by Lola Swain
I tried to lift my head to tell him that I certainly had not ever had another penis in my mouth, but Brandt tightened his grip on my hair and slammed my head down so the tip of his penis hit the back of my throat. I gagged and sputtered and tried to lift my head but Brandt had such a tight hold on my head, I couldn’t move. I was thankful that he lifted my head even though he pulled my hair until the small hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stuck straight up, but almost immediately, he slammed my face back down onto his penis.
“Just relax, whore,” Brandt said through clenched teeth. “Daddy will take care of everything.”
Brandt pulled my head up and pushed it back down over and over again. When the tip of his penis hit the back of my throat, I’d gag and he’d pause for a moment to allow me to regain myself and then he’d be back at it again. Tears and mascara ran down my face and I dug my nails into his legs, but my obvious discomfort only increased his pleasure.
“That’s it, whore,” Brandt said. “Suck on Daddy’s cock.”
I sucked so hard my cheeks collapsed into my face. I figured whatever I was doing was doing the job because Brandt’s legs convulsed and his breathing got heavier. The better I did, the faster it would be over. And I wanted it over.
“Do you feel it, whore?” Brandt said. “Do you feel it coming? It’s coming!”
Brandt slammed my mouth all the way down on his penis and held me down. My nose smashed against his lap and I couldn’t breathe. He thrust his hips up while pressing my head down and all of a sudden, my mouth was filled with a warm, viscous liquid. I swatted at his chest and grunted.
“Fuck!” Brandt said. “Take all that cum in your mouth, bitch! Take it all fucking in!”
Brandt continued to thrust his hips while he pressed his hand against the back of my head. His semen ran out the corners of my mouth and I punched his thigh. Finally, he ripped his hand out of my hair and I sat up and scrambled to the other side of the car. I opened the door, leaned over and spit everything in my mouth onto the ground.
“Hey, hey,” Brandt said, “what are you doing? That’s valuable.”
I sat up while trying to think of anything other than the thick, salty aftertaste that coated the inside of my mouth like heavy cream. My heart pounded and I tried to regulate my breathing by taking long, deep breaths.
“Well, I have to say I’m surprised you spit that all out, Sophia. I mean, did you not say you were hungry?” Brandt said and laughed.
I looked over at him and he redressed himself. He leaned over me and opened the glove compartment and took out a hairbrush. He brushed his hair while looking in the rearview mirror and then slid over and brushed mine.
“You have a little…on your face,” Brandt said and wiped his finger under my bottom lip. “There’s some tissue in the glove compartment. Wipe your face, Sophia.”
I pulled my compact out of my purse. My eyes were bloodshot and most of my mascara dried down under my bottom lids. Brandt started the car up and we got back onto Route 3 without a word to each other. Finally about thirty minutes later as we neared Cape Cod, Brandt put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me close again.
“That was pretty amazing. And I’m sorry I asked you if you’ve done that before. I got carried away.”
“Well, I haven’t,” I said and looked out the window and watched the trees blur as we whizzed by.
“Of course you haven’t,” Brandt said. “And I know that you’ve not been with a man at all. I’m sensitive to that. And you will get yours too, believe me. I cannot wait to bring you the pleasure you’ve brought me.”
“When?” I said and turned and looked at him.
“Ah, in a hurry, I see,” Brandt said and tickled me. “You little minx.”
When Brandt’s mood lightened, mine followed in kind. Perhaps I overreacted. So what if Brandt was a sexual person? That was supposed to be a good thing, right? And even if the dirty talk was not my style, I should feel flattered that Brandt felt comfortable enough around me to express his sexuality, right?
“Brandt?” I said and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Yes, my love?” he said and kissed the top of my head.
“Tell me again what our life together will be like,” I said and closed my eyes.
“Our life together will be truly blessed. Oh look, we’re almost there,” Brandt said as we passed the sign that announced our closeness to Cape Cod.
“Well, what does that mean, truly blessed? Specifically, please,” I said.
“Oh, you want specifics? Well, first of all, we are going to begin and end each day with a vigorous session of love making. How does that sound?”
“Well, as I’ve not even had my first love making session,” I said, “I can’t answer that. I reserve the right to comment after you ravage me when we arrive at the hotel.”
“Okay, but honestly,” Brandt said and ran his fingers through my hair, “there will be no ravaging until I take a nap.”
“A nap?”
“Uh, yeah, a nap. I’m pretty much a gun with one bullet, if you know what I mean. I need to recharge to reload.”
“Huh, okay,” I said. “Well, back to our lives, after your nap and the ravaging and the continued daily love making, what else?”
“Oh, like our immediate lives?”
“Yes,” I said. “As in after the honeymoon.”
“After the honeymoon, we will return to Boston, move into your apartment and hopefully, I will find a job.”
“What?” I said and shook my head.
“What, what?” Brandt said and squeezed my shoulder.
“You said, move into my apartment and hopefully, you’ll find a job?”
“Yes, yes I did. The only thing I haven’t worked out is parking. Does your place offer covered parking? I’d hate to see this paint job ruined outside.”
I couldn’t speak. I was like a goldfish that jumped out of its bowl.
