- TR -
Day 4
It was already late morning but Bella still hadn't moved from the bed. Laid on her side, her eyes kept being pulled towards the red button which over the last days had always stared at her in invitation. She knew what pushing it would mean. She had once even given into temptation and skimmed her fingers over the round plastic, just so she could feel a modicum of the finality such an action would entail. But strangely, she couldn't feel a thing today. All the urges for an easy way out had been swept away overnight. And this indifference on her part was what had made her pause and reflect over the last hour.
What did it mean? Was this unresponsiveness a direct effect from yesterday? Had she expurgated more with her emotional breakdown than she could've imagined? Because when her body had hit the bed last night, too exhausted to take action on her will, her mind had been made up – she would give up on this charade. But now, she realized her mind wasn't feeling that bothered anymore with the idea of seeing this trial run its normal course. In fact, clashing against yesterday's urgent thoughts was the lingering feeling of a detached mental state.
A bad case of muscle soreness and the pressing matter of a full bladder made Bella finally hop out of bed, effectively ending the puzzling fixation with the subject for the time being. She sped through the more urgent matters then returned to the bedroom, wondering what sort of distraction would keep her busy today. What from her boring repertoire of habits would the always unpredictable doctor wish to analyze? But Bella didn't want to think of him, her feelings still torn in his respect and that line of thought was quickly pushed to the side when her back decided to painfully complain again.
Before Bella could feel any kind of self-consciousness, she disrobed her sweatshirt and then her body was already following on a well-practiced routine – she arched, twisted and bent, stretching out every single part which protested her poor choice of hiding place yesterday. Ending it with a deep breath, she couldn't help the soft turn on her lips as they constructed a smile, realizing that in many ways her own head had also benefited from this workout. And with a reconciled state of mind, Bella moved on with her day.
Still braiding her hair after a quick shower, she let the growls of her famished stomach lead her way toward the meal slot located to the right of the main door. She pulled softly on the knob of the small box, immediately inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of her generous breakfast tray. She picked it up and, while retreating her steps, her eyes glazed over as they inspected the freshly made pancakes, the creaminess of a bowl of Greek yogurt, the glistening appeal of fresh berries, and the salivating promise of a brimming cup of black coffee. She couldn't wait to devour this precious sight.
First she gently squatted then slowly brought her knees down to the carpeted floor, positioning herself with her back to the legs of the armchair as she unfolded the legs of the wooden tray. As she faced the fake sunny window with a happy sort of sigh, she noticed for the first time as the faintest vestiges of music made themselves present inside the room. Too low to be discernible, its soft unobtrusive quality wouldn't be so different if she'd been hearing it from a neighbor's distant sound system. As Bella started unwrapping the silverware from the cloth napkin, she quickly decided that while probably intentional, she didn't mind having the artificial sounds around her once again.
Something suddenly fell in front of her. "What the– " she started in surprise.
Dropping the unrolled silverware to the side, she realized a small piece of paper had inadvertently fallen on top of the fluffy pancakes when she'd loosened up the napkin. Her brows raised at the odd situation, she picked the paper from its sweet pillow and started to unfold it, not understanding how such a thing could've had ended inside this room if not... But as she leaned over to read the words on the wrinkled sheet, the meaning of it became clear as a shocked gasp dropped from her mouth. Because yes, it had been done on purpose.
As the first wave of cold sweat started to evolve into a burning fire on her cheeks, Bella concluded this premeditated message could only have come from one person. It wasn't even a hypothetical conclusion anymore, but instead something which formed with a spine-tingling kind of certainty. She knew only one individual had been privy to her meltdown, exclusively watching as she stripped out of her impassive nature and imputed him through a high-pitched, biting diatribe. She now, also could shamefully see that he had witnessed the pitiful downfall from her raging highs, when she had hid herself inside the bathroom and released her mountain of repressed emotions. And Bella could also recall how, after the long deluge of self-pitying wails and chopped breaths filled with regret, she had found herself finally acknowledging the unmerited accusation she'd pinned down on Dr. E and, through low-murmured words, she'd finally offered him an apology.
But as she read his written mirrored sentiment once again, it was impossible for Bella not to linger on the other sentence which immediately followed the doctor's repentance.
"What the fuck are you doing?" She mouthed her incredulity.
Why would he compromise the trial with such a heedless gesture? He had bluntly stated on that first day the words himself – "utmost professionalism" – but with this message they could only be placed on the opposite spectrum of their definition. Then suddenly it dawned on her. It wasn't meant to be perceptible to the cameras. His out-of-character actions not only showed he's trying to be surreptitious about it, but also that he wasn't that worried anymore of trespassing the thin line which effectively endangered their relationship as doctor and subject in this setting.
