by Maren Foster
She pulled away and Nate, who had been watching us, joined in. She worked him over in the same way for a minute and then pulled her shirt off. I followed her lead. She pulled at Nate’s shirt and he lifted his arms in the air. Then she fingered the button on his jeans. I watched her and felt surprisingly jealous. She pushed his jeans back and pulled them forward over his erection. He stood in front of us, completely naked. Then, as if she knew the script, she gently pushed me onto Nate’s bed, on my back. She climbed on top of me on all fours and motioned for me to scoot back and I did. She bent forward. Her face was between my legs. Who is this woman? She went to work with her tongue in much the same way as she had inside my mouth. Nate entered her from behind. His thrusting into her pushed her tongue forward and backwards rhythmically. My body began to convulse. She pushed her hand all the way inside me and worked in circles. The waves of pleasure that followed were so intense that I was conscious of the effort required not to scream. Just as the pleasure began to subside she began to moan and threw her head back. Nate was moving in slower, more controlled motions and his eyes belied intense pleasure. I watched them finish together. Have they done this before? Did Nate set this up? Was I his pawn tonight?
They collapsed onto the bed and I got up and tiptoed to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and let the steaming hot water flow over me. I sat against the wall with my head in my hands and shuddered, disgusted that I’d let myself enjoy anything about that experience. I’ve gone too far, let things get out of hand. I let him have control. I hated myself. I worked soap into a lather and covered myself. Over and over again, I washed and rinsed. When I finally turned the water off the room was thick with steam.
When I tipped toed out of the bathroom, she was gone and Nate had fallen asleep. He’ll think something’s wrong if I leave now. As softly as possible, I climbed back into the bed, hugging the edge. I curled up and tried to sleep.
When I woke up the sun was just beginning to peek through the cracks in the blinds. I laid in bed for a minute. Was it worth it? Did I seal the deal or will he renege on his promise? What if he backs out and doesn’t uphold his end of the bargain? What would I do then? I’m out of leverage. I had come so far already. Done things I hadn’t planned on having to do, wasn’t comfortable with, and what did I have to show for it?
I got up. A light was on in the master bath. I tried the handle and it was unlocked, so I walked in. He was standing in front of the sink brushing his teeth. He saw me watching him and I smiled. He swung around, pulled me toward him, and lifted me onto the empty stretch of the long bathroom counter.
“That was so hot,” he said as he forced my legs apart. “I really owe you one.”
Ugh, not again.
He pulled me toward the edge of the counter and grabbed my ankles. He held my legs apart and shoved himself inside me. I wasn’t wet but he worked back and forth anyhow. I tried to relax and felt him begin to move with ease. I looked up to find him watching me with a look of pure adoration.
“Tell me you love me,” I demanded.
“I love you,” he said.
“Do you love me more than her?”
He laughed and threw his head back, but said nothing.
“Do you?” I repeated.
“Are you kidding? Of course.”
“How can I be sure?”
He pushed himself deeper inside me until it was almost painful. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, and began to feel a little pleasure amidst the pain.
“The agreement is on the counter in the kitchen with all of your changes,” he said. “Exactly what you asked for. You win.”
That was it. I was finally relaxed. Pain turned to pleasure and the contractions of my muscles were too much for him to resist. His release hit me deep inside and I came with him.
Nate got in the shower. I went to the kitchen and thumbed through the agreement. I pulled up Vi’s marked up PDF on my phone and looked through to make sure all of her changes had been made. Finally! I looked for any text that looked new but didn’t see anything suspect.
Nate came out of the bathroom with a small towel around his waist. “We need to sign that in the presence of a notary. We can do it at my office on Monday. Stop by around lunch.”
“Sure,” I said and put the agreement in my purse. “What about the house?”
“I’ll call and make an offer today.” He took a few steps toward me, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. “Thank you for last night.”
“Thank you for everything.”
He smiled.
“I have some errands to run. I’ll make dinner tonight,” I said.
The Play
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Chelsea
I walked out into the fresh autumn air, overwhelmed by emotions: disgust, guilt, shame, hatred. I need a distraction. One of my favorite things about New York City was finding the unexpected but delightful where you least expected it. I stopped at a charity shop a few blocks from my apartment. It was the kind of cluttered store where rich women disposed of last year’s gently worn designer clothes to feel good about themselves and get a small tax write-off on the things they wouldn’t be caught dead in again anyhow. Something about the potential of finding a diamond in the rough always made me happy and was all the motivation I needed to dig through the stuffed racks. Over time and with persistence, I had scooped up a designer black wool winter coat, a few silk blouses, and a designer clutch that needed some TLC but wasn’t beyond repair. I had stumbled upon a cheap but phenomenal tailor in the next block that could make a secondhand dress look amazing. It had allowed me to build up a respectable wardrobe on my meager marketing salary. I got a little lost searching through the old fedoras, sweaters, and jeans. I struck out, but by the time I emerged I’d mostly forgotten about the night before. It felt good to forget. I would just forget it ever happened. I don’t know her, I’ll never see her again. Nate had his fun. It was necessary, and I had no choice.
