The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Sevenpercentsolution on 28-06-2009, 00:02:35</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>28-06-2009, 00:02:35</strong>
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				The Taylor home was quiet that very early summer morning; the sun had barely risen over the horizon and so the light only came through the windows in thin orange streams that reflected off of the polished marble floors and staircases.&nbsp; The enormous, gated courtyard was locked and silent as would be expected of five in the morning, and yet there was movement - it came from the precise and silent footfalls of impeccable Italian leather shoes as the wearer made his way across the cobblestone path.<br><br>Mr. Blake had worked for the Taylor family for eleven years now and every morning he followed the same routine before anyone in the neighbourhood had risen; he would peruse the garden and inspect the roses and mountain laurel bushes, retrieve the morning post, dispose of rubbish, and ensure the home was spotless.&nbsp; During the rare days that Master Taylor was in the city, Mr. Blake would have his employer's suits pressed and breakfast prepared for him before he rose, but those times were becoming less frequent as the man became more absorbed by his work.&nbsp; <br><br>This left Mr. Blake with his true charge, the reason he had been hired; it had been made clear to him from the start that his utmost priority was Master Taylor's young daughter, Emma - now twenty, he had been tending to her since she was a precocious, painfully pampered nine year old.&nbsp; At first the young Miss had been - difficult - as boundaries had never been set in her tiny life and her only company had been the presence of a nurse and a school marm, both of whom had been subservient to the little girl, doting upon her in the way that only large salaries could inspire.<br><br>Master Taylor had gone in search for a remedy to his little girl's loneliness and had discovered Blake, a then twenty-four year old with an already impressive Oxford education and a polite, straight-forward disposition.&nbsp; His introduction to the young Miss had included moments where the young girl had tested him for compliancy, and he had come up to be roughly as malleable as a brick, and with about the same sense of humour.<br><br>But as the years tend to do to people, they had grown on eachother, and though Mr. Blake could be stoic and occasionally severe, he was also loyal to the family - despite numerous offers for vast sums of money, he eternally refused to give details to the ever-persistent paparazzi regarding any of the family, and had even gone so far as to sternly reprimand several reporters for what he had deemed as 'rude behaviour'.&nbsp; <br><br>And this, perhaps, was the oddest thing about Mr. Blake - people listened to him, usually stunned by the sharpness of his accent and the extreme civility of him and his severe three-piece suits, they tended to duck their heads and put their tails between their legs like admonished puppies.&nbsp; Even men much older and much wider than him had the tendency of being cowed by his aggressively polite nature; armed with a vast warehouse of knowledge and with the tendency of being prepared for all events, Mr. Blake had stepped into the role of a caretaker like it was a second skin, ready to intercept any hitch that threatened to interfere with Miss Taylor's life.<br><br>Sometimes, this included gentlemen callers.&nbsp; Quietly protective, Mr. Blake had, on occasion, taken to surreptitiously tailing Miss Taylor during social outings - it was difficult for a man of six-foot-four to be inconspicuous, but he somehow managed to go unseen during the times he monitored her.&nbsp; Of course, he never told her about these times - strictly speaking, he was a caretaker and not a bodyguard - but Master Taylor had been interested in Blake for his cadet experience as well.<br><br>A man of many talents; Master Taylor would have nothing less, even if it meant occasionally acknowledging Mr. Blake's quirks - but those were things he had always sought to keep quiet.&nbsp; After all, just because every man had his neuroses, it didn't mean they needed to be put on display.&nbsp; Subtle.&nbsp; Always subtle.<br><br>On that particular morning, Blake waited until the sun had risen high, and when nine in the morning rolled around, he came to Miss Taylor's door, a tray with tea and toast balanced on his arm; he knocked gently.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>30-06-2009, 05:50:02</strong>
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				"Oh, please let it be a cheeseburger and milkshake you are bringing Blake," she called out as she lifted her head up from the pillow. Her mouth felt as if she held a thousand cotton balls to store away for her hibernation. Considering her school was let out for the summer and she had yet to sign up for summer college classes indicated she was trying to slack a bit in her work. However with Blake around it was only a matter of time before he figured out her school schedule and made her sign up. The man had to be psychic to be able to know all of what was going on in her head. Sometimes the man scared her with what he knew which made today all the more worse if he found out about her laziness to grab the college classes to finish the necessary coursework for lower level classes. <br><br>For the past few years, she finally put down Blake as some sort of demon to know what she was about to do and how to make sure she either received it by working hard or took it away from her. He took away the bong pipe a friend sneaked in to give to her to try cannabis but he managed to intercept the package and make her smoke fish and a salad to keep her health and immunities up. Damn him and his all knowing nature. No matter how hard she tried to fight him, he knew of a way to out beat her. She remembered throwing down tantrums as a child when he put down his foot and informed her she was not allowed to do such and such. Oooh, made her mad as a nest of hornets and over the years she even tried to get him fired. No matter what she pulled, her father kept him on and did not even break down under her tears and her red face.<br><br>Now he was a fixed person in her life she hate to be without no matter the needed privacy. It was only at night she had her privacy but even then she felt he checked in on her by opening her bedroom door at odd hours to make sure she was in bed. One time, she swore he was in the damn room with her but when she opened both her eyes she found no one was standing in the corner of the room. For the longest, she held her flashlight in her right hand when she went to bed, clicking it on and off to try and spook the imaginary Blake from taking her sheets at night. Of course she was a kid when this happen but nonetheless, she had the flashlight in case he tried to get fresh with her. There were many stories of the Hampton girls getting it on with the help but never had Blake done any bump and grind with her. He went to town on fixing her habits of cursing but nothing on him trying to get beneath her skirt.<br><br>Blake never really did anything but his job. Never had she heard him speak of a girlfriend or even a boyfriend. Was he straight? Gay? Celibate? The man was a damn brick wall she could not get through no matter what schemes she pulled out of her Dolce hat. She could beg, bribe even threaten but the man never gave out information. No wonder her father employed him and kept him on for all of these years. Eleven years. The man worked for eleven years to control her and he never once rolled up and died on her. Most nannies left in the first few weeks, one even left the same day she was hired on and another one took at look at her and pointed to a picture posted in the nanny agencies about her. Seems she was the one child most nannies wanted to leave alone or wanted to leave for the ones who were strong enough to handle her nature. Not her fault she was 'special' in her own way.<br><br>Now when Emma meant 'special', she meant she was a rich, spoiled brat who could throw tantrums and cry until her father shut her up with another pony or barbie doll. It was not until she ran off the tenth nanny had Blake come into her life. At the age of nine years old, Emma placed him in the group of male nannies who tried their hand at her and failed. Already she thought he was going to end up throwing his hands in the air and refusing to work for a higher price. Instead, he went to work on 'bringing her to smarts' as her father would say before he went back to yapping on the phone. Where was her father at this hour? Last time she recalled, he was about to head off to China to sign a deal with the distributors about a new up and coming website he wanted to put his money and become CEO of; her father always seemed to work no matter the hour and day. Father could be on his death bed and all he could speak about was the websites he bought being secured to be transferred over to a new server for the world to enjoy. <br><br>Which was how Blake settled into her life. When her father went off to make his next million or cooped up in his officer talking business with other men, she was left in Blake's care. Blake managed to see her through a lot of emotional moments. He was there when her father gave her a puppy and even aided in giving her turtle a funeral when it finally died of old age. It had been her father's and he passed the turtle to her to care for, Blake was there through a lot of events. He grew on her like an annoying vine but he never threw in the towel and left her. Honestly, she always thought he would leave her like her mother would and she even talked about how she hated her mother for not fighting harder to keep her. <br><br>Emma had been just a babe when her parents divorced and her mother gave her up to her father to take care of while she finished her college degree and lived her own life. Her father gave her alimony checks but god, how could her mother just give her up like that and then expect to be in her life again? Even now, her mother continued to ask her if she would visit her in Italy for the next month while she was relieved from her college classes. This was one of the reasons why Emma hesitated on signing up for college courses in the summer because what if she was meant to see and interact with her mother The other reasons dealt with wanting to party it up in the Hampton's or even go down to Miami to stay with a couple of her college friends. Blake would blow the top off of his head if he heard she wanted to shake her hips on the beach with boys. <br><br>What was the problem about having a boyfriend? Somehow it was a grave mistake for her to even want a boyfriend. No matter how hard she tried, the men in her life were spooked off in one way or another. One even tried the whole, 'it is me, not you' bullshit all the while his eyes were glancing over her shoulder and anyplace where he was not standing. She still put money Blake held a hand in this but he never gave her anything worth knowing. Now it was eleven years of being there for her and here was she a female of twenty in college and still needing someone to keep her in line. If it was not for Blake, she might have become addicted to drugs and plastic surgery though she fancied getting a breast job. Her breasts looked too old and laid low on her chest. She felt she could bump her knees against her breasts if she stood up and Emma might be exaggerating but she needed a second opinion.<br><br>With that in mind, she got out of bed and glanced at herself in the mirror placed against one of the corners of her room. She waited for Blake to enter into the room all the while she lifted up her tank top and checked her breasts in the mirror. Since Blake had not done any touching of her inappropriately other than the spankings he gave her when she flew into her rages or got mouthy with him, Blake was the male to go to on woman's problems. When Emma meant woman problems, she meant her own problems because he had seen her when she was on her period and in need of chocolate and tissues. "Blake, I think my breasts are about to hit the fucking ground. I might need a boob job, what do you think?," she called out as she turned and intended to flash Blake and make him help her pick out a new set of breasts if in fact her breasts were sagging faster than a plumber's jeans. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>01-07-2009, 00:18:41</strong>
