The Story of Mallory Ch. 14bySAWade1968©
Chapter 14 -- Mallory and Kyle Start to Crumble
After their evening out at Sapphire, Mallory could not stop fantasizing about Michael; she daydreamed about him during work, and she fell asleep imagining he was in bed next to her. Kyle rarely paid attention to her anymore, and she was tired of trying to be anything to him, slave, wife, or even friend.
However, as much as she knew her relationship with him was over, there was something keeping her with Kyle; Mallory didn't feel good enough for anybody, he had always made certain of that. They hadn't had sex in months, and she longed to be touched, to be loved; she spent so much time thinking of Michael, and even though Kyle would have been a poor substitute, he was familiar.
Mallory tried time and again to get him interested in her, but he seemed to have more excuses than any woman she had ever heard of; finally, she quit trying. Then, one night while she was sleeping, she awoke to hear him at the foot of the bed, all three of his monitors on.
Just as Mallory sat up in bed, he quickly shut down the power to the computers, turned his chair and made a motion to get out of his chair. It was too late, though, she had seen what he had been doing; he was masturbating to porn on the internet. She burst into tears and confronted him, "I don't understand what is going on," she asked him, "I'm right here, I have been begging you..."
"Christ, Mal," he was angry as he glared at her, "What the fuck is the big deal?"
"It isn't the porn, you know that," she was hurt, but he clearly didn't understand, "It' the lack of intimacy between us. Why would you resort to that when I am right here and have been willing?"
"Because," he replied, "It is a lot easier and doesn't have to be a big deal. I can just take care of myself and not have to worry about you."
She sat there on the bed; so there it was, he didn't want to worry about how she felt, about anything. He would rather jack himself off, than to have her, to feel her, to be connected to her. Wow, she thought to herself, this marriage really is over; what the hell am I doing here?
Michael's presence at work was a much-needed distraction for Mallory; but not in the way Ryan had been, Michael was calming, powerful, and stable. When Mallory was around him, she felt safe in a way she never had before. He could be an intimidating presence, but she was comfortable enough with herself that she was able to ask him out for coffee one day.
While she had no hopes of developing anything more than a friendship with Michael, Mallory smiled giddily to herself as she drove to the coffee shop, thinking about his sexy smile, his beautiful eyes, and his deep voice. They sat down in a corner of Starbuck's and began a conversation that flowed smoothly and quickly; the hours passing far too swiftly.
Mallory was nervous, but acted as charming and flirty as possible as they talked about work, their love lives, and as she confessed her recent affair with Ryan. She desperately tried to act sophisticated and worldly as she described her attitude about having a husband and a lover and how she was just living life and trying to figure everything out.
Michael sat across the table from the chattering girl; he was quiet, listening to her talk, learning her. The more she rambled on about how she had it all together, the less he bought her story, the less he spoke, and the more nervous and rambling she became.
Finally, when she had to leave, he walked her to her car; she didn't want to go, she longed to stay with him, the last thing she wanted to do was to go home to Kyle. However, she could not tell Michael, not after one coffee date; she flippantly said, "Thanks for the coffee, bye," and left him standing in the parking lot.
As she drove away, she saw Michael standing in the lot watching after her; she started to tear up, knowing he knew she was not all she said she was. She pulled over a few blocks away and sat in the car and cried; she could not face going home, not just yet.
The relationship between the pair began to grow over the next several months; however, unlike Mallory's liaison with Ryan, she was getting to know Michael in a deeper way. Unfortunately, the more time she spent with him, the more she realized what a failure her marriage to Kyle was; she just did not have the courage to leave. Besides, she thought to herself, Michael seemed far too perfect to be real; he was like a knight in shining armor, a fairy tale.
Taking things slow and getting to know a man in a mature and profound way was not Mallory's typical milieu, but Michael was so different; she was enjoying this side of herself, he made her feel good. Still, the second she walked in the front door of her condo, she was immediately slapped in the face with reality.
"What do you want me to make for dinner tonight?" she asked Kyle mindlessly looking through the refrigerator one Friday evening.
"I want to get started working on the living room right away," he replied as he looked around the room, "So you can go get us Carl's, Jr."
Mallory audibly groaned, "Really, Carl's, Jr? You know I don't like anything there..."
"Then you can make yourself a sandwich when you get home," he retorted, "I don't care. I feel like a Bacon Western Cheeseburger."
"Seriously?" she was incredulous, "You don't care?"
"Mal," he scowled at her, "You aren't acting like a very obedient slave, don't argue."
Kyle took a $20 bill from his wallet and handed it to her; "Get me my usual and whatever you want for yourself," she raised an eyebrow at him, "Enough of your attitude or you will be punished." She looked away, "Then when you get back, we'll eat and take the furniture to the garage and start sanding the walls. I want to be ready to paint by the end of the weekend."
"Can I drive your car," she looked at him pleadingly, "I'll be careful."
"I guess so," he answered her, "But just this once."
Mallory was excited to drive his car; it was not that it was special, but it was something he kept from her. The fact that he was allowing her to drive it meant he trusted her; maybe this was a positive step in their relationship.
Pulling up to the drive-through at the restaurant, she spoke into the microphone ordering his meal; she thought about something for herself and opted to eat a sandwich at home. When she pulled up to the window to pay, the cashier handed her a huge soda; Mallory had no idea a large was going to be so big, she scrambled trying to figure out how to stabilize the drink.
