by Jordan Bell
We dashed into the rain together, his hand wrapped around mine as we splashed our way through the crowded parking lot. We dodged down one row and up a second until we came to a sporty yellow two seater with racing stripes that just screamed I love my car more than anything else in the world. His license plate said RichBoy. Swear to God.
He ran his hand along the spoiler and up the curve of the passenger window before unlocking the door and letting me slide inside. It smelled new, like we were the first two people to climb in and I felt panicked that my wet butt was going to leave a wet butt-shaped ring on the black leather. It sighed when I settled into it, butter soft as it molded to me. He jerked open his door and fell in. We didn’t look like we belonged in such a nice car.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He stroked the dash before starting the car with the press of a button instead of a key. Fancy.
“It’s a very nice car. Best I’ve ever been in.”
“Nice isn’t even in her vocabulary, sweetheart. This car is fucking gorgeous.”
He threw the car in reverse and swung out so fast I thought he was going to hit something. I carefully put on my seatbelt.
“It smells new. Is it new?”
“You could say that.” He laughed and slung himself deeper into the leather. He did not put on a seatbelt.
The Clark Kent thing looked skewed in the small, dark interior with its blue neon dashboard lights and racy sensation as we peeled out into the street. Thomas slid between first, second, third gear as smoothly as he smiled and for the first time my stomach twisted uncomfortably. Little alarm bells waited nervously in my brain - Do I panic? Should I be worried? Good guy? Bad guy?
Certainly, a guy who liked to drive fast.
The rain seemed to part for the slick, speedy car as we dashed through the wet streets, around traffic, back and forth between slower cars as if they weren’t even there. He still smiled, he still sparkled, he still left my knees wobbly, but there was a tightness to his smile now as he pushed the gas and hurled us through the rain. It made me nervous.
It was the car. It was the speed. Clark Kent, I realized, was a thrill seeker.
“Maybe we should slow down? It’s raining.”
He tsked softly. “You don’t drive slowly in a car like this.”
“But you do if you don’t want to hydroplane into oncoming traffic.”
He shrugged and let up off the gas, though not significantly.
“Only because I want to spend more time with you.” He flashed me a smile before sliding in between two cars in the left hand lane. I wasn’t even sure he looked first. “We should talk. About what we want out of this arrangement.”
“You want to talk now?” I wrapped my hands around the seat belt. “Ok, what do you want to talk about?”
“Your limits.”
“I…” My brain went silent. Traitor.
He made the car growl as he threw it from one gear to the next, and slung us onto a wide, mostly empty street.
Thomas made a soft, throaty noise of heated impatience. “Your limits, Katrina. Tell them to me.”
“I’m thinking anything over 90 miles per hour is a hard limit.”
Disappointment crinkled his eyes but he got the point and let up enough that the world stopped smearing by. He still raced, but the tension eased out of the engine.
“Do you know how amazing this car is? Slow down. Shit.” His jaw clenched, but his hands stayed soft on the steering wheel. “This is a once in a life time opportunity. This is a seventy thousand dollar car and it’s not like people like us get to play with this kind of speed very often. You should be grateful.”
My eyes snapped towards him. “This isn’t your car? You’re not RichBoy?”
He hesitated. “Not exactly. A friend let me borrow it.”
“I think you should just take me home now. South River Boulevard. We can talk about my limits another time.”
“Fine. Fine. I just…” He sucked in his cheeks and bit nervously at his bottom lip. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the whole world, he stroked the gear shift and said, “You must be willing to have anal sex, Katrina.”
My mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened.
Closed.
“I’m sorry, but what?”
He continued, undeterred, his eyes straight ahead. “I need to be upfront with you because it’s a deal breaker for me.”
My brain spooled to a standstill. What does one say to something like that? The idea that people kept their opinions on anal sex readily available made me giggle. Ludicrous. This whole thing was turning into something beyond belief.
What next? Katrina, please rate your ability to swallow on a scale from 1 to 10.
“Are you kidding? I mean, who says shit like that? Who has that as their deal breaker?”
“It’s very important to me.”
He returned both hands to the steering wheel and smoothed them along the leather circumference. I should have felt that stroke in my knees, between my legs, but all I felt was a little sick. How’d we go from wonderful date to anal sex in 6 seconds?
He shrugged like this was no big deal. Maybe for him it wasn’t. “You must be willing to allow me full access or we’ll never be able to make this work.”
“I haven’t…” I stammered. “I mean, I’ve never…”
Nothing could bring me to say the words out loud. I’d never had anal sex. Not that I was opposed to it, but it had never come up, so to speak. No one I’d ever dated had the convictions of Thomas Tennyson.
“Oh,” he said softly and glanced across the seat at me. He reached for my hand. When he touched me, so gentle and careful, against my better judgment I immediately calmed. For a second he really did feel like Josh when he set a hand on my shoulder during our demonstration and told me to calm down, to breathe. Maybe I could almost pretend this man was… “You’re a little bit of a virgin then, aren’t you Katrina? You’ll be a pleasure to break in.”
