Seven Day Loan

He had told her why she was here, what would be expected of her. But only now did the realization that she would be Daniel’s sexual possession this week truly register. She went to the window and peered out, trying to see where Daniel’s property ended and the outside world began. But a new snow had begun to fall and Eleanor had lived in New England all her life. She knew those heavy dense flakes dropping from a deep gray sky meant a snowstorm. She was trapped here, trapped with him. She was here and for now she was his.

Unpacking had only taken a few minutes and although her bedroom was elegant and spacious with an equally elegant bathroom attached, there was little to be explored. Eleanor tried to read—she’d packed one whole suitcase full of nothing but books—but her mind wandered too much down too many dangerous paths. She was consumed by thoughts of Daniel. Lying on her bed she stared at the ceiling, recalling the rough grip of Daniel’s hands on her face. She’d felt the force in him, felt he was a man to be reckoned with. She lay there until she fell asleep and dreamed she was drowning in a sea of black snow.

An hour or a day later, she awoke shivering in the dark. She glanced around trying to get her bearings. She reached for the bedside lamp and tried to switch it on. Nothing happened. She stumbled to the wall and flipped that switch, but again the darkness remained untouched. Wearing only a white cotton nightgown, she dove under her bedclothes, desperate for what warmth they could offer her. In bed she noticed a light streaming from underneath the door that separated her room from Daniel’s. How did he still have electricity when she didn’t? Curiosity overcame fear and she eased out from underneath the covers and trod quietly across the floor. She considered knocking but the silence in the house seemed too pervasive to break. With a shaking hand, she turned the door handle and found the door unlocked. She took a deep breath and slipped inside.

“Can’t sleep?” Daniel’s voice came from a chair in front of an imposing fireplace. The orange and roaring fire was the source of the light she’d seen.

“I’m cold,” she said and moved nervously toward the sound of his voice. “What happened to the lights?”

“Just a line down from all the snow.” He sounded world-weary, tired. “They’ll be back on by morning, I’m sure.” Eleanor found him still dressed but with an extra button undone on his dress shirt and a glass of white wine in his hand. “You’re welcome to share my fire. I won’t even charge you rent.”