Page 68 of Pierced

It surprises me. I can tell it surprises her because it stops her move toward me.

I’m not sure why I just got so stern.

Garbage. Yeah, I am.

It’s because… this isn’t me.

This submissive bullshit. And, y’know, it’s fine to do it in her basement or whatever in order to honor the agreement I made with her. Because I always honor my agreements. But now she’s bringing this shit to where I work. My place of business. The company I built. And it suddenly occurs to me that hiding in a goddamn parking garage to avoid seeing someone who works for me is pretty fucked up.

And also, what Andrew said about the lengths that I’m willing to go to for the people I love…

I don’t love Myrtle. I’m not in love with Myrtle. I like her. She was a great assistant and I appreciate everything she’s done for me over the years, but I’m not in love with her.

I’m not.

I’m definitely not.

This is just a game.

A weird, fucked-up, totally absurd game that I’m willing to play right now because I have nothing better to do. But it’s starting to intrude too much into my real life. My everyday life.

And out of the blue, I hear my father’s voice, in his thick, French-accented English, reminding me to never give up my power. I’ve worked incredibly hard to be who I am. To shake off all the anxiety that I had as a child, when I felt abandoned and unwanted. I’ve worked incredibly hard to earn the respect I garner. To be the man I am. To be seen the way people see me.

I know that most of the time people see me as this bigger-than-life personality who kind of fancies himself as a twenty-first century monarch. That’s OK. That’s the role I’ve assumed in life and I’m happy to play it. It’s fun. It’s easy. And most of the time it allows me to get everything I want. I have no problem being seen that way.

But I am not a joke. I am not a fool. And I am not someone who loses.

I know who I am.

And like an unexpected bolt of lightning on a clear blue day, I am now shocked into remembering that.

I look around at the throne, the glass wall that allows me full view of my kingdom, the mountains outside my windows, and I feel pissed. You can make me simper. You can make me crawl. You can burn me and shove my dick in a tiny box (again, weird), but you do not get to walk into the sanctity of my sovereignty and push me around.

“So,” I say. “What’s the test?”

She looks a bit distracted now. “What?”

“The test? You got a test? What’s the test? You said you had a test for me and that if I passed I’d get a reward tonight. Give me the test. I want to earn a reward.”

I’m walking toward her now and she’s backing up. The heel of one of her shoes buckles a tiny bit and she almost, but not quite, stumbles. I’ve never seen her do that before.

“Um,” she says.

“Let’s go. Test me. C’mon. Let’s do it.”

She reaches into her pocket and grabs at something. I can’t see what it is. She doesn’t draw it out.

“What’s that? Whatcha got there? Is that it? Is that part of the test?”

She doesn’t say anything. She looks a little… Jesus. She looks a little scared. And I hate it. I really do. But I can’t stop.

“Myrtle? What are we doing? Are we doing this thing or not?”

“I, uh… I don’t…”

“Because honestly, I’ve lost some of my day and I’ve got work to do and a company to run and things that actually, y’know, matter to take care of. So, if we’re gonna get into it, let’s get into it so that I can get on with the business of my business and then get my reward tonight. Let’s make moves, ma chérie. Chop chop.” I snap my fingers.

She steps back again, her brow furrowed, her chin drawn in toward her chest. She pushes her librarian glasses up the bridge of her nose. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a couple of my VPs chatting with Valerie. All three of them are trying to pretend that they aren’t looking over this way and don’t see Myrtle’s back almost pressed against the glass.