Being Better

The silence rang out for a second, until Tom continued to caress my skin, up and down my ribs, stopping just before my breasts. His finger traced the lining of my bra, and I felt my nipples harden underneath the fabric. I could see my feelings were not well hidden, that Tom could easily see how aroused I had become, however this only made the sensation more intense. For it was his noticing my body's responses that began my feelings of arousal in the first place.

Tom placed one hand onto the bed next to me, and used the other to caress the hair from my face. He rubbed my forehead with his thumb, resting his fingers in my hair, and pushed himself to lie beside me. "Oh Little One," he began softly, "I promised I would never harm you..." He patted my forehead as if to end our session and began to untie the binds around my wrists.

"Tom?" I was confused by what he meant by the statement.

"I'm giving you your phone tonight bub," he finalised, "I think you're ready."

~

That night I was sitting in the spare room which Tom had kindly let me stay in for so long... and in my hand was my phone. It had died after sitting unused in Tom's desk drawer for so long, so I had to plug it into the wall. It took an hour for me to check my message bank, which was strange because I had waited so long to obtain this simple electronic gadget.

I thought of the hours I spent earning my way to discovering what message would possibly await me. Tom had not looked at the phone while I was asleep; he told me it was disrespectful to my privacy. I thought perhaps he was lying, but when the phone switched back on I did discover that none of my messages had been opened.

I had several messages on my phone actually. Two missed calls from Tom, one message from my brother asking for $76.00 which he needed by last Wednesday or else he said he wouldn't have money for drinks that Friday. Finally after another two messages from businesses promoting new products, there was one text message from Nelson. It read:

'Hey Sfexy Im waitin 4u.'

Despite all the time that had passed I still felt a flutter of relief that he had not forgotten me. Nelson still wanted me, I knew it- he just needed time to readjust to his new career goals. I put the phone down and eyed it for a good couple of minutes. Nelson and I might still have a chance...

I packed my back pack up and realised it was too late to rush out and disturb Nelson at such an hour. He would be sleeping, and I remembered how much he needed his sleep. Some people just couldn't function without the right amount of sleep, I thought, and I could wait until morning to see him again.

The next day I woke up and made breakfast for Tom. He had done so much for me and I wanted to do something nice in return. I made what looked like eggs on toast, but tasted like something else altogether, still Tom ate it appreciatively. Tom noticed my backpack and looked at me with worry in his deep eyes.

"Did Nelson ask for you to move back in with him?" He tried to sound casual, but I knew it was concern.

"No, I just wanted it with me, just in case." I assured him that I felt much more independent now that I had been away for as long as I had. The truth was that I had also learnt that I could handle much more than I expected. I had never imagined a body as small as mine could endure as much as it did.

Tom offered to drive me to Nelson's house, but I told him I didn't mind catching the bus. The truth was; I wanted more time before I saw Nelson, to think about how I felt and what I would say. What would I say? I wasn't sure if I still felt the same concerns that I felt when I originally sent him that long apologetic email. I wasn't sure what I felt about anything.

The bus ride was too short and it wasn't long before I was standing at Nelson's door. I thought about what he might say when he saw me, perhaps he would have learnt that he did miss me. Perhaps he had wished I would move back in that very night? I knocked three hard knocks and waited patiently for him to open the door.

A business dress opened the door with a smug look on her face. "I thought we shipped you off weeks ago," Sherry said, her dress on slightly crooked and her hair askew, "sweetheart, Nelson doesn't want you, okay?" She rolled her eyes impatiently as if she had been explaining the same concept to me for the last hour.

Nelson stepped out of his bedroom to see what all the fuss was about and looked genuinely surprised to see me at his doorstep. Wearing only his night robe and holding a bottle of champagne I could see in his face that he wasn't expecting anyone to visit him at all. "Nelson, I..."

"Jennifer darling," he hiccupped, "You should join the party!" I stared at him and couldn't believe my eyes. I was so stupid! What kind of health inspector hires a promotional agent? It was so clear to me now, she was never in business with him- she was in bed with him! He had sent his mistress to rid of me instead of doing it himself like genuine person.