I jerked to my hand away. “Let me out. I’ll walk.”
Thomas was not Josh. He’d never be Josh.
“God damn it.” He struck his palm on the steering wheel, the one he’d just used to gentle me. “I’m being honest with you and you turn into a school girl about it. I thought you wanted this.”
“This isn’t what I wanted.”
Josh would never have talked to me like this. He would never have spoken to me of anal sex like I was barely a participant.
Or would he? Was this what domination was? Was this the truth behind the curtain that I would have to lose pieces of myself to please someone else? I didn’t think I could do that. I didn’t think I wanted that.
No. Josh would never have asked me to be someone else, no matter what roles we played.
“Just let me out.” I’d be soaked through by the time I got home, but it seemed like a small price to pay.
“Kat.”
He took his foot off the gas and we decelerated quickly. He shook his head.
“I’m not letting you out on some street in the rain. I’m not an asshole.” When I made a rude noise, he looked at me, finally. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine.” I released my death grip on the seat belt and held up a hand between us. A wall he wasn’t allowed to cross. “It’s fine. It’s what you want. It’s good that you know what you want. But I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what my limits are, not exactly, so I can’t possibly know if I can live up to yours. You’re looking for someone who’s perfect out of the box, and that’s not me. It would be unfair for you and a little scary for me.”
“But this lifestyle is about obedience,” he answered, squeezing those strong hands around the steering wheel again while struggling to keep the calm Clark Kent smile. “You will enjoy what we do because I enjoy it and you want to please me. That’s how it works.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Really? And you would
know that how again? No one has bothered to teach you anything.”
I flinched and looked away from him. No one had. That was true. I’d been rejected by the only person I’d been willing to submit to, so he had me there. Warmth suddenly burned my cheeks and as if sensing my embarrassment, he glanced at me.
“Your words, not mine.”
“I just want to go home. This was a terrible idea.”
“I’ll take you home. I said I’d take you home. I’m not leaving you on some street corner.”
“Fine. Just, whatever.”
His eyes flicked suddenly to the rearview mirror. His forehead knotted.
“Shit. Hold on.”
“What is it?”
“I said hold on.”
“I don’t want to hold on,” I snapped. “You’re freaking me out.”
“I said wait.” He threw me a look, hit the gas, and took a curve so fast the wheels squealed. I grabbed at the dashboard just as the lights from the car behind us lit up.
A police car.
He swore. “God damn it, Marcus.”
“Marcus?” I stared out the back window, the hair on my arm standing up. “Oh my god this isn’t happening. They want us to pull over. So pull over.”
He didn’t, not at first. For a second he seemed to hesitate, but common sense won out. The car slipped on the wet street as it decelerated.
The cop followed us to the side of the road. Thomas killed the engine and we waited in heavy silence.
I exhaled and dropped my head against the leather headrest.
“Worst date ever.”
He didn’t look at me. He said nothing.
A flashlight hit the passenger window, nearly blinding me.
“Step out of the car. Both of you, step out of the car right now.”
Thomas rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Fucking fantastic.”
While he pulled himself together, I let the seat belt loose and pushed the door open. I hadn’t gotten a foot into the overflowing gutter water when the officer grabbed my arm and dragged me onto the sidewalk. Another cruiser drew up behind the first.
On the other side of the car, Thomas pushed the cop’s hands away.
“Don’t touch me. Do you know who I am?”
“Do you know whose car this is?” the officer asked in a tone that suggested the officer knew exactly whose car this was. He smirked and Thomas wilted.
“Thomas?” I looked at him and he no longer looked like Clark Kent. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t say anything,” he warned.
“Don’t say anything about what?” The cop squeezed my arm and pulled me away from the open door. The second officer ducked inside and shone his flashlight along the floor.
“I don’t know what’s going on. Do you want to see my license?” I held up my hands, like they do in the movies, but it only made being dragged away from the car more awkward. My officer clicked his flashlight and shined it right in my eyes. I jerked my head away.
“Have you been drinking?”
“A couple glasses of wine.” The light made my eyes water. And since it seemed like it needed to be pointed out, I added, “I wasn’t driving.”
“I can explain,” Thomas said smoothly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like Mr. Tennyson. You’re under arrest for car theft. And solicitation.”
Car theft.
Solicitation.
Wait.
Solicitation?
“Thomas!”
Panic choked my voice, but before I could say another word the two officers flanking me pulled me over the curb and put me into the hood of the car. My cheek hit the curve of the racing stripe and sent a crackling pain all along my cheekbone. I made a weak noise of pain but that didn’t encourage them go any gentler as they yanked one wrist behind me, then the other.
The officer slid his boot between my heels and spread my legs as far as my skirt would allow. Handcuffs closed over both wrists. Then they patted me down. No one went out of bounds, but their hands made me feel sick to my stomach.
They were not, I noticed, as rough with Thomas who remained pretty and business-like, standing in the rain, uncuffed, and not bent over the hood of a car suggestively.
