The Game Has Changed

by D. L. Wu

As she nervously kicked her sneakers off, she saw him retrieve the duct tape he’d purchased earlier. She became hysterical at the thought of what he would with it, her entire body full of fear. “Please, please, don't use the tape!”

  “Calm down. What do you think I'm gonna do with it?” He smiled as he brushed his long brown hair off of his forehead with his free hand.

  “I don't know! I don't know!” She was now trembling uncontrollably.

  “Come here,” he said, a tad more tenderly in the midst of her panic attack. When she didn't move, he said it again in a patient and understanding tone.

  She couldn't help it. She looked at him. He seemed different in those passing moments. He seemed almost desirable, as if he was being sweet to her, and he looked quite appealing. His long dark hair, although disheveled, fell across his beautiful brown eyes. His expression was loving and sincere and that body . . . Never before had she seen a man in that way; certainly, not her father. It was enough to cause her whole body to tingle in a way she had never experienced before. What's more . . . it felt incredible!

  Yet she was still terrified of him. Terrified that he might harm her and terrified of the feelings he was causing her to feel. She saw him extend his hand toward her. She didn't reciprocate. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her as if to barricade herself from him.

  “Lie down,” he said softly.

  “No.”

  “I promise you,” he whispered as he came closer to her.

  She was quite sure she would pass out.

  “I promise you I won't hurt you,” he continued and finally pulled one of her hands free from its crossed position upon her chest.

  She felt him clasp her hand tight. It tingled. She looked up at him, still trembling. “How are you using that tape?” she asked.

  His only answer was to point to their joined hands. She understood, but it didn’t make her feel any better about what he was about to do.

  “I promise I won't run away,” she pleaded.

  “This is just precaution until I'm very sure that you won’t,” he whispered, an inquisitive look flitting across his face. “There is one thing we better do before I tape us together, though.”

  “What's that?”

  He dragged her toward the bathroom.

  “Oh, please, no!” she squealed with apprehension.

  He gave her no choice. He let go of her hand long enough to reach inside of his boxers. He saw her quickly cover her eyes with both of her hands and a squeal escaped her as he relieved himself. It made him smile.

  “You next,” he whispered, grinning.

  “Oh God!” she whined and complied.

  ***

  Jaime lay down upon the bed slowly, feeling his hand as it tightly grasped hers. She felt him climb onto the bed and shimmied across her body. Her heart leapt as she felt his body graze hers for a split second until he reached the other side of the bed. She gazed up at him as he sat on his knees. Methodically, he pulled a good portion of the thick gray duct tape from the roll before taking of hold her right hand once more. She watched as he used his other hand to wrap the tape about their wrists.

  “This really isn't necessary,” she whispered, a small sob escaping her as she kept her eyes pinned upon his handsome face as he concentrated on wrapping the tape around three times.

  “Eventually,” he returned in the same tone, taking a moment to rip the tape with his teeth. “It might not be, but for now, I think it is.” His words sounded so tender. He gave her a sweet smile as he tossed the roll of tape aside.

  She felt a tiny tear trickle down the side of her face as she gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the mind numbing sight. “You realize it's gonna hurt like hell coming off, right?” she questioned, her voice full of melancholy. Her eyes widened as she realized that she’d used a swear word for the very first time in her entire life.

  Evan smiled. He could see the sadness in her stunning blue eyes and took a moment to assess her from head to toe for the first time. She truly was an attractive girl and would become a beautiful woman soon enough.

  “Yeah, well, at least it will hurt me as much as it hurts you, huh?” He laughed a little then to cheer her up. “Probably more, actually,” he added, pointing out that he had a bit more hair on his arm than she did.

  She managed a small smile for the first time since their adventure together had begun. Her tears, however, ran more prevalent down the sides of her face. Within his gorgeous brown eyes, she actually saw a bit of empathy.

  Hovering above her, he whispered, “Will you be okay, then, Luv?”

  He continued to exude tenderness and affection and it seemed misplaced to Jaime because of their circumstance. After a long moment of doe-eyed gazing at him, she finally nodded. Evan lay down beside her and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp.

  She turned her head to stare at him for a moment within the darkness. He was staring up at the ceiling; his free hand came to rest upon his bare chest. There was just enough light coming in from the street lamp outside to dimly illuminate the room. She watched him without shame for a long moment, still afraid of him, yet feeling almost safe with him lying so close and warm beside her.

  After a long pause between them, he turned his head in her direction as he became aware of the fact that she was now staring at him. “Don't you want to sleep?”

  “How did you hurt your head?” she blurted out without answering his question.

  He smiled. “Thought I told you, a car accident,” he said softly. “That's why I needed your car.”

  “Why didn't you go to the hospital?”

  Jaime could sense, even in the dimness that surrounded them, that Evan was hesitant with his answer. That immediately clued her in to the fact that he was running from something. Despite her naiveté, she had watched enough crime shows on television to reason out his circumstances.

  She answered before he had a chance to do so. “Are you on the run? Are you a fugitive?”

