4

Oscar

I hate the way she’s wiggling her ass as she moves.

She doesn’t even realize she does this.

Dolly stands in the center of my minimalist apartment, and she turns to look at me. Despite everything, my dick doesn’t seem to get the message that she’s bad for me.

For us.

She’s going to tear me apart if I let her, but oh, I want to let her.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Hand me your stuff,” I say. She slides off her jacket and hands it to me. I feel inside of her pockets, but they’re empty. She’s standing in her black dress pants and her white blouse.

She looks beautiful.

“Take off your shoes.”

She does.

“Phone.”

I hold my hand out.

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

She pulls it out of her pocket. There are a dozen missed calls from her brother. I’m sure he’s going crazy trying to find her. Good. He can afford to worry a little bit.

I drop it on the floor, and I step on it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dolly cries out. She moves to stop me, but I hold my hand up. Instantly, she stops moving. She stands still.

I reach for the broken phone, and I take it into the kitchen. There’s a hammer in my bottom drawer, and I pull it out.

“Oscar, don’t.”

“Shut up, Dolly.”

Three good strikes and the phone is really dead. I toss it in the trash, and I look at her.

“You’re mine now,” I say.

“What?”

“You’re mine. Whatever life you led before, it’s over. You don’t get to go back to normal. You betrayed me, Dolly. You abducted me. I trusted you, and you hurt me.”

“Oscar…”

“Take off all of your clothes.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you escaping,” I say. “And I don’t want you secretly calling for help. Take off your clothes.”

“But I…”

“Do it, or I call the cops.”

She juts her chin forward. For just a second, I think she’s going to tell me to go ahead and call the cops, but to her credit, she doesn’t.

Instead, she reaches for her top button, and she undoes it.

Then the next.

And the next.

And the next.