Make Me: Twelve Tales Of Dark Desire - Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Part 27
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Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Part 27

Nothing improves memory more than trying to forget.

-Unknown author

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

It was happening again. The satin sheets dripped with sweat as Claire gasped for breath. Trembling, she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, all the while convincing herself she could breathe-this was only a dream-or a nightmare. Once over, she couldn't remember the scenes, just the terrible feeling of helplessness. She always woke when she heard the beep. It was the same damn beep she'd heard when she first arrived; the sound meaning her suite was locked. When the dreams first started, she could roll over, find her sleeping husband, curl up next to him, and fall back to sleep. Now regulating her breathing, Claire knew that wasn't possible-like so many times before-she needed to get out of bed and complete her new routine.

The steady breathing from a few feet away told Claire that Tony was sleeping peacefully. Quietly, she lifted the covers and eased out of bed. Her hands shook as she tied her robe and tiptoed to the hallway door. "This is dumb," she whispered, as her feet crossed the lush carpet; however, it was now her reality. She knew sleep wouldn't be possible without completing this new drill. Gripping the metal lever, she pulled, and the door opened easily. She closed it and proceeded to the balcony. Moving the draperies aside, the French door opened without hesitation. The rush of fresh air filled the room and her lungs. She walked through the opening and gently closing the door behind her.

Her perspiration-drenched body relished the cool night breeze. Standing at the rail, she inhaled the spring air and lifted her hair to dry the moisture from her neck. It wasn't that she wanted to remember the feelings of a year ago. Truly she didn't. When she stepped onto a patio, terrace, or into the backyard and memories would start to resurface, she could stop them. It was at night while she slept that the compartmentalization of her internment would come rushing back. Then in the minutes or hours which followed, she would attempt to calm her lingering fear. It was the one she tried to keep away, the terror that at any moment, without warning, history could repeat itself. The sickening realization that she would be completely helpless to stop it was what robbed her of sleep.

The cool cement under her feet brought her back to present. She shivered, pulled her cashmere robe tight, and wished she'd grabbed slippers, but her trembling wasn't caused by the cold. She knew it was her dream. Looking up she noticed the clear black velvet sky peppered with stars. Absentmindedly, she thought, that's why the temperature dropped.

Sighing, she fell into a chair. This knowledge would never matter again. Her job was her name, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings-Meteorology was gone forever. She'd left the suite in such a panic she hadn't looked at the clock. It really didn't matter-sleep was out of reach. Pulling her legs into her chest and covering them with her soft robe, she began her mental therapy session. Her still rapid heart rate told her tonight it would last hours instead of minutes.

Self-therapy consisted of a mental list of reasons her nightmares were ridiculous and she had no basis for her fears. Claire believed if she could convince her conscious self, her subconscious self would be forced to agree. When she allowed her mind to go back to the spring of a year ago she could rationalize that now her life was significantly dissimilar. She now had more liberties than she'd experienced since her arrival.

Tony stayed true to his word about her e-mails. He even decided she needed her own address, clarawl1084@rawlingsind.com. This made printing easier. He was also correct about the numerous requests for interviews, money, and endorsements she received daily from people she'd never met. Having Patricia respond to those requests was easy. She also received personal e-mails, and now she had a voice in the responses. Overall, when asked, Tony agreed to requests regarding Courtney, Sue, Bev, or MaryAnn. If he had other plans for the day in question, as occurred from time to time, his plans trumped, but the act of requesting was the crucial portion of her negotiations. If she wanted to reply to someone or to go somewhere, as he had said many months ago, she simply needed to ask. She'd become accustomed to this component-it was a daily reminder of Tony's authority.

Regarding that authority-it hadn't asserted itself, as it had a year ago. She reasoned, perhaps it was because her behavior didn't warrant that type of implementation. No matter the cause, life was undeniably better.

