All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (32 page)

I looked up at her and shrugged again. “No.
It’s not important.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s just…I mean…It’s…”

“Honey, don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t not,” she appealed. “I don’t want
you to distrust me.”

“Why would I distrust you?”

“For keeping something from you.” She
motioned toward the bag and added, “For keeping
this
from you.”

I stopped what I was doing and slowly let out
a thoughtful breath. I couldn’t be sure if she was opening the door
and inviting me in or if it was only cracked enough to pull the
safety chain taut, affording her the ability to slam it in my face
if I misspoke.

I took in a fresh breath and smiled. “Not
long ago, a dear and very wise friend told me that we all keep
secrets, even from those we love. And, that sometimes we do so for
that very reason. Out of love.”

She cast a glance toward the bag and fidgeted
nervously for a moment then looked back to my face. “Helen.”

“Yes. Helen.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

She remained silent in the wake of my answer,
so I continued. “Felicity, Gods know I’ve kept things from you over
the past few years. Things about cases I’ve helped work, things
about visions I’ve had. Believe me, there are still some things
locked away in my head that I haven’t told anyone, especially you,
all purely out of love and my desire to keep you safe. So, you see,
it’s a two-way street.”

“But, that’s different,” she objected.

I shook my head. “Not really. Obviously
whatever is in that bag is something you think may hurt me or
change the way I feel about you. Correct?”

“Aye.”

“Then it’s no different, and there’s nothing
to worry about.”

“Are you certain?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

“I just want to be sure,” she said. “I need
to know that you trust me.”

“I do.”

“Even with this between us?” She nodded
toward the bag.

“Let me ask you this. Do you want to show me
what’s in there?”

Again she cast a furtive glance at the
duffle, dwelled there for a moment, and then looked back to me. “I
don’t know yet.”

“Okay, then, you don’t have to. I trust you.
And, I trust that if you ever decide you want me to know this
particular secret, you’ll share it.”

“How can you be so sure, when I’m not?”

“Easy. You sat in our kitchen around two
weeks ago and announced that you had a fairly rich history with the
bondage sub-culture. That was something new to me.”

“Yes, but that just sort of came out. I think
it might have been the circumstances, the investigation and such
because I even surprised myself by saying it. I wasn’t really
thinking.”

“I’m sure it probably was the
situation, and actually you really were thinking, sweetheart. You
knew you could shed some light on a minor mystery and you did.
Admitting
how
you knew the
things you did was merely a natural progression from
there.”

“At the time it seemed okay,” she replied.
“But, after the fact, I was afraid I’d made a very bad mistake in
telling you.”

“Honey, I may not have known about the
history, but I can’t say I was surprised. You’ve got the
personality. I even told you that.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Aye, I know I
do.”

“And, there you have the answer to your
question. The reason I can be sure is because I am fully aware that
if and when it comes time for me to know, you’ll tell me.”

The trepidation faded from her face, and she
finally managed a tentative smile. “Have I told you today that I
love you, Rowan Linden Gant?”

“A couple of times, but I can stand hearing
it again.”

Wednesday, November 23

11:04 P.M.

Baton Rouge, Louisiana

The hunger was coming upon her again.

Only a little more than two weeks had passed
since Saint Louis, and here it was creeping into her again. This
was too soon.

It was like a drug. An addiction she just
couldn’t shake, and there were no steps to help her cope. Homicidal
Sadists Anonymous simply didn’t exist, not in any phone book she
had seen.

She
was
coming.

And,
She
wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
She
never did no matter how much she
begged.

“Where had it all gone wrong?” she wondered.
“When had it taken this turn down a dark and dead-end path?”

She couldn’t remember. Or, maybe it wasn’t
that she couldn’t. Perhaps it was that she didn’t want to. The
pleasure was her reward, and the reward was sweet.

There was a time she knew she should
have heeded the warnings. Seen the signs. Run when she had the
chance. But that was all in the past. Now she belonged to
Her
, and there was no escape, even if
she wanted it.

And, sometimes she did, though she wasn’t
sure why.

She rolled over in the bed and lifted
her arm to her face, inspecting it in the dim light. Softly, she
caressed the scar where she had once sliced into her own wrist in a
bid for escape. She wondered if perhaps she should try again
before
She
arrived. That was
the only thing that had saved her then.
She
had made her call 9-1-1, and the paramedics
had arrived just in time.

No, if she tried to kill
herself,
She
would just save
her again. Besides, this feeling of dread always came just
before
She
arrived, and it
always passed.

No. She would simply wait it out. The bad
feelings would be gone soon, and the pleasure would come in their
place.

It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the
things she did whenever
She
was with her. She always enjoyed herself. She always had.
Even before
She
came along,
sex had never been satisfying unless she was in complete control,
and even then it was mediocre. Often, even
disappointing.

But, dark thoughts sometimes become dark
actions, and with those actions come discovery. Her revelation had
come so many years ago it seemed like forever. And, yet it seemed
like yesterday.

She bent her knees and kicked then grasped
the sheet in her hand and whipped it back in the darkness. Just
thinking about it made an unreachable itch begin down below. She
was already getting hot, and the cool air in the room felt
refreshing against her warm skin. Staring at the ceiling, she
wondered about the boy and what he was doing now. She couldn’t even
remember his name.

