The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  “Sleep with him? Is that what you mean? Isn’t that what the recruits are for?” Lena shook her head. “Forget it. He raped me yesterday! I’ll never let him touch me again.”

  “Then you’ll die,” Aurora said. “Listen to me, Lena …he will take you many times and many ways before it’s all over, so you’d better get used to the idea or you’re as good as dead now. He won’t expect you to enjoy it, so be prepared for it to be unpleasant. After a while, you’ll get used to it...” She shrugged. “It’s just sex.”

  “But I can’t,” Lena said, her eyes spilling over.

  “Of course you can. You have to.”

  Aurora turned the conversation to the practical side of their arrangement. “There’re a few other things you should know about our situation that will help get us both get through this. First of all, there’s birth control.” She opened an ornate wooden box and held it out. Lena looked inside. There were cases of pills, condoms, spermicide, and diaphragms. “Use what you wish, but make sure you use something. He’ll expect you to take care of that end of things.”

  “I can’t get pregnant,” Lena said.

  “Count yourself lucky. Pregnancy’s a death sentence here.”

  “How do you know?”

  Aurora shook her head. “I just do. Trust me. Use contraception if there’s any chance at all of a baby.”

  Lena nodded as another dot in the puzzle connected. Annie. Annie was pregnant; three months along when she’d died.

  “Next, we have the sanitary side of things.” Aurora pointed to the side of the composting toilet. There was a box of tampons and another of maxi-pads. “When you have your period, use what you have to and leave it in that basket. Don’t dump the used things into the toilet…he’ll want proof.”

  “I don’t get my period often…only three or four times a year.”

  “Me either, anymore.” Aurora lifted her shirt to reveal her ribs. “Not enough body fat. It’s called amenorrhea.”

  “Annie,” Lena said. “Tell me about Annie.”

  Aurora’s lips trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. “She was here.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Aurora shook her head and turned away. “Not yet… I can’t speak of her yet.”

  Lena nodded. Disappointment mingled with relief. “I understand, but you’ll tell me someday?”

  “You were her best friend in the world so you deserve to know. I’ll tell you soon. I promise.” Aurora threw the blankets off and retreated to her own bed. “Get some sleep, Lena. He’ll be here soon. Your warning is Madame Butterfly. When the music starts, get ready. And remember…as long as you’re still alive, there’s hope.”

  Lena pulled her blanket over her head and gave in to despair. The bands around her ankles were cold. The way Aurora said the word hope made it sound more elusive than a bettor’s long shot.

  Chapter 41.

  The music never started. When the lock clicked open, Lena was taken by surprise. She curled on her side, feigning sleep. Aurora had drifted off an hour earlier. Lena could hear her breath, steady and soft across the room.

  Odin closed the door behind him. He walked across the floor to Aurora, checked her pulse and pulled the blanket free. Lena watched her eyes open wide as he perched beside her on the bed. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe, injected her in the arm, and tucked the blanket back around her. As Lena watched, he bent to kiss her, smoothing her hair back gently. “Be good, Aura,” he whispered. “I’ll be back for you later.”

  Turning toward Lena, he withdrew a second syringe. She sat up and pushed herself as far into the corner as she could. “Leave me alone,” she said.

  Odin smiled. “I think not, Selene. I’m leaving for a little while and I haven’t broken you in yet.” He nodded across the room at Aurora. “Even my little pet sleeps when I head to town.”

  “You’re going back?” Lena said. “You were just there yesterday.”

  Odin raised his eyebrows. “You sound concerned.”

  Lena shrugged. “You used to go once a week.”

  “That was before. I have new business there now.”

  “Maeve?”

  He laughed. “You’re quite astute, Selene. Are you jealous?”

  “Don’t you think that she’s a little young for you?”

  “You are jealous! Are you jealous of my little Aura, too?” He reached to touch her cheek.

  Lena recoiled. “I’m not jealous of anyone, Odin. I’m tired, I’m confused, and I want to go home.”

