Break Her (17 page)

“And?”

“His parents. I was really bugged by his parents.”

“Why?”

“Because they said he didn’t do it.”

He laughed. “What’s so shocking about that?”

“You don’t say that. Not when your kid really did it, and everyone knows that he did. Not when there’s not even a one-armed man you can blame. No. Not when he blames the victims for the crime. No. You don’t say that.” She let her head drop for a moment to the bed.

“What do you say?”

“You say: ‘We love our son and we will help him in any way that we can.’ Or you could apologize on his behalf. Or on your own. But nothing like that. And, after all, they did raise a murderer. So why would I expect better?” From her uncomfortable position, she shot a glance at him. He smiled.

“And that’s what you would do?”

“If I had raised someone who turned into a killer?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. I generally believe that if you’re a killer, your parents did something very wrong. Maybe you would know more about that. But I will grant that there are cases where decent parents end up with horrible children. So first and foremost, if I found out my kid had murdered someone – not an accident – murder, I’d kill him and then myself.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And if you thought he was innocent?”

She didn’t answer right away. She needed to stop and breathe a bit from the effort it took to hold up her head and talk.

“If I really thought he was innocent, then I would fight for him all the way. But I would not
persuade
myself that he was innocent, when all the facts or even his confession showed that he was guilty. And I would get him to confess to me, believe me.”

“Hmm.”

“There’s a lot of denial out there these days. God, you show up and tell a parent that their kid threw a rock at someone and they get lawyered up and sue you. Back in my day, if an authority figure told your parents you did something wrong, you got punished at home, too. Today, no, not my kid, he’s an angel, he’s never wrong, it’s always someone else’s fault.”

“Maybe that’s how you’d have turned out if your kid had lived.”

“Wow. Ouch.” Her head snapped back a little as if from a blow. “That was way harsh. And no, I wouldn’t. It’s my curse, to always see things as they really are. Not how I’d like them to be.”

“So you still think I’m here to kill you.”

“I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

He smiled and switched to the other foot. They were little toes. He enjoyed licking them.

“How are you doing over there?” he asked.

“Me? I’m doing fine. How you doing?”

“I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

“Really? ‘Cause if what you like is rape and I’m cooperating, isn’t that, well, not rape?”

“No, it’s perfect. Because it’s both. It’s both! I’ve never had that before. Not that a woman hasn’t tried to buy me off with her body. But it’s never the ones I’ve been hired to rape. I guess that’s the point.” He looked thoughtful for a moment.

She didn’t comment.

“Hey, in case I forget to say it later,” he added. “Can I just tell you that you are truly amazing?”

“Oh, thanks, hon. That means a lot coming from you.”

“It does.”

“Because you’re a hard man to impress.”

“I am a hard man,” he said. He turned his body around and knelt next to hers. He stroked along her bound arms and legs, ran his hand over her straining neck. He pulled her head back a little by her hair.

“Ready for more?” he said.

“Ready, aim, fire,” she said.

“Tough guy,” he said.

“Oh, it’s just pure, mindless fun for me. In fact, what a way to go.”

“I’m flattered.” He thought a moment, then loosened the bonds that held her feet to her hands. He left her hands tied behind her, but pulled her legs down so that they were straight and turned her over so she faced up.

“Well, to be fair,” she said, unable to repress a sigh of relief, “you are a decent lover.”

“Really?”

“Technically. Although one has to use the word ‘lover’ fairly loosely.”

He shut her up with his mouth, and true to her word, she kissed him back with as much enthusiasm as he could hope for. She was determined, he thought, to take the raping away from him, but he was too entertained to argue. Their bodies became one yet again, lost in a mist of heat and sweat and what appeared to be a bizarre, fucked-up passion.

They had to stop after a while, both of them temporarily spent. He led her out of the bedroom, still naked, hands cuffed once again, this time in front of her, and into the living room. He looked through her DVD collection, while she waited.

“What time is it?” she asked suddenly.

“It’s been about 24 hours,” he said, after a moment’s calculation.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. You’ve outlasted a lot of people already. But I can’t say if you’re doing well or not. You seem pretty good right now, but anything is possible just a moment from now. Anything I do could be the, the last straw, I guess. Push you over the edge.”

“I told you. I can’t go over the edge.”