“What’s the problem?” Brandt said.
“Uh, the problem is you said you had a job, Brandt. And what was all that talk about Manhattan?”
“Well, I’d like us to move to Manhattan. And I will have a job Sophia, once I pass the Bar.”
“But two weeks ago, you were in Manhattan to secure a job. You had interviews with law firms.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“You called me from Manhattan.”
“Well, of course I called you from Manhattan. I was in Manhattan, silly. But I can’t actually get the job unless I pass the Bar. Don’t be daft now, you’re smarter than that. Oh, look,” Brandt said and took his hands off his steering wheel and clapped, “the bridge! We’re almost there. No more talking until we get to the other side. I’m kind of suspicious.”
Brandt laughed the whole way across the Sagamore Bridge and I stared over the railing and wondered if it was too late to jump. When we finally got across the 616-foot span, I realized I had been one thousand percent duped by Brandt and one thousand percent duped by myself.
“Look, Sophia,” Brandt said and pointed to the right, “that’s where you take the ferry to the Vineyard. I wonder if we’ll see some Kennedys?”
“Yes, I know,” I said.
“What do you mean? I thought you have never been to Cape Cod before.”
“I’ve never been to the Battleroy before. I’ve been to Martha’s Vineyard.”
“Well, la-dee-fucking-da. Of course the rich girl has been to Martha’s Vineyard. Bet you even know the Kennedys,” Brandt said.
“Let’s just not talk for a while, okay?”
“I don’t know what your problem is, Sophia. My God, you’ve been complaining the whole drive down. You were never like this before.”
“Because I believed you before,” I said.
“What did you say?” Brandt said and slammed on his breaks and threw the car into park in the middle of the two-lane road. “What did you say to me?”
“People are trying to go,” I said and turned around and looked at the line of cars formin
g behind us.
“Fuck them,” Brandt said and turned to me. “They can go around. Now tell me, what you said.”
The man in the sedan behind us leaned on his horn.
“Brandt?” I said and gestured toward the cars behind us.
“I’m not moving until you repeat what you said. I can sit here all night long.”
“Fine…because I believed you before. That’s what I said.”
I folded my arms across my chest and braced myself for his explosion.
“Oh. I thought that’s what you said. Why didn’t you just speak up?” Brandt said and tugged on the gear and shifted the car into drive.
As we drove toward the hotel, Brandt jabbered about geology and landmarks and ice cream parlors as if nothing happened.
“So, no response?” I said.
“To what?” Brandt said and massaged my shoulder.
“To the statement I made when I said that I don’t believe a word you say anymore.”
“But that’s not what you said, Sophia,” Brandt said and winked.
“Close enough,” I said.
“No,” Brandt said and frowned. “You said, and I quote, ‘because I believed you before.’ ”
“Yes, that’s right. What do you have to say about that?”
“Well, not much, really.” Brandt said and turned down a small side street toward the Atlantic. “There isn’t anything I can do to make you believe me if you don’t, so why bother? And here we are, my girl!”
I looked ahead as we passed the large wooden sign announcing the Battleroy Hotel. A massive, ornate building sprawled out over several hundred acres, the Battleroy Hotel was indeed the most beautiful hotel I’d ever seen.
We drove down a long, straight drive and turned into the circular drive in front of the entrance to the hotel. Brandt turned off the car, yanked the keys out of the ignition and tossed them in the air.
“They allow dogs here?” I said.
“Um, I don’t think so. Why, do you have a dog?”
“No, but I can hear them.”
“You must be hearing things, Sophia. I don’t hear anything. There are no dogs. Now, I’ll just be a moment. Stay right there, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dare move,” I said.
But I did.
I got out of the car and walked the driveway toward the rose garden on the west side of the hotel. The roses, huge and vibrant in every color you can imagine, smelled strong as I approached the cast iron gate that enclosed the area. I peeked over the gate and lovely, dark winding paths with ancient looking moss-covered pottery and benches adorned the area. I looked back toward the front of the hotel and Brandt hadn’t come out yet, so I lifted the latch to the gate and went inside.
The paths were sandy gravel and my feet crunched along as I wound my way through the garden. There was a large stone table in the center of the garden and across from that, a large statue of a beautiful woman. I stared at her exquisite face and pulled some vines aside at the base of the statue hoping to discover the name of this compelling woman.
“That is Adelaide,” a deep voice said.
I jumped and turned toward the voice. Walking out of the out of the dark toward me, was an extremely handsome man. He wore a dark suit with the jacket slung over his shoulder. His tie was loosened and he smiled at me as he approached.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t know if I’m allowed here.”
“Sure you are,” he said and winked. “Were you trying to escape?”
“Escape? No, I saw the roses. That’s our car over there. My husband is checking us in.”
He looked over my shoulder at Brandt’s car and frowned. He had the most vibrant blue eyes, almost violet, and framed by long, glossy black lashes.
“Ah,” he said as he stared at Brandt’s car. “I’m James Verrazano.”
He held out his hand and finally looked away from the car and into my eyes.
“I’m Sophia,” I said and took his hand, “Sophia Pears—Therrault. Sophia Pearson-Therrault.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said and leaned in toward me and kissed my cheek.