  “You are home,” he said. He held the syringe up and removed the plastic cover from the needle. “Hold still. One dose, sleep, two doses, death.”

  “No,” she said stubbornly.

  “Don’t make this hard.”

  “No,” she said again.

  “Okay, then…if that’s what you want, we’ll do it the hard way.” He was upon her before she could move. Pinning her face down on the bed, he wrenched her arm back and plunged the needle in. She watched him from a wavering distance as he removed her pants and parted her legs. There was pressure when he entered her, then nothing.

  Aurora was sitting on the edge of her bed when she woke up. It was dusky again. She pushed herself against the wall and looked at her watch. Six pm. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

  “Two days.”

  Lena shook her head to clear the fog. “Two days?” she repeated. “I’ve been asleep for two days?”

  Aurora nodded. “He put you on an IV. Precedex. I told you not to piss him off. What did you do? Did you try to escape?”

  “No.”

  Lena put one foot on the floor and tested her balance, teetering slightly as she took a step. “I told him I didn’t want an injection.”

  “You made him mad.”

  “Apparently it doesn’t take much.”

  Someone had fashioned a diaper around her. Lena removed it and threw it into the toilet, disgusted. “Did you do this?”

  Aurora nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  Odin had reduced her to an infant with his needles and his drugs; her humiliation was complete. She lifted her hands and watched them shake.

  “You’re going through withdrawal,” Aurora said. “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Speaking of which…” Aurora handed her a box of wet naps. “He left these for you to clean yourself with. He said he’ll be back for you at eight.”

  Lena tasted the bitter bile of stomach acid and wretched, spewing into the toilet hole. When the nausea passed, she wiped her face and cleaned herself as best she could. She was shaking with cold by the time she managed to pull on a clean pair of sweats and a heavy wool shirt.

  “I saved this for you,” Aurora said. She reached beneath her pillow and withdrew an apple. “It was breakfast this morning.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” Lena said. “It’s yours. You eat it.”

  “You haven’t eaten in two days. Remember what I told you… if you don’t eat, you’ll starve. Eat it before he comes back. Who knows when he’ll feed you next.”

  Lena took it, measuring its weight. It was a large apple, perfectly ripe. The stem still had a leaf attached. She wondered if he’d picked it himself. Apple picking in the fall…it sounded like something he’d probably do. Tentatively, she took a bite. The crisp flesh of the fruit cut through the stale taste in her mouth. The juice soothed her dry throat. She ate everything but the leaf and the stem. “I don’t think I can do it, Aurora,” she said when she’d finished. “I don’t think I can live like this.”

  “You can, Lena. You just have to be strong.”

  Lena shook her head. The tears came again. She swiped at them with anger and frustration. “He raped me again.”

  Aurora nodded. “I thought he probably did. It was either you or me, and I couldn’t remember him doing anything to me before I blacked out.”

  “You just let him do it, then.” Lena said. “You don’t fight.”

  Aurora sho
ok her head. “What’s the use? Fighting just arouses him.”

  “How do you get through it?” Lena whispered.

  “I try to pretend it isn’t happening. I go away for a while.”

  “He’s a lunatic.”

  “No, Lena,” Aurora responded sadly, “he’s not a lunatic, he’s God.”

  Chapter 42.

  It dawned cold and rainy on the day that Alex Walker picked to bid farewell to the memory of his estranged wife. The God arrived late and stood near the back of the small crowd. Unlike the memorial service for Annie Janson, Lena’s ceremony was attended by only a handful of old friends, most of them, he assumed, acquaintances of her father. The priest who gave the eulogy was careful to speak in euphemisms, avoiding anything that could be construed as scandalous. There was no mention of her close friendship with Jake Morris or Annie Janson, nor was there any mention of her questionable marital status and alleged infidelity.

  The God kept his eyes downcast, aware of the curiosity his presence aroused. He couldn’t blame the locals for their interest; it wasn’t often that a scandal of the proportion of Lena Walker’s came to pass. Between the murder of her best friend, her affair, and her confession and suicide, the events surrounding her had all the drama of one of her husband’s bestsellers. It was the most people had had to talk about in years, and behind raised hands and whispers, the gossip was flying. His own unexpected arrival at her funeral, he knew, was the cherry on top.

