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Post by Amy Is Ben's Love Freak on Jun 6, 2007 13:05:54 GMT -4
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Post by Amy Is Ben's Love Freak on Jun 25, 2007 9:46:44 GMT -4
Through A Window
Ben looked longingly out of his study window, over at her house, which was almost directly opposite his. He had chosen it for that reason. The curtains were drawn across the windows, no doubt to stop him looking in. But he could still see a pale glow of light coming from the house. He let his own curtain fall back into place.
He looked around gloomily at his own house. The table was still set. She was supposed to come to dinner that evening. He still hadn’t given up hope that she would come. He could remember when she had come to dinner every Saturday evening – no excuses. She’d come with a smile, and a laugh that would lift his heart. They would joke together and she stayed long after the meal was over. Since Goodwin she’d been coming less frequently, and when she did come she seemed awkward, sullen even, and she never stayed longer than she had to. Then the meals had dwindled down to nothing, and she stopped bothering to make excuses. They both knew the real reason she didn’t come anymore. And part of it was Goodwin.
He moved to the table, with its two matching plates, the ones she had fallen in love with, the two matching wine glasses, two matching sets of cutlery, the one almost melted candle in the middle of the table, a mere stump. The lasagna he had spent so long preparing, putting so much care into, to get it exactly how she liked it, lay on the side in the kitchen, cold and soggy untouched. Next to it was the unopened bottle of wine, in the almost melted ice bucket.
He stared into the candle momentarily, before extinguishing the flame between his finger and thumb. The house was thrown into darkness. He moved back to the curtain quickly, resuming his most frequented haunt. He pulled the curtain aside once more, gazing over to her house, where the light still shone. Two houses down from hers, the lights also shone in Goodwin’s house. This made Ben feel slightly better, because if one house was dark it meant they were together. Touching. Kissing. Goodwin touching the woman Ben loved. If he hadn’t seen them go into their own houses separately he would still expect them to be together, even if both sets of lights were on.
The stars were unusually bright that night. He hated the fact that she had reduced him to watching on, as another man touched her. He hated the fact that he had been reduced to watching her, from his window like a jealous child. At least they weren’t spending the night together. It was probably due to him. He was always there, interrupting, knocking, disturbing, pretending he had urgent matters to discuss. Neither he nor she could hide their anger at each other, it showed clearly on their faces, yet Goodwin was oblivious, only showing a hint of annoyance as night after night his love making was interrupted by his boss.
Of course, she didn’t care if he was the leader of their community or not. Every time he showed up on the doorstep, she would tell him with forced politeness that they were busy at the moment, and couldn’t it wait until morning? This made him angrier because he knew she was naked under her robe. And he couldn’t have her. That’s why he would appear three of four times a night, as he would ‘remember’ something that couldn’t wait. She was always very polite in front of Goodwin.
The next day would be different of course. He would turn up at her lab, watching her for a few minutes, while she didn’t realize he was there. Then he’d make himself known, with a cough or a knock or a simple ‘hey’. Then she would yell at him, no longer sweetness and smiles. And then nine times out of ten, they would have hot, angry, passionate sex right there on the floor, knowing all to well that Goodwin could walk in at any minute.
When they were finished she would tell him that she hated him, and go back to her work as if nothing had happened. But they both knew she loved it. He was better than Goodwin. He could tell by the way she moaned his name over and over and over again. He wondered if she ever called his name when she was with Goodwin. That would be an awkward situation for her. He wondered what Goodwin would do if he found out that she was cheating on him with her ex.
Ben often wished that Goodwin would walk in on them, so he would know that she belonged to Ben and only Ben. It would be so gratifying to see the turmoil that would show up on Goodwin’s face. Fighting for her would mean going against him, Jacob and the island. Ignoring it, pretending as if nothing had happened would mean losing her, and this was one Ben had already been through. It was pure agony.
There had been no sex that day. She had stayed in the house all day, and he had only caught glimpses of her as she walked past her windows. She had come out at 2:38 for 7 minutes to talk to Adam about something he couldn’t hear. She had seen him though, watching her from the window, he didn’t try to hide what he was doing. Not once did he take his eyes off of her. She couldn’t hold the eye contact; a frown had crossed her beautiful face, and she had gone back inside, rather faster then she normally would have done. She had pulled the curtains on then, even though it was still daylight outside. Adam had waved cheerily to Ben, not realizing anything was wrong, and not waiting for a response. He wouldn’t have got one.
