Submission

by Robin Roseau

  "She told me that you were impeccably honest. And she told me if you said you could do something, that you could do it."

  I kept waiting for the bad news. Instead, Justine stopped talking and waited for my reaction.

  "She told you all that?" I asked finally. "What else did she say?"

  "That's about it," Justine said. "So, can you do the job we discussed yesterday?"

  "I need to know how good of friends you are with Miranda."

  "We're not. We're acquaintances. That was the first time I've talked to her in years. I take it you weren't expecting her to give you a good reference."

  "No. She's the reason I left Branson."

  "Ah. Elliott may have mentioned that." She smiled. "I wanted to hear what she had to say."

  "Justine, I can do the job. But if you're hiring me based on what Miranda said-"

  "I'm not. I'd be hiring you based on what Elliott has said, and on our interview yesterday. I had made up my mind before you left. I called her because I was curious. So, was Miranda wrong?"

  "That I'm honest? No."

  "All right. Do you want the job?"

  I smiled. "Yes."

  Unexpected Visitor

  Life was good. But then it turned weird.

  It was a Thursday evening in mid-July. I was home alone, just Aphrodite and me. She was dressed up in a sexy leather number I had bought for her, but this time she was the one wearing the blindfold. I was sure that wouldn't last.

  I wasn't the one who had put it there.

  But I was sitting in my living room reading a book on my tablet. It was a beautiful evening, so the doors and windows were open. I heard a car engine revving. I looked up, annoyed. Parked in front of my house was a bright red sports car. It roared off before I could see who was driving it. But the car looked vaguely familiar.

  Over the next several days, I saw the same car several times. At first, I tried to ignore it. The first few times I saw it, the car sped away whenever I looked up. But then the driver grew bolder and began to linger.

  But I ignored him.

  This went on for a week. Finally, I decided I'd had it. I grabbed my phone and fired up my app, then went storming out of the house to confront the owner. I got halfway there before I came to a sudden stop. Sitting in the right hand driver's seat of her cute little sports car was my lovely former boss, Miranda.

  I stared at her for a good thirty seconds before I lifted my hand and flipped her the finger before storming back into the house. I closed all the doors and windows and pulled the blinds.

  Miranda continued to stalk me. She showed up every evening about seven. She took to honking her horn a few times to get my attention. I gave her the finger a few times and turned my back on her.

  This went on for the better part of two weeks, but then it stopped.

  * * * *

  But that wasn't the last of it. The next time I saw her, it was the first Saturday in August. This time, there wasn't a red sports car. Instead, it was a deep green antique convertible. Miranda stood at the side of the car. I stormed out and gave her the finger.

  "Stop stalking me!" I yelled.

  "I tell you what," she replied. "Come talk to me and we can discuss it."

  "You can discuss it with the police, or my lawyer."

  "Come on, Cassidy," she said. "I came to apologize."

  I moved closer to glare at her. "I suppose you think your chick magnet is going to do the trick."

  "You once promised me I could meet Aphrodite if I let you sit in my car."

  "You're insane. Truly."

  "Come on. If just sitting in the car was worth an introduction to Aphrodite, what is a ride worth?"

  "What do you want?"

  "A conversation."

  "Fuck off."

  "I tell you what," she said. "We'll go for a ride. We'll stop somewhere. We'll talk. If you're still pissed afterwards, I'll let you drive us back."

  I thought about it. "How long a conversation?"

  "Half hour. Longer if you drag it out, but I won't."

  I crossed my arms, looking at her. She offered a tentative smile. "It's a really cute car, Cassidy. When will you get another chance?"

  "You're a fucking bitch. I don't want anything to do with you. Go away."

  "I intend to grovel."

  I stared. "You're going to grovel."

  "I'll even kiss your feet."

  "You're going to kiss my feet. Fine. Kiss them."

  "Nope. If you want to see how well I can grovel, you have to get in."

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "My place."

  "Not a chance in hell."

  "Fine. Pick somewhere."

  "Fine," I replied. "Lake Rebecca Park Reserve." It was a thirty-minute drive out west and would put some serious miles on her cute little antique.

  "Perfect," she replied immediately. "Get in."

  "Not so fast. Wait here." I moved back to the house. I shoved a couple of water bottles into my purse and locked up. Then I stepped back outside. I had my phone in my hand, and I fired up my app and began recording. I walked up to her.

  "Miranda Gogburn," I said, "my former boss." I then told her about the program I was using. She waited patiently.

  "That's a little paranoid," she said when I was done explaining.

  "A girl can't be too careful," I replied. "So, you want me to get into your car."

  "Yes."

  "And you intend to return me here when we're done talking."

  "Yes."

  "I want it to be known that under no circumstances am I consenting to sex with you."

  "Who said anything about sex?"

  "I don't want you tying me up and doing shit to me and then claiming I asked for it. It's not going to happen. If something happens to me, it's foul play. Period."

  "Fine," she said. "I get it. Get in."

  "Not so fast. If you want me to get into that car, you're going to look into the camera and tell anyone watching about the weekend we met."

  She stared at me for a moment then said, "Turn it off."

  "I don't think so."

