It feels almost as if I’ve been split into two different people, the lingering hints of the girl I used to be who wants to fight against thoughts like that, and the person that I am now, someone so starved for love and affection that a pat on the head and simple praise for obedience that I shouldn’t have to give in the first place feels like a gift, like something I should be grateful for.
It doesn’t help that Alexandre is so physically attractive, a genuinely beautiful man—the kind of man I would once have been attracted to, when I still thought about things like dating and sex for my own pleasure.
Alexandre returns a few moments later with a platter of cheese, honey, fruit, and toasted slices of the baguette, as well as a silver French press filled with coffee and two china cups. He doesn’t look at me as he sits down, as if he’d assumed that I’d still be there sitting quietly, and something rankles inside of me at that. I want him toappreciatethat I’m being good, that I’m still kneeling here when it seems frankly ridiculous that I should be required to at all.
His conversation with Yvette picks up seamlessly again in French, and I sit there struggling between the urge to cry and the urge to kneel in perfect silence, so that maybe Alexandre will reward me in some way later. I don’t even know what that might be or what I might want, only that I’ve begun to crave the brief burst of happiness that I get from his pleasure.
A moment later, Alexandre reaches down, and I realize that there’s a piece of cheese in his fingers, a sliver of something that looks fancier than any cheese I’ve ever eaten. There was a ballerina showcase at Juilliard once with a buffet that had cheeses like that on it, entire boards of them, but I wouldn’t have dared take even a bite. Our teachers had watched us like hawks to make certain that none of us did.
My mouth waters as Alexandre holds it out to me, feeding it to me like a treat as I lean forward and take it out of his fingers. It feels less intimate than earlier when he’d fed me the bite of croissant, but even now, he lingers, his fingertips brushing over my lower lip as I eat the piece of cheese.
He keeps talking to Yvette the entire time, but I can feel her eyes on me as he feeds me—bits of cheese, little pieces of strawberry with honey on them. If it weren’t for Yvette sitting there and the way I’m kneeling by his chair, it would almost feel romantic, the brush of my tongue against his skin as I take each small bit of food, the way his fingertips linger on my mouth. Gradually, bite by bite, I can feel my heartbeat starting to speed up, my breathing quickening as I feel that tingling spreading over my skin, like that night in the bath. It spreads over me, concentrating between my thighs, making me quiver and pulse as I swallow hard, trying not to let on how it’s making me feel, especially not with Yvette’s keen eyes on me.
It feels like the meal goes on forever, until I’m nearly squirming on the rug, fidgeting as Alexandre feeds me those small bites while he carries on his conversation with Yvette. At long last, he stands up, collecting the platter and coffee cups, and I kneel there trembling, hoping that she won’t notice me.
But of course, she does.
“Stand up, pet,” Yvette says in her smooth, richly accented voice. She crosses to the window on the other side of the table, opening it halfway so that the evening breeze and scent of flowers from the apartment terrace can come drifting in as her cigarette smoke drifts out. She leans against the low paneled wall as she looks down at me. “Hurry up, little one.”
I can’t “hurry up.” My legs are half-asleep from kneeling so long, my feet aching from the long day, and I nearly stumble as I get up, pitching forward and catching myself on the back of one of the chairs.
“Hmph.” Yvette snorts, one eyebrow rising as she looks me over. “Clumsy. Alexandre said you used to be a ballerina. You must not have been much of one.”
That stings so deeply that I can’t bite my tongue the way I know I should. “I was injured,” I say defensively, still trying not to put all my weight on my feet. “I was very good, once upon a time.”
“But not now.” Yvette clicks her tongue. “Alexandre paid too much for you, but then again, he always has had a weak spot when it comes to pretty broken things like you. Turn around?”
I try to do as she says, even as I wobble on my feet, the pain shooting up my calves. Yvette makes another sound deep in her throat as I turn to face her again, slightly pale as she straightens, coming closer to me.
She takes another puff of her cigarette, red lipstick clinging to the end of it as her full lips purse around it, her fingers trailing through my hair. “You’re pretty enough, I suppose,” she says grudgingly. “A beautiful face.” Her hand drops to the tie of the silk wrap dress, and my chest tightens with the knowledge of what she’s about to do the second before she actually does.
But it’s not as if I can stop her.
She pulls it loose with one quick motion, letting the dress fall open and pushing it aside so that she can see me, naked underneath except for the panties I’m wearing. “Hmm,” Yvette murmurs, and I see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes again as they flick from my small breasts down to my concave belly and slim thighs. “A bit waifish, but I suppose all ballerinas are.” She smiles tightly, but there’s no humor to it. “Has he fucked you?”
I blink at her, startled. “No!” I gasp, and Yvette laughs.
“Well, there’s that, I suppose.” She leans closer, one long nail pressing into my stiff nipple. “You’d like him to, wouldn’t you?” Her warm breath puffs against my ear, and I shiver, eliciting another sharp laugh from her.
“He’s very handsome, isn’t he? A girl like you should feel lucky to be owned by a man like him. He praised you so effusively at dinner tonight, but I think you’re a very bad little girl.” Yvette’s nails press harder into my breast, enough that I think there will be a mark left behind as she scratches them downwards, over my ribs, and down my belly. “You should have been on your knees by the table before he had to tell you, like a good little pet. You wouldn’t get away with such disobedience if you were mine.”
Thank god I’m not then,I want to hiss, but I don’t. It’s taking everything in me to be still, not to let Yvette see how afraid of her I am. She makes me feel the way Alexei did, as if there were no telling what he might do next, as if I couldn’t possibly comprehend what twist his psychotic brain would take.
She’s in love with Alexandre. I don’t know where the thought comes from, but it seems obvious once it springs into my mind. She wants him, not to be his pet the way I am, but she’s jealous of the attention he gives me, especially because it’s apparently different than the—others? The mysterious other girls who must have been here, and who I have no idea where they went. The thought makes me want to scream, but I hold myself perfectly still, my heart fluttering in my chest like a trapped bird.
“You want him to, don’t you?” Yvette murmurs next to my ear. “To fuck you, I mean. I saw you in the hallway with him, the way you looked at him. I saw the way you reacted when he fed you at the café and just now, at dinner. I’m very perceptive, you know.” Her nails scratch lower, down below my navel, and I shudder.
“If I touch you down there, I imagine I’ll find that you’re wet. Little whore. Alexandre thinks you’re this sweet broken thing, but I know better. You’re a little slut, like all the strays he brings home. But I’m not going to let you get the better of him this time.”
Her fingers drag lower, pressing against my most intimate flesh through the cotton of my panties. It’s not exactly sexual, just as Alexandre’s touches haven’t been, but hers isn’t gentle. It feels like an examination, and I squeeze my eyes tightly because I know what she can feel.
I am wet, throbbing still from the sensations that Alexandre’s fingertips on my mouth sent shivering over my skin, and I know she can feel it. I know from the way she laughs, deep and throaty, her fingers rubbing over where I’m aching the most, the damp patch on my underwear spreading.
She snatches her hand away, shaking it as if there’s something filthy on her fingers, leaning back against the chair. “Little slut. Why don’t you take care of it right now, while I watch, if you’re so wet for him?” She nods towards the apex of my thighs, squeezed tightly together now. “Go on, touch yourself.”
“Stop it.”
Alexandre’s voice comes from the doorway, sending a rush of relief through me so intense that I close my eyes, feeling almost dizzy from it. He steps into the room, his eyes narrowed and angry.