Watching the moonlight on the budding trees, Claire recalled the outings she'd recently enjoyed. They included lunches in Iowa City and Cedar Rapids, Red Cross meetings in Davenport, and shopping in Chicago. A few weeks ago MaryAnn suggested a catch-up day in New York, as she and Eli were there for business. Tony reviewed all of the e-mails before Claire, and she didn't expect permission to spend the day in New York, but she asked. Surprisingly, he acquiesced. Smiling and feeling her pulse slow, she remembered flying off to a beautiful April day in New York City in a Rawlings company jet, with Courtney and Sue. All of the women had a marvelous time, and Claire made it home before 7:00 PM. He was home first, but she was home for dinner. He wasn't unhappy.

Calming, as the gentle breeze blew her hair, she listened to the voice in her head and remembered a recent unexpected freedom. Secretly coveting the chestnut hair which kept trying to return, she informed Tony she needed an appointment to maintain her blonde. He said they had no overnight plans in the near future, so she should just go. If he had the private plane she could take one of the company jets, just plan to be home before dinner. Shocked, she remembered questioning, "Are you saying I can go by myself?"

"My dear Claire, is there any reason you should not?"

She assured him there wasn't. He or Patricia arranged the appointment; Claire went to the airport and boarded a company jet-by herself. She landed in Chicago, took a waiting cab to the Trump Tower where she spent the rest of the morning being pampered. Then she ate lunch and shopped for a few hours and came home. Blushing in the cool night air, she thought about being back in her suite before 6:00 PM and how she did her best to show her husband the meaning of a statement she'd made months earlier-coming home to a wife who wants to be home is better than coming home to a wife that has to be home. He caught on pretty quick-the first indication was the spark in her emerald eyes and the next clue involved a black satin robe and a warm waiting tub of water. Truth be told-she couldn't remember eating dinner at all that night.

Claire's heavy eyelids reminded her she should be sleeping. Slipping back into her suite and under the warm blankets, she thought about the man lying next to her. He continued to be a paradox. The man Claire met when she first arrived hadn't shown his personality since her accident. She knew he was still here, that knowledge alone was motivation to obey his rules. She'd been told too many times his promise to keep that personality away was contingent on her ability to behave appropriately. The stress of that reality and unpredictability loomed omnipresent.

The man who worked to court her, to convince her she was important, desirable, and loved, still existed in a muted form. He was still attentive, present, and always sexual, but he was busy with work and often preoccupied. That was understandable-he was a successful man with many fires to tend.

It was his need for complete supremacy over every aspect of her life that felt stifling and unbearable. Claire theorized this was the cause of the suffocation which usually accompanied her nightmares. He had companies, peoples' jobs and livelihoods on his list of responsibilities. The fact he controlled her comings, goings, e-mails, hair, and often attire-seemed ridiculous.

Attempting to stop the rise in blood pressure, she reminded herself that no matter what-she loved him. He could infuriate her one moment and make her feel less than human, and the next, he could make her feel like the world spun only because she mattered to him. It was just that those two contradictory emotions could come too close together and in any order. As Claire reminisced, she recognized that similar to a year ago, her mood, liberties, and sense of self-worth seemed to have a common denominator-Anthony Rawlings.

As that realization struck, he rolled toward her, wrapped her in his arms; and though still sleeping, murmured, "My love, you're so cold. Come closer." She melted against his warm chest. At this moment in time, he made her feel safe and loved. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

As the spring blossomed into summer, their biggest source of dissension continued to be her family. Though she loved to hear from Emily, seeing her name on an e-mail made her stomach turn. It almost always came accompanied by dark penetrating eyes.

She would sometimes choose to have Patricia reply instead of herself. There were days and circumstances when the communication wasn't worth the conflict. It depended on Emily's words, some motivated Claire's determination more than others. Her calls with Emily were always monitored. It was a reality she didn't dispute. If she did, it would result in loss of all communication. He didn't need to spell that out for her. She knew it as well as she knew that her freedoms lay vulnerable to his whims.

Since the call following the interview, Claire spoke with Emily about every three to four weeks. She heard from Emily at least once a week via e-mail. After Claire had her own e-mail address, Emily's notes were more informative. Claire would hand-write her response. It was approved or edited and then sent by Patricia. If Emily questioned Claire's ability to do anything, she'd profess her freedoms as Tony evaluated every word.

