Chapter 12

I tapped my pen on the desk in the large circular auditorium on the UNLV campus and looked at my watch for the hundredth time. Normally, my macroeconomics professor gave informative and entertaining lectures, explaining how each country’s economy was tethered together in the global economic system. Today, however, he was off his game and was boring me to tears. Honestly, as much as I tried to concentrate, all I could think about was my relationship with Vince.

We’d been seeing each other for about a month, and I was staying over at his townhouse two to three nights a week as well as spending the weekends with him. Taking me by surprise, earlier that week, he’d told me that he was in love with me. Maybe I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. Most of the guys I’d known up to that point had held their cards close to the vest and tried, at least in part, to hide what they were feeling, but not Vince. He never hesitated to show his affection for me, and when he told me that he loved me, I professed those same feelings for him. When I was with him, I felt safe, loved, and cherished, and I’d never been so happy.

I was looking into the professor’s eyes as he droned on about the oil embargo in the 1970s and how it had devastated the U.S. economy when my phone vibrated on the desk. My jaw dropped in shock. I’d received a text from James.

How are you doing, Melanie?

I picked up my phone and hid it under the desk. Openly texting during class was probably the rudest thing a student could do during a lecture. My initial reaction was to ignore him. However, I was curious, and against my better judgment, I responded to him.

I’m okay in a class

Only half a minute went by before I got his next text. Call me when you’re done?

My hands began to tremble. He’d made it very clear to me that our relationship had run its course, and he didn’t want to see me any longer, a decision that had nearly wrecked me. Still, I was intrigued. What I didn’t realize then and what I know now was that there was a deep bond between us due to the nature of our past relationship. While we were together, I wasn’t his girlfriend or his mistress. I was his possession, his property, his slave. We’d spent a year and a half in a very intense BDSM relationship, and he’d sometimes pushed me to my breaking point. Worse still, there were times when he fucked with my head just because he could. Despite the tumultuousness of our time together, there also had been an upside. At times, he was very sweet to me, and he’d been very generous with me financially, which afforded me a lifestyle that very few of my peers had. On the other hand, he’d used his money to control me and keep me in line.

I’d moved on from James, but I couldn’t find a way to say no to him despite how unhealthy and toxic our relationship had been overall. He was my kryptonite, my poison, and, like a child who’d been warned not to touch a hot stove, I couldn’t help but extend my hand even if I knew I was going to get burned.

I texted him back. Give me 15

Normally, once class was over, I would stay and let the professor flirt and chat me up for a couple of minutes; it was a sly little move I’d discovered in my freshman year that always helped me get better scores on my essays. But today, I quickly hustled out of class and briskly walked over to the student union, where I bought a sandwich and iced tea for lunch. Then I hesitantly pulled out my phone and dialed James.

“Hello, Melanie, how are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’ve been busy. I’m opening up a new restaurant in Van Nuys, and it hasn’t given me a moment’s peace for the last month.”

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. Enough small talk. “Why did you text me, James?”

I could hear him taking a deep breath. “I made a mistake. I miss you, and I want you back.”

“You made it very clear that I was ruining your marriage, hurting your family.”

“I was wrong, and I handled that situation poorly.” After a few more seconds of silence, he added, “You know what you mean to me; I want you back in my life.”

“That’s not possible anymore. I’m seeing someone.”

“I know Gianna has graduated. Have you found a new girlfriend?”

I took a deep breath. “No, a boyfriend.”

“He can’t give you what I can, Melanie. I know what you need, and no other man will ever be able to give that to you, and you know it.”

Snide fucking prick. “He gives me love, James. That’s something you’re incapable of.”

The line went silent for a few more seconds. “You’re really serious about this ... about him?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re trying to settle the score and get back at me because of how I ended things.”

“No, you ended what we had, and this is me moving on from you.”

“You really like this guy?”

“Yes, I do.”

There was another short pause, and then he said, “I’m going to be in Las Vegas on Friday. Let’s meet for lunch and talk this out. We can find a resolution.”

“I can’t, I have plans.”

