Autobiography

Two more reviews, and so many positive ratings! I feel practically spoilt :) Just the one short chapter this update, because I had a busy week, but I will do my best to get the next one out very soon. Happy reading!

*

Margaux closed the door quietly behind her and half-hopped down the hall. Bill had been right, of course, she couldn’t walk on this — but she didn’t need to be carried everywhere, for god’s sake.

She had reached the kitchen door before Robert noticed her.

“What did I say??”

“I’m okay. Really. I just need to keep the weight off it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame me when it still hurts tomorrow.”

“I assure you, that’s going to be the last thing on my mind.”

“Hm. Here’s your tea.”

“Thanks.” She took the chipped white mug from his outstretched paw and started to turn back towards the sitting room. “Where’s Bill?”

“He went out for supplies.”

“…Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. I, um, I just thought you had fixed roles, or something.” That, and I’m not crazy about being here alone with you.

“We usually do. I suppose he wanted to get something specific.”

“I guess so.”

“D’you want me to take that?”

“Hm?” He was looking down at the mug in her hands. “Oh. No. I’m okay.”

“Suit yourself.”

He skirted around her and went into the sitting room. When she eventually got there — moving slowly, in an effort not to spill her tea — Robert was sitting in Bill’s usual spot.

“The match is on. Hope you don’t mind football.”

Margaux shrugged and made a beeline for the armchair. “It’s okay. I’ve got a book.”

He was silent for a moment, watching her find a comfortable position on the chair.

“…Don’t you want to sit over here?”

Not really. “I just wanted some space… For my ankle.”

“What if I insist?”

“…Why would you do that?”

“Because when Bill asks you to do something, you do it.”

She couldn’t really argue with that logic. She certainly couldn’t afford to make him angry.

“Alright.”

“Great.”

He made a show of moving over a negligible amount, and she crossed the room, sitting down on the furthest end of the sofa.

“You can put your foot here.” He gestured to his lap.

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“Margaux. I insist.”

She suppressed a frown and gingerly brought her leg up onto the sofa. He took hold of her knee and heel and manoeuvred her calf into position across his thigh.

“Comfy?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Fantastic.”

Robert flicked on the TV, and Margaux directed her attention to the musty pages of the single trashy novel she’d been able to find.

“Do you like those slushy romances?”

“Not particularly. But there aren’t any other books here.”

“Huh.”

He seemed satisfied enough with that response, and focused on the TV. 

*

His hand rested on her instep.

She ignored it.

It started to move upwards.

His fingers moved back at first, tracing the narrow bridge of her Achilles’ tendon before they moved up to follow the curve of her calf.

“Please don’t do that,” she asked without looking up from her book, hoping that her calm demeanour would prevent an unpleasant response.

“Do what, love?”

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Why not?” She put her book down on the arm of the sofa and shifted back, pulling her leg away so that his hand moved back down to her foot. He pulled it back.

“Please—”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t you like me?”

“…That isn’t a fair question.”

“It’s not my job to be fair. Do you, or don’t you?”

“I…” He had reached her knee. “No! No I don’t.”

“At least you’re honest.” His hand retreated a little, and for a moment she was relieved. 

“It’s… it’s not you specifically… I just don’t want to be here.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

The hand moved back up, Robert’s fingertips stroking the sensitive flesh behind her knee.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

He shifted, turning his upper body towards her. “I won’t even fuck you. Just touch you. Let me touch you, Margaux.”

“No!”

“Well, I asked nicely.”

In one movement, he was pinning her to the sofa, his hand moving up her inner thigh.

“Please don’t do this. When Bill finds out—”

He stopped, looking down at her.

“What makes you think Bill gives a shit about what happens to you?”

Margaux bit her lip.

“…I—I never said that.”

“That’s definitely what it sounded like to me. You know what I think?” He moved in closer. Margaux turned her face away. “I think you’re sweet on Bill. I think you’re just torn up that he hasn’t made a move on you.”

“That’s insane.”

He laughed. The sound frightened her.

“Maybe, maybe not. Do you know what, love? I’ll leave it for now. You’ll come ‘round eventually.” He sat back up and took his hands off her. Margaux sat up as quickly as the pain would allow, pulling her skirt back down over her thighs. She moved to stand and leave the room, but he grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. Sit there and drink your tea.” When she didn’t sit immediately, he pulled her down roughly. “I can beat the shit out of you if I need to, Margaux. Don’t make me do it.”

Margaux sat in silence, holding her mug in trembling hands. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she would have given anything for Bill to come back at that precise moment.