That same Tony was the one who surprised Claire with the long weekend at Lake Tahoe. And over Memorial Day weekend he arranged for a getaway to San Francisco. While there, they met Eli and MaryAnn for dinner at an exclusive nightclub with a glorious view of the bay and bridge. The next day, after a romantic drive down Highway 1 in a leased convertible, they strolled hand in hand on the beach at Big Sur. The force and spray of the waves pounding the huge rocks along the ocean shore astonished Claire. It wasn't like the Gulf of Mexico or even the tranquil waters of Fiji. Instead, it reminded her of the beach scenes in movies. During these excursions, he made her feel like a star. Their final day in San Francisco they went sightseeing; no trip to Alcatraz was planned or even discussed.

He also had a two-week business trip to Europe planned for the end of July. This time he wanted her with him. Uncharacteristically, he asked her to help make the sightseeing plans. They would visit Italy, Switzerland, and France. He had meetings but promised free time for his wife. Claire spent hours in their library looking at books on destinations, museums, and points of interest. The Internet would have been easier but she found incredible pictures and information in the resource books.

The work with the Red Cross slowed. Their calendar was planned and their goal set. It was now a matter of implementation. Courtney had other members on her committee. They divided the events: Claire was chairman of a silent auction scheduled for October. She drafted letters requesting donations, and Patricia sent them out to prominent associates of Mr. Rawlings. The letters requested donations from Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. Tony had already brought many positive responses home. Claire secured a ballroom in Bettendorf where the auction would be held simultaneously with a wine-tasting event. She even arranged for the wine and catering to be donated, believing a little wine might help increase bids. Courtney seemed genuinely pleased and appreciative of Claire's help.

The summer heat created the climate Claire enjoyed the most. She contentedly spent many of her days at home by the pool or at her lake. When summer began Tony hesitated to approve her journeys to the lake. He'd been there. He knew how far it was from the house. What if a real accident occurred? At first, she relented to his decision, but then she decided it was worth the struggle. Her lake had been her refuge-she wanted it back.

Determinedly, one Sunday in early June, Claire pursued the liberty to hike. Tony finally acquiesced, saying he wanted to be mad, but it was the memory of her excitement during their February visit that made him relent. She asked him to join her. He had other plans for their day, but agreed. They brought a blanket, a picnic packed by Catherine, and water. When they reached the shore Tony seemed to understand why she loved the site. It was nothing like it had been in February. The colors of the summer starkly contrasted the whiteness of their last visit. The lake sparkled and glittered with hues of blue created by the reflection of the sapphire sky. The trees surrounding the lake were lush, full, and green.

The ones in the woods had been also, creating a maze Tony hoped Claire could truly navigate. He listened to the sounds of the lake shore. In forty-six years he'd never stopped to listen to waves lap the earth. The consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, combined with the gentle breeze of the trees soothed him in a way he couldn't describe. He laid out the blanket on the shore under the shade of a tree and invited Claire to join him. She unpacked their lunch and they sat in silence.

At first, Claire worried-afraid he might be upset by her impudence. Then she stopped worrying and looked at him, really looked at his face; he was peaceful. She thought about who she saw: Anthony Rawlings, multibillionaire tycoon and entrepreneur, a man in complete control of everyone and everything. Claire hoped perhaps she was witnessing this lofty man seeing himself as part of a grand picture. Maybe for the first time he wasn't seeing himself as the center. Not wanting to break the spell, she let him sit undisturbed.

Sometime later-Claire had lost track of time-Tony finally spoke, "This is beautiful. This is here on our property and I've never seen it-not like this." The sun sparkled and shone as prisms of light and color danced off the water. Having taken the sandwiches out of the basket, Claire broke off a piece of bread and threw it into the water. Tony laughed as minnows swam to devour their newfound feast. She smiled at her husband. Her smile radiated into her eyes, she could feel it. His milk chocolate eyes looked from the water to her. He leaned toward her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For showing me what I've been missing. I've been so goal oriented, so driven, I've missed so much." She scooted closer and offered him his sandwich. "I'm really not hungry, yet-are you?" His hands were exploring her collar bone, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms.

"I think I can wait."