I stood up straight and swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Thanks but I'll pass," I spat, and then throwing my bag of possessions into his house I said, "I just wanted to return all the clothes I used to wear for you while we were together."

I turned to leave but then pivoted at the doorstep after hearing the tisking sound of annoyance emitted from Sherry's lips, "Let's face it Sherry," I added, "if I joined that party again, where the only person who gets off is Nelson, I'd basically be better off on my own. Although, he did recently hire you for your services now, didn't he?"

Sherry didn't look pleased by my comments; all she could say was for me to get off her boyfriend's property before she called the police. Regardless of which it didn't matter; I had no intention of staying a second longer.

~

When I stepped onto the bus returning me to Tom's house, my heart felt crushed. It was as though Nelson had abandoned me all over again. But the truth was that Nelson had never taken me back. He probably had never even read my email, and had probably only messaged me out of a drunken haze.

I zombie walked over to the middle of the bus, where I sat down on the stiff cushioned seat, and held my breath. If I could hold my breath long enough, there was a chance that I would faint and the pain would stop. Yet my body would not put up with my shameful attempts at losing consciousness and soon I gasped for more air. A lonely woman a few seats across from me turned to eye me suspiciously for a moment, and then looked back out the window as if my world had not been crumbling beneath me.

I had spent weeks working on how to suffer in silence; never speaking of my anxiety driven urges; to contact Nelson. Tom ensured those urges resulted in hours of sensational overdrive, mindlessness and frenzy; my punishment for having the urges in the first place. Soon the urges lessened; my body realising that wanting Nelson's presence was to end in hours of physical exhaustion. Yet in the end, I still sought Nelson out, and discovered...

He was a little Bitch. Nelson was completely and totally a little Bitch. He was self-serving, greedy and had cheated on me. Nelson, the man I thought was all professionalism and business, was just a faker who spent more time sleeping than doing anything to appreciate my honest devotion. Don't get me wrong, my heart was still crushed... but, but there was something changed in me.

I had arrived at Tom's door when I realised something else to be true. Tom had given me a place to stay so that he could help me get Nelson back, and now that was over, I was overstaying my welcome. I couldn't take from Tom any more than he had already given me. I wanted to send him a message, but my phone had been in the bag I had tossed into Nelson's home. It was strange how little I was bothered by the fact that I had given my phone away to prove a point.

I decided I would start fresh. I would find a job, find a home, and write Tom a letter expressing my complete and total gratitude to him for his efforts. I would never forget how selflessly he kept me in his home and cared for me at my weakest hour. Reaching out, I placed my hand affectionately across the hard wood of his front door; as if this were my way of saying farewell in the interim. The red mahogany stain felt smooth against my fingertips, and a slight sadness fell over me as I realised I would miss Tom. Even for one day without seeing his face.

~

Musky old motels were the worst, I thought. How fortunate I had been for Tom to have found me the first time. However, it was a part of my steps to being more independent. I had found a job at a printing warehouse where I was able to learn all about how books were manufactured and printed out every day. I was excited to be a part of an industry that distributed reading materials across the world. Even Tom would have been proud, but I was certain he would only have received my first letter that evening, and might not have read it yet.

It had been four days since I left Nelson behind, and I had tried to find Tom at his book stores to tell him I was okay; however the staff informed that Tom had been sick away from work. I mentioned to them that I would perhaps visit him at home, yet they warned me against doing so. Tom had asked that no one disturbed him until his return. I was concerned, and wished to check up on him, but also didn't want to disobey his wishes if he truly didn't want company.

Nelson had also called me at the motel to apologise for his behaviour. He mentioned that he wanted to take me out to dinner sometime, to which I politely told him I'd rather eat a bowl of burning lava, than to see his face on the other side of a dining table again. I wondered how long it had taken him to track me down to this motel just to ask me out, but then shook my head at the absurdity of it all. It was his mistake to let me go, and it wasn't my problem anymore.

