Scott

Book 1 Story 12 – Scott moves from his place as background character, into the forefront as Part 2 – Pieces of the puzzle comes towards it end.

Full list of stories, in order, here

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His whimper signaled the end to her moderate satisfaction. She clung to his sweaty skin in the hopes of one more thrust, but there was nothing left to give. There never was.

The young blond, seven years her junior, rolled off to the side with heavy breaths and a smile that said, ‘You were amazing’. He touched her lips as if to check that she was really there. He caressed her like he couldn’t believe his luck. It was possible he even loved her, but just not enough. Not ever enough to stay.

She told herself every time that this would be the last, but his eyes caught hers as they always did. Those innocent, gentle orbs of green, bordered by thick lashes far too pretty to be gracing a man’s lids. She was the greatest thing in the world to him in that moment. Unfortunately, moments were all they ever had.

It was the same story every time. He’d show up unexpectedly at the dive bar she waitressed in. He’d crack jokes, flutter his eyes then she’d fall for him every time. He had this boyish charm, this innocence about him. His short blond curls never sat right, his lopsided smile was always so hopeful. He was sweet and he was gentle, a rarity in her experience. Their flirtations always ended at the cheap motel where he stayed. No matter the room, it housed the same creaky bed with the same questionably clean sheets. He’d undress her like she was a goddess, awed by every inch of her skin. He’d cry out when he entered her, like it was his first time, every time. He would try so hard not to climax right away but he could only keep it up for so long. She was just too beautiful, too soft and too warm to keep his excitement at bay. 

She was none of those things in reality, but to him, she was all that and more.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, stroking her cheek.

She cracked a smile, wondering how it was he could see her in that way. She was nothing much to look at. Her body sagged in places it shouldn’t at her age. Her face was haggard and hard after years of fending off drunkards. Her hair was long, but thin and malnourished, the mousy brown of her wavy locks dull and without appeal. She may have been thirty, but looked and felt older, yet he saw her in a light she couldn’t even see herself in on the best of days.

She ran her finger along the soft, delicate hairs of his cheek, wondering how such a sweet soul like his survived the abuse that he did. He’d confessed to her long ago what his situation was. He didn’t want to talk about it at first, but the injuries and marks he always sported couldn’t all have been caused by ‘clumsy accidents’. On his second visit, lying in her comforting arms, he told her his story. From what she heard Scott was hopelessly mixed up with some sadist named Stefan, though he hadn’t described him in that manner. In this young man’s eyes, Stefan was some sort of legend. A man of tremendous means and power. A terrible dragon that demanded to be worshipped, smiting all who displeased him. To her, he was nothing more than a bully, a sick, deranged, and incredibly cruel one at that.

Scott was never without recent injuries. Most were minor, like bruises and welts. Some were not. Once, he’d shown up with a dislocated shoulder, treated and nurtured in a cloth sling. The last time Scott came to visit, she was horrified to find his scrotum riddled with heavy gauge rings, each bearing a weight. Little flesh could be seen through the forest of metal. His deranged employer had been increasing the load over days, waiting for him to buckle. She flew off the bed, horrified at the thought of them near her body, but he kept assuring her it didn’t hurt as much as she thought. He even performed some confident squats to prove it. As horrific as all it was, she’d learned early on not to question it, or at least, not to push him about it. He didn’t want to hear it.

She ran a finger down his thigh, caressing an old scar of his. It was about three inches long. It had nothing to do with his current employer, he’d hurt it when he was a kid, but it bothered her just the same. How much longer before he’d be sporting more marks than this?

She sighed before removing her hand. She didn’t often get to see him. What she really wanted was to enjoy his company without images of his injuries in her head. So long as he was here, he was safe. She could wrap herself around him, knowing that he felt comfort instead of pain. It gave her relief to know she could be that for him.

“How long is your sentence this time, Scott?”

He sat up against the bedpost, shaking the sweat out of his hair. “A week.”

“A week!? What the hell did you do?”

His post-coital smile had faded, replaced by a discomforted grimace. “Nothing, he just likes to fuck with me. He knows I don’t like having days off.”