The soft blanket, soft sand, and gentle breeze created the perfect bed. Their actions weren't hard and rough, but tender and thorough. Keeping rhythm with the waves Tony took Claire beyond her refuge to a place of ecstasy.

The hours of daylight almost reached their peak. The summer solstice was near. Between exploring the lake, shore, wildlife, and one another, they found themselves still on the shore as the sun began to set. It was all right. Claire knew this time there would be no punishment or accident. This time she was safe. They sat and watched the crimson ball as it bled a cherry glow across the sky, slowly fading behind the line of shadowed trees at the far end of the lake.

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.

-Epictetus

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

Claire's education regarding the responsibilities of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings continued during the summer months. She now had the responsibility of entertaining Tony's business associates. As a bachelor, these gatherings weren't expected; however, now with a wife by his side, Shelly felt this personal touch benefited Mr. Rawlings. They hosted multiple dinner engagements. On the Fourth of July, they held a large barbeque/pool party for many of Tony's associates at the estate in Iowa. Guests included those she'd met briefly at her wedding and those that she'd never met. Tony introduced her to everyone, and she remembered names and faces remarkably well. Her job description remained the same as fourteen months earlier: be perfect. To accomplish her goal, she needed to be beautiful, polite, contented, and appreciative. Now there was another requirement: be a most gracious hostess. Surprisingly, Claire didn't find these new duties difficult. For most people to pull off a dinner, barbeque, or pool party would require planning, cleaning, cooking, setting up, and tearing down. For Mrs. Rawlings, that wasn't the case. Everything happened without her input. Invitations went out, RSVPs counted, meals planned, house or apartment cleaned, food prepared, tables and decorations set, the food served, and miraculously everything cleaned by the next day. She needed only to be present, ever attentive to her guests, and most importantly, attentive to her husband.

The first entertaining experience occurred at their New York apartment. They hosted an intimate dinner party for ten. It was true, Claire's nerves were shaken prior to the hors d'oeuvres. Perhaps it was Tony's pep talk about appearances, responsibility as his wife, and the unacceptability of public failure; however, wearing the clothes he chose, hair styled as he suggested, and appearing as dutiful as she could muster, the evening progressed surprisingly well. Her talent for remembering names, faces, facts, and the intuition to know when not to interrupt business talk, yet understand when to augment small talk, succeeded in making everyone feel comfortable. After the guests left, Tony gently wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You were magnificent."

It made all the difference. From that point on, when she learned of an impending gathering, she had but one solitary goal-to please her husband. On some occasions they would be at opposite sides of a room and she would look up from a conversation to observe his eyes. The presence of brown rimmed pupils would strengthen her resolve to perform her role to perfection. On those occasions she would discover the black voids, she would excuse herself from her current activity and attempt to learn the source of his unhappiness. Once discovered, it became her responsibility to right the wrong. Assuming this responsibility of Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, familiarized her with many of his associates and made her feel less alone. She met the people Tony dealt with on a daily basis. In reality she may have been a beautiful accessory, but she believed she provided an important asset to his public relations. The added bonus was that she continued to amaze Tony by excelling at any obstacle put before her.

A week before they needed to be in France for Tony's meetings, he informed Claire they would spend a few nights in New York City before their trip. He could work from the New York City office and it would decrease their travel time to Paris. Claire's research discovered many sights she anxiously anticipated seeing in France. They would arrive in Paris where he had two days of meetings. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Muse'e d'Orsay, Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Arc de Triomple among other places. She told Tony multiple times how excited she was being involved in planning their activities. Next, he promised her two nights in the south of France, one of his favorite destinations. He had special plans for this destination. She read about Cannes, the French Riviera, and Monaco, but willingly trusted his decisions.

Next, they would be off to Italy. His meetings there were in Rome and Florence. They would have the opportunity to visit museums and monuments in both cities. Her two requests were the Vatican and the Galleria dell' Accademia, the museum which housed Michelangelo's David. Tony promised that David didn't have anything she hadn't seen before.

He wanted her to see the island of Sicily. The water, he said, was beautiful. The blueness rivaled Fiji. He mischievously smiled and let her know how nude sunbathing was acceptable in the Mediterranean.

