Other Colors -- Ch. 15 (part 2) - Sex Stories

Other Colors -- Ch. 15 (part 2)

... aujourd'hui ." "I'm sorry," once more, I apologized. "You really shouldn’t have had to do that." "De rien," she murmured. “Actually, Renault asked me to move in with him a week ago, but I told him it was impossible. I couldn't leave you out on the street. But now," she sighed, "who knows what will happen?" “Oh,” my throat tightened. “I, um… I had no idea. That’s great. Really,” I’m not sure how convincing I sounded. “I’m so happy for you.” It was indefensibly selfish of me, but my first thought was not about how glad I ought to be that they were working things out, and getting so serious. I was worried about what would happen to me if Marie indeed moved out, and for some unforeseen reason I felt the need to flee Lacoste. But that was my problem, not hers. I kept my qualms to myself. “So you swear you’re not mad at me?” “Mais non,” she said, “I dislike the timing, of course. But what can one do? Le monde est fou, yes?” “Je suis d’accord,” I breathed. “But what will you two do about the theatre? Have you thought of a plan?” “Je ne sais pas,” she sighed. “Renault is putting together a protest tomorrow. I don’t know what good it will do. But he’s been calling the cast and crew all day. He wants us to convince everyone we can to be there.” “Oh...” I bit into my lip, praying silently that she wouldn’t ask. “Will you come, Penny?” “I… I, um…” “ S'il te plaît ,” she begged. “Please? Promise me you’ll come. I think I will go crazy without you.” I felt a cold sweat bead on my ...

... temples. I knew it was foolish of me. I knew intuitively that he’d never allow it. But I had neither the strength nor cruelty to tell her no. I gritted my teeth. ‘It is a far, far better thing I do…’ “Alright.” “You’ll be there?” “Yes,” I shivered. “At least, I’ll do my best. I promise.” “Ah! Merci, Penny. Merci,” she sang. “You don’t know what it means to me.” “De rien,” I murmured. “Besides, I owe you one, don’t I?” We said our goodbyes, and I promised to tell her all about Dmitri tomorrow. I was lying, of course. When at last we hung up, I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, and dug my hands into my forehead. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot… It was remarkable, really, how much the promise I’d made distressed me. I wanted to curl up into a little ball at the foot of the bed, and just vanish. It was outlandish for me to ever think that he might let me go. I’d had to fight tooth-and-nail the night before just for him to let me keep my job. But it was equally outlandish that he had the power to dictate my whereabouts in the first place. These were distortions within distortions; moving water in a convex mirror. Even so, when the time came, and he did forbid it, I knew that I would never disobey him. I didn’t yet have the proper parlance to describe what was between us, but already I understood that by its very nature it was absolute. He could have told me to stand out in the snow barefoot that evening, and I, with hardly a word of protest, would have done it. That’s the sort of mastery he had ...