It was late night-time and when a motel attendant, a petite woman with a slight European accent, knocked on my door, "There was a package left for you miss," she informed me while holding it outwards with a smile. It was a small parcel, perhaps the size and shape of a small novel, and the petite lady seemed to think it was sweet that someone had gone to the trouble to send me a present.

"Hell, I hope this isn't from who I think it's from," I exhaled wearily, remembering Nelson's suggestion in sending me a gift. I opened the package up and pulled out a home bound book. The cover was made of coffee stained cardboard paper, and had a picture of a woman surrounded by piles of T-shirts, and wearing only her undergarments. The title of the book read; "Looking Down With Approval," and then captioned, "Be proud to wear anything you damn well like... by Tom Andersons."

"Tom!" I cried out- making the attendant jump with surprise- "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout that," I covered my mouth shyly, "I'm usually very welcoming to strangers, because it can be scary meeting people when not all strangers are very welcoming to begin with, but I wasn't expecting- I mean this, this is something unexpected!" The lady stared at me with confusion as I flipped through the pages, stopping at the entire chapter on cleavage, feeling impressed by how un-sleazy the book was in discussing breasts.

The attendant smiled and left me to flipping through the pages, and then a note fell out from between the pages of the book, gracefully gliding its way to the floor by my feet. I had been sitting on my bed by this point, and reached down for the note, excitedly anticipating Tom's response to my letter.

My Dearest Little One,

What have I told you about staying in dirty little Motels? This is very, very, naughty of you. You have exactly three seconds to put my book away and start packing your things! I expect you showered and back in my lounge room before midnight tonight. Don't make me come tickle you back into my arms Jenny... we both know who wins that game.

Sincerely,

Thomas.

I read the letter possibly five or six times before I actually followed his instructions. Perhaps it was the goofy grin smeared across my face, but I just couldn't get enough of reading his words; those words that always made me feel vulnerable, yet so safe at the same time. I packed my things in under five minutes, and tested my patience with running a hot shower as well.

I ran down to the signing out station with wet hair and wearing the one new outfit I had been able to afford since disposing of all my old possessions. It was a black and green buttoned-up shirt, and a pair of black yoga pants, which I thought were probably considered a wardrobe essential to most modern women. At least, that's what the sales representative told me anyway.

With the promise of Tom waiting for my return I forgot why I had ever thought it was a good idea to live by my lonesome again. Tom was sweet and supportive, and he seemed to want my company, just as badly as I wanted his. I thought of all the things I wanted to say to him, and all the ways I wanted to express my gratitude, and how badly I wanted to be-

I stopped mid-thought; perhaps jolted by a bump the bus had run over, a bump that almost shoved me off of my seat. Perhaps jolted by the words that nearly formed a complete sentence in my head... I wanted Tom to torture me again.

That was weird.

I looked over at the other passengers on the bus, as if concerned that they hear the thoughts in my head. They did not seem to have noticed my private revelation, for none took to raising an eyebrow, or squinting with repulsion in my direction. The world around me continued as it was, while I sat silently, wondering how I had become as unbalanced and absurd as to enjoy being persecuted by Tom.

The bus stopped at my stop and I started a slow thoughtful walk towards Tom's residence. What did this all mean? Nelson and I had always made love in a very to-the-point kind of fashion, nothing was amiss and nothing was uncomfortable or unpleasant about it. I always found the intimacy a pleasant welcome from the mundane day to day activities of my life; I had always been left wanting more and feeling unsatisfied. Even the moments after our intimacy felt empty and lacking.

Tom however, hadn't even touched my most private parts, and I had felt more completed than ever before. He incited sensations all over my body, which steered me to break free from- not just life's monotony, but also... from myself. I felt as though the walls around me crumbled and shattered and dissolved the ground beneath me... yet somehow the anxiety I would feel in such abstract disaster did not have room to exist in the hands of Tom and his manipulation of my body.

