Tommy
I woke up first in the morning and she was wrapped around me, her head on my chest, her left hand under my shoulder blade and her right arm draped around me. I’d be thinking about last night all day. Thinking about what I’d do to her tonight. I could do her right now, actually, but I’d overslept and had an early meeting to dash to. I rolled away and got the comforter from the floor and wrapped it around her. Her eyes opened and for a split second she stared at me dreamily. Then it was as if she realized who I was and who I wasn’t. Her expression dropped and her eyes frosted over. I felt a pang in my chest. I pushed it away.
“See ya later, sweet girl. Be good.” I tucked her in and kissed her forehead. Then I headed to the shower. She was buried under blankets as I got back out so she was either asleep or hiding from me. I got dressed in the walk-in closet and then left the room.
** ** **
I called Sarah at noon, “What’s she doing?”
“She’s in bed.”
“Still?”
“Mmm, hmm,” She sounded judgmental, “Red eyes. Won’t talk.”
“I’ll be home at 6 to pick her up and take her out. Make sure she’s ready. I’ve called over to Donna’s for a dress and shoes and things for her. Help her, yeah?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her reply was laced with sarcasm.
I hung up. Fucking Sarah thought she had a right to interfere. I waved at the barista to bring me a refill.
Tia
Ms. Martinez, Sarah, was standing over me and telling me I had to get up and get dressed. She had a garment bag draped over her arm and was holding two department store bags, too.
“You and Tommy have a date tonight.” she beamed at me, “I’ve run you a bath. Go bathe, shave your legs and underarms, and shampoo and then I’ll help you get ready with your hair and make-up. I’ll get some teabags to get the puffiness out of those eyes. I saw the dress and it looks like he’s taking you somewhere nice! It’s from a shop owned by a friend of the family and you’re going to look so gorgeous, Chiquita.” She clapped her hands together.
Was she for fricking real?
She left the room and I slowly got to my feet. I got a head rush. I wandered into the bathroom. I couldn’t sit in the bath. It was hot. Too hot for my sore ass and it’d definitely make my scraped up knees hurt, too. Just as I was about to climb in the shower stall, she rushed into the bathroom and stopped in her tracks when she saw my naked rear end.
“Do you mind?” I breathed, grabbing a towel and covering myself.
Her face contorted, “Who did that to you? Was that---” she stopped and her hand covered her mouth.
I didn’t answer her. I got into the stall and shut the door. She left in a huff. Rule number two was to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t need another punishment. I got in the shower and tried to get myself clean but I didn’t feel clean. At all. No amount of soap and running water could erase what he’d done to my body and my mind in the past few days.
After my shower, Sarah quietly blow dried my hair and then put it in hot rollers and put makeup on my face. She cleaned the now chipping red nail polish off my fingers and toes and then did a French manicure on both. Then she threaded my eyebrows like a pro.
The results were as professional-looking as any salon I’d ever been at. Not that I’d been to many but they did look great. Not that I cared about looking good for Tommy. I was in a red slip dress and kitten heeled black sandals that were thankfully not nearly as high as the fuck-me shoes I’d worn to grad. I didn’t want to look good for him; I wanted to be invisible to him. I wished I was in a burlap sack and yellow rubber rain boots so he wouldn’t even look twice at me.
Sarah had given me some aloe gel with lidocaine to spread on my backside and my rug burn so that it’d help numb me. She hadn’t asked any more questions but her lips were pursed tight when she’d passed me the bottle of gel, and said, “For your…” she motioned to her own behind and said nothing else. When I was ready she beamed, “You’re pretty as a picture.” Sarah glanced at her wristwatch, “Okay, he’ll be here soon. Something to drink first?”
I shook my head at her. I didn’t have any desire to go out on a date with this guy. How could I be in public and pretend to be okay with all of this? I wondered, idly, if he’d update me on the situation with my Dad, with Rose and Cal. All day yesterday I’d worried about all of them but today I was pretty numb about even that. I was mad at myself, mad for responding to him sexually. I didn’t want to think about it but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was I some kind of mutant? Was I just in shock from everything that had happened in the past few days? Was it all self-preservation? Maybe I could get away. But what if I failed? What would he do to me then?
I started to think that all this was all my fault. Karmic justice. I’d always been drawn to romance novels where the hero was roguish, I’d loved the part in Gone with the Wind where Rhett carried Scarlett up to bed against her will and she was all happy in the morning. I’d even once had a kind of rape fantasy and I’d beat myself up for it afterwards. I’d been touching myself, imagining the drummer of my favorite band but it wasn’t all romance in the fantasy. As I’d touched myself my fantasy morphed from him and I in his dressing room having rough hair pulling sex against the wall to the whole band coming in, holding me down, and taking turns. That was the hardest I’d made myself come, ever, and after that, maybe the guilt over that fantasy was why I’d always stopped touching myself when I started to come, culling the orgasm or something. I’d never wanted to let my mind go there after that. I’d told myself that it was so wrong to even fantasize about when that was the sort of thing that happened to real women, women who’d be broken forever after something like that. Was I a mutant for responding to that sort of behavior? Now I was a real woman who was imprisoned in a sexually abusive relationship. Maybe it served me right.
Tommy
She stepped out of the house looking gorgeous. Her long dark hair fell in soft waves today and she wore a sexy little red dress with thin straps over her bare shoulders and had bare legs, heeled sandals, and when she got into the passenger seat of my car, my hand instantly travelled up her leg, under her dress.
She squirmed, red-faced.
“Don’t be shy. Kiss me.” I leaned over.
She sat stiffly in the seat and wouldn’t look in my direction.
Earl and Sarah were standing on the front steps looking at us.