As I walked the streets of New York City trying to forget, I thought about the beginning, the middle, and the end of my story. I owe my therapist a visit. Back at my rented room, I reread what I’d written, removing Nate’s name and all of the italicized musings about revenge, and then sent the edited version to my therapist.
A few days later I was sitting in the familiar chair in my therapist’s office.
“Wyn, thank you for sharing your story with me,” she said. “I’m so sorry you were raped.” The words were at once comforting and painful to hear.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Did you press charges?”
“No.”
“What happened to him? Was he ever held accountable?”
I shook my head. “No. He’s here. In New York.”
“Have you seen him?”
I nodded.
“Wyn, do you still know him? Have you had any contact with him since the rape?”
“He’s my fiancée,” I said through tears.
“You’re in a relationship with him?”
“Yes.”
“Wyn, are you living with him now?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been with him?”
“Since a few months after the rape,” I lied.
“Have you ever thought about leaving?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do without him,” I lied.
“Are you happy with him?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“I have to do things for him. Things that I don’t want to do.”
“I think it would be best for you to leave him.”
“I don’t know how to leave him,” I lied.
“You have a job, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your own bank account?”
“No.”
“Are you worried about money if you leave?”
“I don’t know. I’m worried about what I would do without him. How I would cope? I’ve never been on my own
before. He takes care of everything.”
“You mean financially?”
“I mean everything.”
“Do you feel like your life depends on him?”
“I do,” I said. “It does.” It does now. I’ve come too far, invested too much in this con to turn around now.
“Could you start to put some money away in your own savings account?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why don’t you try diverting some of your own income into a separate bank account, and begin saving for your future? Think of it as a contingency plan, if you are ever ready to leave him.”
“Yeah, it’s a good idea I guess.” But it won’t matter when I take everything he’s got.
I woke up alone in our condo on Saturday morning. I’d finally given up my little room in the apartment in Hell’s Kitchen and had Nate help me move the rest of my stuff over to the condo. I didn’t want Nate to have any reason to question my commitment.
I had an appointment to select wedding flowers at a shop across town in SoHo. The owner said they were so busy that the only way she could guarantee anything, including my appointment, was if I paid the entire bill up front. It seemed a bit ridiculous, but this was New York, and I was apparently already late to the wedding planning game. Everywhere I went I was told that accommodating my request within a year was nearly impossible, and it was only after a lot of begging, a premium added, and an upfront payment near the full amount that I got commitments. After each major charge to the AmEx Nate had given me, I waited for him to say something, but he never did. I figured that either he had even more money than he let on or he was too proud to question me. Either way, I didn’t care.
It was the perfect fall day. I threw on some jeans and a light sweater and grabbed a coffee down the street. Just as I walked out of the coffee shop, sipping tentatively from the hot plastic lid, Adam and Julia crossed the street. They walked toward me, holding hands. There was no way to avoid them.
“Hey, Wyn!” Julia shouted and waved with her free hand.
I waved back.
“How are you?” I asked as they got closer.
“Great! You?” she said.
“Good.”
“We have exciting news!” She pulled her left hand out of his and held it out. “Look!”
There it was. A large princess cut diamond. Nothing particularly unique, just large, surrounded by smaller diamonds. It sparkled so intensely that it almost looked fake, but of course it wasn’t.
“Congratulations!” I managed.
“Thank you so much!” Her arms were around my neck as if we were best friends. I peered up from her embrace and saw Adam watching me. I tried my best to smile. He held my gaze, expressionless.
She let go and turned back toward him, smiling.
“We’re getting married in August. Won’t that be like a month after yours?” she said.
“Yeah. Wow, that’s quick. How will you get a wedding organized in less than a year in New York?”
“Oh, it shouldn’t be too difficult. We do have ten months, and I know pretty much everyone worth knowing from product placement and promos I’ve done over the years. When I announced our engagement on Instagram I got replies from every corner of New York offering us free products and services, it’s a great opportunity for their brands.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
Adam looked down the street avoiding eye contact.
I pulled him toward me for a congratulatory hug. “You’ve only known her for a few months,” I whispered in his ear.
