Captive Loving

‘I'll get it.’ He strode off impatiently, scowling heavily.

Peg raised her eyebrows; she was an attractive brunette with twelve years of happy marriage behind her, and was obviously slightly bewildered by Jessica's own marriage. ‘Big night?’ she teased.

‘Andrew's just tense,’ Jessica excused his rudeness. ‘Getting on at Sinclairs means a lot to him. The Sales Manager is retiring at the end of the year, and Andrew would like his job.’

‘Isn't he a little young for that?’

She shrugged. ‘I suppose he could be, I don't really know.’ Andrew rarely discussed his work with her, in fact she felt sure he had only mentioned the Sales Manager's job to her because he wanted to be sure she made a good impression tonight. ‘He seems to think he can do it.’

‘Then he probably can,’ her friend laughed. ‘That young man can do anything he sets his mind to.’

Not quite anything, but she wasn't going to tell Peg that. The explanation would be too embarrassing to herself. ‘If Penny should come down——’

‘She will, you know she will,’ Peg chuckled.

‘Yes,’ Jessica smiled. ‘Well, I shouldn't worry about it too much. It's Friday, so she doesn't have school tomorrow.’

‘Whatever you say,’ the other woman accepted. ‘I'll be glad to have her company.’

‘Here,’ Andrew came back, handing Jessica's jacket to her. ‘Let's go,’ and he walked out to the car.

‘See you later,’ she told Peg breathlessly as she struggled into her jacket, hastily following Andrew.

He was already seated behind the wheel, having no intention of opening the car door for her. Jessica saw something glittering on the floor as she got in, and bent to pick it up. It was a woman's compact, and it looked expensive.

‘Lisa's?’ She held it up.

Andrew turned to her with a start, his attention momentarily diverted from his driving. ‘What did you say?’

She drew in a steadying breath, knowing it would do no good for her to lose her temper. ‘I wondered if this were Lisa's.’

His face darkened. ‘How the hell did you find out about her?’

‘Guess,’ she said bitterly.

‘Penny!’

‘Yes. Andrew, I won't have her involved in your affairs. If you want to——’

‘You won't have her involved?’ he repeated scornfully. ‘Who asked for your opinion?’

‘Can't you see that she'll very soon start to make the connection——’

‘So what if she does?’

She paled. ‘Andrew, you can't——’

‘Who says I can't?’ he scowled. ‘Who's going to stop me? You?’

Jessica flinched at the contempt in his voice. ‘I won't have her involved,’ she repeated firmly. ‘You won't take her out with one of your women again.’

An angry flush coloured his cheeks, a pulse beating erratically in his cheek. ‘And what are you going to do if I do? Deny me the pleasure of your bed?’ he mocked bitterly.

Jessica paled even more. She should be used to his insults by now, and yet she could still be hurt by them. And he knew it, deriving great pleasure from denting the shell she had bult up about her emotions.

‘But then it never was a pleasure, for either of us, was it?’ he added scathingly.

‘Andrew——’

‘Beautiful—and frigid,’ he continued sneeringly.

‘I'm not——’

‘When a woman hasn't slept with her husband, or had the inclination to, for over five years then there has to be something wrong with her. And don't try and put the blame on me again,’ he snapped. ‘None of the other women I've slept with have had the trouble you did.’

By ‘trouble’ she knew he meant inhibitions. When they had met eight years ago she had been so shy it had taken all her time to talk to him, overwhelmed as she was by the fact that such a handsome, popular boy should have been interested in her.

Brought up by a maiden aunt since she was five years old, she wasn't used to being the centre of attention, especially male attention. She had been happy with her parents until the car crash had taken them from her, and her aunt had been very strict, hadn't liked her talking to boys, not even at school, drumming into Jessica at an early age the infidelities of men.

Thinking about it now, in her own maturity, she thought her aunt had probably been very hurt by a man when she was younger, but that didn't excuse the way she had regimentally brought up Jessica, never showing her any love or affection, something that had come hard to her after the first happy five years of her life.

Consequently she had grown up a lonely child, with a craving to be loved that at the time she hadn't even recognised. In her last year of school she had taken a Saturday job working in a local café, much to her aunt's disgust. Andrew came in there a lot with his friends, or with a girl. He had been popular even then, and had seemed like a god to the awe-struck, lovesick Jessica.

When he had asked her out for the first time she had thought he hadn't really meant it, that he had done it as a joke, that he and his friends would have a laugh about it later. Her basic insecurity was such that she hadn't been able to acknowledge or recognise her own beauty—she still couldn't, but Andrew had been intrigued by that haunting beauty from the first.

He had started to come to the café alone after that, asking her out again and again, until she finally agreed to let him take her to the cinema, little guessing that he had taken her first refusals as simply playing hard to get. When he had kissed her in the back row of the cinema she had let him, feeling safe in amongst all those people. But when he tried to do the same thing outside her aunt's house she had shrugged off his advances.

That had been the start of a long, slow courtship, with Jessica believing she had at last found the love and tenderness she craved. She had learnt later that Andrew's thoughts were less emotional, more basic. She parried his more intimate caresses with a shyness she later learnt he thought to be an act.

By this time it had become a challenge to him to possess her, almost an obsession, and when her aunt had died suddenly just after Jessica's eighteenth birthday he had even married her to realise his obsession. Their wedding night had been a triumph for him, and a deep shock for her. She had thought that because she loved him he would be tender and understanding about her inexperience, would respect her virginity. But he had been brutal, and his lovemaking contained only self-gratification, leaving her bruised and hurting, and worst of all, humiliated.

But she had been too inexperienced, too ignorant, to realise that there was more to going to bed with a man than what Andrew gave her, and lay docilely beneath him while he satisfied himself with her.

For months she had continued to suffer his invasion of her body, knowing that he enjoyed subjugating her. But by this time she had a job of her own, a job where the intimacies of married life were discussed between the women quite openly, and being one of the married ones herself she was expected to know what they were talking about. She didn't. But it was from these women that she had began to wonder if she wasn't missing something, if perhaps there wasn't more to making love.

When she had dared to broach the subject to Andrew he had exploded in a storm of anger so fierce he had frightened her. He had taken her words as a personal attack on his manhood, had told her that her lack of pleasure was due to her own frigidness, that it had nothing to do with him, that all the other women he slept with enjoyed it as much as he did, that none of them had her prudish inhibitions.

It was the first she had known of his other women, and her humiliation had been extreme as she found there had been other women in his life almost from the day they had been married. She had been numbed by the revelation, although she had stayed with him, still loving him, and having nowhere else to go even if she did leave.

A few months later she had found out she was pregnant, and so there had been no question of leaving Andrew then. But shortly after that pregnancy the physical side of their marriage had been permanently terminated, at her instigation, and Andrew had never let her forget it. Every time they had an argument he brought the subject up, always accusing, always threatening. And she feared those threats.

‘I'm sorry, Andrew,’ she said quietly now. ‘But after Penny was born——’

‘It had nothing to do with that, and you know it,’ he scorned. ‘You were always frigid, right from the start. I should have divorced you long ago.’

‘Oh no!’ she cried her dismay, her face very white. ‘You wouldn't, would you, Andrew?’ She clutched on to his arm.

‘Don't do that when I'm driving,’ he shook off her hand angrily. ‘In fact, don't do it at all, you know I can't bear you to touch me.’