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				Blake waited patiently until he heard the sound of his ward's voice and then entered the room; despite his height, Mr. Blake moved like a ghost - it was as though his footsteps sought to be as quiet and unobstrusive as he was.&nbsp; <br><br>"It most certainly is not," Blake said crisply, pausing to close the door behind him, "Nutrition is important and I simply will not have you ingesting greasy meals while I am the one bringing them."<br><br>Indeed, there was nothing even remotely indulgent about the silver tray he was bearing; whole grain toasts, melon, egg, and tea.&nbsp; Though the meals were varied, they were ultimately always following along with Blake's strict nutrition guidelines, rules that he characteristically would not bend.&nbsp; However, if Miss Tayler saw fit to leave the home and seek a less nutritious option, she was free to do so, he would never restrict her from having a social life - after all, that wasn't what he was there to do, she was twenty years old and thus her every choice was her own.<br><br>However, she would always find after a night of drinking or eating pizza that her caretaker would politely tack a spinach salad onto the side of every meal for the next day, which she was, of course, expected to eat.&nbsp; As with everything, she did have the freedom to refuse, but that refusal tended to lead to Mr. Blake giving her a very sharp look; as a man with few facial expressions at the best of times, it became particularly pronounced when he utilized his features - a simple long, cold gaze from Blake had encouraged many people to eat their leafy greens.<br><br>Credit would have to be given to Mr. Blake on that particular morning, because when he turned around and found Miss Taylor with her shirt up and her breasts bared to him, he didn't bat an eye.&nbsp; In fact, his gaze didn't even seem to shift from her face,<br><br>"I think, Miss Taylor," he said, "That it would do you well to remember that you are not a deck hand, so you should not use the language of one.&nbsp; When you begin a life of trawling for cod, you can feel free to use as many expletives as your heart desires."<br><br>He ventured forth, placing the tray onto a side table before he set about rearranging her bed covers,<br><br>"Breast augmentation can cause infections and tissue death," he said, refraining from an actual opinion on the matter as he was wont to do, yet giving information that made his thoughts on the topic quite clear, "I daresay it would be in your best interest to reconsider your harsh assessment of your own body."<br><br>Straightening up, he turned back towards her,<br><br>"Did you sleep well, Miss Taylor?" he asked.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>01-07-2009, 02:09:46</strong>
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				How could he not be blushing or stuttering over his words at her breasts? Were her breasts not the kind to make a man stop in his tracks and let her tongue roll out of his mouth? Maybe they were too small and he had yet to notice she even had breasts. The way she wore a few of her clothes, she could be mistaken for a pretty boy with long hair and caramel skin. <br><br>A frown appeared on her forehead another by product of her interaction with Blake over the years. The man put more frowns and angry glares on her face more than the fashion industry when it made something 'in' for a month and 'out' the next second. Blake put her on a spending limit after the last time she spent twenty thousand dollars on Jimmy Choo's alone. Not her fault Jessica Sarah fucking Parker had to go on and on about Jimmy Choo's in her series of Sex &amp; the City and then in the movie. Once people started to wear Jimmy Choo's, she had to make sure she was the only one in Hampton to have the most shoes. Her father was madder than usual and now she was on a budget of only one thousand dollars per week, five thousand dollars a month. <br><br>Five thousand dollars a month? What was she supposed to do with only five thousand dollars? She could barely afford a pair of sunglasses much less shoes with that kind of money. Now if Blake started to talk about going to Wal-Mart or god forbid a Salvation Army, she was going to scream her fucking head off. Though if she saved a bit here and there, Emma had a great chance to put the money towards a breast job. What was the worst that could happen? Emma had every right to fix a part of herself if she felt wrong and bad about it. Right now Blake was trying his best to get her to stop with the cursing but he was not about to break her habit of sprinkling foul words whenever she had the chance. Besides, she enjoyed seeing him get flustered and hear him use more metaphors on how her cursing relatedback to someone. <br><br>Today he talked about trawling for cod and when in the hell was she ever going to go fishing? She just had her nails done and not about to break them anytime soon. "Aww, come on now, be serious, Blake. This is the modern times. People do say 'fuck' and 'ass' and you never hear the bleeping sound like you do in the commercials. Not like you are going to die of using 'fuck' twenty times in a fucking sentence, god damn it," she explained, a smile on her face, happy as can be to know she was going to push his buttons this morning. Blake deserved a bit of punishment for ignoring her breasts and not giving her the answer she wanted. That and the man brought healthy food. <br><br>Did he not know her metabolism could deal with a cheeseburger or two? Yes, she was not the slim and perfect blonde barbies she noticed on the beach but it was not her fault she was born Spanish-Italian. As a result of her mother's weight and obsession with food it seemed to be a part of her genetics. No matter if she ate those damn healthy foods, she continued to keep the extra ten pounds around her hips and thighs. For God's sake she looked like a whale in her clothes but Blake like a man would never tell her the truth. Nope, he goes around informing her she needs to watch her mouth and how breast implants will infect and ruin her tissue. Does he not know the tissue she has now are sagging at the rate of the sun going up into the sky? God, Blake could be tense at times.<br><br>"Damn whether or not I slept well, Blake. My breasts are about to become hackey sacks and all you can think about is whether I slept well, eat a nutritious fucking breakfast and fixing the bed," she shouted, pulling her shirt down and crossing her arms. Crossing her arms usually meant she was about to become unhappy and even bitchy. How could Blake be this mean and not see her breasts needed work? He had no clue what she felt at this moment and forhim to push away her concerns and fears only made her even more nervous about her body image. If a man who spent eleven years of her life cannot even give her a straight answer, the only person to ask was a plastic surgeon. Already she had in mind which doctor could work on her in private and make sure no one knew about her breasts needing a little help in catching the attention of males.<br><br>No wonder Blake did not even whistle at her. Hell, he could be an android after all of this time but at least let her know she was not some fat slob. Nope, all he did was belittle and tell her how stupid her comments were about herself. "Take the healthy meal and shove it up your ass, Blake. I do not care if you give me your look, I am going to get breast implants and you cannot stop me." There, take that. After all of this time if he could not even be truthful and not care whether or not her body looked like an old maid, then best if she distanced herself from him. Emma gave Blake too much of a role in her life and even if he managed to keep her out of trouble, he did it at the expense of keeping a normal life. She might be rich but she at least wanted to live a semi-normal life with friends, a boyfriend and not a hound dog following and pushing her to do things she did not want to do. <br><br>Huffing, she turned around to give her back to Blake another thing she managed to acquire over the last few years. If she turned her back to him, she did not have to see his facial expressions but it was a failure since she was near the mirror. Now she had to put on the side back to him but she kept her eyes on the wall in front of her. "You still treat me like a fucking child when I am twenty years old and you need to start relaxing before your cranky old ass keels over from a heart attack," she muttered, glancing down at her painted toes, wiggling them to distract her from the fact Blake was just going to go with his usual spiel and ignore her concerns again. Just like him to forget she was a woman with feelings and not some precious stone to take care of from looters. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 02:32:32</strong>
