Note:
This chapter explores the theme of sexual abuse, through what some might consider an unusual frame. This perspective was inspired by the play Drawing The Shades by April E. Wilson.

Content of this chapter that you might want to know about:
Mentions of alcohol and intoxication.
Male and female anatomy.
Dark sexual themes and content.
Profanity.

Cheers,

E.

Chapter 7: Trouble

Yukito saw Syaoran approaching the bar long before he reached it and began to mix another drink for his crumpled-looking patron, but Syaoran shook his head and pushed the martini glass in front of him away. He'd returned to the counter from the other side of the room for drinks a few times over the past hour or two, but that apparently wasn't his aim this time.

"Water," he rasped, then cleared his throat and continued, "please." His voice was clearer on the second word, though still a bit slurred. Yukito nodded and filled a tall glass, placing it on a new napkin and pushing it toward Syaoran.

"Wise choice," Yukito said simply, eyeing Syaoran warily. Syaoran braced his elbows against the bar counter and rested his chin on the heels of his hands, considering the glass in front of him for a moment before taking the straw between his teeth. He sucked down the water quickly, then looked up at Yukito with wary apprehension.

"Alright. What's my tab for the night?" Yukito filled Syaoran's glass up again before answering.

"You've had three martinis and a scotch," he said, and continued on with a hint of apology in his voice. "And then there's the pitcher you ordered for your...friends back there." Yukito looked over Syaoran's shoulder to the booth on the other side of the room where a group of pretty girls in sequin-encrusted dresses sat chatting and drinking. Syaoran grimaced, not needing to follow Yukito's glance to know who he was referring to, and found when he looked up that the young man had redirected his scrutiny toward Syaoran himself, his expression inquisitive. Syaoran groaned and put up his hands.

"Didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, turning his palms toward Yukito in a gesture of innocence. Yukito laughed and Syaoran threw a dirty look his way. "Oh, ye of little faith," he said, disgruntled, as he reached toward the new glass of water in front of him. His head was beginning to feel clearer, and so were his words. He looked over at the girls whose drinks he had paid for and frowned.

"Decisions, decisions," he muttered as he drained the glass and gestured at Yukito for more. "They asked, and I didn't feel like saying no." Yukito nodded, and passed Syaoran his water along with his bill for the night. Syaoran grimaced when he saw the numbers, then signed it and handed it back.

"For as much as you've had to drink you're surprisingly...lucid," Yukito remarked as he filed the receipt. Syaoran snorted.

"Half that scotch ended up on the dance floor," he admitted with a laugh, and Yukito responded with mock-offense over the waste.

"Well at least this means I can drive myself instead of having to call someone," he said optimistically, but Yukito raised a skeptical eyebrow and jerked his head toward the front window through which Syaoran could still see the sheets of pouring rain outside.

"Really? Four drinks in and you want to drive in that?" Syaoran agreed. He was a good driver and could hold his liquor, but going out in that weather after drinking would just be asking for it.

He fished in his pocket for his cell phone, considering who to call first. If experience had taught him anything it was that Sakura would still be elbow-deep in someone's thoracic cavity, which wouldn't make her much of a designated driver. Syaoran pressed the speed dial for Eriol's cell phone, and when there was no response there he tried again at Eriol and Tomoyo's home with the same result.

He ended the call instead of leaving a message, and frowned at the phone as he pulled it away from his ear. Where the hell could Eriol and Tomoyo be that they weren't answering their phones… but then a very graphic, very naked answer to the question came unbidden to Syaoran's mind and he turned his thoughts to other trajectories. Syaoran checked his watch. It was 8:30, which meant that he still had a shot of reaching someone at Sakura's office. With a sigh, he dialed the office number. If nothing else, he'd get Meiling and she could give him an estimate of when Sakura would be out of surgery. Meiling, predictably, picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, Dr. Li's office. This is Meiling speaking." She was bright and overly enthusiastic, as usual.

"Yeah, hi Meiling. This is Dr. Li's husband-"

"Oh! Hello again, Mr. Li." There was that saucy greeting again, that not-so-subtle implication. Syaoran rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples tiredly.

"Hey. Um." He paused, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to ask, then continued, "Dr. Li's still in surgery, right?"