Mindless drones.
The pale glow suddenly disappeared from her house; she had turned the lights off. For a few moments he struggled to make out the house in the darkness. He glanced at his watch, it was twenty to eleven, she must be having an early night.
She looked so beautiful when she slept. He had stood over her, many times, just watching as she slept. She didn’t know he was there, she didn’t know that her locked bedroom window could be opened from the outside – she didn’t know that she wasn’t safe behind her keys.
And she didn’t know that she called out his name in her sleep.
She wanted him.
He wanted her, he craved her, he needed her. He needed her more than anything else in the world. He wanted her now, to hold in his arms, something they never did in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He wanted to make love to her now.
He let his curtain fall back into place one last time. He slipped out of his front door, closing it quietly behind him. He stalked quietly over to her house, keeping to the shadows. He skirted round the edge of her house, to her bedroom window. He had memorized it’s position a long time ago, he could have found it blindfolded. The window was already open, almost as if she was expecting him. The sweet scent of her spilled out into the night air.
In the gloom of the interior he could make out her huddled form beneath the covers. Quietly he hoisted himself through the window, careful to make as little noise as possible. She didn’t stir. He padded softly across the carpet to the bed, and got in as smoothly as possible so he didn’t disturb her.
Under the covers he reached out with one hand and ran it slowly down her back. Something was wrong though. She was too… soft. He whipped back the covers to reveal three pillows in the shape of a sleeping body. A piece of paper was pinned to the middle pillow. Hand’s shaking with anger he ripped the note off of the pillow to read:
“Sorry Ben, tonight I’m sleeping with Goodwin.”
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Post by Amy Is Ben's Love Freak on Jun 25, 2007 9:47:36 GMT -4
What You Do to Me
The lights were on, and the curtains were drawn, yet it was still light outside. But Juliet knew what she would see if the curtains were drawn back. Him. Watching her from his own house, a forlorn look on his face, disguising the true evil that he was. She paced the house anxiously. He had been expecting her for dinner that night. He would be angry that she hadn’t came. Again. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t sit there anymore, pretending things were fine between the two of them. As if Goodwin didn’t exist. She couldn’t play that game anymore.
That night she was supposed to be seeing Goodwin. A bit pointless really because they both knew he would interrupt her and Goodwin. He was always there, ruining her life. Telling her that if he couldn’t have her, no one else could. He would stare at her, looking through her thin robe, knowing all to well what she and Goodwin were doing. He could see right through her in a way that no other man could. Even clothes weren’t a protection from him.
Juliet wasn’t normally a violent person, but when he was there at that moment, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk on his face she wanted to do nothing more than punch him. But of course, that wouldn’t bother him. He was willing her to do it with his eyes, telling her to punch him. He knew that if she did that, then she would have to tell Goodwin everything. Goodwin. He never seemed to understand or even realise what was going on between her and his boss then, as they had conversations without words. Of course Goodwin wasn’t as clever as his boss. No one was. The man was a genius. An evil genius.
It annoyed Goodwin every time his boss turned up on his doorstep. Yet he took it all with a pinch of salt and a smile and listened to everything his boss had to say even if it was complete rubbish, not realising that she was standing, fuming behind him. Finally when she got sick of his smirk she would tell him to leave it and then almost slam the door on his face. Then it should have just been her and Goodwin. But he would show up every night, more than once.
She sunk back onto her sofa, opposite the curtains. She had no doubt that he was there, now, watching her, wondering why she hadn’t showed up for dinner yet. It was quarter past eight. The meal would be there, still warm, straight from the oven, deliciously mouth watering. He was a very good cook. In fact he was probably the only man on the island who could actually cook something. Goodwin could make pasta. But that didn’t really count.
She walked absentmindedly over to her mirror, brushing her blonde hair with her fingers, before pulling a face and slumping back on the sofa. Things hadn’t always been like this between the two of them. They had been friends…lovers. She had once enjoyed his company, his laugh, the private jokes they shared. The kisses. The love making.
But she had Goodwin now. Someone who let her be own her person. Goodwin would have let her leave the island. Goodwin knew that the work they were doing was pointless. Goodwin wasn’t a controlling egomaniac. Goodwin was… just Goodwin.
She wandered into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich; she was barely hungry, she ate it to have something to do. She wondered what he would do with the food he had made. Would he throw it away? Or would he eat it himself?