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				Blake had always been the sort to use a careful and considered approach when wording anything; never one to be impolite, he never allowed himself to be pulled into dramatics, he kept secrets like a vault, and he refrained making unjust judgments - however, on the very rare occasion, something would spur him to speak up beyond his normal boundaries.&nbsp; <br><br>His expression remained characteristically stony through her stream of curses; five swears in a single sentance, followed up by another quick five, and she was turning her back to him to avoid the inevitable sharp look.&nbsp; It was a move she had used since she was a small child with the hope that the problem would dissappear once it was out of sight, and at the moment he was the problem in her eyes.<br><br>He took a moment to assess the situation; though she was behaving poorly, he did acknowledge that there was a foundation of low self-esteem driving her behaviour - young people were harsh critics of their bodies and her spontaneous - flashing - was a fairly clear indication she was seeking attention, even if it was the bad sort.<br><br>"Perhaps if you would hold your conversations face to face, rather than with your back turned," Blake said mildly, "You would find yourself being treated in a way more fitting to your age group."<br><br>Beyond that, it wasn't his job to 'relax' as she put it - in fact, the concept was foreign to him as a man who had always been on the move, and while he wasn't exactly high-strung, he was most definitely viewed as 'stiff' by most people who met him.&nbsp; <br><br>"So when you feel prepared to speak like an adult, this discussion can be continued." he said, venturing to open it up for a more in-depth conversation, because given her current reactions, this wasn't a subject that would dissappear on its own,<br><br>"Until then, you may want to take advantage of your breakfast before it becomes cold."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 04:39:12</strong>
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				Oh, he made her so angry she could spit but because there was carpet on the floor and not marble or granite, she instead did the next best thing. The next best thing being her bending over to grab the new pair of sneakers she bought for her exercise regiment with the new trainer. From what she heard, these were the best shoes to exercise in but now these pair of ninety dollars sneakers were about to be thrown at Blake's head. The man deserved a good knock in the head for knocking her around the last eleven years. Dig. Dig. Dig. Blake dug into her expecting greatness when he should know greatness takes time and patience. Two things which were not his best quality since the man was a fucking mosquito.<br><br>Yes, a mosquito for he kept buzzing around her waiting to attach himself and suck her blood like a vampire. Wait. Emma had to think about her metaphors and see if she even got it right. The way it sounded, it was almost a bit too much for even her own comprehension. "I do not give a shit about my breakfast. What I give a shit about is the fact my damn tits are sagging faster than sand through an hourglass, Blake," she argued as she made sure her grip on one of the sneakers was held tight before she turned to launch the shoe at him. Emma hoped she clocked him in the head but if it at least hit some part of his body, she would be happy with the result. She was damn tired of Blake not seeing her as more than just someone to cluck over like a damn mother hen. Cluck. Cluck. Fucking cluck. Annoyed the hell out of her for him to watch over her like a fucking mother when she wanted a friend, an actual person to talk to about her concerns. <br><br>Her own mother did not want her. She made it absolutely clear how much she did not want Emma in her life unless it was a convenience and on her own schedule. Emma was not a damn time share to be used whenever the mood hit her mother. For God's sake could anyone not see she wanted someone who could at least hand some advice or even a box of tissues? Blake would most likely tell her she was bit stupid to cry over a silly thing like her mother but he knew nothing about her mental state. A look inside her head should have been on Blake's to do list in order to get the grasp of a female. Put money Blake thought of things in a distant and medical way almost like a doctor but only worse. A doctor who could care less what the patient felt as long as he was paid and finished with the surgery before Jeopardy.<br><br>Blake did not have to keep looking after her anymore and no clue why her father kept him at this stage in her life. Hell, it was a miracle her father put up with the antics being pulled but it was all to get his attention. Emma could keep spending Daddy's money and pissing off Blake but all she wanted was someone to fucking love her. Love her not like a person charged to watch over her or a father forced to deal with her because her mother wanted to keep her own life but someone who truly and absolutely love her. Emma wanted someone to love her unconditionally with all her faults and just be there for her. Blake was only there because he was being paid to be there. If he was given a choice by her father to stay another twenty years or be given a severance pay worth his dream, Emma bet she would see only dust as Blake clicked his heels and left her for good. No one was there and the best policy was to push people away. <br><br>Yes, push them away and keep them from ever hurting her. If she could not get love, then why be a good person? Why care about being what society wants her to be? If Emma wanted big breasts, fake tan and a botoxed face she had the damn right to get it and no one was going to stop her. "Why do you care so much about me fitting in with the age group? Obviously even if I demand you to listen to my concerns you are just going to brush them aside. You always brush them aside, ever since I was a child," she flung at him as she turned to throw the second sneaker at him again. Better yet, she wanted to throw herself and beat him with her sneaker to get through his thick skull that no one would want her even as a good girl. Best to be the bad girl and force people to hand over what she wanted. She may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth but now she planned to be an even bigger problem for Blake. <br><br>Blake could continue to throw faces but he was not her father or a husband who had the right to put down roots with because this man's job with her was over. Even if she had to threaten to run away and actually do it, she wanted Blake out of her life. Emma had no need for another man to ignore her. She had her father but enough was enough with Blake. "I want you gone, I hate you!," she cried out as she finally went along with her plan and ran at him with the shoe. Might not do much damage but she wanted him to feel her hatred. Wanted him to see the mistake of not listening to her concerns. "I fucking hate you, Blake! I wish you were dead, god, I wish you were, leave me alone!!!" She screamed as loud as she could and hoped to scare the man away for good.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 11:31:21</strong>
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				It was thrown with surprising accuracy for a shoe; it hit Blake on the level of his chest, but as with everything else, there seemed to be little reaction from him - instead, he merely glanced down at his chest for an instant, as though considering the strike carefully, and then back to Emma, who was on the edge of throwing what was likely to be the most severe tantrum of her life.&nbsp; <br><br>And it was, because Emma was suddenly charging at him like a tiny kamikaze pilot; all self-righteous anger and an absent-minded sort of rage, she was holding her other brand name shoe in her hand, preparing to thrash him with it.&nbsp; He waited patiently as she crossed the room, flailing and screaming her hatred for him; she had said it before of course, on occasion where her anger got the best of her, she would proclaim how she disliked him.&nbsp; <br><br>It still managed to sting a little, but it wasn't something Blake expressed; instead, he tucked that particular feeling away somewhere where he wouldn't need to look at it.<br><br>Instead, he waited until she was near, then took hold of both of her tiny wrists and soundly swept one foot beneath her legs to drop her to the ground before he followed, settling on his knees and pinning her to the floor, crossing her arms over her chest and holding them there.&nbsp; He watched her then, his expression one of disciplined patience, but there was a small divet near his eyebrow, a digging in that signified some aspect of this entire thing was not sitting well with him.<br><br>"Miss Taylor," he said sharply, "I can wait like this all morning if I have to.&nbsp; Scream all you like, but know that no amount of rage on your part will encourage me to leave you."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 22:55:01</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma was glad to have hit Blake the first time with her sneaker. The man deserved to know what it felt like to have a female who wanted to have a life of her own become when no one listened to her feelings. All Blake had to do was sit down with her, have a cup of coffee and listen to her concerns. All she wanted was for someone to listen to her before she was thrown to the therapists to handle it with another person who was paid to listen to her. Even people of wealth had their own problems and her problem at the moment was having someone listen to how she felt she was not good enough to pass her college courses or to even be in a lavish place. Sounded like she might need a hug but a person who has been sheltered and placed in the care of a person who she assumed really did not like her at all, it can play with a person's mind. <br><br>For Emma, she wanted him to see how much she wanted to have someone to like her. However she was busy at the moment flailing her arms about at Blake. She wanted to hurt him. Wanted to see if this man was a robot with no feelings. Throughout her eyes tied to him never had he let her know anything about him or his true emotions. Everything was crisp and cut through butter. Another dumb metaphor but Emma was a bit busy trying to pummel Blake with her sneaker. A sneaker which she hoped cracked him in the nose and broke it. Better to show her father how much she wanted to get rid of another male who was being paid to be in her life. <br><br>Blake had to know how upset she was with his presence around her. Had to know how she wanted him to say something not curbed by his role as mother hen to her. Be himself. Be someone who was not about to get a face full of rubber. Be...damn it. Damn him and his cat like abilities or his panther abilties, whichever feline ability was able to take her down quickly. <br><br>Struggling beneath him, she continued to kick her legs and fight against his hold. "You are a complete and utter bastard! You never listen to one thing I say, you only pick apart something you do not like and then use it to hit me on the nose with like I am a fucking puppy. I am not a puppy you can shuffle around and force to train, Blake. I want someone I can talk to, I do not want a brickwall who constantly belittles me. If I wanted someone to belittle me, I rather have those catty bitches down the street who call themselves my friends," she shouted out in one breath before she took another. There, she managed to get some of what she hoped would get through Blake's thick head and stay in for more than a milisecond.