"That's right," she said. "Looks like she won't be out for a while. Big pile-up on the highway exit." Syaoran nodded to himself, considered his next move, and then resigned himself to it.

"Right. Well, I'm actually calling because I'm at a bar and it's raining and…" Meiling giggled.

"Do you need someone sober to give you a ride home, Mr. Li? I'm just heading out. I could come get you if you want." Heat flared in Syaoran's face at the secretary's laughter but, yes, that was exactly what he needed. He told her the name of the bar and agreed to meet her out front in thirty minutes.

Syaoran spent that time sobering up fully, sucking down another couple glasses of water and then making an urgent run to the bathroom when his bladder finally caught up with him. He examined his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he washed his hands. He looked well enough-hadn't reached that state of intoxication where waxy skin and bloodshot eyes were the telltale sign that there was something amiss-but he was tired, and it showed. The scruffy shadow around his chin and jaw didn't really help his case either. He cupped some water in his palms and splashed it on his face to freshen himself up. It didn't do much to help his appearance, but he felt somewhat more alert and that would have to be good enough.

Syaoran dried his hands on the front of his jeans and exited the men's room. It was about time for him to meet Meiling. He made his way towards the door, waving goodbye to Yukito as he passed, and pushed the doors open. The cool, wet air on his face was a welcome change from the heat and the sweat, and the doors took the thud and thrum of the bass back into the bar with them as they swung shut behind him. The rain was still coming down heavily, blurring everything more than a few feet from the entrance into a generally mud-colored backdrop. He looked around, squinting through the rainfall for the blue sedan Meiling told him to watch out for. He didn't see one anywhere nearby, but it was still a few minutes early and in this rain she was bound to be at least a little bit late. That was fine. Syaoran was good at waiting. He looked for a comfortable bit of wall to lean against and settled in to wait.

For a moment he considered calling Sakura, or texting her at the very least, to let her know that Meiling would be giving him a ride home, but then thought better of it. He was still angry with her, but there was no sense in causing her unnecessary worry by making her think he had gone out and gotten hammered because of their fight (though it was partially true). He wasn't in any danger. By the time she got home the next afternoon he would be sober and and the car would be back in the garage following a midmorning rescue from the parking lot. Sakura would never even need to know that anything had happened.

The weak link the cover-up was Meiling. Syaoran hoped he could count on her to keep quiet, since "awkward" was the most positive description of the arrangement they'd made that Syaoran could think of. There were other words that came to mind. "Sketchy", for example. Or "suspicious". Best for both parties if there were a common understanding of nondisclosure. Of course, Syaoran didn't know Meiling that well or, in fact, at all. But he would have to take it on faith that common sense would by itself be enough, and that asking nicely would guarantee she kept it a secret.

That's what it was, after all: a secret. Syaoran wasn't used to having secrets from Sakura, and he rolled the idea over in his mind in an effort to get used to it. Though he was more sober than drunk at that point, he was still in a grouchy mood, and his thought processes reflected it.

Serves her right, he thought irritably, his mood darkening. She's never around. It's a wonder this didn't happen before now. If she can neglect me, I can lie to her.

It would be a lie by omission, but a lie nevertheless and a pretty significant one. Sakura had made it clear in the past that she didn't much care for her secretary, and the feeling of distaste had only grown stronger since she'd finally noticed Meiling's overtly flirtatious behavior with Syaoran. There were few things that would make Sakura jealous like hearing that her brash secretary had had to give prone, drunk Syaoran a ride home in her stead. With that in mind, Syaoran began to consider telling Sakura after all, but he was forced out of his own head and into his surroundings when two sharp beeps of a car horn broke his train of thought.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring at and saw that a blue Jetta had pulled up in front of the bar and that Meiling waving through the open passenger-side window. Syaoran returned the wave in a less enthusiastic fashion and shrugged away from the wall he'd been leaning against. He walked carefully toward the car across the damp pebble-studded sidewalk, equally cautious of slipping because of the rain and of tripping because of the alcohol. Meiling unlocked the door for him and he got in, the eaves on the overhang in front of the bar shielding him from most of the rain as he shut the door behind him.

