Notice

by Heather Lewis

  I’d been keeping my regular job for all the reasons you always hear. The convenient division between night and day. A way to insist nothing’s unusual.

  I was nearly out of the house before I remembered my car wouldn’t be there. I got as far as dialing a taxi and then as far as the train station, but what I did then was get into my car and drive home.

  I called in sick that day. It was the next day I told them I quit. Asked them to mail me my check. I spent both of these days half asleep. Was really just waiting for his car in the driveway, and before I heard it I put some extra clothes in my bag in case things dragged out.

  We didn’t talk about money and he didn’t give me any up front. Just on principle this was something I should’ve challenged but didn’t.

  Once we’d gotten to his house, the two of us sat downstairs for a bit, though this time you could tell we’d be going upstairs. I’m not exactly sure why we were killing this stretch of time but since I wasn’t in a questioning mood, I let this pass too.

  When we did go up the stairs he stopped at the landing, began pointing out pictures of his children. One daughter in particular he said I reminded him of, and I thought, at least for now you’re doing to me what you want to be doing to her. At least she’s off at some school like the rest of them.

  We continued up the stairs and into their bedroom. His wife was taking a bath. She’d left the bathroom door open, so from the tub she could see us come in.

  He told me to sit on the bed, on the edge so I faced her. He sat in a chair opposite, a straight-backed one that looked like it didn’t belong in here. This chair was against the wall, near the doorjamb and so his wife could see me. And she could see that he could see me, but she couldn’t really see him, not more than his elbow.

  I sat there waiting because I knew he liked giving instructions. I hadn’t worn any underwear this time because, let’s just say, I learn fast. He’d reached over to me in the car, smiling when he’d discovered this. It was the sort of thing I thought might get me more cash. It might with someone like him who liked you paying attention.

  So anyway, when he told me to touch myself I didn’t have to take anything off. And I didn’t even consider unbuttoning my shirt or anything like that because already I knew that was part of it to him. Having me dressed and her not.

  It seemed odd that I could see both of them. It should’ve given me some kind of command but instead I felt nervous. I looked first at him. But then my eyes went to her. When that happened, he said, “You look at me.”

  He’d carried his drink up here. Was still holding it and so that’s what I focused on. But he didn’t like that either. He said, “at me,” again and louder so I knew to meet his eyes.

  I was beginning to think his eyes never changed. That they looked this same way always – guarded but not entirely cold, not quite closed off. There’s so much more someone like this can accomplish if he keeps himself just that little bit open.

  That’s the pull. And the kicker, too. That it’s absolutely you he’s fucking with. Not anyone else. That’s the thing you’ve probably always wanted. Someone’s undivided attention. And you’ve wanted it so much and for so long that the form it takes no longer matters.

  So he was holding my eyes and I was holding myself. But I wasn’t doing much of anything. I knew that couldn’t last long. Still, I needed to get my bearings because he wasn’t going to just let me pretend it all and be done.

  “Come on, now,” he said, and so already I’d used too much time.

  Out of the corner of my eye I tried to find his wife. From the little I could see she hadn’t moved a muscle since we came in. And while I knew how she’d gotten that way – I understood it completely – I still couldn’t figure what would cow a person so. I mean look, will you, at who’s saying this.

  Without him telling me to, I leaned back some, opened my legs more. I started touching myself in a way that seemed to help all of us.

  He stayed in his chair for the longest time and so I was caught in limbo, not sure how far to take myself. But then finally he got up. Did that same thing of taking off his belt, only this time he put it around my neck. This didn’t feel so bad as you might think. Not at first it didn’t.

  He stayed standing in front of me. I was looking where his belt used to be until he tugged on it. Until he pressed himself into my face but with his pants still zipped, which left me licking cloth.

