Discipline & Desire

Chapter 21

I relaxed in the filled bathtub as Marlon sat on the edge, next to me. It was silent between us, as if our voices would lead Frank to our secret place. Marlon wasn't big enough in the industry to have famous people in and out of his house.

No one truly knew where he lived, he was mostly a lonely man. That is, unless when he invited a partner over for special entertainment.

His hand reached into the tub, the water going up to his strong bicep. Waves were made in the cloudy water as his hand searched the tub over my legs and on the floor. Then, he picked up a wash cloth that was underwater and slowly rubbed it along my neck.

"If he hurts you," Marlon said as he rolled the washcloth along my skin. "I'll fucking sock him."

"And then he'll kill you." I reminded him, Marlon's temper often got the best of him. I tried constantly to calm him down. He shook his head, although he knew it was true. Everyone in town was aware of Frank's "connections". I felt stupid for even accepting Frank's offer to take me out.

"Why the hell is he like that?" Marlon asked, swiping the washcloth under my breast. My nipples hardened at the touch of the washcloth Marlon moved along me. "Always causing some fucking problem."

"He didn't mean to." I said softly. "I'm the one who was irresponsible with the thing."

"He knew exactly what he was doing when he gave you that fucking necklace. He knew that something would happen. And for what? Who does this help?" Marlon complained. His face was filled with anger, although his hands were gentle as he stroked my skin.

He leaned closer to me as the washcloth went over my stomach under water. Small ripples in the water splashed up and down my breasts as his hand moved underneath. "All you have to do is come to class. When you're not in class, then you'll be here."

"I need to be able to work, Marlon!" I protested. "I can't stay all day cooped up in here with you."

"Work? If you go back there you're gonna have a bigger problem on your fucking hands." Marlon argued. "Why couldn't you have been a typist like the rest of them?"

"How dare you! Why do you care what I do and who I fuck in the first place?!" I shouted at him. His hand stopped moving. He sat up straight, his muscles tensing as he fixed his posture. Then, he dropped the washcloth in the water with a splash.

"Because I care about you." He answered gently. "And ever since I found out you were working in that slum I've been sick to my stomach."

"It's what I need to do, that's how I pay my bills!" I shouted at him.

"I'll pay your bills! I'll take care of you!" Marlon shouted louder than me. Now, he leaned over me with either hand holding onto both sides of the tub. His face was inches from mine as he hovered over me. He was furious at my determination to make it on my own, I was annoyed by his controlling behavior. I felt suffocated by his need to support me, I wanted to support myself.

"I'm not your responsibility!" I held onto the sides of the tub as I lifted myself a little to get closer to his face. I held myself up for a moment, looking into his brown eyes. Then, I slowly sank back in the tub.

"Then fucking marry me, goddamnit!" Marlon shouted angrily. While I laid back in the tub, I processed what he just proposed. Did he mean it? Was he sick? Did some form of syphilis damage his brain?

"Marry you?" I asked. Marlon sat back up off of me, looking down at the floor.

"Yeah, be my wife." Marlon repeated himself. "After the course is over, I want you to be mine, Tori."

"That's not possible." I shook my head.

"Why?" He asked as he leaned in. "Because I'm Marlon Brando and you're not a big name actress? Because you're a hooker? Because I'm white and you're colored? To hell with that Tori, just marry me!"