Mike…

Joe…

Kevin…

It didn’t matter. There had been so many
since him, and she couldn’t remember their names either. But, they
say you never forget your first, and she hadn’t.

Even if she couldn’t remember his name, she
could remember the details…

She was a college freshman, and he was an
upperclassman. While he certainly wasn’t innocent, she was as far
removed from virtuous as anyone could be, even if no one was the
wiser. He’d been begging her for a date for more than a month, and
it amused her. So much so, that it had set her mind to work.

When she finally agreed, it was on her terms,
as always. She strung him along for two weeks, promising everything
and giving nothing, just as she would do with any other boy. But,
for this one, she had bigger plans. When she was certain he was
primed and ready, she gave in, or so she led him to believe.

The room had been dank and dingy. The décor
was so far out of date as to not even have a recognizable style.
She was certain that it had been cheap, but for her purposes she
didn’t care. Besides, she was the one who picked out the fleabag
motel in the first place.

It was private, sitting along a secluded
stretch of blacktop just outside of town. It was a place where no
one asked questions about what went on behind the red, chipped
paint of the scuffed doors. It was perfect.

Had it been up to him, they would have just
made it in his room at the fraternity house, but she had needed the
privacy for her plans. She had insisted that he get the room, and
by that point she was sure his family jewels were probably navy
blue, so it wasn’t hard to get him to shell out the cash.

Just like it wasn’t hard to get him to strip
naked almost as soon as they arrived.

Just like it wasn’t hard to get him to go for
something a little “different” when she pulled the cotton
clothesline out of her purse.

Once he had let her tie him to the bed, it
was all over. She’d had to reassure him several times when he
complained of it being too tight, asking if she was certain she
knew what she was doing, but by that point, for him, it was too
late. She’d made certain that he couldn’t move, and the cotton
panties in his mouth with the duct tape over his lips made certain
no one would hear. Getting those into his mouth had been the
hardest part, and she was sure he was going to scream before she
could get it done. But, somehow, she had managed to do it, and then
she wound the duct tape around his head to secure it.

The struggle itself had aroused her, just as
had the anticipation.

Then, she had sat astride him on the bed for
several minutes, not quite sure where to start. She had fantasized
about this for as long as he had pursued her, working out the
details of how to get him to this point. But, now that she was
here, she didn’t know how to begin.

After several moments, she simply slapped him
hard across the face. The tickle that had been welling in her belly
now became an itch, and she liked it. She slapped him again, harder
this time, and felt him squirm beneath her as he struggled against
the bonds. The itch grew stronger.

She remembered feeling herself smile.

She perpetuated the feeling with various mild
cruelties. More slapping. Scratching him with her painted nails.
Pulling his hair. But, her first true orgasm had come at the exact
instant she twisted a burning cigarette against his bare chest. As
he writhed and squealed against the gag, she felt the itch explode.
The intensity of the feeling had taken her by surprise, making her
fall back across the bed, gasping for breath. The ripple had then
driven through her, and it was unlike anything she had ever
experienced before. When it had finally died away, the only thing
she could think about was having that feeling once again.

She remembered climbing back on top of him
and looking down at his frightened eyes as she lit another
cigarette…

She had untied him before she left. He was
unconscious, passed out from the pain, she assumed.

She was spent.

He’d had enough money in his wallet to
cover the cab fare back to campus, and she had gladly taken it.
That was also when she had taken her first souvenir. His class
ring. She wasn’t sure why she had taken it back then, but it all
became obvious years later when she met
Her
.

In fact, the ring was still on her altar.

Of course, that was then, and it had been
wonderful. But after that night, as good as it was, she could never
recapture the intensity of the feelings she had experienced.

That was until
She
came into her life…

Now, even the fond memory of the night
paled by comparison to the depth of pleasure
She
had shown her. Not only was it better, it was
better than she could have imagined. At times, the mere
anticipation of the pleasure was almost as good as the reward
itself.

Of course,
She
took it farther than she was ever willing to
go before. Then, it was play. Now, it was so much more…

For them both…

As the memory began to fade, she rolled and
sat up on the edge of the bed in one fluid motion. Reaching out,
she twisted the switch on the bedside lamp, bringing luminance into
the room. Sliding her thumbs along her jaw line, she gathered her
long red hair and tossed it over her shoulders to cascade down her
bare ivory back.

The tickle was now a burning itch.

She
was
here.

It was time.

Thursday, November 24

2:13 A.M.

Saint Louis, Missouri

CHAPTER 25:

I can hear the footsteps coming.

They thump hard against the wooden stairs
below, but I know that is not where they will stay. They are
already getting closer.

Each footfall comes louder…

Faster…

As if driven by sheer excitement, they move
upward, coming for someone. I pray that this time it will not be
me.

I can hear the wails of the others. They,
too, know she is coming. Nearby, someone is sobbing. I think it is
a woman but I can’t be sure. It has been so long now that they have
all begun to sound alike.

They are genderless…

Pitiful moans…

Terrified screams…

Barely even human…

They have become nothing less than a
cacophony of anguished noise…

But, no matter how loud it becomes, even it
cannot drown out the cruel sound of her feet against the
stairs.

I listen in the darkness.