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>"Then you are going to wait here because I am done having someone around only forced to be here because of money," she whispered as a sob tore from her throat. Fuck, was she on her period to be getting this emotional or where those medications the doctor prescribed to her giving these side effects? Father assumed Emma's problems were connected to her attention span or what the doctors liked to call Attention Deficit Disorder but in reality her attention was not all over the place. Yes, she may be fickle with her thoughts but the medication made her sluggish and after the first few months, she started to dump her medication. Best to let Blake in on her other mistakes. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 23:25:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blake waited as he said he would; he waited while Emma flailed and kicked and tried to wrestle her little wrists out of his hands, but to no avail.&nbsp; The height difference alone was her undoing; at five-foot-three she was tiny, and at six-foor-four he was a giant by most standards - it didn't take a lot of force on his part to keep her down.<br><br>He waited for her to finish her curses, her insults and anger, he waited for the rage on her face to simmer, and then he heard the catch in her throat, the sob that indicated things much deeper than some childish, spoiled tantrum - especially when coming from a twenty year old woman.&nbsp; It had been some time, years in fact, since Emma had behaved this way - though she was inclined to her moods and trying to test him frequently like a hiker prodding a sleeping bear, she hadn't been quite so violent since she was very young.<br><br>Blake cocked his head to the side, <br><br>"I can assure you," he said, "If it were about money, Miss Taylor, I could have taken a much higher salary years ago to care for the Watson child five blocks over, they've offered repeatedly."<br><br>Hands still holding her down, he sat back enough to get a better look at her face right then, and finally he frowned,<br><br>"It was never my intention to be unavailable to you." he admitted.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 00:21:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Damn him and his freaky tall nature. He was too tall to reach up and slap and too anal to get him to let down his mask for once. For once, she wanted him to talk to her not like a caretaker but the day it happened might be the day she died of a heart attack at the fucking age of twenty-one. The way things were heading, only a matter of time before her next tantrum set her heart off into overdrive and bursting into a million gorey pieces inside her chest. Blake might blame her death on her not eating enough vegetables. Bastard. Super Bastard. "I fucking hate you," she repeated over and over to him hoping he would get the picture and stop holding her down. <br><br>It was getting annoying to be on the ground beneath him as she kicked and continued to throw foul language his way. Annoying because she was five foot three while he towered at six foot four. Most of the neighbors noticed him before her when the two walked down the street or at a store while she shopped. Emma heard the comments made behind the pair whenever the two went out. The one she constantly heard was how Emma was fucking Blake but Blake would never admit to sleeping with a stupid cunt. Stupid cunt? She was not stupid cunt. Emotional, yes. Smart, when she studied and worked at it. Emma was not a stupid cunt but she never knew what to say about Blake and her coming to any point of sleeping with one another. It was weird to think about it but Blake was always there to put the nail in those thoughts especially now. <br><br>Again, he was not listening to her. There he was with his clipped tones and brushing aside her feelings. Look at him trying to joke at her expense. Had he no clue how hard it was to talk without bottling it up inside? She was more of an emotional female, no other female around to teach her how to act properly. Emma would eat worms before she asked her own mother for female advice. Yet there Blake was doing what she told him he was at fault for and everything went right over his fucking head. How many more times could she explain things to him before she gave up and figured things out on her own? Blake was not going to be around forever, even he had a bucket list to accomplish. <br><br>"You are unavailable to me Blake...," she started and wished she could at least use one of her hands to wipe away the tears slipping down her cheeks. The last time she cried and with actual feeling behind it was her father not acknowledging her high test scores in private school. She worked hard for those scores and for her father to skim over the results and pass the papers back to her while on the phone was hard. Emma cried in her bedroom and she ignored whatever it was Blake wanted to tell her but she pushed it all away. Pushed everything away. <br><br>"You have never made yourself available and that is where you fail in, Blake. You failed the one thing I truly needed but let us not go into this anymore. You are going to keep on with your cold comments and will continue to boss me around. I will keep to my role as the bitchy and spoiled brat. Just let me up and I will eat the 'healthy and nutrient' breakfast you have prepared. Hopefully the breakfast can be reheated," she whispered, having stopped with the bitching and badgering. Maybe this was it. Eleven yearsof bitching and complaing and he won. He won this whole argument but she was going to slowly distance herself from him. The only way to get rid of him is to live her life independantly and show her father she had no more use for Blake. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 01:13:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He watched a tear roll down her face, followed by several more and though his expression remained placcid, Blake felt a swell of guilt in his chest that he was unclear what to do with; for years he had mediated the situation by patiently listening to her rant and rave until she was flushed, panting, and too tired to go on.&nbsp; That had been the functioning solution for a long time, and while it had occurred to him on more than one occasion that perhaps he should come up with a response beyond his diplomatic ones during times like these - getting personal had never been his strong suit.<br><br>In fact, he found his polite sensitivities positively rebelled at the concept; he was there to care for Emma, be there for her - not to bore her with a life story.<br><br>But then, he considered, it meant that even after eleven years, the most she knew of him was what she had seen, and what she had seen, of course, was a man doing his job.&nbsp; He couldn't rightfully blame her for believing that his only interest was a pay check, though it was stinging to know he had ever been thought of by her that way.&nbsp; <br><br>He didn't let her go when she demanded it again, nor when she repeatedly told him she hated him, again and again.&nbsp; Instead, he considered his next words very carefully, toeing the line that had kept him distant,<br><br>"My father was a naval officer," he said simply, "When I was three we moved from Oxford to Devonport and stayed on the base until I was eight.&nbsp; In 1982 he was deployed for active duty for the Falklands war; they took down the ARA General Belgrano cruiser, but not before it took out four of the Royal Navy's carriers.&nbsp; My mother and I received his medal for bravery through the post."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 02:49:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Was he trying to tell her something to shut her up or to at least show he was not all bad? Should she take the bit of information and throw it back in his face? Her first instinct was to tell him he should be glad to be without a father. Better yet to take her own father and live in perfect harmony. Her bitchy side wanted too but she took a moment to digest the information. He lost his father for a brave thing done in the Falklands War. Emma had no clue where the Falklands were but hand over a map and point to where it can be and she was in business. It felt good to hear something about Blake. <br><br>This was the first bit of information he gave her in the last eleven years. As a child she picked up he had an accent and took a few years later to guess it was somewhere in Europe. A few more years to find it was the UK and now to hear it was in Oxford and Devonport gave her a better understanding of him. He was a kid who lost a parent as well. Well, a bit different but even she felt her own mother was gone permanently in her life. Only a few months back the woman finally wanted to have a mother-daughter relationship. Twenty years. Took her twenty years to want to chat it up with her and become a part of her life. A life which at the moment was stuck beneath a tall UK male.<br><br>"Did you enjoy the base you were on? What about other kids to hang out with? Any friends made before?," she asked, a small floodgate of questions pouring out of her. Who knew the next time he was about to let her in on his life. Maybe he let out a small information every eleven years. Best to get the information now before he shut up and continued to be a pain in her ass. She wanted to know more because this man was by her side in various ways for the last eleven years. He made sure she was well when she became sick, kept to her studies when she fell back the man even was put under pressure to almost put on a costume to be in a school play. Somehow he managed to get out of the play and she never truly asked how he managed to get out of playing the part of Maria in Sound of Music.<br><br>Was he going to shut up because of the questions? Tell her story time was over? Inside, Emma needed to know he was not some goon who was paid to keep her away from hurting herself. Already, she hurt inside because of this atmosphere surronding her. She wanted to know he was a normal man and not one who wanted to be paid to watch over a brat. "Tell me more, please Blake. Please," she practically begged as she chewed on her lip and waited. Waited to see what he would do with the ball in his court. Take the leap and at least let her change her mind on him or continue on this damn road which could lead to a dead end?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 10:44:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was a lengthy pause; she had stopped fighting him, all of her anger and twisting and writhing - though likely still close to the surface - had drained away enough to give way to something more - innocent.