“And I told you, we’ll see. I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t. Eventually.”

“‘The Kaballah didn’t count on me,’” she said.

“What?”

“It’s from one of the worst movies ever made,” she said. “But truer words were never spoken.”

“Right,” he said, not really paying attention. “Oh, you know what I’m in the mood for?”

“I’ll never be able to answer that.”

“
Ferris Bueller
.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m another child of the 80s. A perfect movie.”

“There are times when you are, like, a normal person. How is that possible?”

“I’m an education, aren’t I?”

“That you are.”

He handed her the DVD. “Stick it in,” he said. And smiled.

He sat behind her, with his back against a chair and his legs open in a V. She sat in the V. He touched her as much as he could, every moment that he could. At some point, he thought, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from trying to break away, and then he’d be winning again.

Together they watched the movie.

“See?” he said, gesturing toward the screen at one point. “That’s me! Freeing you from your uptight rejection of forcible entry and changing your whole personality with a kiss.”

“Yeah. Or a butt-fuck, as the case may be. Please. You’re a very impressive person in your own right, but you’re no Charlie Sheen.”

“No. It’s true. If you just substitute ‘rape’ for ‘drugs,’ it’s me.”

She rolled her eyes as she looked back at him.

“Still, they start out as enemies, or at least she hates him, and they end up, well, together,” he continued.

“Just like us!” she agreed, not hiding the sarcasm.

“You never know.”

“Better living through criminals.”

“Something like that.”

“Have you forgotten your purpose here?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“You know the part I like best?” he asked, when it was over.

She shook her head.

“When Cameron is looking at the painting, the Seurat, and he looks at it and looks at it and looks at it, closer and closer and closer, until finally there’s no meaning to it at all.”

She turned her head and looked at him with interest. “It’s a mother holding the hand of her little girl.”

“He looks into the little girl’s eyes.”

“Trying to connect with her,” she said.

“Or to see what she sees,” he suggested.

“That’s the same thing.”

“I guess,” he said.

“But he can’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“I guess I don’t.”

He smiled and waited, but she said nothing more. “No deeper interpretation to add? No illumination of my character?”

“No.”

“Surprising.”

“I don’t want to think about you and that little girl.”

“I don’t do children.”

“Really? A scruple?”

“There’s no sport. Where’s the fun?”

“I guess you have a point, in your bizarro worldview.”

“I thought we weren’t going to judge each other here.”

She laughed bitterly. “Right. We’re just two ships that crash into each other in the night.”

He slid a finger up inside her, and she jumped a little. He pushed her forward until her forehead hit the carpeted floor, pushed her bound hands above her head, and tilted her behind up into the air.

“Stay there, just like that,” he said, pausing just to enjoy the view. He kept his finger inside her, swirling it around a bit, then he pulled it out, licked it, and smacked her on the ass several times, hard but not screaming hard. She breathed in sharply and made little noises of pain. Then she spoke, but the words weren’t hers.

“‘I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I'm going to take a stand. I'm going to defend it. Right or wrong, I'm going to defend it.’”

“Sure, Cameron,” he said, appreciatively. “You do that.” He was rubbing his cock as he spoke. Then with no further preliminaries, he shoved it inside her vagina and began to move back and forth.

“You love this, don’t you?” he muttered.

“Look,” she said, between panting breaths from underneath him. “I can pretend I love what we’re doing overall, but I’m not going to claim that I love every position equally.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” he said. “You’ll ruin my rhythm.”

He pressed a hand against her clit so that every time he thrust her forward, the organ rubbed against it.

She did not reply, but he felt her moving more in sync with him. After a while, he pulled out for a moment and rolled her over. He took both her ankles in one hand and held them straight up at a 90-degree angle while he plunged into her from the front. He played with her legs in different positions, but kept pounding away. Eventually, he pushed his way forward until his face was above hers. She looked him in the eye, and then, with a wink, wrapped her legs around him. The wink almost made him come right then, but he held on for a while longer, staring into her eyes as she stared impenetrably back. He brought his pelvis down so that it stroked against the front of her crotch every time he moved in and out, again putting pressure on her clit. He stayed there even after he came, waiting, and she didn’t disappoint him. He felt the contractions on his wilting penis, still inside her.