  She was waiting for him to either deny it or lash out with anger at her again, but he surprised her. Instead, he just looked at her in a mysterious, contemplative manner. A sudden rush of fear consumed her, but there was also a strange rush of adrenalin. She knew, then, that this would be quite an adventure for her.

  “What did you do?” she asked with morbid interest, disregarding the possibilities that perhaps he was a serial killer or something equally threatening.

  He refused to answer her. It was beginning to both scare and intrigue her, his mystery. He caused her heart to beat erratically with terror when he removed his free hand from his chest and turned onto his side to face her. His body was incredibly close as he reached out and gently touched her soft blonde hair.

  She gasped aloud when he began to caress her forehead. “Please don't do that!” she wheezed.

  “How old are you, Sweetheart?” he asked seductively.

  “Why?” She panicked.

  “Just want to know . . .”

  “Nineteen,” she lied, hoping that he believed her. She would have loved to say that she was much older, thinking that it would have made her more of a menace to him, but she knew she still had an adolescent look about her.

  “Seriously?” he asked, doubtful.

  She remembered, then, how he had claimed that he could tell when she was lying. Her heart beat like that of a scared rabbit, but she nodded in the affirmative, none-the-less.

  Evan returned the nod, knowing that she was lying. Still, he couldn't quite tell as to how old she was. He wasn't good at venturing guesses about someone’s age. Yet he couldn't help the feelings rushing through him all the same.

  He had promised he wouldn't touch her, but he couldn't squelch the lusty thoughts he was having at the moment as he felt her so warm and soft lying there beside him. She was a virgin, no doubt, and was so sweet and naïve. A double thrill it would have been for him to deflower her, but he knew he had to keep his hands off of her. He was already on the run and had also added kidnapping to his list of offenses. To
add rape and perhaps even statutory rape would snow him under for life.

  Except how could he tame himself? He felt himself becoming very hard and stiff as he touched her delicate hair. He couldn't relieve it. Not now and certainly not while he was bound to her. He knew that she would most likely notice the bulge within his boxer shorts. Of that he was quite sure.

  ***

  Jaime not only noticed, but felt it. He was still lying on his side quite close to her and she could feel the hardness pressing against her leg. She imagined what it could have been and her heart started racing again. She felt herself hyperventilating at the thought. He had stopped caressing her, yet his hand was still lying gently across her forehead.

  Reaching up with her free hand, she grasped his wrist and pushed it away with a sharp cry. “I told you not to do that!”

  His hand idly fell back down across his chest and he sighed deeply. He was tempted to tell her that he was sorry, but soon stopped himself. He wasn't sorry. He really wanted to take her, then and there. After a moment’s pause, he whispered, “Go to sleep now. We'll leave as soon as it's light.”

  Jaime nodded slowly as they stared at one another. His eyes are so pretty, she thought. Even in the darkness, they seemed to say a lot to her. Although she wasn't exactly sure what those eyes were trying to convey to her. She hated herself for allowing herself to be mesmerized by him. He had kidnapped her, after all, hadn't he? Yet why did she feel so . . . so attracted to him?

  She watched as he finally closed his eyes. He had fallen asleep so quickly that it amazed her, yet she knew he had been through a lot that day. How she knew that, she wasn't sure. Yet why did she even care? She berated herself for feeling a twinge of sympathy for him.

  Please don't forget! He's committed a crime of some sort. More than one, in fact. He kidnapped me!

  Her mind was still reeling from the implications of her current predicament. She no longer knew what would happen to her and she felt so afraid, yet safe with him, at the same time. How was that possible? She felt hatred for what he had done to her in kidnapping her, taking her away from her family, home, and school. Yet she felt a peculiar affection for him, too.

  But just wait, she warned herself. This isn’t over yet.

  There was a possibility that he planned on doing something horrible to her, like committing sexual assault or perhaps even murder. Yet, deep down, she sensed the inability to hurt anyone lying there deep within him. Why she could feel it, she didn't quite yet understand.

  She lay there within the darkness and watched him as he slept. His breathing was deep, even, and quiet. He wasn't snoring like her father often had as he lay on the sofa before the television with the football game on with several empty beer cans scattered across the floor beneath him. Evan's breathing was rhythmic and gentle and almost alluring. She sensed it would eventually help her sleep.

  Until that happened, she took advantage. She assessed him from head to toe, taking every detail of him in completely. His lovely shiny brown hair was partially blood-stained and hung messily about his closed eyes and across the pillow beneath his head. His dark eyelashes were long and fluttered across his cheeks, every now and then as he dreamt. His eyebrows were perfect and matched the same color of his hair. The sheer perfection was disturbed only by the gash that ran across his forehead that looked red and ugly and was coated with dried blood. She knew the jagged gash would leave a scar once it was completely healed. His lips were thick and soft looking. They were the sort of lovely lips any woman would die for, to both have for herself or to kiss.

  Jaime's eyes moved downward as she scanned his exquisite chest that was firm and strong, but not too muscular. It was just perfect in her view. She had seen the occasional shirtless man on the beach, but they were nothing like Evan. Her dad had been a little pudgy when his shirt was off. Evan was just . . . just perfect!

