Glimpses of the Island

Exploring

Elise sat at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee. Ben had left for his office at the clinic. She had much to do today, but for the moment she wanted to sit and think.

It was an eerie feeling, looking around the still unfamiliar room and realizing it was her home. Ben was adamant about how she must always include herself. If she forgot and asked about his back yard, he immediately corrected her. She had to carefully repeat it again, but using their back yard instead. On reflection she had to admit it was working. Slowly she was beginning to think in terms of us , of Ben and Elise as a couple.

The day she had given up everything in her past and walked through the doors of the Facility seemed far away now. That day she had resigned herself to a life of subsistence, one where she existed but contributed nothing. The training had not been easy, nor had the long months of being constantly reminded that she had not the slightest bit of power or influence over what was to happen to her. Yet they had been right. Here she was, and Ben seemed to be a dream come true.

He sure wasn't her original vision of the ideal man. She had never met someone quite like him. At one time she would have called him arrogant, but the way in which he so matter-of-factly assumed she would be submissive and obedient made him all the more attractive. He was good to her, that she couldn't deny. But it came at a price. He was strict and demanding too. Excuses, or tears, didn't seem to affect him at all.

That thought brought her back to the present moment. He had decided last night that she should know where everything was in the house, rather than asking him. So he wanted her to go through every closet, shelf, and drawer and see what they contained. Only his small home office was excluded. She wasn't to disturb anything in there since it had patient records.

Her coffee cup was empty. Sighing, she stood up. No more excuses to put it off. She took her dishes into the kitchen and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher. She took a moment to glance around the kitchen to make sure it was presentable before she began. Were he to surprise her by coming home early only to find dirty dishes stacked in the sink and crumbs on the counter…she didn't want to think about that.

The simplest way would be to start at the front door and work her way back room by room. For some company she went to the living room to turn on the radio. Background music made work go faster. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet as she went to the front door. She stopped in front of the closet door in the foyer, but it was the front door that caught her attention.

It was solid, made from some kind of wood, either oak or pine. It wasn't locked. She could simply open that door and walk outside at any time. Except she could never do that. He had made it clear she was not to leave the house without his permission, unless it was an emergency. That simple, plain order was as effective in keeping her inside as ten foot thick walls of reinforced concrete.

She opened the closet door. On the right were her shoes, now joined by two more pair after their shopping spree. Why wouldn't he allow her to wear shoes in the house? He had offered no explanation. It was simply a rule she was required to follow.

On the wooden clothes rod were some hangars, one holding his overcoat, and an umbrella. She would have to get a coat when the weather started to cool. Finding one was an outstanding item on her long list of assignments. The shelf above yielded a single rather worn looking hat. It was one more interesting clue to his personality. He didn't like hats.

The left side of the closet was reserved for his things. There was a pair of battered tennis shoes, possibly for yard work, and an incongruous pair of finely tooled leather cowboy boots in like new condition. The boots were a question mark. She didn't see how they fit in with what she had learned about him to date. She made a mental note to check for country western music in his record collection.

I did it again! Elise shook her head in disappointment at herself. It was our collection, not his. At least she had caught it this time, before he heard her say it out loud. She smiled; the cowboy boots were definitely his, and his alone.

Above his shoes, hanging on pegs, were items she was intimately familiar with: the restraint belt, the handcuffs that went with it, and the leg shackles. Those were his alone as well. Somehow she could never think of them as being shared, not in the same way as towels or a bedspread. They were his to use on her, as and when he wished.

She reached out and lightly brushed the belt with her fingers. It was made of sturdy leather, more than strong enough to hold her hands close to her waist. It had last encircled her waist for most of that fateful day when she had met Ben at the interview. She hooked the fingers of her hand around the steel ring fastened in the center of the belt. She remembered how the handcuffs had dangled from that ring when he had released her hands. He had left the cuffs on the belt instead of removing them. She had known immediately what it meant. And she had been right, before the day was over she had been imprisoned by that belt and handcuff combination one more time.