As she pulled away, she placed the cola in the drink holder situated in the dash; being a German car, the cup-holder was one of the least luxurious items in the vehicle, and definitely not made for the super-sized drinks in America. Mallory made a left-hand turn at the first signal causing the sticky beverage to spill over the dash into the radio and all over her legs. She did her best to scoop up as much of the liquid and ice off of the floor when she pulled up to the next light, but she knew Kyle would be angry.
By the time she pulled into the garage, she was petrified by his reaction and was near tears as she walked in the door carrying his bag of food and the near empty plastic cup. "What the hell's wrong with you," he demanded when he saw her eyes as she tossed the cup into the sink.
"I'm sorry Kyle," she started to back away from him, holding the bag of food out to him.
"Sorry for what?" his mood turning dark instantly.
"I... I... I..." she burst into tears, knowing he cared more about his car than he did about her at that moment.
"Just say it, Mal," he spat at her.
"The soda," she finally cried, "It spilled. It wasn't my fault. I swear. The cup holder was too small. There was nothing I could do."
"You spilled a drink in my car?" he was furious, she knew he would be.
"Yes, but I said," she tried to explain, "It wasn't my fault." She was hysterical by now.
"Get out there and get it cleaned up," he grabbed her by the arm dragging her to the garage.
They worked together cleaning up the sticky mess as best they could; Mallory was amazed at how far the soda had splashed. Every crack and crevice on the dashboard was soaked with the sugary soft drink; and by now, it had started to dry, freezing the buttons on the stereo.
"Mal, do you see what a mess you've made?" he asked rhetorically, "I don't see how we're going to get this out. You are so irresponsible; this is why you aren't allowed to drive my car."
"I know," she was still crying, "I'm so sorry."
When they finally finished cleaning the mess, Mallory was exhausted as she walked into the house; she noticed the bag of dinner still sitting on the kitchen counter. "I guess this is garbage now," Kyle said throwing it into the trash, "You're going to have to go get me something else now."
"Okay," she didn't have the energy to argue with him.
"But not until you're punished," he stated as he started to unbuckle his belt.
"What?" her eyes flashed as she looked at him, "I didn't even know we were doing that anymore, Kyle. You didn't really seem interested anymore."
"I never said we weren't," he stated flatly, "Get in the garage and take your skirt off."
"But, Kyle," Mallory tried to protest.
"Now," he demanded.
Mallory was too scared to object; she could see how angry he was, besides, she thought, she deserved it for spilling the drink. She went to the garage and stepped out of her skirt. It was cold; she waited for what seemed like hours before he finally came out.
"Bend over and put your hands on the car," Kyle's voice was cold and cruel.
As she bent over the car, Mallory could not help but think of the irony of the car playing a part in her punishment. She placed her hands on the hood of the car as she spread her legs and closed her eyes waiting for the first blow.
"Spread your legs farther."
As the skin on her ass started to burn, Mallory's eyes started to tear; not just from the pain, but from the humiliation at being whipped for an accident.
Mallory thought about her role in this relationship; she thought about the punitive treatment she was accepting for a simple error at placing a soda in a poorly designed cup holder.
One more, she thought, and then what will happen? Will he expect her to suck his cock? Will he want sex? She was in the mood for neither, she wanted to run, to flee, to get away.
Mallory heard the sound of him buckling his belt; she collapsed on the hood of the car, her legs shaking. The garage door closed behind him as he walked back into the house; she stayed on the cool hood for a few minutes, crying, until she could compose herself. Gathering her skirt from the floor, she pulled it back up around her waist and walked back into the house.
"What can I go get you for dinner, Master?" she hoped he did not notice her sarcastic tone.
A few weeks later, Mallory had taken a much-needed day off of work; she was relaxing by the pool. She sat back in the sun thinking about her life, she wanted out; maybe I can just get in my car and drive, she thought, drive and drive until I run out of gas. I could get a job as a waitress somewhere; I have always wanted to work in some little greasy spoon diner, working the counter. But then, I would never see Michael again... sigh...
Just then, she looked down and saw she had a text message on her brand new cell phone; she didn't even know why she brought it with her, she had only had it for a week, Kyle just now allowed her to get one.
"Hey, Mallory," it was Michael.
Oh my god, she thought, how do I use this? I have never sent a text.
"Mallory, are you there?" She started to get upset, she wasn't supposed to use texting, and Kyle had warned her that her phone didn't have that feature.
"I can't get texts," Mallory finally replied.
"What do you mean?" he responded, "You obviously got this." He didn't understand what she meant.
"No," she replied, "I mean, I don't have unlimited texting. They are $0.10 each. I am going to get in trouble."
"Trouble?" he asked, "What the hell?"
"Yes," she pleaded, "Please don't text me anymore."
"Fine," he was clearly irritated, "I'll give you the $0.80 tomorrow. Bye."
Mallory was heartsick; she wanted to talk to Michael more than anything but she was terrified of getting in trouble by Kyle. Besides, she really didn't understand a lot about technology, she wondered if he would be able to read every text. She was worried all afternoon.
The next day at work, Michael approached her, "What is this about you 'getting in trouble' about getting a text?"
"Michael," she looked up at him, tears in her eyes, "You have no idea."
"Oh," he stated, touching her cheek, "I think I do. I have been talking to a few people around here; they have no idea how you can be with that guy, Kyle. Everyone says he is a real asshole."
Mallory smiled up at him.
"By the way," he said as he dropped some change on her desk, "Tell the guy here is his 80 cents."