It didn’t matter. There had never really been a question of refusing. She went where she was led, and she was being led to the Spring house like a lamb to the slaughter.
It was a tad past midnight. For dinner, she’d eaten two Whopper Juniors, a large fry, and a milkshake. When she’d gotten home, cursing Bethany, she’d had to lie flat on the bed to ease her pants off. Bending over was impossible. She’d fallen asleep in her jacket, blouse and underwear, but woke early enough to be sure she was dressed in her thickest, longest sleep shirt, in case Witt decided to stop by again. This time she told herself there would be no explicit Ram scenarios and no explicit rag rug scenarios in the middle of the floor.
So far, Witt had left only a message, and the only thing it said was, “Call me. I’ll leave my cell on. What were you and my mother doing at Virginia’s? And why the hell did you say your name was Helen on the message?” Both were legitimate questions, of course, but the tone was intended to intimidate, and she wasn’t easily intimidated. She’d give him a piece of her mind—
The phone rang. Witt wouldn’t be stupid enough to call after midnight. She picked up. “Hi, this is Helen. What can I do for you tonight?” came out as automatically as breathing.
For the next two hours, Max lay in the dark and let herself be tied up, massaged, stripped, used, abused, pleasured, violated, adored, humiliated, and worshipped. It takes all kinds. But no Achilles. No one who might be Freddy either. His parents probably would have strung him up by his heels if they’d seen a 900 number on their phone bill.
She was getting tired, the nap having long since worn off. Phone sex had definitely gotten boring. How did the girls do it night after night? She had a mind to call one up herself and ask.
The phone rang again. One more call, then her shift would be over. Thank God. “Hi, this is Helen.” She was so tired, and she still felt sick from those—
“I thought about you all night, Helen.”
Max would know that voice anywhere, the slight grate, the needy edge, the desperate desire.
“Achilles,” she said on the outbreath, “God, Achilles,” clearly enunciating so that if Witt was listening, he would know this was the one. All traces of fatigue were wiped from her body and her mind. Bethany sizzled inside her, seeped into her voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call last night? I’m dying without you here to touch me.”
“I’ve been thinking about you. But I wanted to wait for the right moment.”
“Never make me wait.”
“So impatient. Tonight, I’m going to make you so hot, you’ll beg me to come to you wherever you are.”
Yes, yes. If she could trick him into it, she would in a shot. “You know it’s not allowed.”
“Let’s not fight. I’ve got a surprise.”
“What?” She punctuated with a moan, heard an answering rasp in his breath.
“I want you to pretend you’re a little girl.” She thought she heard him lick his lips. “My little girl.”
Bugs crawled beneath the surface of her skin. Even Bethany, deep inside, recoiled. For very different reasons, they both did what Achilles asked. “I’m your little girl.”
“Are you afraid of me, my love?”
Terrified. “Do you want me to be afraid?”
“Yes, oh yes. I like it when you’re so scared, you almost wet your panties.”
She curled into a little ball and clutched the phone to her ear. She moaned with fear. He heard it. His breathing quickened.
“You’re hiding from me, aren’t you?”
She closed her eyes. Her voice changed, higher, sweeter, almost childlike. “I’m in the closet. I always hide in the closet when you’re mad.”
“I know you’re in there. I can’t wait to punish you. You know how much you want Daddy to punish his little girl.”
She wanted to cover her ears, pull the pillow over her head, and pretend she was anywhere but here. Or hiding in the closet. She prayed they’d trace the call soon, prayed Witt would rescue her. Then she played Achilles’ game. “I know. You want me to touch your thingie.”
“I’m going to make you use your mouth. That’s how little girls get punished for having birthday parties when their daddy tells them not to.”
“It wasn’t a party, Daddy. It was just two of my friends.”
He’d never been one to listen to explanations. “Get out here and undo my pajamas.”
Max closed her eyes and crawled out of the closet. It was like a nightmare playing itself out behind her lids. Her cheeks were wet, her nose runny, and then her mouth was full with the salty taste of him. She choked.
“Baby doesn’t like that, does she? Do it anyway. Because you love me.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to die. She wanted to bite it off. She was the little girl in his fantasy.
His hand against the back of her head, his fingers clutched, pulling on her roots. His short, curly hair scratched her nose. He smelled of soap.