“Thomas tell them I am not a prostitute. Tell them right now!”
He glanced at me but didn’t answer. As they pulled him away from the car, I heard him start explaining about how his boss knew he had the car. It wasn’t stolen. He had permission. He had the key code. If they’d just call his boss, he’d clear it all up.
“Mr. Tennyson,” they said, “who do you think called us?”
“I’m not a prostitute,” I begged. I swore. “This is insane. Please! I can prove it if you just listen to me please…”
The officer ignored me and squeezed the cuffs around my wrist bones one last time before letting go. Just in case the short chubby prostitute wanted to make a run for it.
For a moment the rain soaked into my back and my hair. I stayed very still, the warmth of the car’s engine bleeding away beneath me until it was a very cold, very hard lump holding me up. My face hurt, threads of pain radiated from the point where my cheek rested. I felt exposed and vulnerable with my feet spread and my hands impossibly twisted against the small of my back.
Everything I’d remembered about this position evaporated. There was no Josh. No rope. No pleasure. This was not safe. I was not protected. I did not like this.
I did not want this.
“I’m not a prostitute,” I repeated, but they weren’t even listening. God, of course they weren’t. Someone spoke into a radio. Another swore about over-privileged little assholes. One of them begged a cigarette off his partner.
“Please listen to me.” I sounded so terribly small. I hated how crazy and desperate I sounded. Absolutely hated how easily it was for all of them to throw me away. Thomas didn’t even say goodbye as they marched him off. Not even a nod or a wave or a final, slow-mo glance back at the girl he had to leave behind.
“I’m a graphic designer,” I babbled into the hood, which only made me sound a little drunk. “I like Star Trek. I read fucking Jane Austen for fun. I am not a prostitute. I’m not. I’m not. Look at me! I’m…just a girl.”
They read Thomas his rights, opened a door, dunked his head and pushed him inside. When they finally read me mine, it was to the curve of my backside heavy with laughter and amusement and inevitability. Of course you’re under arrest. You’re a prostitute. You know the drill.
My mind went somewhere else. I didn’t listen. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up Josh. My Josh. The Josh he was before Halloween. I thought about his hands, his smile, the way he alphabetized his spice rack. But every image slipped away before I could lose myself in them. Before they could comfort me or save me. He didn’t belong here.
He didn’t belong to me.
And a guilty part of me was very grateful he’d never have to see me like this.
TEN
Handcuffs. They were heavier than I’d imagined, and cold. The officer hadn’t cuffed me tightly, but there wasn’t enough space between the widest part of my thumb and pinky finger to slide out. When I’d imagined handcuffs before, I’d imagined the pink fuzzy kind. Cute and playful. These were, of course, neither. I wondered if Josh had a pair like it, if he enjoyed their unforgiving nature.
I had to stop thinking about him or I was going to lose it.
My skirt dripped raindrops onto the floor beneath me and my hair stuck in knotted cords along my shoulders. My clothes clung uncomfortably to my body but I couldn’t seem to conjure up the strength to do anything about it. I rested my hands on my thighs, the hard metal chain between my wrists swaying cold against my knees.
The room they abandoned me in was small, a little dirty, and smelled like the guy they’d held in there before me. Aside from the wooden bench I slumped against, the room was empty.
And quiet.
I closed my eye
s. It had been at least thirty minutes since I’d called Julie to come get me and I’d barely been able to hold back the tears as I explained what had happened. She promised she was on her way and told me not to be afraid. She’d said, “Don’t freak out. Tomorrow this will all be very, very funny. You’ll see.”
I kind of doubted that.
Footsteps broke the silence, nearly running down the hall towards my prison. I lifted my head as they slowed and stopped just outside the door.
Julie. Finally.
The door whined open and he filled the space between me and the rest of the world. A blue-eyed giant.
Everything about him screamed fury and violence except his eyes. Those…those were cold and featureless. Dark abysses that let nothing in or out. I’d never seen them so carefully controlled and that was somehow scarier than the anger he held in his clenched jaw and fisted hands.
He very nearly vibrated with the energy he tried to swallow down.
Of course she’d betrayed me. I should have seen this coming. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My heart slid numbly into my toes and I tried very hard to lock down my shame. I did not want him to see me like this. I would have given anything in the whole world to not have him see me like this.
Josh traced his gaze up my sodden body looking for answers he’d never find. For a moment his control slipped and I could see some other, darker emotion twisting behind his beautiful eyes and my whole body shivered.
Then he shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe what a sloppy, broken, messed up animal I’d become.
I looked at the ceiling before he reached my eyes.
Josh closed the door behind him and stepped slowly across the room until he stood in front of me, toe-to-toe. I stared fiercely into the air vent, unwilling to acknowledge him. The vent hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Someone should really do something about that. Who knew what horrible things were growing in the sweaty dust up there?
The world’s most uncomfortable silence stretched. On and on and on.
He exhaled first, a tiny note of amusement released the tension and nearly melted my insides.
“Nice handcuffs.”