  Taking his place in the back, he smiled at Alex Walker, watching as Lena’s husband’s handsome face registered displeasure. Head bent solemnly, he listened to the service and mumbled the appropriate prayers and responses where necessary. When the service was over, he retreated to his truck, dodging the words of solace that the rest of the congregation felt duty-bound to bestow upon her husband. In his rearview mirror, he watched the good people of Greenville stare after him, their curiosity piqued.

  Lena Walker’s life and death had not only become the story of the moment, it was the story of the decade. Leaving them behind, the God picked up speed, headed south. He’d taken his usual precautions at Blackwater Pond and was filled with the unbridled anticipation of an afternoon without responsibilities. With Lena’s funeral over, Alex Walker on his way out of town, and Maeve waiting for him in Dexter, his spirits were soaring. His only worry was the rapid dwindling of the supplies he’d stolen from Aurora’s pharmacy.

  With two goddesses in captivity he was using twice the amount of sedatives as before. He was completely out of Luminal and Compazine and low on Nembutal. For the first time, he’d had to create a cocktail of two drugs he’d never used before, Somnote and Ativan, administering them orally. It was just as well; both women were beginning to exhibit symptoms of addiction to the barbiturates and resistance to some of the anti-anxiety and sleep disorder medications. He still had a small supply of Precedex, but that required an IV set-up and was tricky to administer. As for muscle relaxants, they worked well on Lena, but not so well on Aurora. He was certain that he’d soon have to begin his search for another goddess - one with a license to dispense - to replenish his stock. Maybe a physician, this time, or a nurse.

  The miles disappeared behind him as he anticipated his rendezvous with Maeve. The girl from Dexter was by far his most sensual conquest. He’d broken protocol with her in more ways than one already, allowing her to take the initiative as the seductress. Also, and more importantly, she’d managed to sidetrack him from his work. He’d thought to try to paint again today, but she’d promised him a special surprise instead.

  A surprise. It was just what he needed to cheer himself up after the sad goodbye to Selene.

  He passed through Guilford and turned west outside of Sangerville, taking the back roads toward Dexter. After a last turn on Tanner Mill Road, he approached the farmhouse, foot tapping eagerly. Pulling into the driveway, he slowed and frowned. There were five cars in front of the barn, parked one behind the other. Closest to the house was her red Toyota Camry. He pulled into place behind the last of them and parked, undecided. His number one rule was his most important: never mingle with his goddess’s friends. Too late, he put the truck into reverse and started backing away.

  “Hey!” Maeve called from the doorway. “You’re late! Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  She took the stairs from the porch quickly, stiletto heels clicking against the wood. The God took a deep breath. His goddess wore a black sweater dress that hugged every curve of her body. It was so short he could see the garter belts that held her stockings in place. Her lips were painted dark red and her green eyes were ringed with black mascara and liner. She looked good. Better than good. The God made a decision that he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret. He pulled forward, put the truck in park, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine died.

  Maeve reached the truck and opened the door, stepping aside as he alighted. “I’m glad you’re finally here,” she said. “They wanted to start without you.” Taking his hand, she led him to the front porch. “Don’t use your real name. From now on, I’m Maria, okay? What should I call you?”

  The God stopped in his tracks. “Why?”

  “It’s a just-in-case thing,” she explained. “We all agreed to it when we joined. For anonymity purposes.”

  “Oh,” he said, intrigued. “I guess you can call me Zeus.”

  Maeve laughed. “Trust you to pick something stupid. Okay, Doctor Zeuss, come on in and meet my friends.”

  He didn’t correct her, just followed her through the door.

  Maeve had cleaned up since his last visit. The kitchen was neat and orderly. She opened the refrigerator, removed two beers, and handed one to him. He popped the top as he followed her into the living room. At once, he was assaulted by a thick fog of smoke. He sniffed: cigarettes, pot, and incense intermingled in the air. Before him, six sets of eyes shifted toward the door.