"I don't think I like the idea of nude sunbathing among multitudes of people."

With a naughty smirk Tony agreed. "I believe you're right my dear." He slowly unbuttoned her blouse. "Besides, I don't believe I want others seeing what is mine, and I have the pleasure of seeing whenever I chose."

His last meetings were in Switzerland. He needed to be in Geneve and Interlaken. He explained if she enjoyed the beauty and splendor of the Rocky Mountains at Lake Tahoe, she would marvel at the Swiss Alps. They were magnificent. He knew she would love all the nature had to offer in Switzerland.

As Tony spoke about their trip he expressed his desire to spend more time in Europe. "I want to show you so many places. We aren't even planning for Venice. A gondola ride is one of the most romantic adventures, and what about London? Don't you want to see Buckingham Palace?"

"We have forever to visit those places."

As he spoke about cities and sites, his eyes danced with enthusiasm. His excitement to share something with her meant more than the trip itself.

The Tuesday before their scheduled departure they sat in her suite with Claire reviewing e-mails and Tony working on his laptop. She only needed to discuss e-mails she felt deserved personal follow through of any kind. She read each one and eventually came to one from Emily. She'd expected to see it. The last one had been about a week ago. This one contained new information. It wasn't just the "I want to see you" text.

To: Claire Rawlings clarawl1084@rawlingsind.com From: Emily Vandersol johnemvan@aol.com Date: July 19, 2011 Subject: Hi.

Hi, Claire, How are you and Anthony? We are doing very well. I'm on summer break, which you know. Would be great to see my little sis, but anyway, know how busy you are. How have those dinner parties been going? Still cracks me up. You being the one hosting parties! Would never have guessed it. Anyway, didn't you say you two were going on vacation? I heard something on the television about you being on another private island. Really? Have you been gone? I never know what to believe. But I wanted to let you know John and his associate just had a big win in court recently. They made a huge impression on the partners. Not to mention some big money for them, too. We've been invited to multiple dinners and John has had some "lunches" with a few of the partners recently. It is looking like all his hours and hard work will be paying off soon. Would love to hear from you. Please give Anthony our love. How is Iowa? I have some time, maybe you and I could visit in person? Or are you too busy for your big sister. (I'm trying guilt.) Love ya, Em Claire read it, sighed, and wrote on the top: Patricia, please respond and then moved on to the next. She sensed Tony's eyes penetrating her consciousness. He'd read it. She didn't need to discuss the contents, she wasn't requesting anything. Lifting her gaze she saw his eyes and answered, "I don't want to deal with it, okay? I'm too excited about our trip."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's fine. I just thought you might want to see her and John while we're in New York before our trip. It sounds to me like a celebratory dinner for your esteemed brother-in-law is in order."

Claire looked at Tony in disbelief. "Are you suggesting we meet them this weekend before we leave for Europe?" She watched for his reaction-there was none. He continued reading on his laptop and making notes on his iPad. "Please don't tease me."

His smile appeared genuine. "I'm not teasing. If it'll make you happy as we head out on our European adventure, I can suffer through a few hours of Mr. Wonderful."

She got up from the table and went to him on the sofa. "Really? Can I please call her and see if they're available?"

"Yes," his hand touched the hem of her light pink sundress, "however, I can think of something I'd like to do first."

Claire reached for his laptop and set in on the floor. Climbing on his lap she giggled, "Really? I can't think of anything-" Her world tilted as he pushed her onto the sofa and followed on top of her. The rest of her sentence-as well as dinner-and the phone call would need to wait.

They arrived in New York on Thursday night and planned to leave Sunday for Paris. Tony thought Claire might need to shop before their trip, but she assured him she'd done enough research to learn she could do plenty of shopping in Paris, Italy, and Switzerland.

Tony laughed. "That even scares me, Mrs. Rawlings. I believe you're getting too good at this shopping thing."