I moved my head back from his and let go of his hand.
“I’m sorry. I’m too friendly for my own good at times. Please excuse me,” James said and bowed.
“It’s okay, I’m just tired,” I said and turned back toward the statue. “So, this is Adelaide. Who was she?”
“Well, Adelaide was a princess in the Nauset tribe. She resides here with some notable others,” James said and brushed some dead leaves from Adelaide’s stone shoulders.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“Yes, she was and still is one of the most beautiful Indian princesses in history.”
“Do you work here?”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “I’m the caretaker.”
“Surely this is your day off,” I said. “You look much too put together to be doing any sort of care taking today.”
“I never have a day off,” James said and chuckled. “I’ve been trying for many years, but it never seems to happen.”
“Tell me, do they allow dogs here? I’ve been hearing barking since we pulled in.”
“No, they don’t allow dogs here.”
“There, the barking!” I said and pointed toward the hotel. “Do you hear that?”
“Oh yes, they’re the dogs from the gardener’s house. Guests are not allowed to have dogs, if that’s what you mean.”
“I knew I wasn’t hearing things,” I said and looked back at Brandt’s car. “So, you’re from the Island?”
“I’m sorry,” James said, “I think I’m keeping you. You better go find your husband. If you were mine, I’d want to keep you with me forever.”
“Yes, I probably should,” I said.
“It was very nice meeting you, Sophia,” he said and took my hand again in his.
I heard Brandt calling for me and I turned and saw him walking around the drive.
“I’m gonna go,” I said. “Thank you for talking to me about Adelaide.”
I looked again at the beautiful Indian princess and back at James.
“Better run along now,” James said and laughed. “Poor boy looks absolutely frantic.”
“Yes,” I said and sighed as I ran through the gate toward the parking lot.
“Sophia!” Brandt said as he paced the driveway. “Sophia, where are you?”
“I’m right here!” I said as I approached Brandt.
“Jesus Christ!” Brandt said as he came toward me. “I told you to stay! I was worried sick.”
“I was only over there in the rose garden,” I said. “Did you think I left?”
“What were you doing in the rose garden?” Brandt said and looked over my head at the garden.
“Looking at roses,” I said and looked over and saw James standing at the gate.
James leaned over the cast iron and made a funny face at me. I giggled and waved at James as Brandt grabbed my arm.
“Oh, come on,” I said and wrestled my arm away from Brandt’s grip, “that’s just James.”
“Who the fuck is James?” Brandt said and gripped my arm again and dragged me toward the trunk of his car.
“Are you jealous?” I said.
“You are one strange kid,” Brandt said and shook his head. “Come on, I need a nap.”
Brandt popped open the trunk and pulled our luggage out.
“But I’m not tired,” I said and grabbed my suitcase from his hand.
“But I am,” Brandt said and grabbed my suitcase back.
“But I am not.”
“Then I will take a nap and you can do whatever the fuck you want,” Brandt said and started up the steps toward the foyer of the hotel.
“Oh, I will,” I said and looked back over at James and smiled.
“Thou art to me a delicious torment.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I followed Brandt into the foyer of the hotel and looked up at the massive, glittering chandelier th
at bathed the grand room in amber, glowing light. The highly polished marble floors were so slippery, I shuffled my feet across the lobby area so I didn’t fall in front of the beautiful girls behind the counter checking the guests in. A bellhop met Brandt and I in the lobby and took our luggage as he pointed out the areas of the hotel we needed to explore.
“You must experience the ballroom,” the bellhop said.
He led us to the entrance of the grand ballroom adorned with rows of round tables and chairs, a parquet dance floor, massive stage area and another star-like chandelier.
We then walked by a beautiful restaurant on our way outside to the pool area and the bellhop told us to peek inside.
“You must experience the Battleroy Cafe,” he said as he took us through French doors that led outside.
The pool area was tiled in red clay and the pool, lined in dark concrete, gave the impression that it was bottomless. Around the pool, chaise loungers upholstered in burgundy canvass, held a bevy of sunbathing beauties. Brandt stared at the other women like a Peeping Tom and didn’t bother to hide his interest from me. There was a tiki bar near the pool and another stage area and beyond that, another gate that led to the sandy dunes out to the private beach.
“You must experience the beach,” the bellhop said and took us through another set of French doors and down a carpeted corridor toward our room.
“My husband will be experiencing a nap,” I said.
Brandt gave me a dirty look, pulled out his wallet and handed the bellhop a couple of dollars while he unlocked the door to our room.
I was shocked that the Battleroy Hotel was actually as grand as Brandt promised it was. When we entered the massive suite, I was struck by its beauty. Done with Italian Renaissance flair, the room contained a common area before the bedroom with stunning views of the Atlantic.
“It’s beautiful,” I said as I looked up at the high open ceiling with its exposed beams that seemed to disappear into the universe.
“Told ya,” Brandt said and gave me a friendly punch on the arm. “Well, I’m going to hit the hay.”
Brandt opened the double doors to the bedroom and jumped on the king-size bed in the center of the room.
“Thank you,” I said to the bellhop and fished into my purse and gave him two more dollars.