  "Turn it off, Cassidy. Please."

  We stared at each other for a full minute. Finally I ended the program. "Whatever happens, that's stored on the server, and if I disappear, you're suspect numbers one, two, and three."

  "I didn't come here to hurt you," she said. "Who have you told?"

  "My lawyer. I told you I would."

  "Why didn't you sue me?"

  "I don't like conflict."

  "If I give you what you want, what will you do with it?"

  "I have no idea. But if you want me to get in that car, you're going to do it. Otherwise you're going to drive away and leave me the fuck alone. Or I'll go back to my lawyer and get a restraining order. And I'll sue your ass while I'm at it. Those are your three choices."

  She looked away. "Turn it back on."

  I didn't wait. I turned it on and pointed it to her. "Recording."

  "My name is Miranda Gogburn. I first met Cassidy Ellis at a fetish club in San Francisco on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend of last year." She went on to tell with just the right amount of detail how we had spent the weekend. Finally I lowered the phone.

  I hadn't really thought she'd do it.

  I walked around to the passenger side. It felt weird to get into the left side as a passenger. Miranda climbed back in on her side, but I kept my hands free of the car.

  "Get in," she said.

  "I am not touching this vehicle," I said. "I don't want to be accused of scratching it."

  "That's as paranoid as that app of yours," she said.

  "It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you," I said. "And, well..." I shrugged. I was sure I had made my point.

  She huffed then got back out, walked around the car, and opened the door for me. I climbed in very, very carefully.

  It was an amazing car. I ignored Miranda and enjoyed the ride. She took the back roads, and instead of a half hour, it was c
loser to forty-five minutes before we pulled into the picnic area at the park. I waited for her to open my door. But when she tried to guide me into the park, I pulled away from her. "Talking," I said. "No touching."

  "Of course," she agreed. "Did you want to pick a direction?"

  "Sure." I think I surprised her. She probably thought I'd let her do it. I set off at a fast walk, and she scrambled to keep up. There weren't any available picnic tables, but I found a section of grass under a couple of trees. I plopped down and leaned against a tree. A moment later, Miranda sat down facing me. Then I waited.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  Then she waited. I thought about telling her how badly she had hurt me, but I wasn't sure if I could stop if I started. So I simply waited.

  Finally she continued. "I hurt you."

  I looked away. "So far, you suck at apologies."

  "I'm not accustomed to it," she admitted.

  "Why are we here, Miranda?"

  "I can't stop thinking of you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the day we met."

  "Fucking. Liar."

  "That's why I was such a bitch."

  I turned back to her. "Why didn't you ask for my contact information?"

  "You understand you weren't the first woman I've picked up."

  "So?"

  "I wasn't looking for a relationship. I was looking for exactly what we had."

  "I figured that out," I said. "That's all I was expecting, too. But..."

  "Yeah. But... It wasn't until I was in the air that I realized how badly I had screwed up. But by then, I didn't know how to find you. I decided I could contact your hotel and ask them to get a message to you."

  "Ah, but then fate handled it for you."

  "Yeah."

  "I don't believe a word you're saying."

  "I don't blame you," she replied.

  "You know, I figured out you weren't out at work, but seriously? This is Minnesota, and it's not the 80s anymore. Don't you think you went just a little overboard?"

  "I have a story to tell you about that, but later."

  "Oh?"

  "I believe I owe you some groveling."

  "This should be good," I said.

  She didn't answer that. Instead, she moved onto her knees and bent over my feet. I couldn't believe she was going to do it. She slowly removed my shoes and then, in broad daylight, with I don't know who watching, she bent over and began kissing my feet, one after the other. She did it almost exactly the way I would have.

  I couldn't stop staring.

  "I'm sorry," she said. Kiss. "I have reasons for my behavior, but no excuses." Kiss. "I was a complete idiot." Kiss. She went on in that fashion for some time. Finally I said, "That's enough."

  She looked up at me but continued to hover over my feet. "I'm not sure it is."

  "Frankly, there isn't enough foot kissing to make up for what you did to me."

  "I know," she said. "That's why I wanted to take you to my place."

  "Oh? Did you intend to tie me to your bed and torment me until I forgot how you had treated me?"

  "No. I intended to kiss places I'm not quite willing to kiss in public."

  That brought me to pause, but then I said, "I'm not sure there's enough of that to make up for it, either."

  "I figured it was a start."

  I shook my head. "What do you want, Miranda?"

  "I want you to forgive me."

  "Are you insane? Do you know what you cost me? No one has ever hurt me the way you hurt me."

  "I'll make it up to you."

  "I'm not sure that's humanly possible."

  "I'm willing to devote my life to convincing you otherwise." And then she bent over and began kissing my feet again.

  "Stop that."

  "Not until you tell me you'll consider forgiving me." She went back to kissing.

  "Stop that!" I said, pulling my feet away. "Wait. No, put my shoes back on." But instead she grabbed one foot by the ankle and began kissing again. "Stop that!"

  "Forgive me." Kiss.

  "Stop it. Just stop it."

  She looked up, but she didn't release my ankle. "Have dinner with me."

  "Dinner."

  "I have everything waiting at home."

