Consequences

she’d done nothing to exercise in almost three weeks. Surprisingly the lack of physical activity didn’t seem to cause weight gain. She didn’t have a scale, but she could tell in the mirror and with her new clothes. If anything she lost weight. She lay back and closed her eyes amid the hum and bubbling of the tub and realized it was her diet. In three weeks she hadn’t had any alcohol, not even a glass of wine. She also hadn’t consumed one ounce of dessert, not a cookie, brownie, or even a piece of dark chocolate. Now that the realization hit her, she craved chocolate.
    The sixty-five hours passed without event. She thoroughly investigated the house. It was luxurious, vast, and held many amenities. However, the more she explored the more she realized it was still a prison. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t go outside. It may be bigger and grander than her suite, but it still had walls.
    She made an effort to get to know the names of the staff. The young lady who brings food is Cindy. The young man that doesn’t speak much English is Carlos. Anthony’s driver is Eric. There were others that clean, cook, do laundry, and tend the grounds but Claire rarely saw them, so she didn’t have the chance to learn their names. Yet whenever she passed one or encountered them in a hallway, they would nod and acknowledge her, “Ms. Claire.”
    On Wednesday before Anthony was scheduled to return Claire watched from the sunporch as nimbostratus clouds formed in the west. This would have thrilled her a month earlier. Watching storms form, either in person or on the radar screen, had filled her with excitement. As the dark clouds approached, she began to hear the distant rumbling of thunder. She could feel the distinct drop in pressure. Claire knew that Iowa, like Indiana, had its share of tornadoes. Despite the drop in pressure, her instincts told her this was going to be just a good old-fashioned spring thunderstorm, the kind that is loud and boisterous but usually blows over with little damage. It mesmerized her, she watched and listened. Didn’t it seem that she’d been too busy to just wait and listen to the weather? Now she had the time and she just stood.
    Catherine finally broke the spell, “Ms. Claire, please come in. We need to shut the windows. You will get wet.”
    Claire came in and went to her suite. The howling of the wind electrified her emotions. She knew he would return today. She hated him with every bit of her being. She detested his patronizing demeanor, his callous attitude, and above all his abusive mentality. And she hated being alone. She liked Catherine very much, but she treated Claire like a guest or a superior. Claire longed for someone to talk to, to laugh with, and to just be near. With all her heart and soul, she didn’t want that person to be Anthony Rawlings. So when five o’clock arrived and Claire waited for word of his arrival, she should have been pleased with Catherine’s report, “Mr. Rawlings is delayed a day due to the storm fronts. The pilot will not fly west of Chicago due to high cloud banks. He will be home tomorrow evening and plans to dine with you at that time, you will know more tomorrow.”
    Claire thanked Catherine for the information, ate her dinner, read a little, and went to bed.
    After Anthony returned, the schedule he discussed went into full gear. She was in her suite at five each evening to learn his plans. Things were very busy with his work, and many nights he didn’t visit at all. Sometimes they ate in her suite and sometimes in the dining room. Sometimes he called upon her for her duties, other times he said he had work to do. The days turned to weeks and the weeks to another month.
    The positive aspect had to be that there’d been no more glitches . That didn’t mean that Claire experienced anything like the afternoon in her suite. On the contrary, each task to fulfill her contractual agreement was about him. Nonetheless, she felt content to avoid the explosive unpredictable glitches.
    At some point during the beginning of May after Anthony was finished with Claire, he chose to stay in her bed. She realized this after she fell asleep and woke in the middle of the night to the sound of his breathing, steady and rhythmic. The consciousness of his presence frightened her. Did he have additional plans? Should she be doing something? She was too afraid to wake him and ask. Instead, she quietly slowly moved to the edge of her side of the bed and fell back