He shrugged and said nothing.
“Well, congratulations!” I said, letting him go.
He turned, took her hand in his and pulled her away. “We really have to go.”
“Great to see you,” she yelled toward me from the middle of the street. “Watch for our save the date!”
I didn’t move, but watched them until they turned the corner at the other end of the block. Does he really love her or was he just desperate to be with someone because I’m getting married? He wouldn’t get married out of jealousy, would he?
Nate ordered take-out from Hugo’s for dinner, making a big deal of plating the meals and pouring champagne.
“What’s all this about?” I asked.
“We got the house! I thought we should celebrate.”
“Oh Nate, that’s amazing. Thank you!”
“I’m just glad you’re happy.”
We touched glasses in celebration.
“I know we were only there once, but what do you think about having the reception behind the house, overlooking the Sound?” I said.
“You want to have the wedding in Connecticut? At the new house?” he said.
“Well, I’ve been looking for a venue in New York for almost a month now and haven’t found anything in the city that will work for us. Everything is either completely booked more than a year out or is too small.”
“Hmmm, yeah, I suppose things book up quickly around here.”
“They do, so I was thinking, why not have it at the house? That way we can pick the date we want and not worry about finding a venue,” I said. “Plus, it’s so beautiful there. It will be unforgettable.”
“Hmmmm. Why not do the entire thing at the house then. I was thinking it might be nice to have someone close to us officiate anyhow, since we haven’t found a church and a minister we both like yet.”
Whatever it takes to have the ceremony in Connecticut. “You don’t want to get married in a church?” I asked.
I’d always imagined getting married in a church. When I was young, I used to sneak off to the old Catholic church down the street when I wanted to be alone. I’d sit quietly in the nave on hot summer afternoons as light poured in and the organist practiced. I imagined walking down the aisle in a big white dress to the thundering of Pachelbel's Canon, even though Vi didn’t approve of the Catholic Church, or any church for that matter. But then, this isn’t a real wedding. At least, not my real wedding. Perhaps someday, with the right person, I will get my fairytale wedding.
“I’m just thinking, maybe we bring the Church to the wedding. My cousin Jack will be ordained by the end of the year. I’m sure he would do it at the house for us if we asked.”
“Oh, of course.” Nate had mentioned his cousin before, but I had never met the guy. “Why not?” As long as Nate’s happy and we’re married in Connecticut, then I’m happy.
“Oooooh, speaking of the wedding there’s something I want to show you,” I said, and grabbed the vintage bridal magazines, laying June out on the coffee table in front of Nate.
“What do you think?” I asked as I stepped back and watched his reaction.
“Isn’t there some rule about me not seeing what you’re wearing before the wedding?”
“Well, this isn’t the actual dress, more like an approximation. That dress is from 1982. I can’t buy it anymore. It would have to be made, from scratch.”
“Oh.”
“It won’t be cheap, but I want to be the most stunning bride ever. I want to be so beautiful that you’ll never forget how incredible I looked on our wedding night.” I was testing him to see if he would flinch. How much money does he really have?
He looked up at me and I put my hands on my hips, posing playfully.
“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
Smiling, I sat down next to him on the couch and thumbed through the magazine, while he picked up his laptop and began to work.
Part II: The Tale & The Convincer
May 2017 to January 2018
The Tale
Friday, May 12, 2017
Hell’s Kitchen
The winter flew by, for which I was grateful. Vi and Ali insisted on coming to New York to meet Nate before the wedding. They got in late on a Friday evening and I met them at their hotel with snacks and a bottle of my favorite red blend.
“How are you?” I asked Ali, as I poured three glasses of wine. “Working too much as usual?”
“Yeah, you look like shit,” I teased. It wasn’t true. She was as beautiful as ever despite her refusal to wear make-up outside of work, save weddings and other formal events. Her first few strands of grey hair stood out against her dark brown hair. She was going to have that same gorgeous silver-grey hair that Vi did, and she would let it go grey early like Vi, without the slightest concern what other people might think. On the other hand, I would probably be dying mine for the rest of my life.
Ali eyed my left hand. “Oh my god, your ring is obscene!”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s just so large. It almost looks fake.”
“Thanks.”
She shook her head slightly and sighed. “So, what’s he like?”
“He’s an entrepreneur. He was a rower at Penn. Graduated with honors. Started his first business while he was still in college.” Why do I feel like I’m lying to her? That’s all completely true.
“What kind of business?” Ali said.
“He started a company that initially sold supplements and now he’s diversified into beauty products.”
“Supplements?”