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  • Li's Story Ch. 03

Li's Story Ch. 03

12

The warbling of an unnamed songbird seeped into Li's dream. Slowly, reluctantly, she awoke. Sleep had been fitful throughout the night, not so much from the cold, hard floor as the terrible racket Gregory made as he ground his teeth in his sleep.

Her first thought was that it was Sunday, and she had to be back in New York by tomorrow. Her second thought was to check that she hadn't rolled over at some point in the night and spilled anything on Gregory's expensive carpet. She pulled aside the dress she used as an improvised blanket and inspected the detritus from last night. Some had gotten on her dress, but luckily the rest had dried and hardened on her skin.

When she eventually got up to pull on her dress, and realized that he wasn't in the room. A glance at the alarm clock told her that it was pushing nine o'clock. Her first steps towards the door reminded her how savage last night had been. Li was extra tender today.

She entered the living room for what felt like the first time. The night before a combination of fear, darkness, and long unsatisfied lust had kept her from noticing anything about it. A large flat screen TV hung from the far wall, but she noticed the remote control on the coffee table had a thin layer of dust over it. Next to the controller was a well-thumbed special interest magazine on...huh...scuba diving. A series of staccato bangs from the garage told Li that Gregory was working. She took the chance to look about a bit for more hints to Mr. Angry Stoic's character.

The walls were covered with more than three dozen photos. All of them were of men in military fatigues. Gregory was in every one of them. Some of the photos must have dated back by more than ten years, judging by his youthful glow and soft skin on his face. Most bizarre was the fact that he was actually smiling. It was a big goofy grin that showed most of his teeth. Everyone was smiling in the oldest pictures. Li guessed at the chronology of the pictures, based on wrinkles and the fade of the images. There were fewer and fewer smiles as they went on. Fewer and fewer soldiers too. The most recent-looking picture had the date scribbled in the corner. It was from two years ago. Four grimacing men squinted into the camera against the glare of a harsh desert sun. Four from the original twenty. Li hoped it didn't mean what she thought it did.

A sudden bang and accompanying shout shook Li from her musings. She hurried over to the garage door as quickly as her heels allowed her. Gregory was bent over his workbench, sweat dripped from his face while he cradled his hand.

"Are you okay?"

"Fucking peachy." Gregory grimaced, "Hang on, I need to take care of this." He brushed passed her in the doorway. He smelled of freshly split wood with a hint of lacquer.

"Can I do anything to help?" Li offered.

"Yeah, I need another twenty logs chopped like those." He threw his head back towards the garage as he made his way towards the kitchen. Li looked back out. Just beyond the driveway an axe was embedded in a stump with a pile of logs beside it.

"But...my dress...it's expensive."

Gregory yelled back from the kitchen, "Then take it off, princess! It's not anything I haven't seen before!" Li obeyed. She quickly stripped off her clothes and made her way to the stump. The crisp autumn air was fresh on her exposed skin, setting off a wildfire of gooseflesh. At least she didn't have to step on the frost encrusted grass, as he had not said anything about her heels. She hefted the axe up, placed a log on the stump, and took a swing. She missed. Maybe she should take her heels off, but M...Gregory hadn't said so. She hefted it up again, more careful with her balance this time, and her swing struck home. In a few minutes she had split several armloads of logs.

Gregory came back into the workshop, his left hand bandaged up. Li saw the look of genuine shock on his face when he saw her, and how quickly he covered it up.

"What the hell are you doing, woman?"

"I did as you told me, sir. Where do you want the wood?" Gregory vaguely gestured somewhere near his workbench, and then sat back to admire the view. Stockings, heels, garter, and bra. That was all Li had on her. She had preferred to go without any panties for the date last night, leaving her exposed to the forest.

She could feel his eyes on her, and she couldn't resist giving a little show. Crossing her feet on every step as she went from the stump to the garage and back, bending down with legs straight and back arched to really advertise her rump. She hardly noticed the splintered wood digging into her.

"Why did you take off your dress?" He gathered her scanty outfit in one hand, thrusting it at her like an accusing finger.

"You ordered me to, sir."

