moment, giving him some time to adjust to her close proximity. She
knew she shouldn’t, but her mind was now made up. As her muscles
twitched with renewed movement, he spoke softly to her – two words.
“Please.
Don’t…”
They
were simple, but full of a strange emotion. It was strained, laden
with a sadness, and hard to hear. It was as if he had whispered it,
and it very nearly convinced her to comply, but the fact that it had
been uttered at all gave her a renewed sense of confidence. It proved
to her that Sol DID want her; it was just a matter of convincing him
that it was okay to take her. She pulled her arms free from his grip
and placed her hand on his left shoulder, tugging gently in order to
get him to turn around. He refused her; just stared straight ahead,
avoiding looking back at her.
“Sol…”
she whispered. She tugged insistently, gently, again. His resolve
seemed to be breaking but he still he fought.
“Look
at me, Sol,” she tried once more.
He
finally gave in to the pressure and turned slightly, just enough to
face her. There was a hollow quality in his eyes. There was pain, and
there was a spark of something else; a something else that Morgan was
looking for. Mixed in with the pain she saw longing, and she saw
lust.
‘That’s
what I wanted to see…’
**
The
next morning had been the most uncomfortable moments of her life.
Literally, out of everything she’d ever experienced, that hour was
the worst. Yes, they had slept together. Yes, it was better than with
Glen. Yes she woke up feeling sick with guilt and regret. And yes,
she had to sit in the car with him as he drove her home.
She
had done her best to keep the mood light and playful. She needed Sol
to not feel shame about their actions. They were definitely going to
keep it a secret, they had spoken about that. What they had NOT
talked about, however, was whether or not it was a one-off. It needed
to be a one-off, for her sake and for Glen’s sake; her feelings
about her boyfriend had not changed in the least. Unfortunately, she
and Sol were both too awkward and nervous to bring up anything about
their tryst after it had happened.
She
didn’t know what she was going to do about this problem (if it
hadn’t been one before, it had certainly become one now), but she
had more pressing issues to attend to. If the noise going on behind
the door right in front of her was anything to go on, she was very
VERY late.