  He pulled at me with the belt some and pulled my hair a little too. I couldn’t see anything but knew what his wife saw. I found myself wondering how things between them had gotten here. Or if they’d always lived this way, and I was just one of many they’d tried. Thinking this way made me a little too nervous and so I started to unzip his pants. Did this to have something more to do, but he stopped me. Put my hands back between my legs where they hadn’t been in a while.

  He unzipped his pants. I kept touching myself even though I knew he’d put my hands there simply to keep them away from him. That was the real trouble – him playing my end better than me.

  He put his dick in my mouth and still the only thing he let me touch was myself. That made him the one keeping me upright – doing this by yanking his belt and my hair. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement anymore but each time I went to put my arms behind me, just to help prop myself up, he smacked me. So I’m getting it slow, but I’m getting it.

  He had his legs between mine, nudging them apart, and was hard enough now to take up most of my throat. Between that and the belt, breathing wasn’t so easy.

  When he took his dick back, I got a pretty good breath but I couldn’t get it past the belt. He pushed me down. Had his hand on my chest now, and so there wasn’t any place for the air to go anyway.

  I’d left my hands where he’d put them and his were there, too, opening me up, sliding his dick in. Soon as he’d done that, he took hold of my wrists, held them down at my sides. His dick helped me by the way it hurt. Kept me from thinking anything for a while until it got where it didn’t hurt, but did the opposite. When that happened I couldn’t stay with him anymore.

  Like he knew this, he pushed my arms over my head. Caught hold of his belt again too, so that each time he hit into me, he choked me. This wasn’t the way he usually fucked me, though I expect it’s the way he usually fucked her. The other night he was showing her what he’d been doing to me, and now was showing me what she got.

  I wasn’t used to having his face near mine and here he was staring right into my eyes with that same look as when I’d watched him do her. I couldn’t hold his gaze. Closed my eyes and opened my mouth; figured having his tongue there would be okay, that it was something I needed, that I needed something to suck on. But none of this mattered because he wasn’t thinking it, I was.

  He said, “Don’t you look away from me. Don’t you ever.”

  I opened my eyes and it meant I felt all of it. Felt his dick up in me and worse than before because now he held it nearly still. Moved just a little until I found my eyes closing again, my legs wrapping around him. Until I found myself pressing against him.

  “Look at me,” he said, but this time not harsh. This time nearly teasing, putting me in a place in myself I thought would break me apart. And again like he knew, he let off me and got up. Left his belt around my neck but let go of it. Left me to turn on my side and pull my legs up underneath me, left me clutching myself.

  He got his wife out of her bath. Brought her in still wet and lay her down on her stomach right next to me. Then he lifted her up on her knees and after that I stopped watching. And I pretended I didn’t feel anything either. I even got up, took his belt off and went and sat in his chair, finished his drink, lit a cigarette, and wondered how long he’d let me do these sorts of things.

  Sitting there behind them I still wasn’t watching. Out the window you could see their pool lit up in the dark. That’s what I stared at. This didn’t keep me from hearing her, though. I’d found no way to stop that, but if I looked hard enough at the
water it muffled her some.

  It was me he jerked off on – my face and my neck, while I still sat in his chair. He’d caught me off guard, what with the way I’d put myself out on the lawn and so already I knew that solution had limits.

  Soon as he came, he went into the bathroom, which meant I couldn’t go in there, couldn’t clean him off me without searching the house. And what with the state I was in, with what I’d been trying to maintain, that was just too far to go.

  His wife had the bedspread pulled up around her and seeing her this way I realized we hadn’t been alone before. That we’d never been introduced. And then I asked her her name and she said, “Ingrid.” All of this happened before I’d had a chance to think whether her name would be a good thing to know. Already I knew it wasn’t. As soon as she said it, I knew. And I liked her voice, which could only make everything more difficult.

  She watched the bathroom door pretty intently, never let her eyes leave it for long. I stayed planted in that chair, though I took my shirt off, used it to clean myself. I kept trying to pretend I didn’t want to go and lie down with her. I understood this was why he was taking so long to come back. That he wanted to see us together when he walked in again.