"I was fucking joking! I told you, I am not your goddamn master!" In a few powerful strides he was outside, and hurled the dress among bushes. Li started to move to fetch it, he grabbed at her the throat and bodily dragged her back inside, "Here's a fucking order: leave it." He launched her backwards. She went teetering out of control and banged against the garage wall.

"This slut is sorry, sir."

"Shut up!" Gregory raged, "You! You are going home. Right fucking now."

"My car is still at the bar, sir."

"Stop calling me that! I'll drive you there, and then you can fuck off. I don't need this shit." He dug into his jean's pockets and fished out the keys to his pick-up truck.

"There will be bruises..." Li whispered.

"What?"

"B-bruises. There will be bruises on me...in me. If I-if-if I go and-"

"And what?" Gregory pressed his face right up against hers, "And you go where? Tell people what?"

Li shrank back, "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was talking about..." A few tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Jesus woman, what the hell is wrong with you?" Gregory stepped back and let her collapse down to her haunches. She wanted to ask him that same question, but thought better of it. Instead, once she had composed herself, they went to the couch in the living room and they talked. Or rather, she talked while he had a face set in steel.

She told him about her life, about growing up in Tianjin with her parents. How every minute of her life had been structured from the word go, and how she excelled in school, as a violinist, as a gymnast. She told him how she faltered when she came to the US on a scholarship, how she was nearly sent back, how Richard...how Master gave her back the discipline and structure she craved. How her sterling performance, thanks to him, won her a green card and eventually citizenship. She told him how happy she had been with him for eight years, how in love she was, and how they nearly got married. She told him how only her insistence on remaining a slave rather than becoming a family member had stopped that. She told him about the accident.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Gregory's eyes flicked to the pictures on the wall at the mention of Richard's death. There was a miniscule change in his face after that; an ever so slight softening around the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Gregory finally spoke, "You're clearly trying to fill the void, but I am not the person for that."

"You are!" Li blushed a little at how desperate she sounded, "I'm...I'm sorry. Maybe you're not. But you have this...this same quality that Richard had. I don't know what it is, pheromones or body language or just something in your voice. But I can't find something like that and ignore it!"

"So what's stopping me from just making you say that you want to go home?"

"If you're not a Master, how do you know about safewords?"

"Safeword my ass, little girl. I'm just not a fucking rapist. Now answer the question."

Li squirmed a little, "It...it would take a lot to make me say it."

"Right," Gregory stood up, "I'm getting your dress, then I'm taking you back to your car."

"Please! One day!"

"Fucking hell...last night was fun but I do not need this shit."

"Twenty-four hours is all I ask. if your mind's still made up, you won't hear from me again." Li pleaded. Gregory marched past her, but paused at the doorway to the garage. He spoke without turning to face her.

"Twenty-four hours? In that time I am going to teach a goddamn lesson you crazy bitch. I am going to make you scream that-that fucking... 'safeword'."

#

The Lexus shot down the highway back to New York. All of Li's worldly possessions were loaded in the car, not that there were much of those: A few suitcases of clothes, all of which Richard had bought her. A duffel bag with whatever remained of the money she had not invested with Richard's brother Theo, as well as a little mahogany box containing her nipple piercings. But cushioned by the bricks of money was her most treasured possession, resting safe in its case: her Stradivarius. Master had given it to her as a gift when she was head-hunted by the orchestra. Under a technical reading of the will the violin should have gone to Theo. But he must have known how much it meant to her, and insisted that she keep it, his wife's highly vocal protests notwithstanding.

Without Gregory's presence or that deep, nearly infrasound quality in his voice, Li's thoughts finally started to normalize, and she could reflect on her behavior. Just as she had done on the way to his home, once she had left him she could only chastise herself for her stupidity. Was she ever like that with Richard? She must have been, but he surely had enjoyed that. Gregory wasn't a master and she was trying to force him into a role he would never accept. Twenty-four hours was all she had to be a slave again.

Or not. With a growing knot in her stomach, she realized he had agreed to nothing except to make her beg to go back home. Shit. What had she gotten herself into? She gripped the steering wheel tightly and scowled at herself. She would take whatever that grumpy bastard threw at her. He would never agree to take her in, but she would at least not be the one to break.