Bella could hardly breathe or even spell out her feelings on the matter. She couldn't explain how his secretive confession had swiftly unfurled a myriad of sensations inside her body, trailing its warming effects from her flushed face down to her fast-paced heart, awakening the flutters in her stomach which suddenly felt like nothing compared to the tingling arousal pooling on her panties. She should be appalled at the welcoming burn of his daring words or even contemplate the possible repercussions to Dr. E's misconduct, but her mind was clouded with new lust and a primitive need to protect whatever he was now trying to lay bare to her. She didn't think further, just followed on her volatile urges, scrambling on her hands and knees through the floor with desperate speed until she reached the bedside table.
Taking hold on the book presently laid down on its surface, Bella randomly opened it and then quickly trapped the doctor's words in between Mr. Darcy's ill-fated marriage proposal to Elizabeth, as she closed the book with a thump. But as she breathlessly crawled away to her former sitting place, she couldn't erase them from her mind...
I'M SORRY, TOO. I SO BADLY WANTED TO KISS YOUR SORROWS AWAY.
Why did she now feel so compelled to read in between the lines? As her head tumbled backwards onto the pillowed armchair's seat, Bella's mind started spinning with possible derivations, tangible reasonings why Dr. E did what he had done. Maybe he's only apologizing and the kisses were fraternal, just meant to pacify her. He didn't really mean to kiss her, kiss her. But he did adverb it... Oh God, badly! And why does it sound so good? Was she thirsting for a kiss because it had been too long since her lips lost themselves into another pair, or was she longing for his specific kisses?
Her hands flew to her face and muffled her groan. What was she thinking? Bella, you're insane! She didn't know anything about this man. For all she knew, he's probably just a bald, chubby weirdo with voyeuristic, depraved tendencies. But her head was shaking even before she completed that thought because it couldn't be. A voice like his could star in the most beautiful of ballads, would make lovers want to cling to each other, or tuck you into your bed through the chilly winter nights. He simply couldn't be those things, she mentally huffed.
But as her arms embraced her legs with her chin falling onto her knees, Bella began considering another angle. What if I'm projecting? Perhaps this strange fixation to Dr.E's deep voice was nothing but an added layer into an already existing infatuation, and she was only laying this alluring attribute onto another handsome face her brain kept conjuring. The face from that cute guy that sometimes went to her coffee shop, who always sat at the corner table close to the window. The one with tortoise-framed glasses verging between geek and hipster land and the ever-present messy mop of hair with its odd color, burnt umber and tawny port. Or the nervous gestures he could never seem to contain when he was concentrating on reading the newspaper, like the bouncing knee and neck rubbing, or the way he sometimes bites down on his plump bottom lip. "Sex on Legs" like Alice had called him when they saw him running in the park one morning and the mere sight of him had reduced Bella to a ridiculous, hormone-raging, giggling mess of a teenager as her friend saucily suggested another kind of work out he'd be really good for.
Bella still didn't know what had been Dr. E's intentions when he sent that private message – nor how she'd approach the subject later on during their nightly chat – although her mind kept struggling throughout the day to settle down on the best version of her possibilities. But while her mind got lost in beautiful places, reigniting the burn of moments ago, the promising cup of coffee ended up going cold.
- TR -
"C'mon, Isabella! Give it to me straight."
His voice was a hushed graze of cords infused in taunt, trying to conceal his true amusement at seeing the girl so predisposed in front of him. Edward watched from the darkness of his command chamber, slouched backwards and a hand under his chin rubbing against the evidence of a smile, as Isabella slowed down her chewing and tipped her head slightly to the ceiling, ears open in anticipation. His green eyes were suddenly pinned to the inviting slant of her pale neck, its long column rigid but for the small soft movements traveling from her jaw, as she ended her rumination and finally swallowed down her food. But by then the opening melody to the song was already registering its recognition with an eye roll, as the 80's cheesy piano introduced the first lyrics of Air Supply's Making Love Out Of Nothing At All.
He was already laughing openly when she twisted her mouth in disgust.
"You bastard!" Isabella sneered to the camera on her left, showing him her insincere disapproval visibly caught by the small twitch on her lips. "You said something better than elevator music. How in the hell is my parents' corny prom song considered better?"
His mirth nothing but nose laughs now, Edward retorted, "You wanted something from the heart. I thought you'd love this classic." He saw her brown eyes widen in shock, and he rushed with an offer before he lost his control again. "Do you want me to change it?"
Isabella's French braid bounced with her earnest reply, "Yes, please! I won't complain anymore. You can even bring Songs from the Sea back."
"What?!" He gasped in faked insult. "No, I don't think so. You wanted to kill me with the harp, Isabella! Let's just keep with the classics, okay?"
And now she was desperate, crawling through the carpet to come closer to the camera, all guns blazing as she batted her eyes and overdid her pouted lips while she begged him, "Please, please, please, Dr.E! This is killing my ears!"