That was a lie. Vince was going to be spending the weekend in Arizona, golfing in some tournament with his friends from work. It was the first weekend that I wouldn’t be spending with him since we started seeing each other. Then my thoughts turned back to James. He only wants to have lunch, yeah, right. I was sure he wanted to get me into his hotel room, restrain me to his bed, and then do God knows what to me. If I were to admit the truth, I wasn’t entirely certain that I’d say no to him, regardless of how I felt about Vince. The decision not to see him should’ve been an easy one, but it wasn’t.

“So, no lunch?”

“No lunch,” I said sternly.

I could hear him take another deep breath. “Will you let me stay in contact with you? We could text, email, maybe occasionally talk on the phone.”

My head was spinning; he was giving me the full-court press. For the first time since I’d known him, I could hear a slight hint of desperation in his voice, and part of me actually felt a little sorry for him despite everything he’d put me through. “We could do that, but I’m never going to meet you, James. That part of our relationship is over.”

He laughed. “Don’t burn any bridges, kiddo. Someday, you just might need me.”

“No, I won’t, but we can still be friends.” I thought for a moment. “We have a lot of history, and it wasn’t all bad, regardless of how you ended it.”

“You’ll be holding that against me for quite a while, won’t you?”

“No, I won’t. It’s over, water under the bridge.” Another lie. I’d never forget how much he’d hurt me when he ended it, and part of me would never let that traumatic event go.

“I’ll text you in a week or two and check up on you.”

“Okay.” And with that, he disconnected the call. Unfortunately, he was correct. I would need him, but not until a couple of years later.

“How can one girl have so much shit?” Vince said teasingly while packing the last box in my apartment.

“Hey, it’s not really that much,” I said sheepishly. “You’ve got a lot more stuff than I do.”

“I know, that’s the problem. I have no idea where all of this is going to go.”

“I have an idea; we’ll have a garage sale, get rid of your things, and I’ll have plenty of room for mine,” I joked.

He laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” he said sarcastically.

“She really doesn’t have that much, or I guess not that much compared to me,” my best friend, Rachel, said, coming to my defense.

“See, you’re outvoted, and I win, Vince,” I said gleefully.

“Yeah, wait until Steve gets back from taking your boxes to the parking garage. He’ll vote with me, and it’ll be tied again,” Vince countered playfully.

Rachel giggled. “No, he’ll vote with us if he wants to get laid again.”

That brought a big smile to Vince’s face. “Oh, It’s like that, huh?”

“Those of us with a pussy make the rules. Mel should have taught you that by now,” she quipped.

“Yeah, she has a way of getting whatever she wants, just like you, Rachel.”

This move felt like one of the biggest decisions I’d ever made. Even though I’d only known Vince for three months, when he asked me to move in with him, I just couldn’t find a way to say no to him. To be honest, I’d never been so happy. Despite Rachel’s warning that we were moving too fast, I knew in my heart that it was the right thing to do. We’d been professing our love for each other for the last two months, and if I had balked at moving in with him, it would have only set our relationship back, which was the last thing I wanted.

The only thing that caused me concern was the fact that we were keeping secrets from each other. Even though we’d been together for three months, Vince still refused to share his military experiences with me, especially the time he’d spent in Iraq. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t trust me enough to be open or if it was something deeper.

I reasoned that whatever he’d gone through over there was very traumatic. Since I met him, I’d done quite a bit of research concerning veterans who suffered from PTSD and had bad memories concerning the actions they’d seen during their military service. It caused many of them, including him, to be very tight-lipped and secretive. He’d confessed to me several times that he didn’t want what he’d done while he was in-country to change my attitude towards him. Even though I assured him it wouldn’t, he still refused to be forthright with me, which was incredibly frustrating. Any time that I pushed him too hard to open up to me, he’d shut down by going silent, and I was forced to let it drop.

It was difficult for me to get too upset with Vince because he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. A couple of times a month, James would text me, or we would talk on the phone for a few minutes. Our conversations weren’t ever sexual, but he’d often ask me to meet him for a seemingly innocent lunch so we could catch up in person. Of course, I refused, and once it sunk in that I was serious and wasn’t going to meet him, he let it drop.

