Hooker
Part II
I went to the front door, opened it and stuck my head out. I didn't see
anyone, but I did see a car about half way down the block I didn't recognize.
It might have just been someone visiting the neighbors, but the car reminded me
of the one I'd seen across from Rachel's house in the morning.
I closed the door and bumped into Rachel as I turned.
"Ow!" she said as I stepped on her foot.
"Rachel, didn't I tell you to stay put? I almost knocked you down."
"Who's out there?" she wanted to know.
"I didn't see anyone, but if it will make you happy, I'll go out and
check, but first I'm going to put you someplace so I know where you are." I
seized her leash and led her to the door of the hall closet. "Inside," I told
her, "kneel".
Rachel knelt and I tied her leash around the doorknob so that there
wasn't enough slack for her to stand, then closed the door. She would now stay
put until I returned.
I grabbed my flashlight and cordless phone and went out on the porch. I
punched 911 on the keypad, so that all I would have to do would be to punch
'talk' to connect. I walked around the house, flashing the light around. If
what I thought was going on was indeed going on, that should be sufficient to
scare her off. When I got back around to the front door, I went in again.
I returned to Rachel, unwound her leash, and let her out of the closet.
"Did you see anyone?"
"No, I didn't. And now we need to deal with your transgressions."
"Like...what?"
I was pleased by the note of apprehension in her voice. "Didn't I tell
you not to speak?"
"Yes."
"And didn't I tell you to stay put?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't do either, did you?"
"So...what are you going to do, punish me or something?"
"Yes, I am."
"How?"
"I'm going to make you draw an envelope."
"Draw?"
"Select. You'll see in a minute, but first I'm going to gag you so we
won't have to worry about talking without permission."
"But..."
"Rachel, further talking is not the way to convince me not to gag you."
Rachel hesitated a moment as I held the gag to her lips, then accepted the gag.
"Wait here, and this time, don't move." I went upstairs and retrieved a
shoe box I'd prepared in anticipation of tonight. While I was there, I looked
out the second floor window. The car I had seen earlier was gone. I went back
downstairs.
I set the shoe box on the side table and unlocked Rachel's hands from
behind her. I locked them together in front, then held out the shoe box. It
contained about three dozen envelopes.
"Choose an envelope," I told her.
Rachel hesitantly pulled an envelope from the middle of the pack.
"Open it and read the card inside, then hand it to me." She did so. I
looked at the card.
Stand in the Corner
You will stand with your nose pressed
against the wall for one hour.
I was glad she had drawn this card, since I'd been wanting to try this
out. I had gotten the idea from a drawing I had once seen. It pictured a woman
standing with her nose against the wall and her hands tied behind her. She was
holding a sheet of paper against the wall with her nose, and a wooden dowel was
balanced across two bottles in front of her ankles, so that she couldn't move
her feet closer to the wall without knocking it off. Something was written on
the paper, but I no longer knew what.
I did know what Rachel was going to be holding against the wall. I
selected another envelope from the box and then went to the kitchen and returned
with two beer bottles and a dowel. I set the bottles about a foot and a half
out from the wall and balanced the dowel across the top of them, then led Rachel
over to stand in front of the dowel. I locked her wrists behind her again.
I held the envelope up to the wall and told her, "Rachel, for the next
hour, you are to hold this envelope against the wall with your nose. If either
the envelope or the dowel fall, we open the envelope."
I put my hand against the back of her head, and Rachel leaned forward
and pinned the envelope with her nose. I held it low enough that she couldn't
use her forehead to hold it. I let go of the envelope and it remained in place.
I lit a candle and turned out the hall lights, then went up and sat on the
landing to watch Rachel's ordeal. I had a good view, looking down at her from
half way up the stairs. Since I was behind her, she couldn't see me.
Rachel remained motionless for nearly five minutes, then she began
shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had her forehead against
the wall and was using it to support the weight of her upper body leaning
forward, but since she had to keep her nose pressed against the wall, she was
unable to support the weight with the top of her forehead as she wished.