I walked so gradually that by the time I had reached Tom's door I was officially 2-minutes-late. Of course, without a phone to tell me the time, I was unaware of it being as late as it was. Tom had been waiting up for me and confessed that he had expected me earlier, worrying something bad had happened on my travels to his house.

"I started to wonder if I should have just come and collected you myself, I don't know what I was thinking having you travel alone at night," he embraced me tightly with relief and joy. When he released me and noticed the deep and distant expression on my face, his relief turned into worry once more, "did something happen?"

"No, Tom," I took a few steps inside his house and turned to face him as he closed his front door, "Tom, is there something wrong with me?"

"Something wrong with you," he repeated in confusion.

"Yes." I hesitated, "see, I've been thinking about certain things that you've done for me." Tom stood awkwardly waiting for me to continue, but I remained silent. Something inside of me wanted him to just know, for his dark eyes to read into my thoughts like they always did, and for him to fix my concerns with his magic words.

"Jenny," Tom started gently, "you're going to have to elaborate for me."

"I was afraid you'd say that," I began, then to mimic an old behaviour, I tried to hide my shameful face behind my hair and stared down at my feet where I was safe from any berating expressions, "I, I'm scared that I enjoyed the behavioural conditioning too much for it to be normal."

"You enjoyed what I did to you?" Tom sounded surprised. As he took steps towards me, I turned my face away, because I was afraid he would fall into my line of sight- then perhaps I would see the look of disgust on his face as well. Tom reached out calmly and tilted my face back up to look into his eyes, they were deeper than usual I felt, however I couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Say that again," he said.

"What?" I looked at him frightfully. Was he really going to humiliate me? Force my confession over and over again?

"Tell me how you enjoyed the way I tickled"- I pulled my face away from his hand feeling the humiliation sinking deep into my skin- Tom reached out with both his hand and cupped my face, forcing me to stare into his eyes and bare their weighty gaze upon my head, "and spanked, and manipulated your little body at my every command, little one. Say it again."

I gulped and mumbled the words, "I think maybe, I liked it too much."

Tom waited until my cheeks were fully blushed, until my palms were damp and shaky against him; my pathetic effort to place something between the two of us. His eyes were taking in the sheer mortification that had carved itself upon my face- and then without another word- he swooped down and flung me over his shoulders. His hand found its way to my bottom and tapped it lightly, playfully almost, and he led me down the hallway and into his bedroom.

"Well this just about settles it," he said sternly, "You're in for it now."

I felt upset at the thought of displeasing Tom, after everything I had been through, losing everything I had and then potentially losing the one person who was always there for me on top of that. Tom would never harm me on purpose, that much I knew, and trusted, for I had his word... but if my true horrible self-had driven him away... then I would be forever saddened by the loss.

Tom threw me onto his bed and stared down at me with a wild expression I had never seen before. He looked at me for that moment and then without hesitation he said, "You realise the circumstances here are very different to what they once were?" I nodded and moved into a seating position, understanding that he wouldn't look at me the same way after this. What if he would send me away to a psychiatric ward and I would forever be shamed for my freakish sexual desires?

"I don't know how this happened Tom," I pleaded in whimpers, "Is this because I... because I have all those anxiety problems? Did it cause some kind of reaction with the behavioural modification treatment and now I can't be fixed? Tom I'm scared." I buried my face in my hands and started to sob.

"What?" Tom shook his head, realising what I had been thinking, "No, no, no, Jenny..." He knelt before me and uncovered my face, "Little one," he simpered, "the circumstances have changed not because something is wrong with you- it's because something is perfect with you."

"What are you talking about, Tom?" I felt like this must be a mistake, I must have misheard his words, or he had misunderstood mine! "I'm not normal."

"That's," he paused for a second and then reached underneath his bed to draw out the chest of random items he kept stuffed in there. He opened the lid and pulled out some rope-

"Please Tom, I don't want to look at them anymore, it's"- he shushed me with his finger to my lips.