The plated steel of the cuffs and leg shackles gleamed. Those she would not touch, not without his express order. They were his tools to control her. She couldn't explain why but it felt as though it would be disrespectful to his authority if she were to handle them. Elise felt guilty about touching the belt too, but in her mind she didn't think of it in the same way. On impulse she took it off the hook. The weight of the leather surprised her. Around her body it hadn't seemed so heavy. Curious, she wrapped the wide belt around her waist.

Today she had a dress on, one that didn't have belt loops. She pulled the belt tight with the buckle in front. Too tight, she could hardly breathe. She let it out a notch. With some effort she slid the buckle around behind her back, leaving the retaining ring for the handcuffs in front. She placed her hands on either side of the ring and closed her eyes.

That first evening coming home in the back of the car had been special for her. She had been so scared, afraid she'd make a mistake, positive he would reject her, worried she would never have a chance for happiness again. Then he had put his arm around her and started talking so softly to her, whispering in her ear. When he told her to close her eyes and lean against him all the cares of the world had vanished. She still had no idea what he had said. Before she had fallen asleep she had felt the first small glimmer of hope that her life had finally turned around and for the better.

Elise sighed and opened her eyes. Reaching behind her back she took off the restraint belt. Would he ever use it on her again? With the rest, the chains? She would give anything to recapture that moment, so powerless yet so safe in his arms.

She put the belt back in the closet. Could she ask him? And what would he think of her if she did? The problem was she still didn't know him well enough to predict his reaction. And that made her naturally cautious. He had immense power over every facet of her life. He might even return her to the Facility if she disappointed him.

She shut the closet door and went over to the side table in the entryway. A direct question was too risky, but perhaps she could ask something else in order to get some insight into his thoughts. That day in the interview room he had been in no hurry to take the restraints off. His look when he ordered her to turn around had been telling. She could tell when a man was looking at her in a sexual context.

The side table had one small drawer with a set of gloves in it. Probably driving gloves for cold mornings , she thought.

Elise spent the next several hours going through each room. When she got to the music he did in fact have a few old vinyl records of country-western music. The artists were familiar names she rather liked herself. The collection as a whole was eclectic, ranging from big band to rock and roll to classical. Judging by titles and artists he liked nearly every kind of music. She had permission to listen to music, and he had shown her how to operate the sound system. Selecting some of the Beatles albums she loaded the CD changer and headed for the bedroom while Penny Lane played in the background.

There were no shocking revelations as she went through his belongings. Ben seemed to live a rather simple life. There were a few pictures in one drawer, apparently friends at some vacation spot, one with a younger Ben and some men all in unfamiliar military uniforms. The clothes in his closet were drab by any standard. Maybe he would let her pick something out for him.

Her side of their closet she already knew. At least there were some clothes there now, clothes she had been allowed to pick out. After so many months at the Facility, where she had been given the same uniform to wear every day it had been nice to have some variety. Variety yes, but not exactly freedom to choose whatever I want, she reminded herself . She ran a hand past the short line of outfits. It represented a one day shopping trip, with her picking out items she liked followed by his approval. More than once he had turned down something she thought he would find attractive. He had been patient when she guessed wrong, explaining that she would learn as much by what he turned down as by what he accepted.

There were dresses, skirts, and blouses. Not a single pair of shorts, slacks, or pantsuits. No miniskirts, halter tops, tee shirts or low cut blouses either, which surprised her. He wouldn't allow anything too revealing. His taste in fashion ran to the classic, conservative look. And she had been reading about his tznius , fashion that met Jewish standards, on the internet. Our tastes now , she chided herself, I want to be whatever he wants to see . The last item in her miniscule wardrobe was the uniform she had worn the day of the interview, and the two identical ones the driver had given Ben. She had washed and ironed them yesterday.

Those three outfits had been her entire allowance of clothing the last week at the Facility. She had never really thought of them as her own, especially since there were no personal possessions allowed. Somehow it didn't seem appropriate to wear them now; she would have to ask Ben about it.

In the back of her closet was the single suitcase she had brought with her to the Island. It had been kept in storage at the Facility, along with the clothes she had been wearing when she left the ship. Those clothes she knew were in the cardboard box next to the suitcase. The box brought back memories of that first day at the Facility, when she had been ordered to strip. The box and luggage were the last remnants of her old life. For Elise they were a reminder of a past she had no interest in remembering. If Ben approved she would dispose of them unopened.