&nbsp; It was an unquenched curiosity that Blake hadn't realized was inside of her, at least not regarding the topic of <em>him</em>, and the near pleading that escaped her for more information was almost startling.<br><br>"The base was poorly equipped and the men were not well-paid at the time; education was limited and - severe - within the facilities.&nbsp; Wives did the best they could with what they had, families often relied on eachother for supplies and food when times got hard; there were some children, but most of them were newborns, or much older than me," he said, "But there was a girl - Sarah Evans. We were - close."<br><br>He hesitated, but continued on,<br><br>"Coincidentally, she was from Oxford as well; when we moved back home, it turned out she lived only blocks away.&nbsp; Her father had been on the surviving vessel, but he had returned home a very different man - she spent as much time away from her home as she could, but eventually - well.&nbsp; She was approached by a man at the diner she worked at; he offered her a new life if she left with him, so she was married at seventeen.&nbsp; I haven't seen her since." <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 16:19:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"How long did you live on the Base before you moved back home?," she asked, skirting around the subject of his father's death. While she may be a curious female about Blake, even there were subjects Emma could be cautious about and stay away from until it was given the green light. Blake gave information and she was taking all of it in to consider and relegate to certain parts of her memory. Emma did not want to forget this moment but she knew she would not because of the circumstances to get to this point. It took her almost emotional breakdown to have Blake tell her about living on a base and a female named Sarah Evans. A woman he was close to and the way he paused before informing her the two were close piqued her interest.<br><br>How close were the two? Did he have a picture of her? Picture of him as a child? A family photo album? Was it hidden in his room? She gone to his room a couple of times but never stayed too long. Most of the time, she stood outside his door while he went in to pick up something he needed but did not want her to intrude on his space. The man intruded on her space all of the time and it was time he let her see more of him. If Emma was a tiny bit honest, she was curious about Blake. Curious to erase the image she had of him and maybe swipe the slate clean for the pair. <br><br>Look at her with her emotions running all over the place. First she wanted to distance herself, another to be independant of him and now...well she knew not what she should do with him now. "Sarah Evans, good name. When you say you were close to Sarah, do you mean as friends, frenemies or perhaps even together?," she asked, her curiosity elevated even more now. Altogether she stopped her struggling and became fascinated by Blake. Did it ruffle his feathers to know she wanted to learn more about him? Give him a good feeling? He needed to let more of himself go before he truly lost his way in relaxing.<br><br>"I can see you do not like to share much but I really appreciate and enjoy hearing about you Blake. Huh, I do not even know your first name and no matter how much I tried to see your i.d. or mail, you were a ninja to keep it a secret," she mused. She called him Blake but was it really his first name? Eleven years she no clue at all if he even was given a first name at birth. Well of course he had a first name but Mr. Blake was the name set forth over and over to be called by him. Strange, eleven years and only now to find out about Blake. At least she had the mental capacity to remember details and write things down for the next time he told her about himself. Hopefully the next time would not take eleven years.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 16:45:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Finally, Blake carefully released Miss Taylor's arms, removing the pressure on her entirely, and then taking her shoulders to pull her up into a seated position; he remained in place, watching her with careful eyes.&nbsp; The cold demeanor and sharpness of the man was emphasized by the sharpness of high cheekbones and a long, almost hawk-like nose, but the hue of his eyes was a honey-colour, the one thing that seemed to be defying everything else about him.<br><br>"We stayed on the base only a few months after the end of the Falklands; the government had little use for a widow and her child.&nbsp; I was almost ten when we returned to Oxford," he replied, and considered the next question; he had no pictures of her, but could easily remember the face of Sarah Evans, a brunette with rosy cheeks and a laugh like a symphony.&nbsp; She had been warm, soft, and fragile while he had been a tall, skinny, hard child.<br><br>"I can't be certain what we were," Blake admitted, "Sarah's hasty departure left me unclear."<br><br>His fingers went to his jacket, picking at invisible bits of dust, adjuting lapels that weren't out of place; the next question, of course, managed to astound him.&nbsp; Had they really gone for eleven years without her knowing his name?<br><br>"My given name is Simon." he said.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>04-07-2009, 17:52:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Oh, he was trusting her not to hit him? A big deal if he released her arms and pulled her into a sitting position. Her eyes caught the way he looked at her, almost like as if she was a skittish cat or even a dog ready to pounce on anyone about to take his food away. Right now her food was learning more about Blake and getting to the bottom of why he was the way he was in life. "I am not going to start going Exorcist on you. By the way, ever seen any horror movies? Into horror movies?," she questioned, another set of questions taking their place in the long line of questions set for him.<br><br>Left him unclear? Did the two kiss and maybe something would have happened but she left before things could be figured out? Somehow, Emma was glad Sarah left but not in a bitchy and mean way. To her, if Blake stayed with Sarah or the two made things work, he might never have met her. He might be angry and a bit pissed off at her thoughts but think about it a bit longer. Without him, there would be a corpse in the morgue with her name written on a toe tag. Not to say Emma would drive down that particular road but she had a few spats here and there over the years to be a cause for concern. Even now her eyes flickered towards his nervous habits, she had her own as well but chose to keep it from those bitchy friends of hers. Not about to give those whores another reason to start fights with her.&nbsp; <br><br>Simon Blake. Good sturdy name and it even reminded her of Simon Cowell from American Idol. Man, were all Simon stoic and aloof with a side of sarcastic and unnerving remarks? Still, great to find out his first name and she said his name aloud, rolling it and accenting it in different ways. "Sigh-man. Si-mon. Sa-man. I doubt you say your name is Sa-man but now I know you name is Simon and a few facts about you.," she mused as she tried out a few more ways to say his name before she sighed in relaxation. She asked him to tell her more as she slid her arm back to wipe at the dried tears and push her hair out of her face. <br><br>"I want to know about you...Simon because you have been with me, well, not with me with me in a relationship but you know what I am trying to explain, right? Maybe I am going crazy like my mother but I want to know you and say something to another if I were asked who you are and introductions. Even my words are not making sense," she tried to say as best as she could under the circumstances of Blake staring her down like an interrogater would to a criminal. However, she was not a criminal but Blake could make a great bad cop if he wanted to go for the force.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>07-07-2009, 01:01:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a long moment, Blake was silent and he was between giving Emma a surveying look and turning his attentions to the carpet as though something about this entire thing had been cause for an amount of embarrassment in him.&nbsp; Of course, it could be expected - Blake was unused to talking about himself, and revealing details of his life after spending so long doing his very best to seem like a man with no history to everyone he met - it was strange for him.&nbsp; <br><br>And hearing someone saying his given name was even more bizarre because the last person he could even recall saying it, besides his own mother, was Sarah.&nbsp; Everyone else simply referred to him as Mr. Blake out of sheer societal politesse; his stiff demeanor never gave the invitation for anyone to address him casually and most were uncomfortable at the prospect of doing so when it seemed quite clear from personality that Blake was not the sort to become close to people.<br><br>At this juncture in his life, in fact, Miss Taylor was the sole person he would consider himself to be even remotely close to; he knew every detail about the young woman's life, and now he was becoming aware that after eleven years she knew nothing about him, by his own doing.&nbsp; <br><br>Finally he spoke again,<br><br>"I shall do my best, Miss Taylor," he said, "To become more three-dimensional to you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>08-07-2009, 01:41:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Three-dimensional? If I did not know any better, you could be mistaken for a robot...Simon." Nice to say his first name for the first time in eleven years. Eleven years. Man, Simon managed to see a lot of herself in eleven years. Oh she remembered the first few months after she received her period in seventh grade. She stained her prep-school skirt and needed a change of clothes. Her father was not able to come down to pick her up but Blake was there to bring her a change of clothes. By then, Emma was in tears to have started her period on her first day of school. She begged Simon to take her home and excuse her for the rest of the month but like always he was firm and told her to get back to class with head held high and a glare in her eyes. <br><br>Now she held her head high but determination in her eyes to find out more about him. "Then why not start over breakfast? Sure, I mean, yes, I may not enjoy the breakfast but we can have it together on the balcony and continue this conversation," she explained as she stretched and pushed her away from her face. While sitting on the floor was no problem with her, what she truly wanted was to be in a chair, across from Simon instead of him sitting on his knees, like he was about to tackle her again. Somehow the image was not bad but it would only lead down a bumpy road. <br><br>A bumpy road the two were already on for the past eleven years. He pushed and was always in her life while she pushed and hoped for him to leave. Honestly, Emma wanted him gone because he was merely another person who wanted to push her around and keep her out of her father's hair. Now to hear him talk and breathe life into the portrait painted of him in her mind helped a lot. "Now, can, I mean, may you let me up so we can go eat this together?," she asked, knowing his grammar and correcting her speech was floating back into her words. If he would be good about revealing more of himself to her, she could try her best not to be too big of a bitch around him. Maybe. Sort of. Well, she would try her best.