up. If she allowed her mind to lock, then they could do with her what they wanted. She had to get loose. Calm down, find the center, let everything go. Become soft rather than rigid.
She could scream. Yes, she could do that. What had she learned about screaming? Don’t scream for help. Nobody responded to cries for help. If anything, cries for help scared people away. No. People responded to a different word. One that made them look out for their own self-interest.
Fire.
She took a deep breath, lungs gathering air for the effort. It had to be loud, it had to be piercing, it had to rip through the calm and the quiet of an after hours building, it had to rip through the walls out to Friday night drinkers and diners and moviegoers – people walking by five stories below on the street. It had to rip through the world.
Mr. Blue Eyes clamped a hand over her mouth.
He whispered in her ear. “If you scream, then we’re gonna have to hurt you.”
It was too late to scream. It was too late to do anything. She carried no weapon. The only weapon she had was herself. In a ridiculous orange bikini and high heeled shoes.
Empty hand, she thought. Empty hand.
“You know what?” Mr. Shaggy said. “Let’s have you folks head over to the examination table there. I’ll just let this camera run, and bring the second camera over there and join you both. That’ll make things easier on everybody, hmmm?”
Mr. Blues Eyes turned her to the right and shuffle-stepped her over to an empty desk sitting near the wall. The wall itself was lined with floor to ceiling mirrors, as if this place had once spent time as a dance studio. He bent her over the desk.
He pulled her head up by the hair. “I want you to watch.”
In the mirror, she saw him hovering behind her. His smile floated above his muscular torso. He still held her arm behind her back, but he had relaxed the pressure just a little. She felt him, erect now, monstrous, against her. Her eyes stared back at her. Was this what all that training was for? Was this what all the long hours of hard work had come to? To be easily manhandled by two jerks? By two rapists? No. The answer was no. All her hard work was so nothing like this would ever happen again.
Mr. Blue Eyes giggled. He had become almost, but not quite, gentle. He stroked her hair, his fingers ready to clench again at any false move.
Nearby, Mr. Shaggy fussed with the lighting, moving the big umbrella closer, a round light shining up into its maw.
“Please don’t do this,” Lola said.
“What’s that? What did you say?”
“Please.”
“That’s a good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”
What was she waiting for? She still had one free hand. Do it now.
In the mirror, she watched him.
He gyrated his hips against her, like a dance floor showoff. The sight of it might have been comical in some other circumstance. “You are gonna come your brains out tonight, darling. You are one sexy bitch. I can’t wait to put it to you, you know? I mean I just can’t wait. Fact is, I think I love you.”
Then Mr. Shaggy’s big body appeared in front of her, blocking her view. His meaty hands undid his belt buckle.
“You got a boyfriend, Lola?” he said.
He lifted her chin between two thick fingers. Strapped to his other hand, he had another small camcorder, its LCD screen folded out and facing her, displaying her own face back to her. Her eyes were wide and frightened and confused.
“Sure you do, pretty little girl like you. See how pretty you are? I bet you got yourself a nice boyfriend.”
Lola thought of her boyfriend, Smoke Dugan. Silly old Smoke, who had offered to come with her on this interview. He was afraid for her because scams like this were all over the place. He wanted to protect her. Smoke, always a gentleman, well into late middle age, who walked with a limp and carried a thick wooden cane everywhere – his shillelagh, he sometimes called it. Dapper Smoke, who had gray and white hair and wore Irish touring cap of wool tweed in cool weather. Smoke, with his big workman’s hands and his cats and his cigars and his long afternoon naps. Smoke wanted to protect her from animals like these.
“I’m a big girl,” she had told him. “I think I can handle it on my own.”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Shaggy said now. “We’re gonna give you right back to him when we’re done. Of course, that’s if you even want to go back.”
DO IT her mind shouted.
Almost ready.
Almost…
“All right if I put something in your mouth right now? Come on Lola. Open up and say AAAAH.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. She heard her voice shaking. Her chin had begun to tremble in his hand. Her whole body started to shake. She felt like she could vomit.
“What’s that?” Mr. Shaggy said. “Not sure I heard you correctly.”
“Okay. I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell him to stop twisting my arm. It hurts.”
The two men exchanged a glance above her head.
“Well, young man. You heard the lady.”
“Do I believe her?” Mr. Blue Eyes said.
Mr. Shaggy shrugged. “Come on, kid. We’re on camera here. It’s not a conversation we’re filming.” He undid the button of his green workpants and pulled down his zipper. “What’s it gonna be, Lola?”
She felt the first sting of tears and let them come.
“Whatever you want.”
“I believe her. Let’s get down to business.”
Mr. Blue Eyes released her arm. The numb arm flopped around in front of her like a fish and she planted her palm on the desk, next to her other hand. He released her hair. She was free, bent over the desk, her chin in Mr. Shaggy’s hand. Still, she did not move.
Mr. Blue Eyes stepped back and bent over, peeling down his Speedos.
She had signed a waiver.
That thought struck her now with strange force. Mr. Shaggy had handed the waiver to her right before she went into the bathroom to change her clothes. He had spoken with offhand nonchalance.
“Let’s get you to sign one of these releases. You never know. Might get something tonight we want to use.”
She signed without even reading it.
Oh, they were smooth. They had it down to a system. Get the stupid girl to take off her clothes and put on a bikini. Flatter her some, tell her you’ll pay her $100 an hour. Have her sign away her rights. Then rape her on camera.
Chances are good she never tells a soul.
If she does, you have it in black and white. Hey, maybe things got a little out of hand, but she agreed to it beforehand. It’s all right here on paper.
Bastards. They had done this before. Of course they had.
“It’s okay,” Mr. Shaggy said. “It’s gonna be good. No need to cry.”
His voice came to her as if she were at the bottom of a deep well. He removed his shirt. He positioned himself in front of her, his big hairy stomach even with her face. Sometime today, he had sprayed his belly with cologne.
Now.
If she was going to stop this happening, it had to be RIGHT NOW.
“She looks tasty,” Mr. Blue Eyes said somewhere behind her. His hands returned, roaming her body. He stood behind her, his erection poking between her thighs, rubbing against the fabric of her bikini bottom.
“Let’s spread these legs a little,” he said.
She leaned down close to the desk, like someone doing a push-up. She turned her head to the side, cheek