After ten minutes, she was squirming around quite a bit, trying to find
relief from the strain her position imposed on her body. She tried spreading
her feet wider, to the length of her ankle chain, but to do that, she had to
back even farther away from the wall to avoid knocking over the bottles. This
put even more strain on her forehead and she returned to her original position.
Next she tried lifting one foot, then the other. It was while she was doing
this that she knocked the dowel off the bottles. I could hear her squeak of
alarm through the gag as her shoe bumped one of the bottles. She tried to look
down to see if the dowel had fallen, and in doing so lost the envelope.
Rachel wasn't exactly sure what to do at this point. She looked about
in confusion, then after a moment, returned her nose to the wall. I left her
there another few minutes, then returned to her side. She started to straighten
up, but I told her to remain as she was.
After picking up the envelope, I told Rachel to stand up straight, then
snapped the leash onto her collar and led her over to the side table where the
candle was. I opened the envelope and withdrew the card, laying it on the table
next to the candle.
Spanking
You are to be securely bound and soundly spanked.
Rachel read the card and began making noises through her gag which were,
of course, unintelligible. I shushed her and told her that shortly she would
have both opportunity and reason to complain, but for now I required her
silence. She complied. I could tell she wanted to say something, but, being
gagged, there was not much point trying.
I led Rachel upstairs and got her undressed and tied down without any
major resistance on her part. I had tied her in my favorite spanking
position--face down with her wrists locked behind her and her ankles bound to
the footboard a couple of feet apart, feet hanging over.
She shivered as I ran my fingers up the back of her thigh. I removed
her gag.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I can, because I want to, because it turns me on, because it
turns you on."
"So how do you get the idea I'm turned on by being spanked?"
"Because you're here. You'd rather be here getting spanked than be home
alone."
"You think that because I haven't left that I want to be spanked?"
"That's not what I said. You don't want to be spanked, but given a
choice between a spanking and being alone, you'll take the spanking."
"Oh..." What I had said was true, but Rachel was embarrassed to have
what she considered her weakness exposed like this.
"Besides," I continued, running my hand up her leg, "it's not like it
doesn't excite you."
"So, you think I'm turned on by being beaten?"
"Of course not. It frightens you. You don't want me to spank you.
What excites you is that I'm going to do it anyway."
"Just...just don't spank me too hard, okay?"
"I won't spank you harder than you can stand, but I'm going to spank you
harder than you would like."
I picked up the ruler that was laying on the night stand and began. I
started on her butt and worked my way down her thighs and back again. By this
time, Rachel was moaning, thrashing from side to side, and begging me to stop.
I ran my finger up the inside of her thigh to see if it was time to stop. It
was.
After untying her ankles, I flipped Rachel onto her back and fucked her.
She gasped and wrapped her legs around me. She was one of the least vocal women
I'd ever had sex with.
"You've never been spanked before, have you?"
"No."
"It makes you angry, doesn't it?" I asked.
"Well..."
"It makes you angry that being spanked excites you."
"Yes...Well, not really angry so much as embarrassed, but...I guess it
does make me a little angry, too, only I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with
myself for being turned on by it."
"I told you, it's not the spanking that turns you on. What excites you
is being spanked despite your wishes."
"That's worse."
"Perhaps, but you're still here."
"I'm tied up."
The next morning, after we showered, we got dressed. This time, I fixed
breakfast. Rachel sat at the table, and after I served her food, I unlocked her
wrists so she could eat. Gretchen was due home in the early afternoon, so I
would have to take Rachel home soon.
"I can't believe I've done this," Rachel said.
"And what have you done?"
"I just spent the weekend as a sex slave."
"Yes, you did."
After breakfast, I took Rachel home. I made her wear her collar home
and removed it in her living room.
"I'll call you," I told her.
"You'd better."
I kissed Rachel and departed, then drove home, thinking about what she
had said. Up until Friday night, I didn't really know her well, yet I had kept
her in virtual bondage for a weekend. What puzzled me was that I had known this
was going to happen, but I didn't know how I knew. I knew when I had first seen
her standing on the street corner in handcuffs. It wasn't just the handcuffs,
it was her. I saw the hookers in handcuffs all the time. That didn't do much
for me, but when I first saw Rachel, there was something about her, some
subliminal cue I had picked up on that made me ache to have her as my own
captive. Yes, I would call her. Sweet Rachel's days of standing about in
handcuffs were far from over.
