Free The Art of Submission by Ella Dominguez

watching television the rest
of the night, though not really watching it, and mostly daydreaming
about Mr. Young. I finish off the last little bit of wine that
Greer brought over the last time he was here… the night we… yuck … I can’t think about that. Off
to bed I go.
    Cool blue eyes looking me over critically,
disapprovingly. A condescendingly deep sexy voice is laughing at
me… making feel inadequate. He keeps laughing at me, tormenting and
teasing me with my paintings and his perfect mouth… no… please…
no.
    NO! I wake up
wet again, but this time it’s not from arousal; it’s from my own
tears. I’m sobbing into my pillow, whimpering like a pathetic
imbecile. I eventually fall back to sleep. This time, forbidding
myself to dream.
    I’m wakened to the sound of someone at
my door. It’s really late in the morning/early afternoon, and I
feel hung over. I jump up and grab the first thing I see to wear
and quickly put it on. It must be my landlord or else they would’ve
buzzed on the speaker. I rub my eyes and answer the door. To my
shock and horror, Mr. Greer is standing on the other side. How the hell did he get into the
building?
    “Well hello tittylicious.” He says eyeing my
chest. His voice is deep and he has a disturbing smile on his
face.
    Yuck. Did he
really just say that? What are we in junior high? I feel myself
blush from head to toe and then I realize the reason he’s said it
is because of the fitted t-shirt I’m wearing. He pushes the door
open and lets himself in uninvited .
    “What are you doing here?” I finally
force myself to ask. Like I don’t
know. He ignores my question.
    “So how was your ‘dinner with friends’?” He
asks snidely.
    “My what?” What’s he talking
about? Oh shit. My lie . “Oh,
that. Umm… It was fine.” I’m inwardly rolling my eyes at myself for
my inability to tell to a simple white lie.
    “Uh-huh. Sure it was,” he says with his
I’m-calling-bullshit tone.
    He’s moving slowly toward me and I turn
away from him for just a moment so I can get a sweatshirt to cover
myself. When I turn back around, he’s right on top of me. He grabs
me by my waist and pulls me close to him. He’s only inches away
from face, and he’s so close that I can feel and smell his breath
when he speaks. Yuck. It
makes me nauseous.
    “I’ve been thinking about you and how
delectable you tasted the last time we got together Isabel. I quite
enjoyed myself. How about you? Did you enjoy yourself?”
    Oh my God. Yuck . Did I let him do that to me? I feel the
bile rising in my throat at the thought. Holy waste of space - that horrible cologne; and
his voice – it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me.
    “ I wouldn’t know if I enjoyed it or not
Mr. Greer, since I was so completely wasted when it happened.” I
say with enough sarcasm and contempt that it takes him by surprise.
I push back on him and free myself from his grip. He stands there
staring at me, stunned. Then his look changes to into something
else… something more sinister.
    “Well, trust me darling , you and your delicious pussy enjoyed
it.”
    Seriously, what a disgusting a-hole.
    Oh shit. His
eyes have changed from brown to black, and he’s standing
stock-still like a predatory cat ready to jump. I have to get him
out of here. I have to get out of
here …
    Just then I hear a loud thump from across the
hall followed by yelling. My neighbors are arguing again, and I’ve
never been more happy to hear them screaming at each other. They
make just enough noise that it distracts Greer and I make a dash
for my door. I open it, step into the hall and motion for him to
leave. Luckily my neighbors who live on the other side of me, a
young couple, are standing in the hallway, too. They look at me,
then at Greer, then at me again. Greer looks embarrassed and
shuffles out of my apartment. He leans over to me on his way
out.
    “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers with
his eyes narrowed at me. Then he