needle that evening. Rather she was working on her designs for the chorus of Craddock.
It had been Marvella's idea for her to work up a few designs for the show. The principals' costumes, of course, would be designed by Marvella, but if Terri's designs were good, Marvella told her that some would be used, and she would get an associate costume designer credit, a title well worth having, particularly under the aegis of Marvella Johnson. If only, she thought, she did not have her mother to thank for having gotten her the job.
Damn! Thinking about Ann had made her extend a bodice too far. She erased the offending line and redrew it, her thoughts returning to her mother again.
What had she ever done to deserve Terri's contempt? Ann had asked in all seriousness. Nothing, mother, absolutely nothing, and perhaps that was the problem.
Ann had always been such a goddamned coward. Whenever Terri had asked for something, whether it was some extra spending money for clothes, her own car, or later, as a college freshman, for a signed permission slip so that she could start taking birth control pills (that one had been kept a secret from her father), Ann had always agreed, albeit with motherly cautions, such as the observation that the pill would do nothing to prevent AIDS. Her father had done very little parenting. Most of the time he was working, and when he wasn't he was either playing golf or parked in front of the television. Maybe, Terri thought, that was why she liked Marvella so much – because when she said do something, you either did it or else.
A movement at the door caught her eye, and she saw Cristina rubbing herself against the frame. 'Well, hello, girl,' she said to the cat. 'You lonely tonight? You'd have to be to come and see me, huh?' She had never seen such a standoffish feline before. It wouldn't allow anyone except Abe Kipp to pat it, and if you tried to corner it to lavish some affection on its gray fur, God help you. It would just as soon savage you as look at you.
Nevertheless, Terri put down her pen, knelt next to her drafting table, and rubbed her fingers together. 'C'mon, girl… c'mon, Crissie… puss puss puss…”
The cat, its itch apparently scratched, sat and looked at her, unblinking, as still as an Egyptian idol.
'Aw, come on,' she said, 'let me pet you, huh?'
'Like most of us,' said a voice from above, 'there are few people she loves.'
(TERRI looks up at the loft and sees THE EMPEROR standing there, leaning on the railing. He is dressed in a V-neck sweater and navy slacks.)
TERRI
Jesus, you startled me. How did you get in here?
THE EMPEROR
I must have come in when you weren't looking. (His manner is gentle, very non-imperious. He descends the stairs through the following speech.) You'll find it quite an endeavor to get on the good side of Cristina.
TERRI
She's not very friendly, is she?
THE EMPEROR
No. Of course you never can tell with animals – or with people. One minute it seems as though they hate you… (Now at the doorway, he leans down and picks up the cat, cradles it in his arms. It purrs and nuzzles his hand.)… and before you know it, you discover that there is… some affection there after all.
What in God's name? Terri thought. That cat hated Dennis. Marvella had told her that in no uncertain terms, and she had seen an example of it once, when Dennis had rounded a corner and taken the beast by surprise. Cristina had leapt into the air, come down spitting, taken a swipe at his ankle, and run off. But now she lay there as gentle as. .. yes, goddammit, a kitten, purring and reaching up toward his face to lick it, as though Dennis was the kindest, most calming thing in the world.
It was a sensation she was uncomfortably aware of herself. Here was a man she was determined to despise, a man who had seduced her mother – perhaps not for the first time, in spite of Ann's denials – only a short time after his wife was in her grave, who, with his money and fame, simply bought everything that he desired. Yet she, like that sycophant of a cat he held in his arms, could not help but feel drawn to him, just as, she finally admitted to herself, she had been ever since she had first seen him on the stage.
THE EMPEROR
I think you can pet her now.
TERRI
I… I'd really rather not.
THE EMPEROR
She won't hurt you. I promise. When you're afraid of something, the thing to do is to grasp it, firmly but gently. That way you learn to control your fear. Your fear leaves, and you are left with fulfillment. (He brings the cat to her.) Here. Touch it. (TERRI reaches out a hand and pats the cat on the head. It continues to purr .) See? Listen to me, Terri. I'll never do anything to bring you harm.
TERRI
(Steps back, her temper rising) Maybe you already have.
THE EMPEROR
I don't understand.
TERRI
My mother.
THE EMPEROR
(Nodding solemnly) Ah. You're referring to our… spending the night together.
TERRI
And the weekend too, as I recall. (She waits) Well? You're not saying anything.
THE EMPEROR
(Sets down the cat) I don't know what to say.
TERRI
Do you love her? Is that your excuse?
THE EMPEROR
I loved her… a long time ago. And now I love what she was. Perhaps that seduced me more than I did her. (He looks at her intently and speaks slowly, weaving a web of words around her.) I love in her what I see in you now. You remind me so much of her, as she was then. She had that hard surface too, to protect her from the world. But I saw beneath it, to the tenderness that was there. (He touches her cheek She neither draws away nor responds, but simply looks at him, fascinated, trapped.) You ask for my excuse. Love needs none. It is enough in and of itself to excuse anything. Any deed, any pain.
(THE EMPEROR moves his hand behind her head and draws her face toward him. He kisses her passionately and she responds immediately. Still kissing, he lifts her as if she weighed nothing, and carries her to the pile of costumes on the floor, where they both fall, their arms about each other. From the corner, the cat watches.)
~* ~
She bled afterwards. She bled and hated herself for what she had done, what she had allowed him to do. But while it was happening she had felt powerless to resist. She had been swept away by him, by his passion, by his need for her, and had been unable to refuse anything that he had wanted of her. For the first time in her life, she had been used.
Her cheeks burned as she remembered. She had, at his direction, put her fingers into herself as far as she could, much farther than she had thought possible. She had fellated him, licked him everywhere, and finally he had thrust into her savagely from behind, surprising her by swiftly moving his penis from her vagina to her anus, something she had never experienced before with anyone.
The pain had been nearly unbearable, but after her first gasp he had ordered her to be silent, and she had not cried out, not even when he exploded inside her, and it felt, not merely warm, but hot, as if fire was jetting from him.
Afterward, when he left, only blood had leaked from her. There seemed to be not a trace of semen. Only the blood, which soon stopped.
The bastard, she thought. The son of a bitch. He had not even used a condom, and she had not even mentioned it. It had occurred to her, but by that time he was already in her, pounding away, and she was afraid,