There was, however, a potential fly in the ointment. Monday morning, I
gave John a call.
"Hi, John, Bob. Hey, what can you tell me about this Gayle Robbins
person?"
"Funny you should ask. I ran into the prosecutor late last week and he
told me Gayle had approached him before the arraignment and offered to testify
as an expert witness. After he questioned her, he realized she didn't have
anything of substance to contribute, just hearsay and her professional opinion.
He wasn't all that impressed with either her credentials or what she had to say,
so he decided not to use her testimony. She was apparently rather miffed by his
refusal, which she seemed to consider some sort of personal rejection."
"Oh, really."
"There's more. I decided to check up on our Miss Robbins and found out
she's done this sort of thing before."
"Offered to testify?"
"No, engaged in extracurricular activities. It seems there was this kid
at another school where she worked that she thought was abused, but no one else
did. None of the teachers or administrators thought there was any indication of
abuse, so when she didn't get any backup from them, she called in family
services. They interviewed the kid and also found no evidence of abuse.
Apparently, her supervisor ordered her off the case, but she pursued it anyway,
despite threats of legal action by the parents."
"That sounds exactly like what she tried to do to Rachel. I hope she
wasn't able to get the kid taken away from his parents."
"Her parents. But no, she wasn't."
"That's a relief. What's with her, anyway? What does she get out of
making all these false accusations?"
"They weren't false."
"Huh? But you said..."
"I said nobody believed her. About a month later, the girl's mom took
her to the emergency room. She had a fractured wrist and a number of bruises.
The ER doctor called family services and Gayle was proven right. They'd just
been very good at hiding it until it got out of control."
"So Gayle was vindicated."
"Yes and no. She was proven correct, but it didn't make her popular
with anyone. Proving her right proved everyone else wrong, and she didn't
hesitate to rub it in. She's not all that well liked by her supervisor, her
coworkers, or anyone else. To say the least she has an attitude."
"Oh, Jesus. So that means Gayle isn't likely to give up on Rachel."
"That would be my guess. She considers herself infallible and would
probably pursue the case even if they did fire her, and I don't know if they
really would."
"So Rachel gets off the bus at the wrong stop one day and now she's got
this monomaniacal moron on her case. Anything you can do?"
"Not unless she breaks a law. If she gets to be a problem, we could sue
her employer. We could sue her personally, for that matter. Even if we lost,
between the two of us we could spend her into oblivion on legal fees.
Unfortunately, if I'm correct about her personality type, that wouldn't stop
her. Has she done anything since I called the school and her boss?"
"Not that I know of, but I have my suspicions."
"Keep me apprized. I'll help if I can."
The conversation with John was both illuminating and disturbing.
However, I decided I shouldn't get too worried until I had confirmed my
suspicions.
Friday I took Rachel out again. As I picked her up, I met Gretchen for
the first time. She was fifteen and looked a lot like Rachel, only more gangly.
Once she filled out a bit, she would look even more like Rachel. She did not,
however, have that quality that Rachel possessed that made me want to own her,
control her, tie her up and never let her go. Perhaps that was something that
would develop later on, or perhaps she simply hadn't inherited that trait. That
was a good thing from my point of view. I would have found it quite
uncomfortable if Gretchen had inspired those sorts of feelings in me, not only
because she was so young but also because she was Rachel's daughter.
Saturday morning, I decided to see if I could confirm my suspicions. I
drove over to Rachel's and parked around the corner from her house, then
strolled down her street. The car was parked across the street from Rachel's.
The door was locked, but the window was half way down. I reached in and
unlocked it, then climbed into the passenger seat.
"Hello, Gayle. I'm glad to finally have the chance to meet you."
"The feeling is hardly mutual."
"I'm not surprised by that. So tell me, what's this problem you seem to
have with Rachel?"
"She's a whore. She sells herself to men."
I now understood. The word 'men' had been delivered with considerable
venom. I had heard this once before.