  There were some small cuts and some bruising on his chest, presumably from his accident, but it did nothing to mar his beauty. She tried not to look down further, but couldn't resist. The sight that spread out before her was one that she had never seen before; a man in his skivvies, as Evan had put it.

  She found she couldn't look away and was totally intrigued by the huge bulge she could make out. Stop looking! she berated herself once more. You're acting like a perv! Yet she couldn't help it when she “accidentally on purpose” let her free hand brush up against the hardness that was pressing itself against her leg. An inadvertent squeak escaped her and she pulled her hand away with a jerk as if she had been burned.

  Jaime quickly looked back toward Evan's face in hopes that she hadn't awakened him when she touched him. He seemed to still be deeply asleep and she sighed with relief. I will not look anymore! she told herself. She studied his face and listened to his rhythmic breathing again, until she felt herself finally become sleepy. She soon closed her eyes and let the comforting sound of Evan’s breathing put her to sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jaime was startled awake by the sound of an anguished cry early that morning. She felt disoriented, at first, crying with alarm as her arm was pulled into the air quite suddenly. She then saw the reason. Beside her, Evan had bolted to sit upright, violently dragging her arm up with him because he had also forgotten that they were bound together.

  “What is it?” Jaime cried as she was forced to sit up quickly as Evan covered his face with both his free hand and what he could manage of the one he had taped to hers.

  “Nothing,” he whispered with a deep sigh. He looked at her with undeniable anguish written upon his face and tried to cover it up with a sad smile. “Sorry I woke you. Just a dream, I guess.”

  Jaime nodded. “It's okay.” She watched as he tried to control the anxiety the dream had caused him by taking deep, slow breaths. “Are you alright?” she asked.

  He nodded, though she knew he wasn't. Beads of perspiration were coating his face and chest. She could feel how clammy his skin was and his breathing had not quite eased yet. She wondered if the dream was related to the trouble he was in, but she didn't venture to ask him.

  Instead, she whispered, “What time is it?”

  Evan turned toward the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. “Half past six,” he replied, the trembling still evident within his voice. “Try and sleep a little longer. Sorry again.”

  She regarded him softly and then lay back down. He followed suit, lying upon his back. She was aware that he lay even closer to her than before. Their hips and thighs were actually touching.

  She shivered. She had a sudden daydream, then; more of a longing vision. One she had never experienced before. She imagined them lying together just like this, but naked and in the aftermath of sex. Still, she couldn't begin to imagine the act itself. She had little idea of what to even think about, but what was in her head was enough to get her private parts tingling.

  The long silence was broken by his lovely, soft, and deep British accent. “Are you okay, Luv?” he whispered.

  She turned her head toward him, entranced by his tenderness. He turned his head to face her and gave her a tender smile that she could see a little better now because of the light that was beginning to stream inside through the cheap curtains on the motel's window. “I'm . . . okay,” she stuttered.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes.”

  “So this wasn't so bad after all, was it?” he asked with amusement, lifting up their bound hands.

  She hesitated, unsure as to how to answer his question. He was making her a prisoner. How could she possibly say it was good? Yet it hadn't deterred her sleep, so the honest answer had to be, “No, not so bad.”

  She decided to be truthful. “It didn't keep me awake, put it that way.”

  “Sorry.” He smiled again, knowing he had backed her into a difficult corner with the question. “But if you prove to me that I can trust you, we won't need it anymore.”

  She gave him a confused and concerned look. “Just how long do you suppose we're going to be t
ogether, anyway?” she asked testily.

  Evan sighed. He decided to be honest with her, but knew he'd have to deal with her ultimately forthcoming protests and panic attack. “I need your car to get back to California,” he admitted.

  As he’d expected, shock set in and Jaime's whole body began to tremble, causing the entire bed to shake as if there was a small earthquake. Ironically, she didn't cry out or scream. Nor did she yell at him. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her entire body quivered. Sadness pervaded every inch of her sweet face. She pressed her free hand against her mouth to keep herself from crying out.

  “I'm sorry, Sweetheart,” he said with sincerity. He wanted so much to comfort her, but he knew he couldn't. He pulled himself onto his elbow, watching her dissolve with misery. “But I will make you an honest promise right now and I really, really want you to trust me. Even if I can never trust you, I want you so very much to trust me.”

  She was speechless. Her whimpering could be heard beneath the hand covering her mouth.

  “Listen, okay?” he prompted gently. “I swear to you that I will never hurt you. I won't touch you and I certainly won't kill you. I need you as my companion. I know you don't want to be here with me and I won't expect you to ever be happy or like it, but I'll feel better knowing you're with me.”

  He was being truthful. He even felt it within his heart. He did want her there, but he knew there was a selfish reason attached to his sweet, imploring directive. He wanted to convince her that she really wasn't his prisoner.

  “Give it a couple of days. Maybe you'll begin to trust me, then. But if after those couple of days, you're still miserable and unhappy, then . . . then . . .” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'll put you on a plane and send you home. I promise, Jaime. And I will get the money for your car to you, somehow. Whether you give me your address or not . . . I'll get it to you.”

  Her hand was still pressed over her own mouth when a muffled gasp escaped.