"Hey," Syaoran greeted her as he clipped the buckle of his seatbelt into place. "Thanks again for doing this. I'd drive, but I've had a few drinks and I didn't want to risk it in this weather." Meiling shifted gears and turned up the speed of the windshield wipers as the car pulled away from the curb. The rain continued to fall steadily, the drops shattering loudly against the front of the car as Meiling accelerated. She glanced over at him and smiled.

"You look just fine. I'm sure you could've managed, even in the rain." She flicked on her indicator light, then made her turn out of the parking lot. "Still, I'm glad you called." Her smile grew wider, but she didn't say anything more. Syaoran glanced over at her, bemused, and studied her out of the corner of his eye. Her face, illuminated by flashes of yellow from the passing lightposts and the dim glow of the dashboard, was actually quite nice to look at, with large ochre-colored eyes and a small, heart-shaped mouth. Her straight black hair, now cut into a fashionable bob, brushed her chin and softened the otherwise sharp features of her jaw and nose.

They pulled up to a traffic light and Syaoran looked away before she could catch him staring.

"So," she began, "I'm guessing you weren't out with friends." She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel absently as she waited for his response and for the light to change. Syaoran hesitated, and decided to go with the face-saving half-truth.

"My friend was supposed to meet me but he ended up bailing at the last minute. I figured I might as well have a drink since I'd driven so far already, but I guess I went a bit overboard..." The car behind them honked impatiently, and Syaoran realized that the light had already changed to green while they'd been talking. Meiling hit the gas with a suddenness that threw him back in his seat, causing his world to shift uncomfortably for a few moments. The nausea lodged itself in the pit of his stomach and he grimaced.

"Actually, I think I'll just take a bit of a nap… Do you know the way?" Meiling glanced over at him and nodded. Syaoran rested his head against the crook between the shoulder of the seat and the door, and shut his eyes. He was asleep almost immediately.

The next thing he knew, she was on him. He awoke to the feeling of pressure on his legs and opened his eyes to find her straddling him with her knees on either side of his lap.

"Wake up," she murmured as she kissed her way down his neck, quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt and running her hands along the plane of his chest. Syaoran felt himself react in spite of himself, his shaft beginning to harden in response to her attentions. She noticed.

"Ooh," she purred, moving a hand to feel him through the crotch of his jeans, "big boy." Meiling ground herself against him, and the heat of her core against him only aroused him more.

Syaoran was still groggy, but awake enough now to know what was going on and to know that it shouldn't be happening. He tried to move forward to push her off of him, but she grabbed his hands just then, moving one so that it was cupping her breast and maneuvering his other one under her skirt and between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and she pressed his fingers against her soaked center. She moaned at the contact, a high-pitched whine escaping her lips as she moved his hand against her. Syaoran tried to pull back, but she was surprisingly strong and held him down, pressing him back into his seat as she leaned forward to capture his lips with hers.

No. "Stop…"

She rocked against his fingers, panting with pleasure, holding him against her even as he fought to break contact without hurting her.

No, no, this was wrong.

She forced his lips apart, probing his mouth with her tongue, tasting him in a series of hot, sloppy kisses. Her fingers began to deftly work the fastenings of his jeans, the buttons and zipper opening quickly. His cock sprang forth from the slit in his boxers, and she grasped it with eager hands, running her fingers tantalizingly slowly along it from base to tip. Meiling let go of Syaoran's hands and lifted herself up slightly, shuddering with anticipation as she prepared to lower herself onto his length.

Oh god…

In a rush, Syaoran drew back and gave Meiling a lateral shove back towards the driver's seat. From her raised position she toppled, tumbling backwards and smacking the back of her head against the car door. The impact stunned her for a moment and she lay there, dazed, as Syaoran hastily threw open the door on his side and stumbled out of the car.

The rain had reduced to a steadily falling mist outside. Sodium gas lamps were placed every ten meters or so, sending out cloudy halos of yellow light into the the moist air. Syaoran's head was reeling. It all felt unreal, dreamlike. He could feel the water settling on his skin, beading on his eyelashes. But for the one he had just escaped from, there wasn't a car in sight. The streets appeared empty, which only contributed to Syaoran's feeling of isolation.

He took a few steps and found that he was suddenly freezing. Looking down, he realized that the damp night air on the skin of his thighs and groin was partially to blame, and he quickly zipped and fastened his jeans as he scanned up the down the street, trying to gather his bearings. They had parked on a corner in a residential, suburban neighborhood, and Syaoran heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that he was only a block or two away from his house. He examined the street signs to confirm, then began to walk briskly in the appropriate direction, trying to put as much distance between Meiling and himself as he could.