He had been making it that afternoon, she could smell it when she stepped outside to talk to Adam, about the next book club meeting. It had wafted its way out of the open window, tantalizing and delicious. Adam had commented on it, and she had realised that she was supposed to be eating it. She had looked over at his house and had been surprised to see him there. Watching her, a look of malevolence on his face, eyes narrowed, mouth pressed tightly together. She had no idea how long he had been standing there, but it made her uncomfortable, knowing that he was watching her. It had scared her slightly, so she had made her excuses and rushed back into the house.
When she had gone to draw on the curtains he was still watching, his eyes locking onto hers, looking deeper then anyone else could. She had quickly pulled the curtains on, and then she had fallen to the ground. Crying.
She wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. He seemed to know everything about her, every memory, fear, every sensitive spot. He’d managed to ruin their amazing relationship, out of selfishness and greed. He couldn’t let her go home and be with her sister. Who was probably dead now. The thought bought tears to her eyes. He had never shown any sign of keeping his part of the deal. Instead she had been here for 2 years, always wondering what had happened to her sister.
She wiped the tears away. She had cried enough today. Goodwin was expecting her later, but she didn’t want to go if he was just going to follow. She couldn’t leave the front door without him seeing. Besides perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing not to sleep with Goodwin tonight. Because she knew the next morning she wouldn’t be sleeping with Goodwin, but him.
She hated that he could control her like he could. Making her hide away in her house. Making her want him even though she had Goodwin. Every morning he would come to her lab and announce his arrival casually, knowing all to well what was going to happen between the two of them. She couldn’t help herself. When she was angry with him he was suddenly extremely attractive. And it didn’t help either that he could make her do anything with one touch. But at that moment she had to have him, all thoughts of Goodwin out of her mind, and it was him, his name that she moaned over and over again, not Goodwin’s. There were brief times when she craved that they were back together as if nothing had happened, so she didn’t have to be sneaking around. But those moments passed quickly.
But of course when it was all over, Goodwin’s face would come back to her, and she would realise what she had just done. It would bring her back to earth with a bump, and where before she had wanted him, she now wanted him to just leave. When he didn’t she would tell him she hated him, but he would always laugh it off. They both knew the truth. So he would stay always touching her, playing with her hair. She shuddered to think of what would happen if Goodwin would walk in. Although that would probably make his day. Giving the game up to Goodwin.
Juliet almost did that on her own anyway. She would dream about him at night, and wake up calling his name. As far as she knew, Goodwin didn’t know. And she thanked God that both of them didn’t know. She would never hear the end of it from either of them. She wished she had never come to the island.
That morning she had decided not to go to work. She wondered if Ben had been there looking for her. Well she wasn’t going to sleep with him again. No more angry sex. Just love making with Goodwin. Although that would probably change, the next time she got angry at him. He let her do it, knowing that there would be a ‘reward’ at the end for him. Stupid manipulator.
Why couldn’t she have a relationship without cheating? When she was with him, she had kissed Ethan, and now she was with Goodwin she was sleeping with his boss. Her boss. Her ticket off of the island. The ticket that she would never have. He was never going to let her go.
It was almost time to go see Goodwin. She would be followed she knew, but she couldn’t think of way otherwise. She got changed in her bedroom, glad that the curtains were on. She had a feeling that he would have gladly watched her get changed. She always kept the windows and doors locked when she slept, to make sure he couldn’t get in. But she was sure that somehow he got in. When she woke up in the morning, things would have been moved, and she would have the feeling that she had been watched.
One night she hadn’t locked the doors and windows, they had slept together. He just came into the house like he owned it. Like he owned her. Well tonight she was sleeping with Goodwin, not him. She could always climb out of the window. That would be strange, it was something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager and had crept out of the house to meet her boyfriend, without her parents knowing.
But if she left the lights on, he was sure to come around to her house sooner or later. Well she could always have some fun with him. Mess with his head like he did with hers everyday. She smiled to herself as she gathered up cushions under the covers to make them look like her body. She opened the window and then wrote a note on a pad of paper that she kept by her bed. Quickly she pinned it to the cushions and then ran through the house turning off all the lights, before coming back to the bedroom and climbing out of the open window. She wished she would be able to see his face when he found the note. Well it was too bad then, she was going to be on a date with Goodwin.
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