  “He’s here,” Maeve announced.

  There was an elevation of voices. Maeve stepped aside.

  The God stood his ground as they looked him over. He had the distinct impression that he was being evaluated. He broke eye contact and looked around the room. A fire roared in the woodstove and candles wavered in the dim light of the rainy day. The floor was scattered with giant pillows.

  There was a whispered conference before the oldest, a rugged-looking man roughly his own age, stood. “John,” he said, extending his hand.

  The God took it. “Zeus.”

  One of the women giggled. She pressed against him and kissed his cheek. “Carla.”

  He looked her over; she was large-chested and curvy in the hips. Her skin-tone was olive. Dark curly hair reached to her middle back. She was dressed in a short skirt and bustier that accentuated her breasts. Smiling, she licked her lips and nodded. “He’ll do,” she said to Maeve.

  At her proclamation, rest of the partygoers stood.

  “Morgan and Jordan,” said Maeve, pointing to two women who appeared to be sisters. They were young, in their twenties, with black hair and dark eyes ringed with heavy lashes. Both wore bright red lipstick, rouge, and blue eye shadow.

  The two remaining women stepped forward. “Erika,” said the first. She was tall with spiky black hair. The other, Marianne, was blonde with skin as pale as Aurora’s, her hair long and fine. She cupped his face between her hands and kissed his mouth. He felt her tongue touch his briefly before she retreated to her place next to Carla.

  The rest of the group resumed their places and the conversation began again. Carla laughed at something Marianne said. Morgan and Jordan whispered into Erika’s ear. John offered him a joint. The God inhaled deeply as Maeve appeared next to him. Her arm snaked around his waist. “Surprised?” she said.

  “You could say so,” he replied. “What’s going on? It’s not your average party, is it.”

  Maeve smiled. She took his hand and led him to the makeshift bar. “Fix yourself a drink, doctor. There’s more beer in the refrigerator if you’d rather. John bro
ught the party favors.” She indicated the bong that was passing between Carla and Morgan. On the table next to the booze were a variety of plastic bottles. “We’ve got a little bit of everything. Help yourself, but don’t overdo it, at least not yet. It’s going to be a long night.”

  The God looked over the array of drugs. Uppers, downers, muscle relaxants, and painkillers. John had covered the basics.

  “Now that you’re here, we can get started,” she said, pouring herself a shot of tequila. The God watched her knock it back, her face glowing with expectation.

  “Get started with what, exactly?” he said. He looked at the rest of the partygoers; their expressions mirrored hers. She lowered the lights and indicated the pillows. There were eight of them, one for each person, set in a circle.

  “We’re all here for one thing,” she said. “What you decide to do with the evening is totally up to you. There are only two rules…condoms are required for penetration and play stops at eight. We’ll evaluate your performance before morning. If you pass your audition, you’ll be invited back for the second session.”

  The God stared at her open-mouthed. “This is a sex party?”

  Maeve laughed. “Don’t look so shocked.” She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “I’d recommend that you start with Carla. She’s real good at breaking the ice.”

  He looked across the room at the heavy-chested brunette. She cocked her finger and beckoned him over. Turning toward Maeve he hesitated. She gave him a slight push. “Go ahead, she said placing her arm around Morgan. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  He took a step forward and Carla drew him down beside her. Maeve had promised him a surprise…he had to admit that she’d certainly delivered.

  Chapter 43.

  “Thanks for coming to see me, Alex. Besides my family, I haven’t had many visitors.”

  Jake was the only prisoner in residence in the Greenville Jail, a three-room addition that had been added onto the back of the Police Station when times were good in the late 90s. Upon leveling the additional charges of kidnapping and murder against him, the county prosecutor had wanted him transferred to maximum security, but his lawyer had appealed to the circuit judge that he was innocent until proven guilty. With the lack of priors on his record, Judge O’Connor had agreed, so Jake remained in Greenville.