They arranged to meet John and Emily Saturday afternoon at a restaurant in Newburgh, a scenic little city on the Hudson River, midway between New York City and Troy. Tony admitted their apartment could lend itself to a longer visit than he wanted. Claire knew this was difficult for him and appreciated his honesty. Besides, she liked the idea of a public setting. Tony would never do or say anything in a public place to jeopardize his image. She knew no matter how the dinner progressed, she would reap the consequences, negative or positive; however, seeing Emily and John for the first time since their wedding was worth Tony's chosen aftermath. She could endure the night-tomorrow they were leaving for Europe.

When they stepped outside their New York City apartment, the air between the tall buildings hung heavy and moist intensifying the July heat. Automobile exhaust filled their lungs as the motionless air refused to transport the odors away. The summer sun penetrated the dark lenses of her sunglasses, causing Claire to squint after exiting the dim cool lobby. Although, she used to like the city, she now thought pensively about the tranquility of the Iowa countryside.

During the hour and a half drive, Tony worked on his latest project while Claire appreciated the tinted windows and air conditioning of the limousine and tried to read. She had packed many books for their trip; between flights, drives, and waiting for Tony, she anticipated significant amounts of downtime. Though she tried to read, the words on the page didn't make sense. She read and reread, but her thoughts were miles ahead at the restaurant. It had been seven months since they had been together. She wanted it to go well; however, she overwhelmingly feared it would not.

Trying desperately to ignore the onset of another headache, she anticipated problems. What if John said something? What about the job topic? What if Emily pursued her earlier concerns? Her mind raced through these situations and more. She contemplated possible solutions. It didn't always work, but having contingency plans made Claire feel better.

They were an hour out of Newburgh when Tony broke the silence. "Claire, please stop."

Shocked, she turned to him, "Stop what? I'm reading."

"No, you're not. You're sighing, fidgeting, and stressing about things over which you have no control."

"I'm sorry. I just want this afternoon to go well."

"Are you planning to do or say something wrong?"

"No! Of course not."

"Let me tell you about this current project."

She really wasn't interested, but he rarely offered to share. She closed her book. "All right."

"These are perspectives on a company. Actually, a family owned business in Pennsylvania. At one time it employed over seventy-five people. Today it employs forty-six. I don't care about this company or the employees, but I am significantly invested in their major competitor."

Clare definitely didn't see the connection to their lunch, but she nodded and replied, "Okay."

"When founded, the original president made wonderful decisions. In the past five years, the reins passed, and the decisions have been less fortuitous. The chairman is now seeking to sell the company, recognizing the economic climate. They need money to continue; banks aren't lending money. If he doesn't sell, the doors will probably close in the next two years." Still lost, she maintained eye contact and nodded. He went on. "I'm considering a very low-ball offer. The benefit to me is to reduce the competition. If my offer is accepted, the doors will close immediately. According to my accountants, the company in which I'm already invested is projected to increase sales by over 18 percent immediately upon the close of this company. This means I reap benefits. They project my venture in this company will be recouped in profits in less than two years. The long-term benefits are increasingly fiscally rewarding. What do you think the employees of the Pennsylvania Company are hoping will happen?"

"They either want their company to go on as it is-or to be sold to someone who'll keep it running."

Tony said, "Good, why?"

"So they'll keep their jobs."

"The people on the manufacturing floor, custodians, secretaries, and other auxiliary employees played no part in the decisions which now have direct consequences on their lives."

"Yes, but they have families, debts, and responsibilities." Claire thought about Tony's daily decisions and their far-reaching impact. "And I'm sure they're all worried."

"Exactly, just as you're worried about this afternoon. What can the people in that plant do to help their situation?"

Claire thought about it. "Nothing-it isn't in their hands." The reality made her sad. Not for her-her situation suddenly seemed trivial, but for those forty-six people.

"Correct again. You've done all you can do." He was now talking about this afternoon. "You've done much more than I ever imagined. Continue to behave as you have. If Emily or John do or say anything, it's their doing, not yours."

She thought about John's words in the past and how she'd experienced consequences, just like those people were about to receive. Tony started to read again, but Claire had questions, "Tony?" He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, but I have some questions."

"Go ahead."

"So are you saying the actions of the people who don't have control, have no consequence?"

He closed the screen of his laptop. "Are we talking about Pennsylvania or here?"

"Let's start with Pennsylvania."