B: Tender Deception II

Romance > Relationships > Differences

Tender Deception II...the papers
by paisleydayze, 13th August 2001.

sexual and emotional manipulation become a way of life in a few short
strokes of the pen

I have that wonderful glowy feeling you get after making love, and yet
somewhere behind it is a slight apprehensiveness. In the shower,
thoughts of great sex and little niggles of self-doubt vie for my
attention. I keep trying to push away the slight feeling of uneasiness.
I tell myself over and over that when two people love each other they
make compromises. They work together and things work out. Sometimes it
isn't easy, but overcoming difficulties makes all relationships
stronger.

Toweling off sends my mind back to the feel of his tongue on my skin
and his calloused hands caressing my body. It's true. Temptations of
the flesh make your common sense fly right out the window. Besides, I
can't frame a constructive argument with him. I seem to lose my own
convictions. He makes more sense to me than I make to myself, at least
when we are in the same room together. I take a long hard look in the
bathroom mirror and admonish myself, "You did it. Right or wrong, it's
done."

I return from the bathroom to find him dressed and headed for the
kitchen, papers in hand. I glance at them with a quick thought of
snatching them back and shredding them immediately. He smiles at me and
I think, 'He's happy. If he's happy, I'm happy . . . right?'

He pours a cup of coffee and I sit across from him in the little
breakfast nook. He takes my hand, lightly stroking the palm with the
ball of his thumb. "Thanks Babe, you will never regret this, I promise.
This is my dream, and I want it to be our dream."

My mind is spinning again. All of the reasons I don't want to do this
are churning to the surface. We are too young to take on this kind of
debt. We are signing our lives away for, what I consider to be, a dead
horse. 'Shut your mouth! Smile and let him have his dream. He does so
much for you. You owe it to him to give him this chance.'

He takes my hand and pulls me over to stand in front of him. He runs
his hands up and down the backs of my thighs and buries his face
between my breasts. My robe falls open and he kisses his way to the
nipple while his fingers gently probe the moistness between my legs.
"We can do this. Give me the chance to prove it to you." His fingers
are inside me and I am starting to move against his hand.

I would really love an encore of our earlier encounter but I know he is
running late so I kiss him and sit back down. "Honey? If your dad
couldn't make it work, what makes you think we can?"

"My dad is getting old and he can't keep up with it. He had some tough
breaks, several in a row. It got him down, financially as well as
emotionally. He wasn't up to the task of fighting for it after so many
letdowns. He was at a point where he was just barely holding on,
keeping it together with duct tape and barb wire." He looks down at the
papers again and smiles. "My dad didn't want for me to get it this way,
but it will ease his mind to know that it isn't being lost to a
stranger or some government agency."

I understand what he is telling me. I know he was raised to take over
the family business. I'm just not sure everything is put together in
our best interests. We are acquiring all of the debt and a very tiny
portion of the assets. I look into my coffee cup and almost whisper,
"Shouldn't we have some kind of legal advice . . . "

"NO!" He stands up so abruptly that his chair flies back and crashes to
the floor. I jump and my heart leaps into my throat. "Why won't you
just shut your fucking mouth and let me handle this?" He is gathering
up his keys and his jacket while I sit there, head down, blood pounding
in my ears, silently admonishing myself, 'You stupid ass! You know what
happens every time you question any part of this. You've made your bed,
now lie in it.'

He is almost to his car when I jump up from the table and run out into
the driveway. "Wait!" I reach up and put my arms around his neck and
kiss his neck, his jaw and then his lips. "I'm sorry. You do what you
feel is best for us. . .and your dad. I'll stand behind you and do
whatever I can to make this dream a reality for you." I feel some of
the anger leave his body and he pulls me close, smashing my breasts
against his chest, kissing me deeply. His tongue makes lazy circles
against my lips and teeth. I am pressed so tightly against him I can
feel the hardness of his penis through my robe. He growls deep in his
throat and then gently pushes me back a step so he can get in the
car.

He rolls down the window and smiles at me like a kid with a candy bar.
"I love you Baby. Everything will be just fine. You'll see!" He's
right, he knows what he's doing and he will use fresh new ways of
turning it around. I can't resist that smile and I bend down, giving
him a straight shot of cleavage and another kiss. As I walk back to the
front door I keep telling myself, 'I want him to be happy. I want US to
be happy.'

But the papers . . . fuck! The papers are nothing more than a huge loan
to pay off the creditors, they show that we are purchasing the
inventory and the way I figure, we are paying double the fair market
value for it. We are going to be paying on that loan for years. Any
profit we make will be used for payments and expenses. I don't see how
this will benefit us in any way. We aren't buying the business and we
don't own it, so we will just be keeping it out of debt for his
dad.

Of course. . . . . If, by some miracle of the market, we have anything
left over at the end of each year we could catch up on some of our own
bills with it.

I pour a second cup of coffee and decide it's too late to go for my
run. I sit in our little breakfast nook and stare out the window for a
very long time.