The Festival

"Obliquely," Catherine answered sweetly, "in the only way Timothy can. I am still shocked he told you he loved you first." I blushed, remembering my corset and the way he had taken me. I could see a spark of understanding in her eyes. It seemed to please her.

"You're late." I turned to the door to see Timothy with a huge smile. He looked rather pleased with himself as well. I no longer cared about the rules at all. I leaped from the chair and into his arms, my lips finding a home in his.

"I really like your mother," I told Timothy as I turned to Catherine. She seemed very pleased to see me in his arms.

"She's a busybody," Timothy joked. I smacked his arm. He winked at his mother, then loosened his grip on me."You've been promoted."

"It seems I am hard to get rid of," I said, more surprised than anyone else.

"Edward will give you the details, but in a nutshell," Timothy continued, "yesterday's sin is today's marketing plan. A lot of wealthy women have been calling - they are asking for you."

"Me?" Timothy nodded at my word.

"We need to get you certified. In the meantime, you and I will manage your accounts together," Timothy said proudly.

"So you men just sat around and planned my future," I said with a faux scowl.

"You could always resign and give Edward a heart attack," Timothy joked, seeing right through my feint. I hugged him again. I was such a rebel rule breaker.

"No," I said, "I think I will stick around."

"Good," Corcoran interrupted as he entered the office, "you have numerous calls set up for next week." I was being handled. Considering how my day started out, I was going to let it go. "Timothy assures me you can handle it. You are going to need an assistant."

"Susan Duncan," I replied instantly. The thought of Doug's manipulations failing completely filled me with joy. A promotion for both of us would feel like a strong victory. Corcoran nodded his head. He was pretty agreeable when it came to dollar signs.

"Good morning, Edward," Catherine said with a little bit of pride. I could see something pass between the two of them in their expressions.

"You were right," Corcoran surrendered, "I was wrong." Obviously, they had discussed this a few days ago.

"Thank you, Edward," Catherine said, smiling at me. She enjoyed this little war. I would hate to be on her bad side.

"You have a meeting this afternoon with HR," Corcoran told me. He paused for a moment then lowered his voice, "and my apologies for the unemployment roller coaster." At least he looked at me as he said. It was hard for him.

"I understood, Mr. Corcoran." I let him off the hook. Not that I could blame him for it in the first place. He gave me a smile and continued with my coming events, which were numerous. I listened, taking mental notes. It would be the last day I was late for work.

Catherine took me out to lunch, insisting that Timothy was not invited. I could see a little harmless jealousy in his eyes, which Catherine and I shared a smile over. We got to know each other over chicken salad. I learned a lot about Timothy growing up. Little embarrassing tales I could dredge up in the future, when the timing was right. I gave her a quick synopsis of my life to date. It wasn't nearly as exciting as Catherine's. She had been everywhere, knew everyone and didn't seem to be slowing down. The connections she had developed over her life allowed her to change my mindless exposure into a meaningful protest. Such confidence, such power. I admired her. I wanted her son more.

That Saturday, I finally blindfolded my desire. Naked on the bed, with strict instructions not to move, I tortured Timothy with love. I could feel the pent up energy as he struggled to remain still as my lips and hands explored. I caressed and kissed every inch of his skin, voicing my desire in delicious moans that made his erection twitch. I loved the power, the strength given and accepted.

All lovely things in life come with interruptions. The doorbell rang and Timothy groaned. I had wound us both up pretty well. I took a deep breath when the bell rang again with rude insistence. I sighed, lifted the blindfold and kissed him. "Be right back," I said, smiling while I grabbed my robe.

"Ignore it," Timothy pleaded. I could see his dismay. He was enjoying our new game as much as I was.

"It will just take a moment," I replied. I held backup keys for a couple of my neighbors. For all I knew, one of their kids was locked out. I couldn't not answer. Timothy gave me a childish little grunt of dismay. I would make up for it. "Stay," I ordered. He smiled and leaned back into the pillows. He looked so good naked on my bed. I wrapped the robe tightly around me and headed to the door.

The latch clicked as I turned the handle. The door exploded into my face, knocking me back, my nose screaming, eyes erupting in bright light. I stuttered a scream as Doug rushed me. Somehow, he ended up behind me, his arm across my throat pulling me back. I struggled and clawed at him with no effect. I felt my throat collapsing. A brief moment of clarity brought my heel down hard on his instep. My bare foot was useless against his boots. I went for his eyes as my vision began to fade and the panic of my empty lungs flooded me.

Doug's arm suddenly loosened, then let go. I dropped to my knees and took a desperate breath. I started to crawl away when I heard gurgling. I turned to see Doug's face bright red as blood and air failed to travel through his neck. Timothy's face was a terrible thing to see. So much hate, it even scared me. Doug was dying. His head was being forced forward over Timothy's forearm and Timothy wasn't going to stop.

"Don't kill him," I tried to scream. My throat wasn't working yet and my voice came out all gravelly. I stood and shouted again as Doug's lips started turning blue and his pupils rolled up into his head. Timothy dropped him. Doug's body fell like a bean bag, his head bounced. He wasn't moving.

Timothy wrapped me in his arms. I cried when I felt his heart thumping. So much anger. I never wanted to see it again. I hated Doug with every fiber of my being. I pushed Timothy away and began kicking Doug's prone torso. Timothy let me connect twice before he pulled me away. Doug was not moving, dead to my revenge.