She pulled into her reserved parking spot at the conservatorium, surprised to see that she in fact still had one, and quickly made her way inside to the stage. She was running late, most of the orchestra had already taken their places. More than a few of the members gave her curious glances, a few muttered greetings. The conductor tapped for silence just as Li got to her position, and the hall hushed.

The air reverberated under the weight of a hundred instruments. Li could feel the power of the trombones in her breast, the lilt of the flutes in her ear, the cello riding up the nape of her neck, the piano rent the air with expert strokes. Ride of the Valkyries made her soar. Flight of the Bumblebee sent her heart racing with joy. Moonlight Sonata lulled her to a serene calm.

Eventually came the part she had been dreading: solo examination. There was less than a month until the orchestra left to tour in Europe, and everyone had been practicing hard in preparation. Everyone, that is, except Li. She wasn't concerned until she realized that there were some faces among the ensemble she did not recognize. One young man she knew to be an understudy of a rather sweet middle-aged oboe player.

All too soon it was her turn in the spotlight. The harsh white lights blinded her to the seating, but she knew the director was up there somewhere. Behind, the orchestra was watching her, analysing her. She realized she was sweating. The conductor looked up at her from under bushy, grey eyebrows, and offered a kind smile. She felt a little better.

"Right, same piece as before. Take it from the first refrain!" The director's voice ordered from the darkness. Li nodded and, trembling a little, put her bow to the strings. It felt like she had barely started when the director yelled again, "Stop! Stop! Lights up!" The seats glowed to life, and the director stomped his way down the aisle. He was a twenty-something hedge fund baby with way too much product in his hair. Her colleagues used to snidely remark that he only got the job because his daddy owned half of Manhattan, and was owed more favours than dollars. But as much as the players mocked him behind his back, he had proven to be surprisingly competent in his role. "Ms. Hsu. What, exactly, was that?"

She lowered the violin from her neck, "That was Mozart's-"

"Your performance, Ms. Hsu. I understand you have been through some...problems...and it has been a while. But that was nothing short of appalling and we have little over three weeks to be in prime condition."

"If I could just get one more-"

"No, no, next. We will talk about your future later."

"Please mister-"

"Next!"

#

Li banged her head against the locker. A tin hidey-hole backstage for the musicians, and not for her anymore. There wasn't much inside, just a small make-up case for touch ups before shows, and a bottle of perfume. Fuck she needed some proper discipline!

"Li, I'm sorry." Li turned. Tyra was looking at her with her large dark almonds eyes set against caramel skin, "The prick was out of line. I mean hell, he could have at least been tactful after everything." As petit as Tyra was, she made up for it in her fierceness. Black curls jangled just over her shoulders and sprang to life with her almost caricature-like expressions.

"It's okay." Li gave Tyra a hug, "I wouldn't even have had this chance if not for you."

"Sisters need to look out for each other. Hey how about we go and get a drink? I think you could use one or ten."

"Sorry Ty, I need to head back to New England. I'm meeting someone there."

Tyra narrowed her eyes, "A man?"

Li paused for a moment. There was ice in Tyra's voice. "Yeah."

"I put my job on the line to give you time to grieve. The first words I hear from you after that is you have a date. Now, here you are, freshly kicked out of the orchestra and the first thing you do is go running after another man? What the hell, Li?"

"What? Why is this even an issue with you?"

"Why are you constantly defining yourself in relation to men?" Li blinked and shook her head, "When you were with Mister Superstar you wouldn't talk to anyone. After a rehearsal or concert you would run out of here so fast in those dainty little heels of yours so you could be pretty on his arm again! And now-"

Li slapped her. She had never struck anyone in her life before. Tyra reeled under the impact. "Don't you ever talk about Master that way!" She caught herself too late.

Tyra's eyes were on fire, "Master? What the fuck did you say?"

Li let her anger be her courage, "And never speak to me that way again!" She shoved Tyra out of her way and stormed out of the building.

#

Li's car crept forward over the rough dirt track to Gregory's house. Sudden ditches and fallen branches threatened to burst a tyre or a dent the chassis, threats which Gregory's truck barrelled over without a second thought. It was made all the more difficult for her with the mottled shade of the leaves dancing in long, erratic movements to the failing dusk sun.