  "I suppose you have the toys waiting, too."

  She smiled and nodded slowly. "You know I'm good, Cassidy. If I treated you the way you liked in San Francisco, imagine how I'd treat you now." She moved closer. I didn't stop her. After a moment, she was seated on my legs, looming over me, pressing me into the tree.

  "We're good together," she said. "You know we're good together."

  I looked away. "It was one weekend, and you're not the woman I thought you were."

  "I admit," she said, "the real me is what you saw during the DDoS attack. But for you, I'd be the woman from San Francisco."

  "I actually liked the woman you were during the DDoS attack."

  She used her fingers to pull my chin back to her. I let her. "I want to kiss you."

  "Don't."

  "You want me to kiss you," she said. "You remember what it was like. You want this. You know it. I know it." She leaned closer, but she didn't kiss. Instead, she brushed her cheek alongside mine and whispered into my ear. "Imagine how good I'll make you feel. Imagine how cherished I'll make you feel. I can't quite say I love you, but it won't take much for me to fall head over heels for you, Cassidy. Come home with me and I'll never let you go. Come home, and I'll never let anyone ever hurt you again. I promise. And I never break my promises."

  I didn't say anything.

  "You'll spend your nights in my bed," she continued. "You'll be helpless most of the time. You'll sleep bound. You'll be mine, and I'll never let you forget it."

  "Miranda," I said. "Please. Get off of me."

  "Promise to forgive me."

  "I'm not promising anything. Get off me."

  "Please, Cassidy," she whispered. "Surely you see how desperate I am."

  "Get off me and put my shoes back on."

  She brushed her lips along my cheek, but then she backed off. She made it down to my feet, kissed them each again, then gently replaced my shoes.

  Then she clasped my ankles with her hands. "Just thinking about my scarves around your ankles..."

  "You're insane."

  "Forgive me, Cassidy. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am."

  I raised my voice. "You drove me from a job I was good at. You did it intentionally. Worse, I was almost ready to believe you were right about me. And you did that intentionally, too!" I shook my head and spoke more calmly. "Words are cheap."

  "You're right." She leaned back. "I have something for you, but I left it in the glove box. Please, wait here. Please."

  "You're my ride home. Where would I go?"

  She didn't wait. I watched her walk swiftly away. Then I turned away, staring off into the trees. She was gone for a few minutes. When she returned, she sat back in the grass at my feet, watching me.

  "This is for you," she said. I turned to her, and she had a green piece of paper. I took it from her and looked at it.

  "What is it?"

  "The title to my car. Well, now it's your car."

  I stared at the paper. It was, indeed, the title to the car. She had signed it.

  "You're giving me your car."

  "I figure it's worth about what you lost financially, maybe a little more for pain and suffering."

  I looked up at her. "You're trying to buy a sex slave."

  "No. The car is yours. Period. Whether you forgive me or not."

  "Why?"

  "Guilt."

  I stared at her. I looked at the paper. I looked over in the direction of the parking lot, but I couldn't quite see her car. I looked back at her.

  "As you said: words are cheap."

  "Tell me why you did it."

  "It's complicated."

  "Start somewhere."

  "It started with fear. It was my first day. I'm not out at work. Tha
t's the story I was going to tell."

  "Fine. Tell the story."

  "You understand, I'm not looking for sympathy. It's also not an excuse. It's a contributing factor."

  "Fine."

  "Do you want the short version or the long one?"

  "Start with the short."

  "Fifteen years ago, I was living in Detroit, working in the automotive industry."

  "All right."

  "I had a, well, a weekend, not that dissimilar to ours, but local."

  "All right."

  "She wasn't happy it was just a weekend, and I'd made the mistake of telling her far more about myself than I told you."

  "She showed up at work and made a scene."

  "Yep. Told anyone who would listen everything, every little detail, and kept it up until security escorted her away."

  "Was that the end of it?"

  "With her, yeah. But I saw the way people looked at me while she was ranting."

  "I presume things turned bad after that."

  "Horrible."

  "And wow, look. Now you got to get even by taking it out on me," I said.

  "Cassidy, it wasn't like that," she said. "There's more."

  "Fine."

  "I've always put in long hours. I got in early and left late."

  "I'm not sure I want to hear the rest," I said.

  "One night, four of the guys waited in the parking lot for me."

  "Unless this ends a hell of a lot differently than I think it does," I said, "I don't want to hear another word."

  She closed her mouth.

  "Fuck," I added.

  "Yeah." She paused. "Cassidy, I'm not looking for sympathy. And it's no excuse. But maybe it explains the initial fear."

  "What about after that."

  "Well then you said what you said, about me not being the type of person you thought I was."

  "Do not lay this on me!"

  "I'm not," she said. "You know how you told me you're a little fucked up?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, we're both a little fucked up."

  "More than a little. And what's with the language?"

  "Do you have a better term?"

  "No." We both laughed lightly.

  "You knew what you were doing," I said. "At each step. You wanted me to quit."

  "I got it in my mind if we didn't work together, we could be together."

  "That is really fucked up. All you had to do was apologize and explain. We'd have made it work."

  "I know."