Back when Meg had been alive, she and I had always attended the annual
Christmas party at John's office. On one occasion, Marie, a friend of Meg's,
had come with us. We were sitting in the reception area talking among
ourselves. The other people in the room included a female lawyer who had her
office in John's building and who I happened to know was a lesbian. Marie got
up to take her plate back to the kitchen and took Meg's as well. She was
juggling the plates so she would have a hand free to open the door when the
lesbian lawyer said, "Why don't you get some big strong man to open it for you."
I was very much taken aback. The remark had been made to someone who was a
total stranger to her and was filled with contempt.
Gayle's comment had exactly the same tone. She hated men, and she hated
Rachel for surrendering herself to men. I had been puzzled as to her
motivation, and now I understood. It was good to know this. It meant that any
attempt on my part to charm Gayle, which was my backup plan in case intimidation
didn't work, would only be throwing gasoline on the fire.
"Judge Larkin seemed to find otherwise," I told her.
"Judge Larkin doesn't have my experience."
"I'm sure he's grateful for that."
"I'm sure he is."
Alarm bells were starting to go off. Gayle was handling my intrusion
with way too much cool. Something was wrong, but I had no idea what.
"Are we done now, Bob? I'd like to get back to work."
"I see you know who I am."
"Yes, you're her pimp."
"And how do you come to that conclusion?"
Gayle opened a folder next to her seat, pulled out some photos, and
tossed them in my lap. I picked up the 5x7's and looked them over. The first
one was from last Saturday. It showed Rachel and I stepping off her front
porch. I was a pace ahead of her and leading her by the hand, her overnight bag
in my other hand. Her collar was visible, but it wasn't obvious that that's
what it was. The second shot, however, was zoomed in on Rachel's head and
shoulders and both the collar and padlock could be clearly seen as what they
were. The third shot was even more startling. It showed Rachel taking a sip
from her wine glass. The photo was a slightly grainy black and white, shot on
fast film in low light conditions. Nonetheless, her collar and the cuffs
locking her wrists together were quite visible. The look on Rachel's face which
I had found so appealing at the time seemed particularly damning in the photo.
I knew exactly where Gayle had stood to take the picture. It was taken from my
side porch through the side door of the house slantwise through the dining room
door which opened off the side hall. I had no motion detector on the small side
porch. I wasn't visible in the picture, having been behind the door frame from
where she was standing. I was visible in the next one, leading Rachel to the
dining room on her leash. Rachel was seen from the side and her bonds, both
wrist and ankle, were visible. The look on her face did not indicate that she
found her predicament to be a cause of alarm. Finally, there was a picture of
Rachel being led down the stairs, the picture I had wished for at the time. Be
careful what you ask for, I thought to myself and tucked the pictures into my
pocket.
"Been doing a bit of trespassing, have we?"
"I do what's necessary to do my job."
"An 'ends justifies the means' person, huh."
"Whatever."
"And is this all you have?" I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
"I have more."
"Going to show me?"
"No."
"In that case, I'll be going. Thanks for the chat."
"Fool."
I wish I could have taken issue with Gayle's parting insult, but I
feared she was correct. My bold foray, intended to confront and intimidate Ms.
Gayle Robbins, had ended in ignominious retreat. I had taken the photos with me
and Gayle had made no attempt to get them back, which meant she didn't care if I
kept them.
I examined the pictures again after I got home. In and of themselves,
they didn't prove anything, but they would be highly prejudicial. What other
pictures had she taken? I couldn't remember exactly how I'd positioned my chair
for dessert. Had we been visible from the side door? What did she have besides
pictures? I didn't know what Gayle intended to do with the photos, but I had a
feeling I was the only one she'd shown them to so far. Who else did she intend
to show them to? It would probably be the end of our relationship if Rachel saw
them. What if Gretchen saw them?
On Monday morning, I stopped by John's office. I had agonized about
this over the weekend. I would find it personally embarrassing to show the
pictures to John, but there was no help for it. If he was going to help me, he
would have to see them. Nonetheless, it would be difficult. John was an old
friend, but I didn't know how he'd react to them.