Li shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. She had bought a new set of clothes before leaving New York. Nothing fancy, just a pair of jeans and a cheap white t-shirt. In all likelihood Greg would put her to work chopping wood or cleaning the lodge until she was bored out of her mind. If that was the case she wasn't going to do it any of her dresses that Richard had bought her. They were all too expensive or too revealing.

Unfortunately, she was distracted either by her fight with Tyra or the ominous evening that loomed ahead, and she absentmindedly bought all of the clothes in her old dress size. The jeans constricted savagely around her skin. It had taken her a good five minutes of huffing and puffing to get them on, and her shirt gripped so tightly that nothing was left to the imagination. It was certainly made clear to the world that she had nipple piercings.

The worst experience of the day was when it came to packing. Her suitcases had already been stuffed to the point of bursting, and there was no more space in the car for another one. With time running out, Li hastily tossed out her oldest set of clothes to make space for the new one. It had been exceptionally difficult. She had paused at the big Salvation Army bin, clinging to the deep azure dress Richard had bought her. It was an evening gown for when they went to restaurants or some other formal affair. She sniffed it, hoping to catch the last whiff of his scent. She believed that she could remember every moment she had felt his touch through its material. She let go.

Walking away from the bin, she had felt lighter. A weighty imprint of her past was gone. For a moment she contemplated throwing all of her old clothes out, but she knew she couldn't go through with it. Anyway, some of those dresses were really expensive.

Her car finally trundled into the forest clearing. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw two unfamiliar cars by the garage. Neither of them looked new or upmarket, one was made more from rust than anything else. Clutching the steering wheel a little too tightly, she carefully drove to the side of the garage so as not to park anyone in.

Stepping out of her car, Li found the forest in a deep hush. Even the birds seemed to be holding their breath. As she walked past the two old cars she peered through their windows, hoping to garner some hint as to who might have driven them. Other than overflowing ashtrays, they could have belonged to the pope for all she could guess.

Her knock at the door landed heavy and loud, echoing the thumping in her breast. She held her hands in front of her and waited. A minute passed, then another, nothing happened. A sense of nostalgia came over her. She was waiting for her Master to acknowledge her again. She shook her head. Gregory wasn't her master and had no desire to be. He was only trying to get rid of her. As she was about to knock again, the door finally opened. Gregory's meaty frame filled the doorway. He had trimmed his beard back to a slightly more civilized length. He was also wearing jeans and a polo-neck shirt. Li groaned inwardly. Chores and wood chopping it's going to be.

"You came." He said in way of greeting, "Come inside, they are waiting."

"Who are 'they'?" He didn't answer. He only closed the door behind her, gripped her firmly by the arm, and led the way to the living room.

CNN chattered quietly on the TV, and the coffee table was a junkyard of beer cans in a field of crisps turned to shrapnel. They had been at this all day. Oddly, the last thing she noticed was the stranger sitting on the couch. He was bent over, elbows on knees and chin in hands. Chubby and cleanly shaven, he was Gregory's opposite.

"Where's Dex?"

"He's hitting the head. This her?" Gregory gave an almost imperceptible nod. The stranger stood and offered his hand with a warm smile, "Hi, I'm Ian. It's nice-"

"Sit down, moron. That's not why she's here." Ian sheepishly sat down as Gregory deposited her squarely in front of the couch, blocking the TV. From one of the doors Li had never gone through another stranger entered the room, Dex presumably. He was skinny to the point of emaciation, and his leathery, tanned faced sported a scraggly beard. Li guessed the rust bucket outside to be his.

"She's a Jap!" Dex walked up to her for a closer inspection. Li kept her eyes down and at the coffee table, "One that knows her place, but still a fucking Jap. You know my granddaddy fought you fuckers back in '45? Lost his goddamn leg."

"Please sir, I'm Chinese."

"Chink, Jap, whatever."

"Dexter, sit down and stop being such an asshole." Ian growled.

"Oh what are you going to do, lard-ass?"

"Dex!" Gregory barked.

"Fucking whatever man." But he did eventually sit down on the couch, as far from Ian as he could. Gregory loomed behind the couch, eyeing her half angry, half hungry.

12
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