  I looked at the pool some more. Lit another cigarette and just about when I thought I wasn’t going to, I got up and went to her, sat beside her and let her smoke through my fingers. Other than that I didn’t touch her.

  She touched me, though. She seemed to want to undress me because she kept running her hand under my bra the way someone does before they unfasten it. So far, I hadn’t even taken off my shoes, nothing but my shirt and I’d had a reason for that.

  I stopped her hand, got up to put out the cigarette, though I didn’t have to. There was another ashtray right there on the nightstand. She asked me my name and I gave her the one I use in these situations. I felt a strange twinge, though, as if somehow I owed her the truth.

  She said, “So, Nina, did you come here only for him?” And when I didn’t answer she said, “I asked him to bring you. He brought you for me.”

  I think she said brought. She might have said bought, I’m not sure. The thing I do know for sure is women do everything differently, though not so much so you can’t catch it.

  I took off my skirt but just stood there, still in my shoes and stockings, and the bra I hadn’t let her take off me. I was trying to decide how hard a time to give her. But this wasn’t something I ever did with the men. When I realized this I slipped off the shoes and lay down with her.

  I wasn’t sure how she wanted it. The men always say. Not real clearly, but enough so you know what they mean. She didn’t say anything. She tucked me under the bedspread and helped me out of my bra.

  I lay back because she wasn’t letting me do anything, not right off. I let myself close my eyes again. This was something I wanted to do all of the time with all of the men, but I never chanced it. And here I was tonight giving in to it over and over. Giving in, though it should’ve been clear these two put me more at risk than anyone I’d ever encountered.

  And it should’ve been clear by now, too, which of them put me most at risk. Still, I couldn’t help it. Her mouth on me had me needing too much to care and so even when I heard the door, knew he’d come in, I kept my eyes closed.

  Her concession was to push the bedspread off us. And I was glad for it because it’d gotten too warm under there. She kept up her lead, which still wasn’t how I thought it should play. She kept me off balance, kept me flat on my back.

  She’d taken off my stockings and so I had nothing on. He didn’t have to say a word for her to begin nudging me over. She did this a little at a time, until we lay across the bed instead of lengthwise.

  I knew what his view was, and then she moved so she lay by my side instead of on top of me. I didn’t exactly care but it wasn’t so far from my mind anymore – him watching us. Maybe it never had been. I can’t say it really bothered me. I just thought it should.

  She still kissed my breasts, was moving her hand across the top of my thighs, anywhere but in between them until I couldn’t keep still anymore and opened my legs. Even then she played me, said, “Come on and turn over.”

  I did what she said, turned on to my stomach and then felt her hand on my back, her mouth near my ear. I was rubbing myself against the bedspread and she kept doing the same things, touching my ass, the back of my thighs, and then she slipped on to me. Caught my wrists and held my arms over my head the way he had. And still she kept her mouth close to my ear, though she didn’t say anything and neither did I.

  I heard him before I felt him. Heard him pick up the chair and put it down again. He pulled my legs apart, just held them open.

  She still wasn’t saying anything and she wasn’t doing anything but holding me, using all her weight, as if she needed to. He started to touch me. He used just one of his fingers and so slow and soft I nearly bit into my arm.

  He did this a long while before he stopped. I heard him light a cigarette. Heard him take several draws before touching me again. And when he did, he rested the hand with the cigarette on my ass.

  By now I either wanted to get off or get up. Had gone from being lulled to uncomfortable. He took his hand off me and I forgot myself. Moved to shake her off me.

  Suddenly I felt her fear. And I felt him pressing his dick into my ass. The weight of him pushing her on to me. And that hand with the cigarette wasn’t on my ass anymore.

  She let go of my wrists and cuddled into me like a child. Whimpered like one too. And I thought, son of a bitch.