Coughing so as not to laugh or say something inappropriate, Edward decided to intervene before her flustered supplication could even more encourage his hardening cock. He would love nothing more than to have her just like this, down on her knees and ardently pleading to relieve him of his literal hardship. He gave a calming pat down on his bulge, though before he could mask it the consequent wince managed to flow through the microphone with his words turning breathy.
"Alright, alright. You can stop with the puppy eyes now, Isabella. I'll change it." His lips slanted into a crook when his fingers scrolled through his laptop's playlist. "But I don't want to hear a peep from you when the pipes start playing. I'm switching to Songs from the Countryside now."
He heard Isabella's groan even before he could set the music but glanced to the monitor just in time to catch her perky little ass retreat back to her abandoned dinner tray, swaying in the air in those unrelenting extra tight yoga pants of hers. Edward had to shut his eyes and do a mental countdown just so he could allow some sense of restraint to enter his suddenly very dirty thoughts. It was becoming awfully difficult to manage his urges these days. But nothing as painful like today... because Isabella Swan was a tease!
From the first morning rays, she had rendered him into a sputtering mess on the edge of his seat. It all had started when he found her eyes fixed on that damn red button, and he had waited with bated breath for the moment she'd finally say "fuck it" and press down on it, ending this trial once and for all. It never came. And even before his heart could sigh in relief, Isabella had already upped her game and she gave him the most fuckawesome work out session he had had the pleasure to witness in his life. One that made his balls so painfully tight, he had to run for his private toilet so he could relieve all the tension she had induced. And consequently, what had made him miss out on Isabella's first reactions to the hidden message he'd sent her.
He had eventually gone back in time, rewinding to the revelation scene, but not before Isabella's silent introspection, and the lack of any hint to the direction of her thoughts, could make Edward lose his mind with frustration. Although he still hadn't figured out exactly what those images had shown him because Isabella had been visibly flustered – and given the pink blossom on her cheeks he hoped even somewhat turned on – but she'd quickly managed to rein in her nervousness and the only clear emotion she'd let on ever since was that she was definitely intrigued.
He knew he had been crossing a very dangerous line when he'd sent her that message earlier. Even worse was the terrible awareness that something like this could very well cost him his job if discovered. But while his brain had displayed all the real consequences, at the time, it had been Edward's extremely motivated instincts which finally propelled him into acting on his curiosity. If nothing else, the mere sight of Isabella crying about her own regrets had only egged him on. He had to at least try. He had to allow her to see that she could have someone by her side. Someone she could trust wholeheartedly. Someone who could - and would - love her despite it all.
But given the absence of a significant reaction which could inspire any real sense of hope, and it already seemed his efforts had been for naught, Isabella had succeeded in yet again outrunning him in this race, thus instigating another somersault in his stomach. He had been particularly puzzled to her warm reception at their evaluation – not only because it sounded odd, but also for the simple fact they hadn't even talked yet about their issues from yesterday – but it didn't take long until Edward could understand her angle.
The little vixen was testing him. By being amiable and receptive to every question he posed, she'd hoped he'd feel allayed of his guilt and consequently garner his credence. By pushing the boundaries of their usual interactions, delaying the end of their meeting with the easy flow of casual banter, she'd hoped to make him at ease and unsuspicious. And by not even hinting a word about the big elephant in the room, she'd hoped he would start sweating bullets and, eventually, be the first to come clean about it.
But Isabella didn't even know who she was dealing with here. She could pretend all she wanted, he'd still own this fucking game. All she kept proving with this charming little act filled with provocative innuendos was that he had definitely roused her interest. And this confirmation only served to instigate him to win this game of manipulation even more. He would play nice of course, but he would play fair, too, because Edward absolutely hated to lose.
Watching Isabella already finishing with her dinner, Edward decided to put a final stop to their very prolonged conversation.
"I'm so sorry, Isabella, but I'll have to wrap things up for the night. All this talking, and I still have to fill in a bunch of paperwork," his words delivered the proper friendly intonation she'd be expecting, though he still managed to catch her by surprise by the looks of it. "Do you have any more requests?"
She couldn't quite hide her disappointment for a moment, but quickly composed herself and paid him back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well... I would really, really, really love to have a glass of wine tomorrow. Will you allow it? Please?"
He chuckled. "I'm sorry. You know I can't break the rules," he replied apologetically.
She slumped her shoulders, looking truly crestfallen. "Oh... okay."
"Well then, if that's all... Goodnight, Isabella. Sweet dreams," Edward said with calculated gentleness.
"Night, Dr.E," she softly answered with a smile, her arms hugging her sweatshirt-covered waist.
Another thing Edward absolutely hated: clothes. Specifically, Isabella's clothes. And some of them would have to disappear. Bless those wonderful yoga pants, but even they would have to go. ASAP! Luckily for him, he knew just how to warm things up.