Guilt

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.