"First of all, don't worry about me. I can tell it's hard for you to
show these to me. You may not know this, but I've been aware of your sexual
preferences for years."
"Am I that obvious?"
"No, Meg told me."
"Damn. Meg always was a blabbermouth. Is there anyone she didn't
tell?"
"I assume that's a rhetorical question. Regardless, the point I'm
trying to make is that, although it's not my thing, it doesn't bother me.
You're both consenting adults and Rachel appears to be enjoying herself, so I
pass no judgement, although parading Rachel around in public in a collar isn't
one of your brighter moves."
"I know, but at the time, I had no idea we were being followed around by
candid camera. I was hoping you might be able to get the ones taken from the
porch suppressed for trespassing or something."
"I'm not sure if I could, but neither am I sure I'd need to yet. There's
nothing to do until we see what she does. As I see it, there are only two
things she can do with these pictures. She can show them to family services as
evidence of some sort of moral depravity on Rachel's part, although kinky sex
doesn't necessarily qualify by itself, or she can show them to Rachel or
Gretchen. At the moment, I consider the latter possibility more likely."
"Why?"
"The picture of Rachel outside in her collar, while it doesn't help
matters, isn't all that big a deal. It only comes into context with the other
pictures, and she can't show those without revealing that she's been out peeping
through windows. She has enemies at her office and they might well try to use
that against her. Just the same, she might risk it. The picture of Rachel
chained and leashed would certainly turn some heads. Also, we don't know what
else she's got. On the other hand, she could throw a monkey wrench into your
relationship if she showed them to Rachel."
"Rachel would be mortified. She'd probably never speak to me again," I
said.
"The other thing she could do would be show them to Gretchen in an
attempt to drive a wedge between Gretchen and her mother. That has it's risks,
however. She's been ordered to stay away from Gretchen, and showing those
pictures to a minor might well put an end to her career if it became known she
did it, which it probably would."
"So where does that leave us?"
"For the moment, at least, I don't think we have any overt legal
liabilities. The pictures are most useful for smear tactics. If I were in her
position, I'd show them to Rachel. That's where she could do the most damage
with the least risk. The only thing I don't know is whether or not she cares
about risk. Also, we don't know what else she has."
I left John's office with mixed feelings. It apparently wasn't as bad
as I had first feared, but it wasn't good. Despite my attempts to help Rachel,
as a result of my foolishness, she was now worse off than if she'd never met me.
The only good thing was that Rachel didn't know it--yet. She could get an
envelope in the mail any day now that would turn her world (and mine) upside
down. How was I going to fix this?
That thought begged the larger question. Should I try to fix it? So
far the overall effect of my meddling in Rachel's life had been negative. What
if I tried to fix it and made it worse? Perhaps I should just slink off into
the sunset. I realized that wouldn't help. The pictures were still out there
and my departure from the scene wouldn't change that. I'd gotten her into this,
I would have to get her out. How?
I had no idea. I had no handle on the situation, no leverage that I
could apply to deflect Gayle from her crusade. I needed help. If I couldn't do
it, who could?
Saturday I decided to have lunch north of the river.
"Where's your friend?" Jacqui wanted to know.
"She was tied up and couldn't make it."
"Too bad. So what can I get you?"
"Depends. You seemed fascinated by my companion's collar. Were you
interested in having one like it?"
"Not one like it. I wanted that one, with her in it."
"Sorry, she's not available."
"I know, she's tied up. Too bad."
"Maybe I could interest you in someone else."
"Maybe. What are you doing tonight?"
"Huh?"
"I go both ways. You're kind of cute."
"I had someone else in mind. She likes girls. She'd like you."
"And would I like her?"
"I would hope so. If you do, I'll pay for the collar."
"Is she as cute as your friend?"
"Yes, but different."
"So what's the deal? What brings you around here matchmaking?"
"Comeuppance. She needs a collar. She needs a spanking. She needs to
be distracted."
"Causing you problems, is she? And you want me to keep her occupied."
"Exactly."
"And what do I get out of this?"
"If you play your cards right, you get Gayle--that's her name. If not,
you acquire some valuable experience."