It was Sunday night, and we’d spent the entire weekend moving my belongings into Vince’s townhouse. Fortunately, we did have room for all my things, but we no longer had a second bedroom. Aside from the queen-sized bed, everything I owned was taking up almost every square foot of the space.

About a month later, we were in the master bathroom brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed when I ventured over to the toilet to pee. “Can you come here and take a look at this, Vince?”

He walked over and stood beside me. “Yeah, what up?”

“Take a look at the toilet.”

“What about it?”

“Why is it growing a beard?” I said in disgust. The rim of the toilet was littered with pubic hair. “It was your turn to clean it this week, right?”

“I was busy working overtime. You could always ... you know ... step up, now that you’re living here and all.”

I cut my eyes at him. “I cleaned it last week, and I don’t piss all over it like someone I know.”

He clenched his fists. “Sometimes, in the morning when I’m half asleep, I guess I kinda ... you know ... I kinda miss.”

“Maybe I’ll buy a floating bullseye so you can aim for the water,” I said condescendingly.

“Okay, what about the dishes that are in the sink? It’s your week to take care of that, right?”

“They’ll be done before I leave for class tomorrow morning. Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about that filthy fucking toilet right now.” I made a mental note to do the dishes after we’d eaten our meal from now on so he couldn’t use it against me in the future.

“Ummm ... maybe that hair is yours? Did you think of that?”

I glared at him, slid my thong down my thighs, and lifted my big sleeper T-shirt, revealing my vulva. “Do you see any hair down there? I think that eliminates the possibility of those pubes being mine.”

He scowled and then shot me an evil stink-eye. “Okay, I’ll clean the fuckin’ toilet,” he growled.

After I peed, I stomped out into the bedroom, took off my T-shirt and thong, and slid into bed, ensuring that my back would be towards him. About ten minutes later, I heard him taking off his clothes, and he got into bed beside me. “Can you look at me, please?” he said. He’d lowered his voice, and I could hear his penitent tone. I flipped over, facing him. “It’s clean now, and I’m sorry, okay?”

“When I saw the toilet, it just hit me wrong, and I blew up. I didn’t mean to be a bitch about it, and I apologize. I could have ... you know ... handled that better.”

Over the course of the last few months, the veil had come down, and slowly, I was seeing the real Vince. At first, every time I’d come over, his townhouse was immaculately spotless, but that apparently was because he was trying to make a good impression on me. I quickly learned that the more comfortable he got with me and our relationship, the more he showed me his true self: a dirty bathroom, clothes on the floor, and dishes left in the sink because the dishwasher hadn’t been emptied. He was by no means filthy, but that squared-away Marine definitely no longer existed.

“It’s alright, Mel.” There were a few seconds of comfortable silence. “Can I ask you something?”

The fight was over, and I wanted to put it behind us, so I snuggled up against him, and he wrapped me up romantically in his arms. “Of course you can, baby.”

“You’ve been living here for a month, and I’ve ... ummm ... I’ve never seen you shave.”

I tensed up but tried to keep my composure. Even though he probably didn’t realize it, he’d opened up a big can of worms. “I got my hair removed with a laser, honey.”

“Isn’t that ... you know ... kinda expensive?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

“Your ex, right ... James ... the one with money, he paid for it?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Why?”

Again, I tried to keep my expression calm and even. “He didn’t like hair... down there.” I paused for a moment. “He also paid to remove it from my legs and underarms. That’s why you’ve never seen me shave.”

“But you could grow some back if you wanted to, right?”

“No, Vince, I can’t. It’s permanent.”

“Okay, it’s alright ... I guess.”

Fortunately, he was content to let it drop. I’d been truthful with Vince ... for the most part, but he never pressed me on why James didn’t allow me to have pubic hair. It’s been said that omission is a form of lying. If that were true, then I did lie to him. More fucking secrets. I didn’t have pubic hair because submissives, slaves, weren’t allowed to in James’s view. He’d permanently marked my body, and even though I no longer belonged to him, the effects of our relationship would last for the rest of my life.

