A Matter of Taste - Chapter 8

We kept fucking, because I didn't know what else to do to keep him from worming his way under my skin, and because every time we did it made it harder to stop. If I called an end to it, if I refused him or failed to rise to his bait when he taunted me, then I'd be as good as admitting defeat. He'd want to know why, and the only explanation I'd have was because you're driving me crazy, and if I went and admitted that, there'd be no living with him. He'd probably strut around, beaming and proud, until he drove me to homicide.

Even worse than that was that he couldn't ever accept no for an answer. I told it to him, time and again, but no matter how many times I refused, he still asked me to come over to his place, or to have supper with him after work, or to close the shop for a day and take in the city with him. He kept trying to kiss me, though none so blatantly as the times before. He didn't pull me to him and claim what I wouldn't give, but I could tell he wanted it when we were pressed together, when he bent his head and hesitated, just for a breath, before pressing his mouth to my jaw or my shoulder or my throat. Sometimes, if I blinked my eyes open when we were both shuddering and on the edge, I caught him running his tongue over his lip or working it between his teeth until it was flushed red and tender, and I knew that it was because he was aching for the pressure of a mouth against his, the bite of teeth and rough scrape of stubble.

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 7

Most days, I walked from my shop to Corine's house weighed down with weariness from the long grind of another day's work. Today hadn't been any shorter or any easier, but the way it had ended had left me with a glowing sense of satisfaction and well-being. I should have found someone to fuck like that years earlier. After so long a time, it was easy to forget just what it was like, just how good it could be. I'd forgotten the way my skin hummed after being thoroughly fucked, the way everything good seemed better and everything bad seemed less consequential. The walk to Corine's was full of hills, and normally I dragged myself up them each in succession, wishing she were closer or my shop were elsewhere or my legs were stronger. But today, they seemed half as steep as they ever had before, and I climbed them easily.

Half of my satisfaction with the encounter came from the fact that it had been with Bansi. After weeks of enduring his presence, of trying to chase him off only to fail over and over again, of ranting and raging and doing everything I could think of to get him to leave me alone, only to have him turn back up the next day, and the next, it was glorious to turn the tables and finally be the one controlling the tone of the encounter. No more pleas, no more bribes, no more entreating eyes and sad, sad faces, just Bansi and me and the pleasure that I could take from him. All his little gifts and indulgences, and this was all I truly wanted from him. 

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 6

Bansi, for once, was as good as his word. He came by my shop every day that week, and the next, smiling at me like he was a friend come by to visit, not an unwelcome distraction. He flirted with my customers and discussed merchandise with them and brought me another basket of oranges to replace the one I had thrown out. This time, his smile didn't waver at all when I took them and threw them out back with the others.

He brought me lunch, when I was busy enough to justify keeping the shop open. I stared at it, arms crossed, mouth tight, trying to ignore the rumbling of my stomach because I knew I couldn't accept his bribes. If I gave in once, he'd take it for a victory, and then I'd never be rid of him.

I threw the lunches out, too. Undeterred, he brought me pears and decadent pastries laden down with butter and sugar. And he watched me with that same damned smile as I threw every one of them out, and said, "That's all right, I'll bring more tomorrow," as though I'd spoiled them by accident.

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 5

"Papa!" Elodie threw her arms about my knees and pressed her face against my trouser leg, mumbling against the weave, "Don't want to go."

I crouched down and scooped her up into my arms, made a show of stumbling beneath her weight. "Goodness! Did you grow in your sleep again?" She giggled, pleased, and then squealed with laughter when I pressed kisses against her throat. "What did Papa tell you? No fair growing up while my eyes are closed."

She laughed, then put her hands against my cheeks and held me back. "Papa," she said reproachfully.

I relented, and held her against my hip while I gathered up our things. "You're going to go play with Yvas and Aunt Corine. You love playing with Yvas."

She shook her head, her face set in a stubborn scowl. "He bit me."

"He what? The devil! I'll bite him back."

She relented, smiling, and leaned in against me, arms hooked around my neck and face smashed against my shoulder, like if she held on to me hard enough I wouldn't leave. "You wouldn't."

"No? Watch me. I'll bite him right on his behind, and tell him that's what he gets for not playing nice with my daughter."

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 4

I had to leave Leisl to get the midwife, though I hated to do so. I ran with all the strength in my legs and fell against the midwife's door, pounding my fist upon the boards with the last of my energy. When it opened, swinging inward, I stumbled and nearly landed in a pile at the woman's legs.

I didn't have to say anything. She took one look at my face and said, "Yes, I'm coming." She retreated inside the house only long enough to grab a bag, and then she was running, too, her feet flying down the street with an energy I no longer possessed.

I followed slower, sick with exhaustion and worry. When I reached my home, the front door was gaping open like the midwife had been in too great a rush to spare even the time it would have taken to close it, but the bedroom door was shut firmly between us, and the whole place smelled like a butcher's.

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 3

It should have been easy to remove Bansi from my life. I wanted it to be. But we had begun to build the image of our future as it lay before us, and I had been adjusting my life in that direction for the past year or more. Every day, it seemed, brought with it new reminders of what I had lost. Of what had been taken from me.

I felt empty, bereft. I felt as though a thief had come in the night and taken everything that mattered most to me. I wanted to track it down, to claim my life and return things to the way they were meant to be.

But there was no thief, only Bansi, and what I wanted from him couldn't be taken, only given.

I moved on. I worked, because work always needed to be done, and it gave my hands purpose and my mind focus. I still went to the market, and smiled through all the inevitable questions about why Bansi wasn't there at my side. I visited with Ilis and Corine, and I bounced Yvas upon my knee so they could work, and slowly, I was able to hold him and play with him and look on his bright, toothless smile without feeling the ache of the child I had wanted, and thought I'd nearly had.

Two months on, I had built a semblance of peace from the wreckage of my life with Bansi when a knock at the door came while I was working on my accounts.

A Matter of Taste - Chapter 2

A few days later found us wandering through the market on a lazy weekday morn. I had been trying to work, but Bansi had convinced me to let it be for a few hours, had cajoled with his beguiling smile and pleading eyes.

I was unaccustomed to leisure. It felt ill on me, as mismatched as if I'd tried on Ban's clothing, all embroidered ribbons and silk brocade. But it distressed Ban to see me work so, constantly, even as we talked and laughed through the evening. So I set my work aside and smiled and let him draw me out of the house, all the while calculating how I could make up the lost time. Ban would have frowned at me, if he'd known my thoughts, but I couldn't help it. It was who I was, and how I lived.

"Renad!" The shout went up across the hubbub of the market. It wasn't Bansi's, so I turned my head to seek its source, surprised by the interruption.