"You know, when I was young and stupid, I used to get involved in stuff
like this. Fortunately for you, I haven't learned much over the years. So how
do I meet this person? You going to introduce us?"
"Hardly. I don't think she would like you if she knew I sent you. In
fact, it would be a good idea if she thought you had no interest in men
whatever."
"Oh, one of those. Well, they can be fun. So how do I meet her?"
"When do you get off?"
"In about an hour."
"You'll find her in the middle of the 1800 block of Spruce on the west
side of the street. She'll be in a red Dodge. Just walk up and get in. If the
door's locked, tap on the window."
"She's just sitting on the street in her car? Doing what?"
"Waiting for you."
"Something's weird about this. There's something you're not telling
me."
"At the moment she's occupying herself by being a nuisance. You'll
distract her and she'll be grateful for the interruption."
"I don't know about this."
"You don't have to do it. You could go home and be bored."
"Those are my options? Be bored or be an idiot?"
"Try looking at it this way: It's Christmas or it's not Christmas, and
you get to decide."
I returned home. Jacqui would do it or she wouldn't. If she did, the
consequences were unknown, but I figured worst case she would distract Gayle
enough to cut down on the amount of time she devoted to following Rachel's
movements.
I took a shower and changed. Rachel and I were going to dinner this
evening. I left to pick her up.
Circling Rachel's block, I saw no sign of the red Dodge. I parked in
front of her house and walked up to the door. The door opened before I rang the
bell. Rachel stepped onto the porch.
"I'm ready. Let's go."
She was obviously agitated about something. I helped her into the car
and as we pulled away she was looking behind us.
"She's not there. I already checked."
"You know Gayle's been spying on me?"
"Yes, I caught her out here last Saturday. When did you discover her?"
"A few days ago. She's out there a lot. Sometimes she's right across
the street, but other times she's up or down the block. I called the police,
but they said she's not breaking any laws, so they can't do anything."
"Well, call them anyway every day that you see her. Also write it down.
It may help to have a record of her activities."
We went to dinner and afterwards I took her back to my house. I
unlocked the front door and paused to scan for Gayle. Rachel went on in. After
looking around, I stepped into the entry hall. Rachel was already in the main
hall.
"Rachel, you're forgetting the rules. Come back here."
On Rachel's last visit, I had informed her that the 'rules' were now in
effect. I had a house rule (which I enforced intermittently) that women were
not permitted past the entry hall until they were collared and bound.
Rachel returned to the entry hall.
"I'm sorry, I forgot," she said as I bound her wrists and locked her
collar on her.
"That's alright. When we get upstairs you can draw an envelope to help
you remember."
"Not another envelope..."
"If you prefer, you can choose your own punishment."
"No, I don't think so. I'll take the envelope."
I led Rachel upstairs. With the shades drawn, the second floor was
reasonably proof against the type of spying that Gayle had been doing. I got
her undressed, then held out the box of envelopes.
"Choose an envelope," I told her.
Rachel chose an envelope and opened it. She looked at the card, then
handed it to me. I could tell she wasn't thrilled with this one.
CHOICE
You are to choose how you will be punished.
If your choice is not a valid punishment,
or is considered to be too lenient,
you must draw a blue envelope.
"What's a blue envelope?"
"A blue envelope contains two cards."
"So I have to choose my own punishment?"
"Yes, you do."
"So what do I choose?"
"That's up to you."
"No, I mean what are the choices?"
"Well, you already know about spanking and standing in the corner. You
might also choose to be gagged or tied tightly for an extended period. You
could be tickled, stand on your toes, be locked in the closet for a time, or any
number of other things."
"I don't like this. Why don't you just do whatever you're going to do
to me."
"No, no, you have to choose. That's part of your punishment."
"What if I don't want to choose? I don't think I want to be punished at
all. Untie me. I want to go home."
I untied Rachel's wrists, which were bound in front of her, and removed
her collar. She got dressed.
"Please take me home."
"If you wish."
We got in the car and I drove her home. Neither of us spoke. When we
got to her house, she got out and went up the walk to her door. I sat at the
curb until she was inside, then returned home.