Vince leaned in, and we shared a hot, passionate kiss. As his tongue slid into my mouth, I felt his hand reach under the comforter, and he gave my breast a gentle squeeze. Instantly, my body came alive, and my need for my man grew. “You know I love them, don’t you?” he said sensually.

I smiled. “You do, huh?” A little shiver coursed through my body when he let my hard nipple slip through his fingers. “Pinch it, pull it, baby,” I said huskily.

I groaned when he complied with my request. We’d been together long enough now that he knew I liked a little pain. But he was very hesitant and seldom gave me what I wanted. For the most part, Vince treated me like a delicate, fragile heirloom, a Chinese doll that would shatter into a million pieces if handled roughly. At times, that frustrated me. Before I met him, I had spent a year and a half with James, who had sometimes thoroughly used me and pushed me to my breaking point. I loved the way Vince cared for me and doted on me, and never in my life had I been with any man who showed such love and affection the way he did. However, there were times, like tonight, when I wanted to be his whore, his slut, not his girlfriend. I was delighted that tonight, he seemed willing to give me a little of what I needed.

He took each of my nipples between his fingers and twisted them before roughly pulling them out from my breasts. “Mmmm, fuck,” I moaned. My body felt like it was on fire, and my pussy was now a warm, wet, humid swamp. While he continued to play roughly with my nipples with one hand, his other reached under the sheets and drilled two fingers deep into my pussy. When he curled them deep inside me, it nearly took my breath away. While his fingers probed me, I reached under the sheets, took his thick hard cock in my hand, and began to slowly stroke it. “What do you want, baby? Tell me, I whimpered.

“I need to taste you,” he said through deep gasps of breath.

I’m not sure what got into me. Perhaps it was our earlier fight, but my body was a live-wire of sexual energy. In the past three months, he’d gone down on me countless times, but tonight, we were going to do things differently. “Lean up against the headboard,” I ordered.

There was a hesitant look in his eyes, but he complied. I stood up on the bed and hovered above him. “Get your tongue out,” I directed. When he did, I sank down on it, and it slipped deep into my pussy. “Yeah, just like that, keep it out,” I moaned. My juices were dripping onto his face as I ground myself into him. He was panting below me, and I realized I was probably cutting off his oxygen, but in that hedonistic moment, I didn’t care.

I moved up and down on his tongue with a reckless abandon. When he retracted it inside his mouth, I reached down and roughly pulled his hair. “Keep your fuckin’ tongue out,” I growled. His eyes widened at my demanding tone, but he complied instantly. When he’d obeyed, I moved back and forth so his tongue slid over my clit, through my lower lips, and then over my asshole. I moved my hips down, which sent his tongue deep into my anus, and it felt like lightning bolts were coursing through me. We were both moaning and panting feverishly, and I was becoming unsteady on my feet. He reached up and squeezed my ass cheeks hard, which steadied me, and I moved my hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit furiously. My secretions were pouring out of me and dripping onto his face and into his hair. “Yeah, just like that ... get me there,” I grunted.

As his tongue continued to probe my ass, I worked my clit harder with the tips of my fingers. A powerful orgasm coursed through me, and I had to place my hands on the wall so I wouldn’t fall onto the floor. Slowly, my senses returned, and I looked down into his questioning eyes.

“What the fuck was th—”

I placed my fingers over his mouth, which silenced him. I then collapsed onto his lap and leaned in, and we shared a long, passionate kiss. His hard muscled chest felt so good against my crushed breasts as his cock was resting between my ass cheeks.

My lust should have been sated, but it wasn’t. I reached behind me, took his cock in my hand, and impaled myself on it in one long fluid motion. I began to move myself up and down on him while kissing and licking his neck. Our sweat was now mixing on each other’s bodies, and he began moving his hips upward, which sent his cock even deeper into me. Our breathing was shallow and ragged, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved with him, meeting his hard, deep thrusts. His cock was grinding perfectly against my clit, pushing me closer to release. I reached up, grabbed his hair, and pulled it hard, and he let out a deep moan. I was right on the edge, and I wanted to take him over it with me. I squeezed the muscles in my pussy, milking him, and he gasped.

