His face went blank. I'd seen that look before.
I stood up and put my foot on the side of the tub.
Shivering in the cool air, I watched rose-scented steam roll off my body. I hate the smell of roses, always have. But The Freak?
He started to hum.
I wanted to push him away. I wanted to knee him in the face. But my eyes were riveted on the razor's shiny blade. He wasn't physically hurting me, just a little with his fingernails when he gripped my butt to hold me in place, but the terror was huge, a massive thing tearing into my chest.
Years ago I went to a doctor, an old guy I'd only been to once before. This time he had to do a Pap smear, and I still remember lying on my back with his head between my legs. He was a weekend pilot, and photos of airplanes were all over his office. As he jammed a cold instrument up me, he said, 'Think about planes.' And that's what I did while The Freak shaved me. I thought about planes.
When he was done and had rinsed me off, he led me out of the tub and gently toweled me off. Then he unlocked the cabinet, took out a big bottle of lotion, and started rubbing it on my body.
'Feels good, doesn't it?'
My skin crawled. His hands were everywhere, sliding around, rubbing the lotion in.
'Please stop.
'Now, why would I do that?' he said, and smiled. He took his time at it and didn't miss a spot.
When he was done he left me standing there on the stupid pink fuzzy bath mat, feeling like a greased-up pig and smelling like fucking roses. I didn't have to wait long before he came back with a handful of clothes.
He made me put on tiny white lace panties--not a G-string or thong, just regular panties--and a matching strapless bra. In my size. He stood back, gave me the once-over, and clapped his hands together, congratulating himself on a job well done. Then he handed me a dress--a virginal white thing I probably would have liked in a former life. Hell, it was a nice dress, felt expensive. It looked like that famous dress of Marilyn Monroe's but not so risque, the good-girl version.
'Spin.'
When I didn't move, he raised an eyebrow and made a circular motion in the air with his finger.
The dress floated around me as I twirled. He nodded his head in approval, then held his hand up for me to stop.
After he led me out of the bathroom, I saw that he'd cleared away all my pictures and the box was nowhere in sight. Candles were arranged on the floor, the lights were turned down low, and there it was, looking enormous: the bed. Ready and waiting.
I had to find a way to get through to him. Buy some time until somebody found me. Somebody would find me.
'If we waited, just until we know each other a little better,' I said, 'it would be more special.'
'Relax, Annie, there's nothing to be scared of.'
Mr. Rogers telling you it's a beautiful day to kill everyone in the neighborhood.
He turned me around and began to unzip the white dress. I was crying now. Not sobs, just stupid hiccupping whimpers. As he lowered the zipper all the way down my back, he kissed my neck. I shivered. He laughed.
He let my dress fall to the floor. While he undid my bra, I tried to pull away from him, but he held me firm with one arm around my waist. With his other hand he reached around and cupped my breast. Tears wet my face. When one dropped on his hand he turned me around to face him.
He brought his hand to his lips and covered the moist spot with his mouth. He held it there for a second, then gave a smile and said, 'Salty.'
'
He spun me around and sat me down on the side of the bed. He never looked into my eyes once--he just stared at my body. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, dripped off his chin, and landed on my thigh. It burned into my skin, and I wanted desperately to brush it off, but I was scared to move. He knelt on the floor and started to kiss me.
He tasted like sour old coffee.
I squirmed and tried to pull away, but he just ground his lips harder against mine.
He finally left my mouth alone. Grateful, I gulped a lungful of air but it caught in my throat when he stood up and started taking his clothes off.
He wasn't a bulky guy but his muscles were well defined, like a runner's, and his body was completely hairless. His smooth skin gleamed in the candlelight. He stared at me like he was waiting for me to say something, but all I could do was stare back, shaking violently. His dick started to go soft.
He grabbed me around my knees and flipped me back onto the bed. As he forced my legs apart with his knee, he trapped one of my arms between our bodies and gripped the other above my head with his left hand, his elbow digging into my bicep.
I tried to twist away, bucking my hips, but he pinned my thigh down with his shin. His free hand began to tug at my pan ties.
My mind frantically scrambled over everything I'd ever learned about rapists. Something about power, they needed power, but there were different kinds, some of them needed different things. I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I remember? If I couldn't get him to stop, could I at least get him to wear a condom?
'Stop! I have a--' His chest pushed my fist into my solar plexus. I gasped out, 'A disease. A sexual disease. You'll get sick if you--'
He tore my pan ties off. I started to buck wildly. He smiled.
Almost out of breath, I stopped struggling and gulped at the air. I had to think, had to focus, had to find a way--
His smile began to fade.
Then I got it. The more I reacted, the more he liked it. I forced my body to stop shaking. I stopped crying. I stopped moving. I thought about planes. It didn't take him long to notice.
He pressed down so hard with his elbow I thought my arm would break, but I didn't make a sound. He spread my legs wider and tried to force himself into me but he was soft. I noticed there was a mole on his shoulder with a lone hair sticking out.
He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and grunted out, 'Say my name.' I didn't. There was no way I was going to call this freak by my father's name. He could control my body, but I wasn't going to let him control my words.
'Tell me what you feel.'
I continued to stare at him.
He turned my face to the side. 'Don't look at me.'
He tried to force himself inside me again. I thought of that one mole hair. Everything on his body was shaved clean except that one mole. I passed by terror, arrived at hysteria, and started to giggle. He was going to kill me, but I couldn't stop. Giggles became laughter.
His body froze on top of me. I was still looking away, facing the opposite wall. His free hand shot out and clamped over my mouth. He turned my face back so I was looking at him, my lips mashed into my teeth. He ground his hand down harder. I tasted salt.
'Bitch!' he screamed, spraying me with spit. Then his face changed again. All life was gone. He leapt off the bed, blew out all the candles, and stalked into the bathroom. Soon I heard the shower.
I ran to the front door and tried the handle. It was locked. The shower shut off, my heart started to pound again, and I raced back to the bed. With my face turned to the wall, I sucked on my bleeding lip and cried. Tears and blood mingled. The bed sagged as he lay down beside me.
He sighed. 'God, I love this place. It's so quiet--I put in extra insulation. You can't even hear the crickets.'
'Please take me home. I won't tell anyone. I swear.
'I have the best dreams here.'
He snuggled up to my side, folded his leg over mine, and held my hands until he fell asleep. I lay there with this naked freak cuddling me and wished the bed would open up and swallow me whole. My arm hurt, my face hurt, my heart hurt. I cried myself to sleep.