“Isn’t he going to need you?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting in place. It was clear he was no longer happy with the way the conversation was turning. “When I go back, he’ll be pretty angry. He’ll be mad I didn’t do the stuff I was supposed to do because I’m here instead of there.” 

“You’re telling me he’s going to what? Beat you? For not being there to do your job? He’s the one who sent you away!”

“I’ll get everything done! I always do!”

“That’s not the point, Scott! Look at you! You tell me he doesn’t like to leave marks, but you look like you just walked out of a car crash! You’ve got bruises I can’t begin to explain, holes all over you from his sick little experiments! There are cuts, welts, and you still can’t bend one of your fingers after he broke three of them!” 

“That wasn’t his fault! He ordered splints and proper recovery. I ignored it. I had a lot of work to do!” 

“Do you hear yourself?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No! Scott, please, get out of there before he kills you!”

“He knows what he’s doing!”

“Do you!?”

“YES!!’ he said with such conviction, she reflexively jerked backwards. “*I* targeted HIM!!”

She fell back onto the sheets, exasperated. It was the same thing every time, there was no fighting it. The kid was enamored, convinced that every strike made him better, every insult, stronger.

“Is he at least paying you now?” she sighed. “You said you’re head of staff now, what does that get you?”

Looking down, not wanting to answer. “I get a bit, but mostly it’s more responsibilities and the same amount of abuse.” 

“I’ve known plenty of masochists, but you? They need a whole new word to describe you.”

His frustration was becoming evident. She just didn’t get it. “You don’t know him, or know how great he is. He’s a genius when it comes to his work. You have no idea.”

“A genius? He’s just a violent little prick.”

“Come on. Stefan isn’t just some brute. He’s so much better than that.”

A spark of excitement crossed his glimmering eyes. “When Stefan speaks, you listen. EVERYONE cowers at his feet wanting his approval! He isn’t afraid of anything. Nothing!”

She smirked at him in response. “You sound like a six-year-old talking about their favorite superhero.”

“No! No. He’s kinda short, kinda small, but when he comes in a room it’s like God himself coming to smite who he feels like.”

“You really have a way with words Scott.” 

He threw up his hands. “How am I supposed to put what he is in words?”

“Cruel, sick, sadist!”

He balled his hand into a fist, punctuating every word with vigor and conviction. “Formidable! Fierce! Intense!” 

“Did you get a dictionary for Christmas?” she asked, snorting out a laugh.

He ignored her entirely, on a roll. “He’s got these chiseled good looks,” he said running a hand along his jaw. “Severe, with this fearsome spiked hair, and these cold, cold eyes, like they’re looking right into you, figuring you out,” he added, shivering at the thought. “And he’s really strong. Stronger than you think! He’s so perfect… so sinewy…” he said, trailing off. His eyes had become unfocused, confused, as he caressed his own bicep. 

“Scott?”

As if only now remembering she was there, his hand dropped and he sat back, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t even tell if you’re fucking me anymore or if you just keep picturing him.”

His awkward silence was more telling than she would have liked. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, quietly, avoiding her eyes.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Sorry. I’m a bit confused myself.” 

The room fell silent as the young man picked at a thumbnail, his hands between his knees.

“Scott, have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?”

His breath hung in suspension, his eyes nervous and defensive. “Yes.”

“And?”

“So what if it is?”

“It’s wrong! You’re no different from every housewife and girlfriend defending her abuser!”

Any hint of naivete disappeared as he shouted a reply with absolute conviction. “It’s not like that! If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be where I am today! I went in there a pathetic loser, took every one of his hits, every last torture he could dream up and came out of it better! Stronger! I have responsibilities now! I’m needed, I’m valued! People respect me and I earned it!”

For the barest of moments, she saw the strength that he spoke of but it was quickly swallowed by his desperation to convince both her and himself. 

“Do you honestly think he’s ever going to feel the same way about you?”

He shook his head, refusing her words. 

“Then why do you do it?”

He shrugged, still shaking his head looking down, both helpless and confused. He seemed so much younger than he was, so lost. She felt for him. She wanted desperately to help him, if only he would listen.

“Why do you keep coming to me then, if you’re so in love with him?”

He smiled, still staring at the sheets below. “I like you.”

“I’m getting tired of you always leaving once you’ve had me.”