“I’m there ... I’m there,” he cried. Just as I felt his thick, heavy spurts shoot inside me, my world went dark as my orgasm consumed me. When I started to come back around, Vince had his arms wrapped tightly around me, crushing me into his body, and our eyes met. There was a bewildered look on his face.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

“I ... ummm ... I’m not sure,” I said sheepishly.

“We’ve never done anything like that before, Mel.”

A little smile broke over my face. “Are you saying you didn’t like it?”

He grinned. “I didn’t say that.”

I tried desperately to collect my thoughts and give him a better explanation of what had just occurred. I had no intention of taking control of him or our relationship. I was a submissive, and taking control was the last thing I wanted. However, I also wanted to show him how our sex could be different. “You’ve always been gentle, maybe even delicate, with me, which I love.” I thought for a moment. “But you don’t always have to be.”

The look in his eyes immediately changed, and I knew I’d triggered something deep inside him. His hands began to shake as he held me gently. “I ... I ... I could never hurt you, Melanie,” he whispered, as his voice began to crack.

I instantly recognized that look. It was the same expression he gave me when I pressed him to tell me about his combat experiences. Something that we’d just done had taken him back to his military service and his time in Iraq. He had the same faraway look in his eye that I’d now seen many times. He wasn’t with me anymore as his mind traveled back to his past.

“Look at me,” I said somewhat forcefully, which brought him back to me. “You didn’t hurt me, okay?” His eyes burned brightly into mine. “I loved everything we just did, and I hope you loved it too.”

“It was different, but I liked it,” he admitted.

I smiled. “Good, because I want more of it.”

He looked to be deep in thought. “I ... ummm ... I don’t know if I can do that to you,” he said.

“Yes, you can.”

I knew how difficult this was for him, and I didn’t want to push him too hard because I knew if I did, he’d shut down and go silent. However, this was important. This was the man that I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Sex wasn’t everything, but it was important to both of us. I’d spent the last three months being his China doll, which I loved because it was something that James rarely gave me. However, I wanted Vince to trust me not only with his past and his military service but also to trust me sexually. I’d experienced many things with James, both good and bad, and I wasn’t ready yet to tell Vince everything I’d done while I was with him, but he needed to know and accept that I wasn’t a fragile piece of porcelain.

“Whatever you want to do, we can, and we will, baby,” I said sensually.

He smiled. “Okay, Mel.”

I slid off of him, and he pulled me into his arms, spooning me tight against him. As his breathing softened and he fell asleep, I couldn’t help but think we’d had a little breakthrough that evening. I knew what triggered him now, and I hoped this was the beginning of unlocking the mystery of what he’d done in his past.

The next morning, I felt like I was walking on cloud nine. I’d scored a nearly perfect mark on my macroeconomics test, and my other two classes went smoothly. We’d had such a good time the previous evening, and I wanted to do something special for Vince. So when I got out of my classes at noon and went to the market, I picked up the ingredients to make his favorite dish, lasagna. I also purchased a very expensive bottle of wine.

When he arrived home that evening, I had dinner prepared and on the table. “Mmmm, something smells good,” he said. We shared a tight hug and a deep kiss.

“It’s your favorite, patrolman. Have a seat before it gets cold.”

During dinner, he told me about his day, and I told him about mine. I still didn’t like his job, but I left him alone about it. Being a police officer was his calling, and it was now something I accepted. It did help that he texted me a few times throughout the day, letting me know he was okay. Once we’d finished dinner, we sipped the wine, and I decided to broach a subject that was never easy for us to talk about. “Would you tell me about your time in Iraq?”

Immediately, he tensed up. “You know I don’t like talking about that,” he whispered.

I looked deep into his eyes. “I’m not asking for specifics.” I paused for a moment. “Just tell me generally what you did over there.” There was a hesitant, unsure look on his face. I reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand in mine. “Please, this is important to me, Vince.” I knew that whatever he’d done over there was traumatic, but I hoped that we could at least open a dialogue by him telling me about the generalities of his time in-country. I also hoped that if this discussion went well, he’d be more willing to open up to me further about the terrible things he must have seen and done.