<br><br>She was elated at least to hear a bit about himself. In her head, she always had images of what he did on his time off. Not like he had time off but there was the few thoughts of him being a double agent for the government. These thoughts of course were childish but made it easier to bear his presence around her. Now, she could stop with the assumptions and get to the real him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>18-10-2009, 21:13:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				One of Simon's fine brows lofted upwards at Emma's remark, but he said nothing in regards to it; he would let it go for now, considering he truly hadn't given her a great deal of information about himself over the years.&nbsp; He supposed with only manners and a last name for her to associate with him, the resulting view of him <em>would</em> be distinctly - robotic.<br><br>He merely nodded his head then, rising from the carpet and to his feet and extending a gloved hand to Emma, offering her a polite hand up,<br><br>"Indeed, you will be eating your breakfast, Miss Taylor, as you should be every morning," Blake said, characteristically assertive, "- but I will certainly take your invitation to join you on the balcony."<br><br>It wasn't exactly the norm; in fact, over the years Blake had never actually eaten a meal <em>with</em> Emma, he had only ever served her - his training deemed it innappropriate for him to join her, a rule he had kept to for eleven years now.&nbsp; He supposed, then, that Emma had also never actually seen him eating before, considering his quarters were equipped for him to sup there - at most, Emma may have seen him partake in a cup of tea.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>19-10-2009, 07:12:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was true. Never could she recall his moments of not being a robot. He went through the motions or she went through the motions he tried to instill in her. Emma fought every bit of the way hating the way she was being pushed into something she did not want. She wanted to be herself. Yearned to find her own place in the world. Loathed she was to be told what to do and how to talk and and and. Too many and's for her own good. Still, to see Simon not act robotic and break out of character was a great thing to see and it was progress.<br><br>Emma was ready to fight again but she stopped and took a deep breath. Right now, she wanted to make an effort with Simon. He was giving her an inch and she needed to take it slowly. For him to eat at the balcony with her, hopefully across the way from her or even next to her was a huge deal. Emma was not about to mess it up and she took his offered gloved hand and stood up from the ground. She was going to let it slide on her having to eat breakfast. Not the best breakfast but it would be better because he was going to eat with her. <br><br>Never had Simon stayed around to talk or even ask her what her plans were for the day. Instead, he went on his ways or popped up when she was about done. "Are you going to eat with me? Like bring out a snack or something in your pockets? Did you eat before?," she fired off questions as she looked around for her shoes and maybe a change of clothes. Not about to head out onto the balcony looking like some whore working the corner. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>23-10-2009, 05:46:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a long moment, Blake considered the question, and then he peered at Emma; he supposed there was really no way around it - especially after the conversation they had just had - the best way to reconcile with her would be to at least give her something as basic as eating a meal together.&nbsp; Truthfully, she wasn't asking for much, only for something that should have been provided to her by her parents, if they were ever around.<br><br>"I shall go get an extra tea set," he said finally, as he picked up the tray that held Emma's breakfast and moved it out to the balcony, setting it onto the small, gilded framework table that sat out in the sunlight, "And return to the balcony in a few moments."<br><br>And, after assuring everything was in its proper place, Blake left the room with little ceremony and made his way through the halls to his own quarters; the inside of his room was more like a small apartment than anything and had been kept characteristically immaculate.&nbsp; The decor was fitting with the rest of the home, but it was astoundingly sparse, consisting of no excess and befitting of someone with military training - minimalist.&nbsp; There were, however, a few cases and trunks that had been tucked neatly into spaces, and a shelf filled with books and journals, all alphabetized and categorized.<br><br>He removed a tea set from the kitchenette - a porcelain piece that looked quite old, blue chinaware with an intricate little sailship - and returned moments later to the balcony, setting down the teapot and cup and pulling out one of the seats for Emma.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 00:30:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma nodded and watched him leave the room after he set up her breakfast tray on the balcony. While he went to grab his own tea sea, Emma set about grabbing her day robe and slippers to wear for the slightly breezy day. She still glanced at herself in the mirror while she changed, wondering if Blake could ever see her in a romantic manner. "Of course not, he might as well be a eunuch," she muttered beneath her breath as she pulled her hair back into a messy twist. Men like Blake were not romantic types unless he only brought it out on full moons but even then she never saw him be romantic with anyone.<br><br>In fact, she never recalled him being around any female. Even hearing about the only girl he may have had a crush on was still a shock to Emma. Most of the time, she thought he rubbed himself off in the privacy of his own room. Look at her thinking about Blake stroking himself to some seedy porno magazine. Nonetheless, she blushed at the thought of Blake ever coming around to seeing her as an attractive female rather than his Boss's daughter and charge. "Just get over yourself," she told herself as she went to pick up her thrown shoes and placed them back in the closet. <br><br>Slowly, she walked out onto the balcony to take a look at the grandeur of her father's estate. He paid over twelve million dollars for this place and yet he only used two rooms out of the seventeen room house. One room for his bed and another for his workplace. She used to remember the times she pent running around in the estate, having Blake chase after her. It was her own version of hide and seek except most of the time Blake usually found her no matter what room or closet she hid in the estate. The man had a sixth sense about things. What other secrets did he have lurking in the shadows?<br><br>Before she knew it, Blake was back and she blinked out of her memories. "Thank you, Blake," she whispered as she sat down in the seat he pulled out for her. Even now, she was not hungry anymore and she bet the tea and breakfast had gone cold. Nonetheless, she wanted to have one breakfast with Blake and maybe even get him to talk to her more. It only had to happen once before her curiosity was piqued even further.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 01:29:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With a steaming porcelain teapot in hand, Blake poured into Emma's tea cup, mindful that the tea he had brought for her earlier had likely cooled to an unacceptable temperature.&nbsp; Pouring a cup for himself, he took a seat opposite to her; Blake was an astoundingly tall man, and with hands as large and long-fingered as his were, one would think he would be exceptionally clumsy, but he always moved with a refined - if somewhat stiff - grace.<br><br>Gloved hands lifted the tea cup, but he merely held it, peering out into the courtyard at the broad view that the estate supplied; having grown up in barracks and ghettos, Blake knew that he should have been impressed by this sort of grandeur from the start, but for reasons undefinable, he had never been particularly enthused by the idea of wealth.&nbsp; Perhaps he just had separate ideals from what was considered the norm.<br><br>He was silent for a long moment before he drank from the teacup - black tea, taken with nothing in it, not even a lump of sugar despite the bitterness of it - and he finally looked over at Emma.&nbsp; In the light of day, his features looked especially sharp, but it also put a particular emphasis on the honey hue of his eyes, and the spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks; the overall effect was a strange combination of harshness and warmth.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 04:42:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Eyeing the hot tea, Emma did not know how to tell Blake she was not fond of tea. In fact, before today when he did not sit down with her, she usually dumped the tea into the nearest bush or sink to make him think she actually drank it all down. Now was the time to be a bit honest in her tastes even if it might make him angry knowing she wasted good tea. "Thank you for the tea, Blake, but I cannot lie; I do not drink tea. I have been spilling it because I was afraid you would get angry if I did not drink the tea you prepared for me. I apologize," she admitted, glancing down at her place and then back up to him.<br><br>She noticed his hands were long and big. Did he ever use them to kill someone with his bare hands? Just hearing a bit about his life made her curious about other things. Her attention went back to the expanse of the estate, sighing at the beauty of it. What would happen if she were to take on this estate? Already her father's doctor was reporting back that her father needed to take it easy if he wanted to see his fiftieth birthday. She worried for her father but she worried more after what would happen if she were left alone. Once her father was gone, she doubted Blake would stick around to keep watch over her.