His head shot up, hurt. “It’s not like that at all!”

“Then what is this then?”

His boyish soppy grin had returned as he caressed her bare hip with reverence. “You’re soft, and nice.”

“Is that all I’m good for?”

“No, I like you. I do want to be with you.”

“You gonna stay with me this time, or are you going back?”

He had no answer.

“Scott, I don’t keep doing this because you’re good in bed, because you’re not.”

He removed his hand with a scowl. “Gee, thanks.”

“I keep doing this because I like you. You’re nice, you’re sweet and you’re funny. Think Stefan ever sees that?”

“No.”

“All that adorable charm! All that stupid sense of humor, lost and unappreciated. Do you know how many girls would kill for a guy as nice as you!?”

Defeated at last, Scott lay back down next to her, nestling in. “Am I really that bad in bed?”

“You don’t really know what a woman likes, do you?”

“Something about sticking my thing in your thing,” he replied with his goofy smile, succeeding once again to make her laugh.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because you’re otherwise useless.”

“Oh, I know!” he cried with clear mischief, grabbing her by the breasts. “I just kinda mash these around like this, and then you’re supposed to fall on your knees and give me a blowjob!”

She howled with laughter, grabbing a pillow from behind to pummel him with. “Scott!”

Fending off her attack, he cried “Give me a break! You’re only the second woman I’ve ever slept with!”

Her assault abruptly ended, as did the laughter as she looked at him with confusion. “I thought you said you were twenty-three?”

“I am.”

“You’ve only slept with one other woman?’

“I was kinda a dork before I started with Stefan.”

“You’re still a dork,” she replied, half-heartedly hitting him again. “Don’t you ever sneak off with one of his whores?”

“Just me and my hand,” he dramatically sighed with an outrageous pout.

“Oh, poor you.”

“I’m real good with my hand,” he added, brightening significantly.

“I bet!” 

As the few laughs died down, she motioned him back to her side. “Come here.” He happily turned himself around to let her draw him in. As their breaths slowed and their respective warmth’s melded together, Scott felt the comfort he always sought from her. She held him in her calm, almost motherly embrace. In her arms, nothing would hurt him.

“Scott, I’m warm, I’m soft, and I like being with you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”

He closed his eyes and only listened. “I can give you more, and I want more.”

She could feel him start to tremble. For once she was getting through. “Why don’t you stay with me? You got a week, right?”

He turned back to face her, looking more lost than ever. His eyes seemed desperate to say yes, but his mind was fighting it. She ran a hand up his thigh, passing three angry lines of red, stopping at the fourth. “I would never do this to you. Can’t you see he shouldn’t either?” He shook his head feebly, but she saw the yearning within. “Come home with me. Let me show you what I can offer.” 

He pursed his quivering lips and gave in with the smallest of sound. “Ok.” 

She took his hand in hers and coyly bit her lip. “I can teach you things.”

His mouth curled up in its lopsided way. “Like what?”

She drew his hand down to her still yearning groin and led his finger. “Like all about the magic button that turns a woman on.”

He let her guide him, borrowing the wet from inside to paint a new picture on a canvas he only vaguely knew. She responded with a craving he’d never seen. As she began arching her back, the shrill sound of his phone cut through the moment. All that they were was immediately forgotten as he leapt from the bed and lunged for the table.

“Sir?” he cried out, standing at attention. From the bed Tess could hear Stefan’s vicious bark and host of obscenities. Scott’s eyes darted around, excitement splashed across every pore on his face. “Yes! Yes, Sir!” The offensive verbal barrage abruptly ended as Scott tossed the phone on the table and snatched up his pants.

“I gotta go! He wants me back. He wants me to come back now!” 

Tess sprung to a sitting position, mouth aghast. “What? No wait! I thought you were going to stay?”

Scott did his best to address her face on, but managed only a quick glance as he wrestled with a pant leg, hopping around. “I can’t! I’ve gotta go back! He wants me to come back!”

She sat stunned and dumbstruck as he threw on his shirt and grabbed his overnight bag. “I’m never going to compete, am I?”

Backing towards the door he looked at her one last time before leaving her heartbroken, again. “I’m sorry” he simply said and then left.