Syaoran was only a few meters away when the car door opened and closed, and he heard the staccato click of high heels bearing down on him from behind. He winced and continued walking, pausing only to twist his arm out of Meiling's grasp when she grabbed it in an attempt to stop him. She scurried after him as he strode away from her, and had it not been for the rage boiling his blood he would have been impressed by how well she was keeping pace with him in spite of her walking-impractical shoes.

"I thought you wanted me!" she exclaimed, and it was the indignation and hurt in her voice that forced him to come to a halt and face her. Syaoran whirled around, forcing Meiling to stop short in order to keep from crashing into him.

"You thought I what?" he demanded loudly, then realized where he was and lowered his voice. He cornered her against the brick retaining wall they were walking past. She looked up at him, her expression fierce.

"It's obvious from the way you look at me," she said, not reacting to his aggression. "It's clear from Dr. Li's hours that you aren't getting any from her, so unless you've taken to seeing hookers I'm guessing you aren't getting laid at all. Even from the way you talk I can tell you're frustrated, and not just in the normal way." She glanced at his balled up fists, then back up at Syaoran. Her tone changed, a seductive, throaty quality replacing the accusatory shrill she'd been employing.

"Even your anger is sexual," she breathed. "You could have me against this wall, right now, and I would never tell anyone." She rubbed her leg against his, hooking her foot around his calve, and Syaoran backed away from her quickly. He dragged his hands through his hair, frustrated, then folded his arms across his chest and took a few more steps away from her.

"I don't know how you got it twisted this badly," he growled, his voice dangerous, "or whether you missed the memo, but I am married. Happily. To your boss. I don't want anyone else, and I definitely don't want you." He spat the words, not caring if they hurt. He could still feel her hands on his body, still feel the heat of her against him, and it made him feel dirty. It made him angrier. He took her by her narrow shoulders and slammed her against the wall. Meiling cried out at the impact, wincing as Syaoran's fingers dug into her skin.

"Now you listen, and you listen well," he said, his eyes boring into hers with a ferocity that frightened her. "I tell Sakura about this, and you lose your job." He was bluffing-who would ever believe that it was his wife's diminutive secretary who had done the assaulting and not the other way around-but she didn't need to know that. He continued, his expression fierce. "So you'd better not breathe a word of this to my wife, and you'd damn well better stay the fuck away from me."

He released her, and she rubbed her shoulder, looking up at him reproachfully.

"Fine," she muttered, scowling as she stepped away from the wall and from him. "I know when I'm not wanted." Meiling straightened out her blouse and threw one last glare Syaoran's way before walking quickly back towards her car, the sound of her shoes still visible even after she'd disappeared around the street corner. Syaoran relaxed only after he heard her start the car and drive away, and only then did he resume his walk home.

Syaoran suddenly realized that he'd forgotten his jacket in Meiling's car. It was cold outside, and without his jacket Syaoran shivered slightly. He rubbed his arms in an effort to stay warm, then began to jog toward his house. It was only a couple minutes away, and knew from the telltale clank of metal against metal in his pocket that at least he had his keys on him this time. A large raindrop hit his cheek, then his forehead, and shortly a light rain was falling once more. Syaoran began to run in earnest.

He did his best to keep his mind empty as he ran, focusing instead on the rhythm of his feet against the pavement. They thumped in time with his heartbeat. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Syaoran felt dizzy, short of breath, and realized that his hands were shaking. So this was what shock was like, he realized.

Syaoran arrived at his house just as the rain really began to pour, feeling grateful that he didn't need to climb through a window this time and instead keyed into the front door to get into the house. He was, however, soaked once again. Life, it seemed, was proving to be circular today.

He made his way upstairs, shivering, and stripped down completely, wringing out his wet clothes and draping them over the counter to dry. He briefly considered a shower to warm himself up, but the exhaustion hit suddenly, leaving him feeling limp and defeated. It was all he could do to force himself to towel off and find a clean, dry pair of boxer briefs before sliding into bed and falling immediately, deeply asleep.

Things would look better in the morning.

It's longer. Y'happy now?