<br><br>"Blake, would you still be around even when I get older? Like, if I were to get married or maybe end up having to take over the family business?," she asked, turning to look at him. Wow, the sun did great wonders for him. He even looked handsome if she was honest with herself. Why had no one snatched him up and made him a married man? Oh yes, because he had his hands full with her.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 05:14:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blake continued to watch Emma, but his expression didn't register surprise; after a long moment of silence following her confession, he did something unusual - he smiled.&nbsp; It was a small thing, difficult to see if one wasn't familiar with the man, but it was a tiny pull at the very corners of his mouth,<br><br>"I know." he said simply, and there was amusement in his voice as though he was letting her in on a joke,<br><br>"I suppose it was morbid curiosity that kept me serving it to you for years; I did wonder when you would say something.&nbsp; When have you known me to become angry, Miss Taylor?"<br><br>It was true; as stern as he was, Blake had never crossed the line into anger, not in the eleven years he had cared for Emma had he ever raised his voice or lost his temper.&nbsp; He considered her next question,<br><br>"I shall remain with you for as long as you would like me to." he replied finally; over the years, Emma had said a great many things to imply that she wished he wasn't around, from the subtle to the incredibly obvious 'I wish you were dead's, but he attributed those statements to her emotional outbursts, during the times where she became - illogical.&nbsp; Had he ever believed she truly meant it, that she really wanted him gone - well, he wouldn't remain where he wasn't needed, and as far as he was concerned, Emma presently needed some amount of guidance.<br><br>After another moment of consideration, he spoke again,<br><br>"What you must know, Miss Taylor, is that this is not merely a job for me." he said finally, "Perhaps I don't display it properly, but you <em>are</em> a part of my life - and not just in a cold, occupational sense."<br><br>One fine brow lowered very slightly,<br><br>"I care for you, Emma.&nbsp; I regret that you were unaware of that." he said, looking back towards the horizon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 06:12:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Shock appeared on her face to hear he knew all along. She expected him to be angry with his words or even bewildered. Instead, where her eyes deceiving her? Was he smiling? No. That had to be the play of the sunlight messing with her. Blake rarely smiled or if he did it was never around her. "I mean you have gone through the hard work of making the tea, I always felt guilty even though I spilled it." She glanced to the cup of tea that she did not touch and had no need to go near now.<br><br>Emma listened to his words, nodding at a few items. "Usually father would throw things around when he gets angry and over time I thought you might have a switch that made you do it as well." Father liked to throw things around that whenever she gave him gifts, she made sure it were stress balls or candy corn for special occasions. Did Blake enjoy the gifts she slipped him? Whenever she was done with breakfast, lunch or dinner she usually left him a sea shell or a written note as a child. As she grew older for Christmas and special holidays she slipped beneath the doorway of his quarters a gift card for Brooks Brothers since she never knew his size in suits or shoes. <br><br>A smile slipped upon her lips to hear he would remain as long as she wanted him to be here. She knew she said horrible things to him. Just thinking about it made her realize how angry and bitchy she was to someone who was here because of her father. He may not have asked to be saddled with a little girl who just wanted a model figure in her life. Without thought, she reached out to take his hand and squeeze it. That was the only thought of showing him her appreciation other than hugging him and she doubted the two were at the point of hugging. <br><br>"This is your home as much as it is mine, Blake. I cannot even think of this place without you even though I know I have been horrible to you. Sometimes, I wonder how you can put up with a bitch like me knowing the mood swings I go through," she explained, stopping to take a few breaths and to gather the next few thoughts she wanted to share with him. Where to go with this conversation? She somehow felt as if she was the one pouring herself out to him on this balcony. <br><br>A deep blush bloomed along her cheek bones to hear he cared about her and not in an occupational way. "I care for you too, Blake. I might even like you which means a lot," she mustered, having to turn away to hide the further reddening of her cheeks.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 23:19:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blake had always been aware of Mr. Taylor's temper - he had occasion to view it, in fact, back when the Master had actually been present in the household.&nbsp; It hadn't been uncommon for a fit of ill-humour to flare up during a business meeting or phone call, and Blake had made a point of removing Emma from the area during those moments, not wanting her to witness her father's anger, nor pick up any bad habits as a result.<br><br>Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to keep her away from that sort of things at all times, and she had inherited some of his temper, shown in the moments where she became irrational and upset.&nbsp; <br><br>"Every man does have his limit." Blake admitted, "I am human - I have lost my temper on occasion.&nbsp; I suppose it's simply a matter of one's restraint."<br><br>A hand much smaller than his was touching him, and he peered down at it for a moment; touch was a rarity between them, but it seemed they were breaking several barriers that day.&nbsp; Carefully, he allowed a gloved thumb to gently swipe over the back of her hand a few times, a gesture that may have been affectionate.<br><br>On the subject of Emma's behaviour: <br><br>"Your agreeable moments offset the difficult ones." he said, managing it with the same tact and politesse that he applied to everything; one brow did rise slightly, however, upon Emma's flush.&nbsp; The context of the sentance had him briefly puzzled, then,<br><br>"After eleven years, Miss Taylor, I would hope for some semblance of comraderie between us." he said.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>24-10-2009, 23:48:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma knew it was rare for her to keep restraint under control. Most of her life, it was fighting the strength he tried to have over on her. Now she could see he was merely trying to give her a structured life that did not have as many problems as it had before he came into her life. With the nannies she took out of commission it was a miracle word got around for someone to take up the position. Honestly, she had been afraid to have a male nanny in case he got too rough and started to strike her instead of the old time out routine the old nannies used on her. <br><br>Not until today had he put his hands on her. Yes, he grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt collar or by her hand but never like today. Still, she remembered how it felt like to be pinned beneath him and he unmovable like a rock. "I remember when you used to shield me from Daddy's temper tantrums. I was scared one of these days Daddy might throw something at me on purpose instead of on accident because he hated to be saddled with a child," she admitted, glancing up to him to see if he too saw the way her father looked at her at times. She knew she was not the doting daughter nor the obedient one which always put her at the opposite end of her father and her. <br><br>It was comforting to feel Blake's hand on her own even if it was gloved. "Why do you wear gloves? I do not think I have seen you without them. Can I see your hands?," she asked, curious to see if maybe he had any battle scars when he was back in his homeland. She let her fingers slide from his grip to finger the indentations of the glove over his knuckles and nails. Such strong hands. Good hands to carry his own babe one of these days. If he stuck around her anymore, he might never get to have a child with a woman and pass on his name. Didn't men want to breed children to pass on their genes and good name? <br><br>"After eleven years, Blake, I would hope you would call me by my first name and know I rarely like to be called by my last," she answered, smiling up at him. If she was calling him Blake now, she wanted him to call her by Emma. It was the least he could do after all of this years. The years were good to him, Emma had to say and she only hoped his age did not catch up to him when she was his age too. He was the only person who had seen her at her worst and still stuck around. It was commendable. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>25-10-2009, 00:08:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blake's mouth twisted a little in an expression that was vaguely disapproving, though it wasn't directed at Emma,<br><br>"Master Taylor occasionally exhibited poor self-restraint." he said diplomatically; really, it was an understatement, as there had been one such occasion where the Master had gone slightly overboard with his temper and had verbally taken it out on his small daughter.&nbsp; At the time, Blake had carefully ushered Emma to her room and told her to play with her toys for a bit, and he had returned to the Master - it was the one and only time that Master Taylor had been chided into submission.<br><br>And, perhaps, one of those rare times that Blake had nearly lost his temper himself.<br><br>"But he does love you." Blake added.<br><br>When Emma's fingers plucked at the tight leather of his gloves, Blake observed in silence, and then after a long moment, he carefully tugged off the gloves.&nbsp; The right one - the one she had been holding - was the first to be shown, and it was predictably large, long-fingered, and very calloused.&nbsp; The left was nearly the same, except for the distinct difference of his ring finger missing from the second joint up.