I had tried to push things too fast. Rachel was passively submissive.
She would have submitted to punishment if I had simply visited it upon her, but
forcing her to actively participate in her submission, to choose her own
punishment, was more than she was ready for and she had fled. As long as she
could pretend the things she was surrendering herself to were being done by me,
she was okay, but I had tried to make her do something that would cause her to
have to admit to herself the true nature of her desires.
I waited a couple of days, hoping Rachel would come to terms with her
feelings and call me, but she didn't. Things were not looking good. So far I
had screwed things up for Rachel by supplying ammunition for Gayle to use
against her, and now I had screwed up our relationship. Could anything else go
wrong?
Yes, it could. Saturday I went to pay Jacqui a visit. She looked
different. I realized she was wearing her hair down. On previous occasions she
had worn it up. She was also wearing a dark blouse with a high collar.
Nonetheless, I could see what she was trying to conceal.
"Jacqui, you're wearing a collar. I take it you hit it off with Gayle."
"Yes, we took to each other right off."
"I was rather hoping you would put a collar on her, maybe gag her, too."
"Like I told you, I go both ways."
"Then it's not likely I'll be able to enlist your aid."
"No, not likely. I appreciate the introduction, but I'll be punished
for talking to you today."
"And how will Gayle find out about this conversation."
"I'll tell her. I have to tell her everything. She's very strict."
"So you're going to tell her you've talked to me today and she'll punish
you for it. Seems rather ungrateful."
"Not really. I'm forbidden to talk to you, but considering what you did
for me, I thought I owed you this one conversation. I'm willing to pay the
price."
"Like I said, you don't have to tell her."
"Yes, I do. I have to do what she says. I hope she'll be lenient, but
I doubt it. She's doesn't like you. I'm disobeying her, and I'll deserve
whatever I get."
I left the restaurant. My plan to use Jacqui as a proxy to gain control
over Gayle had backfired badly. Since Gayle had forbidden her to talk to me,
Gayle must know I'd sent her. I could only assume Jacqui had told her
everything and would tell whatever I said tonight, too. It was time to stop
talking and leave.
Well, at least I had hit bottom. All my plans had backfired. Things
could only get better from here.
Wrong again. Later in the afternoon I got a call from Rachel. She was
in tears.
"You bastard," she cried, "how could you do this to me?"
"And what is it I've done?" I had a suspicion what had happened.
"Those pictures. Pictures of me in a collar, pictures of me in chains."
"Rachel, I didn't take those pictures."
"You did those things to me, chained me up and made me do those things,
and now she has pictures of it. If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be any
pictures."
I didn't think the pictures were my fault, but Rachel was hardly in the
mood for a rational discussion. "Rachel, calm down, stop crying. We'll work
this out, we'll fight it, we'll fix it."
"Fix it? You have fixed it. Now I'm going to lose Gretchen. I hate
you. I never want to see you again."
After Rachel hung up, I tried to call her back. I let it ring about
twenty times, but she wouldn't answer.
Maybe I should do as Rachel asked (demanded, actually) and just let it
go, stay out of her life. I'd certainly fucked everything up so far. I had to
admit that as bad as things were, I could make them worse if I wasn't extremely
careful.
I went to bed. Things would look different in the morning.
They didn't. I got up, made breakfast, and considered my situation. I
gave some further thought to saying to hell with it, but I just couldn't
reconcile the idea of abandoning Rachel. I had two problems. The first was to
mend my relationship with Rachel, the second was to put a stop to Gayle. I had
no good ideas about how to approach either one.
The lawn was due for another trim, so I went out to cut the grass,
hoping to get my mind off things for a bit. Unfortunately, cutting the grass is
a pretty mindless task. I brooded the whole time and did a lousy job on the
lawn besides.
I came back in, showered, made myself a sandwich and got a beer. Just
as I sat down to eat, the doorbell rang. Deja vu. Maybe it was Rachel, come to
confront me again. I carried the sandwich with me, just for luck.
It wasn't Rachel. It was Gretchen. This time I was too surprised to
get the first word in.
Continued in Part III
Copyright 2002
By Harold
Haroldx@eudoramail.com