  Then the way she moved – shuddering first, then going rigid. I could smell the burn. I could almost hear it. The worst was she didn’t make a sound. Just whimpered close to my ear.

  He let her off me. And it left me with him. With him fucking my ass and her curled up into herself right beside us. I turned my head away from her because he let me.

  I thought, I’ll be leaving here soon.

  Four

  Afterwards, he left us alone. We both watched the door, listened as he walked down the stairs. I don’t think I wanted to look but I couldn’t stop myself. It seemed necessary. That otherwise I’d make it up worse than it was. I held her nearly the way he’d held me and looked at her asshole.

  The burn had already blistered but it looked almost tame. That’s the thing with burns – they look best when they’re new and then they get ugly.

  I could tell she didn’t like me looking and so I covered her with the bedspread. “Ingrid,” I said a couple of times because she either wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear me. I said it again. Said, “Ingrid, can I do something for you?”

  She didn’t answer me and I sure didn’t know what she’d need. I needed a cigarette. I even picked one up and started to light it. But this seemed in bad taste so instead I paced around. Wound up back looking at the pool.

  It was a while before I started putting my clothes on. I even put on my shirt, though it felt clammy, still damp with his come. After I dressed, I left her. Closed the door quietly behind me and lit a cigarette as soon as I hit the staircase.

  I found him on the living-room couch. He lifted his glass toward another on the end table beside him. I picked up the drink, but stayed standing because I didn’t want to be next to him and the only other place to sit was the floor.

  This meant he got up. He took my cigarette, explaining he’d left his pack upstairs.

  My bag was on the floor by the couch and I thought very hard about picking it up, finding a phone, calling a cab. These were things I knew I should do but wouldn’t. And it didn’t have to do with him or his wife but rather with where I’d be telling a cab driver to take me. Here with them was still somehow better than there in my parents’ house by myself.

  “You must be tired,” he said. “I’ll show you your room.”

  And so I picked up my bag and followed him back up the stairs. Their door was still closed. I kept staring at it as we turned down the hall, which was lit dimly w
ith sconces, some of them bent and missing bulbs.

  The second door on the right was the one he opened. His daughter’s room. Big surprise. I hoped he wasn’t planning a visit in the night. I didn’t know what I should be charging, and if that were thrown in? Always with him I’d had trouble, but as soon as I’d stepped into his house, running the game wasn’t even imaginable.

  He flicked on the light in the bathroom, made sure there were towels, practically turned down the bed before he went out again. As soon as he had, I ducked out and went the rest of the way down the hall. I found a back stairway and then walked through the downstairs to the liquor cabinet.

  I considered taking a whole bottle, but settled on pouring a tall glass of vodka. If this were to go on too much longer I knew I’d need more than liquor. But then, too, I knew he’d get it for me. Do it without my even having to ask.

  I managed to drink myself to sleep on that one glass. Woke up the next morning when Ingrid brought coffee. I didn’t inquire about her husband. I could tell by her hands, her steady grip on the tray, that he wasn’t home.

  She handed me the tray and climbed in beside me. I handed it back, and she fixed my coffee.

  Daylight came in through a window behind us and I could see she was older than I’d thought, closer to his age and I wondered how many years they’d been at this. Whether I was the beginning of something, or the end of it. I always come at one end or the other for people, never in the middle.

  She’d curled up beside me and I put my arm around her and she put hers around me but on top of the sheet. She was wearing that negligee from the other night but with nothing else underneath it. I didn’t have anything on and so when she held on to me I found I had to put down my cup.

  This simple thing of her holding on suddenly frightened me because I couldn’t get up from it. I couldn’t walk away from it, not at first.

  And I didn’t know where it took Ingrid. I only knew she didn’t try to move. She stayed quietly wrapped around me while I petted her. Finally what got me up and walking was my wanting to change this, my need to turn it into something it wasn’t, and getting away from her was the only way to keep myself from doing this.