"It's over," Timothy whispered, his arms once again surrounding me. Doug still wasn't moving. He looked dead. I turned in Timothy's arms and pushed myself into his chest. He held me while I listened to his heart slow, in sync with mine. "We have to call the police," Timothy said softly. I nodded, but didn't leave his arms right away. It wasn't the safety, it was the love I needed. I had to know his hate was gone. I stayed until I was sure.

The police took a few minutes to show up. It gave us time to put on some clothes and hold each other some more. Doug groaned. Timothy didn't like it. Doug was silent again when the police showed. We had a broken jaw to explain as well.

Doug was packed into an ambulance. The paramedics felt confident he would recover. The police took our statements. My neck had begun to bruise which helped our version of things. We went over the story twice, adding bits and pieces as our memories were sparked. It was an exhausting two hours. My day was ruined. The blindfold wasn't even slightly appealing anymore.

My nose woke me the next morning. Timothy and I had stayed up late; wine and movies was the most our moods would allow. Our time. It was nice to know that we could enjoy ourselves with our clothes on. I smelled sausage. He must have found it in the freezer. I smiled, wondering how long it had been in there. It was one those things that looked good while I was at the grocery store, but failed to ever find a pan. I got up and followed the scent to the kitchen.

"I was just about to wake you." Timothy gave me his best smile. I returned it, scratching what had to be a rat's nest of hair. He had made french toast to go with the sausage links. It was impressive. He even found the syrup. I gave him a quick kiss and sat down in front of my plate. I ate in silence for a few minutes as I watched Timothy think. I could almost see his mind working. It must have been bothering him since he woke up. I wasn't sure when he had become so transparent to me.

"What would you expect out of a marriage?" Timothy asked, completely out of the blue. I had trouble swallowing the mouthful I was working on.

"Love," I answered with my hand covering my mouth, trying to hide a still unchewed bit of food.

"Besides love?" Timothy clarified. I tried not to laugh.

"Are you negotiating?" I asked.

"I'm overthinking," Timothy admitted, "I don't want to disappoint you. Promise you something when you wanted something else." I laid my fork down and sat up straighter. Mr. OCD was looking for perfection. I hadn't thought much past the love part. Then it came to me, a desire I had even hid from myself.

"At least two kids," I said, expecting him to panic, "and I won't stop until at least one is a girl." He is the one who wanted honesty.

"I want veto power on the names," Timothy returned. I lifted my eyebrows. He conceded children and would let me name them.

"House in the suburbs, good school district," I added.

"Granted," Timothy agreed, "I want a rider mower if it's more than a ¼ acre." I laughed.

"Christmas at my parents," I added.

"Every other year," Timothy countered, "my mother would never forgive me." I tried to not laugh again.

"Agreed," I said, "we can flip flop Thanksgiving." Timothy nodded.

"Any other deal breakers?" Timothy asked.

"Those are the big ones," I replied. Timothy opened my silverware drawer and pulled out a small felt-covered ring box he must have hidden there. He held it across the table in one hand and opened it with his other.

"Victoria Paddington, will you marry me?" Timothy asked. My eyes fought against filling. It was a wonderfully beautiful ring. A large center stone with two smaller ones on either side, sitting atop a shiny platinum band. I stared at something I thought I would never receive. Timothy took my silence as some kind of failure on his part. "I thought kneeling had a different meaning for us, but I'll do it," he said, moving quickly.

"Yes, I'll marry you," I said much louder than necessary. It was a good thing he moved. It made the kissing much easier. Leaning over syrup would have been messy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Catherine and my mother were intolerable. They bonded quickly and attacked the wedding with fervor. My parents didn't have the resources to fund a large affair, but Catherine insisted she would foot the bill. They deluged me with colors and flowers and bands and place settings and venues and dresses. My mother was the worst. She had never had a blank check before and Catherine was having a ball watching her work. I was willing to go to a Justice of the Peace and bypass the whole thing. I finally cracked and went all bridezilla during one of the 100-question sessions.

"This isn't a wedding," I shouted, "it's a damn festival." Both mothers looked up like I was crazy. Each was marrying off her only child. It was going to be a grand affair whether the participants desired it or not.

"Stop thinking," Timothy whispered into my ear. He had sneaked up behind me, his arms wrapping around me. Our mothers smiled. He switched to my other ear, the one our mothers could not see and whispered again, "I have a desire to blindfold you right now." I closed my eyes and sank into him. I could easily let him do the thinking for a while. I opened my eyes again.

"I'm taking a break," I told our mothers. They wisely let me go. Timothy took me home. We had our own festival. I was his.

~~~~~~~~~~

Doug Fuller walked down the hall slowly. His group meetings were unbearable. He should never have agreed to therapy. Fucking nut farm. This one had locks and fences. Tall fences. The orderly walked behind him, always within reach.

Not one doctor could understand. He didn't have an anger problem. That bitch is the one with the problem. He gave her the world and she spit it back at him. What did they expect him to do? A man could only take so much. That last session was the worst. The gall of the doctor to ask him to look inward. The bitch was outward. The doctor deserved more than the bloody nose.

"In here, Mr. Fuller," the orderly said. Doug looked into the vacant room with padded walls.

"Fuck you," Doug said, and started to run. The orderly deftly grasped the ties on the back of Doug's straitjacket and yanked him back, pulling him into the cell. The orderly deposited Doug on his ass and quickly left, closing the cell door. He shook his head, thinking that Doug would never see the light of day.

"That bitch will get hers!" Doug screamed.

Across town, a huge festival of a wedding just finished. Victoria Griffin had gotten hers.