He took another sip of wine and thought for a moment. He was starting to somewhat settle down, and he looked a little more relaxed, which was a very good sign. “I told you that I was deployed there for two years.”

“Yes, you did.”

“When I graduated high school, I enlisted and went to boot camp in San Diego. I think I’ve told you that before.”

Growing up in Southern California, I’d been to San Diego quite a few times, and I loved the beautiful beaches and scenery. However, I never had to endure the rigor of Marine Corps boot camp like he did. “Yes, you have.”

“After boot camp, I was stationed at 29 Palms and was attached to the 1st Marine Division, 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, 3rd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion.”

I had no idea what any of that meant. In the past, Vince had only told me that he was a Recon Marine. Regardless, I didn’t want to interrupt him.

“My unit was deployed in January of 2003 when President Bush ordered the invasion of Iraq, but we were first sent to Kuwait. It was called Operation Enduring Freedom.” I listened intently as he continued. “When we crossed over into Iraq, our first mission was to attack the oil fields in Rumaila.”

There it was again, that faraway look in his eyes, yet he continued speaking instead of shutting down, something he’d never done before. A small breakthrough, I thought.

“I did things, I saw things, other things that I’m not ready to talk about, Melanie,” he said more firmly.

I didn’t want to push him because we’d never come so far when I asked him about his combat experiences. Nonetheless, I hoped that if he kept talking in generalities, he’d continue to open up. “You fought against the Iraqi people?”

There was a full minute of silence, and his hands began to gently tremble. “No, we fought against the Fedayeen.”

His eyes were now getting watery, and he quickly wiped away the tears that were beginning to form. Aside from my father, Vince was the toughest, strongest man I’d ever met, and it was so hard to see him break down like this. Tears were now forming in my eyes, and seeing the pain and distress that were etched in his was almost more than I could take. Fuck, be strong, I chided myself. Be strong for him. But I had to make a choice. Do we stop, or do I try to push forward?

I decided on one last question. I’d heard the term, but it had been so long ago I couldn’t remember who he was talking about. “Who are the Fedayeen, baby?”

Through another minute of silence, Vince tried desperately to compose himself, and I reached out and squeezed his hands tightly in mine. “Fedayeen, in Arabic, means self-sacrificers.” There was another long pause, and tears were streaming down his face. “That should give you an idea about how hard they fought us.”

Tears were now flowing down both of our faces. I released his hands, rose, moved in behind him, and wrapped my arms securely around him. It took a bit for us to compose ourselves, but I didn’t let him out of my arms. I whispered into his ear, “Thank you, Vince, for opening up and sharing with me. You don’t know how much it means to me,” I said sincerely. “You’re so strong, so brave. I’m so proud of you for everything you did over there.”

There was another long pause. “All battles are fought by scared men who’d rather be someplace else.”

Those words were now seared into my brain for eternity. Vince was a lot of things, but a poet wasn’t one of them. The next day before class, I Googled that sentence and discovered it was from an old John Wayne movie. Just like my father and brothers, Vince loved John Wayne. But what I hated, what I fucking despised, was that those words held meaning to him.

The next day was Saturday, and I was sitting in our living room that afternoon studying when Vince bounded through the door. “Hey, come out here, take a look at this,” he said excitedly.

I rolled my eyes. “Little busy here. I’ve got a marketing test on Monday.”

“C’mon, you’re gonna want to see this, Mel.”

“Okay, okay...” I got up off the couch and followed him out our front door. “Oh, my God, baby, you guys finally got it done?”

He smiled proudly. “Yes, we did.”

Parked in our driveway was a shiny blue 1974 Nova that he and his friends had been restoring over the past year. “Vince, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, she sure is.”

What was parked in front of me looked nothing like the pictures of the old beat-up car he’d shown me. He and his friends had taken out all the dents, repaired the rust, given ‘her’ a new paint job, and rebuilt the engine and transmission. “So, this is where all of our money is going?” I teased.