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>25-10-2009, 00:19:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma shook her head at his words. If her father ever loved her, he had a weird way of showing it by throwing money at her and telling her to buy whatever she wanted as long as she was not in his office. It was a sad thing to bribe one's daughter to get the hell away from you but it was a constant in her life. She accepted her father's money and went on her way to try and fill up the hole in her heart with superficial items. No matter how many pairs of shoes she bought or expensive clothing, the hole was never filled up. Only when she occupied herself with teasing Blake or pushing herself in her studies did her heart stop aching and pounding painfully in her chest. <br><br>The last time she felt her father would say anything of worth to her it was in the same moment he wanted to verbally attack her for breaking a priceless vase as a child. Blake was smart enough to usher her to her room to play with her toys but she still cried wondering if her father hated her for being born. She knew her mother only had her in order to grab child support and a bit of alimony even if the marriage only lasted a few months. Once she came into her father, no, scratch that, Blake's care, her father paid her mother off in a large sum and told her never to get her hands on his fortune again. Born into a household were money was power, she tried her best not to let it take over her life and yet it did in some ways. <br><br>"Father only loves me when he wants to impress his business friends, Blake. You know how he was the last dinner party. He had you bring me out of my room to impress his friends with the French words I managed to learn in class and to even sing them Frere Jacques like some damn monkey. Sorry, darn monkey," she edited, covering her mouth. It was starting to become easy to slip back into her anger but she pushed it back to the back of her mind. Right now, she wanted to enjoy her time with Blake before she had to get to class in another hour. Her studies were becoming harder with midterms coming up but she was coping with it. <br><br>A small sigh slipped from her lips but a smile appeared as she watched him tug the gloves off of his hands. He had calloused hands and she was impressed to see he used his hands other than serving her tea. Her eyes widened and her curiosity was piqued as she looked at his left hand. "Your ring finger is missing, what happened?," she asked as she let her fingers caress over his left hand. She stroked the skin softly and felt a bit of scar tissue at the end of his ring finger. Had he lost it in a bar fight? Emma almost laughed at the thought of Blake in a bar let alone in a bar fight. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>25-10-2009, 00:34:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was no disguising the bitterness that Emma was feeling towards her father, and one couldn't fault her for it - Master Taylor was a rare presence in his daughter's life, and though he occasionally made the claim to adore his daughter, he did little to reassure her of it.&nbsp; The unfortunate truth was that the Master's idea of affection often came in the form of material possessions - or at least, it had in her earlier years, when she was a small child.&nbsp; Now that she was a grown woman, he would hand her an envelope of money if he felt like doting on her.<br><br>Blake was lucky to have much better memories of his own father, even if his presence in his life had been too brief as well - only, for different reasons.<br><br>"To be fair," Blake said evenly, "You <em>do</em> make a particularly impressive monkey."<br><br>It was a joke, another Blake rarity; he was stacking them up that day.&nbsp; His eyes fell back down to his hand and to the mutilated digit; he seemed to take the question into careful consideration before he responded,<br><br>"Faulty machinery." he said finally, "While out to sea.&nbsp; Her Majesty's Royal Navy, while elegantly titled, is not always functional."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>25-10-2009, 03:04:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There would always be bitterness felt for her father. It was something that would never leave her no matter how hard she tried to let it go. Just when she thought she was done loathing her father's tactics, he always seemed to throw her a new one. In the next week, he was inviting her to a party to impress a group of businessmen who were bringing along their sons. It felt more like her father was trying to auction her off to the next bidder because he had warned her to wear something fashionable and alluring for the males. She was not his whore and she pounded a fist in frustration, almost forgetting Blake was there until he made his monkey joke. <br><br>Emma laughed to hear Blake joking as if it was a natural thing, which really it was not. It was a first for him to joke like that in front of her and she liked to see him at ease with her. She wanted him to be natural and comfortable around her. This was a great step in the right direction. Even now, she was slowly etching away the anger she felt for him and instead replacing it with the need to see him as a friend. Hopefully, he thought the same way for her. He was her only friend, a true friend who stuck by her in various times. Emma could hardly think what to do if he really packed up his things and left if she had told him to leave for the last time.<br><br>"I am sorry to hear that, Blake," she whispered, stroking over the digit a few more times before she brought up to her lips to kiss it. Emma had no clue why she felt the need to do that but maybe it was to honor a man who did so much and without whom she could not be without. Strange to think of him as someone she could never part from considering how much she tried to get him to leave her in peace. Her cheeks bloomed in embarrassment at what she had done. She apologized in a small voice before laying his hand back down on the table and glancing out to see her father looking through his own bedroom window. Was he looking at the pair of them on the balcony? Even from this distance, she could see him peering to take a closer look at Blake and her. Strange. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>05-11-2009, 16:54:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blake was watching Emma evenly, expression as stable as ever while she stroked delicately at his hand, paying careful attention to the mutilated digit - but his head tilted almost imperceptibly to the right when she brought his hand to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the same spot she had been touching.&nbsp; <br><br>For Blake, it was a strange contact and the motion left the memory of touch lingering on his hand so that when she released it, he found himself curling his fingers curiously towards his palm, as though testing the sensation or perhaps trying to hold on to the warmth of it.&nbsp; <br><br>Emma apologized, blossoming pink like a spring flower and glancing away, and Blake had to peer at her for a moment longer before he was able to get his head back in order.&nbsp; The morning was still quite young and yet - Blake felt - they had managed to change the dynamics of a relationship that had been in development for a very, very long time.&nbsp; Of course, Blake wasn't entirely certain what had become of them just now, but he was unable to help feeling that something significant had happened.<br><br>Finally he looked away and followed Emma's line of vision over the courtyard, where - across the way - the bay window of the Master's own quarters could be seen.&nbsp; In fact, the Master was there now, watching them.<br><br>And suddenly Blake knew without a doubt - though he couldn't say why - that the world was going to become a much stranger place, very soon.&nbsp; He supposed he would have to chalk it up to instinct.&nbsp; <br><br>Looking back to Emma, he asked:<br><br>"When do your classes begin today?"<br><br>Because, despite the newfound benevolence between them, he certainly wasn't going to allow her to be late.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Wrong Kind of Love (SevenxMarguerite)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>06-11-2009, 15:41:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma looked away from the vision of her father peering through his window. At this hour, he should be in his office demanding the sales report of last night's stock and this morning's as well. His routine was always different each day but she knew most of it revolved around keeping and making more money. She could hardly blame him for not being focused on the prize but she could blame him for letting the rest of his life slip and crack because of his inability to multitask on his life. "Father might think the two of us are together just by the way I kissed your hand Godfather style," she murmured as she poked at her food and took a few bites. She had to hand it to Blake on being able to at least keep her somewhat healthy with food in her stomach to last her for the next few hours. Emma wondered if he had already thought to pack her lunch and throw it in one of the bags she usually took to her classes. <br><br>Once more, her heaps of bags attributed to the need to fill an aching void in her life. At one point, she thought about becoming pregnant to perhaps fill the void of loving someone without reserves but Blake had put an end to that once he noticed she stopped taking her birth control pills. Emma took her birth control pills to regulate her periods knowing whenever she was stressed she could go two months without a period and other times it felt as if she had three periods every week or a month. With the help of the pills she was at least able to be regular and keep it from getting heavy enough to throw out a few bedsheets and clothes. Always embarrassing for Blake to see the evidence of her menstrual cycle on her new pair of jeans or even underwear. After that, she made sure to throw away the stained underwear and asked Blake to not bother trying to fix the bedsheets even if it meant buying a new comforter. Sometimes one had to be wasteful instead of keeping semi-stained sheets on her bed as evidence to her inability to have a normal menstrual cycle. <br><br>Emma rubbed the back of her neck to remember the fact she needed to take her pill along with her daily vitamin, courtesy once more of Blake's need to keep her healthy and hearty. "Class is not for another thirty minutes. I can wolf, I meant eat my breakfast, slip into my clothes and be outside my door waiting for you to escort me to my car. What do you do on the days I am in class, Blake? Do you read? Maybe catch a movie with a friend? Not to be rude but do you have friends?," she questioned as she took another bite of her breakfast and waited for him to answer. She did have thirty minutes after all and it would be fine if she were late to class as long as she had a bit more on Blake. Always nice to know about the person who practically raised her from her childhood into adulthood. Maybe he had even been the one to cut the umbilical chord when she was born at the Lakewood Hospital.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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