his mouth went away. He ripped apart each side of her panties and tugged the remnants of fabric out from under her rump.
“This is what you wanted,” he whispered. She heard a tremor in his voice. “This is what we both want.”
“You’re home,” he said. “Safe and sound. And it isn’t even all that terribly late.”
His words seemed to come from far away.
“Look at me.”
Lane turned her head. Vaguely, she realized that Kramer was smiling.
“You had a wonderful time, didn’t you? I know I did. We’ll do it again, won’t we? Maybe Monday or Tuesday. We’ll work out where and when later. And you’ll be there. Won’t you?”
She managed to nod.
“I didn’t hear that.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I’ll be there.”
“And you’ll never tell a living soul about our little party, will you?”
“No.”
“And what happens if you do?”
“The razor.”
“That’s right.” Kramer patted the pocket of his slacks. “And who gets the razor?”
“My parents. And me.”
“Very good. You’re an excellent student. Now, go on inside your house. Your folks are probably waiting up for you, so you’d better look lively. You’d better put on a good show. If I so much as suspect that you’ve betrayed me, you know what’ll happen.”
“I know.”
“And don’t think the cops can save you. They can’t. Even if they take me in, I’ll be out. You know what bail is.”
“I know.”
“And you know what’ll happen when I get out.”
“I know.”
“Okay. Good night, now, darling.”
She concentrated on her hand, and watched it pull the door lever. The door swung away from her shoulder. She felt a cool wind.
“Sweet dreams,” Kramer said.
Then she was standing on the curb, watching Kramer’s car until it disappeared around the corner. She turned slowly until she was facing the house. Its porch light was on.
She took careful steps toward the house. She felt as if Kramer had shoved a thick branch deep inside her, a branch of embers that any quick motion would set ablaze.
They’ll know something’s wrong, she thought.
I’ll say I got my period.
At the front door she halted under the light and looked down at herself. Her skirt was crooked. She straightened it. She supposed she looked as if nothing had happened. As long as they couldn’t see under the skirt.
Kramer had kept her panties.
A souvenir of our first date, he’d said.
She tried to focus her mind.
All that matters right now, she told herself, is getting past Mom and Dad. I can’t let them suspect.
She found her keys, unlocked the door, and stepped slowly over the threshold.
The television was on.
Dad lay on the sofa, snoring.
Mom wasn’t in the room.
Silently, Lane shut the door. She crept past the sofa, out of the living room and into the hallway. “Is that you, honey?” Mom called. Her voice sounded groggy, as if she’d been asleep.
“Yeah.” Fixing a smile on her face, she stepped to the doorway of the master bedroom. Her mother was propped up in bed, an open book resting on her lap.
“How was the play?”
“Pretty good.”
“Did you go somewhere after?”
“Yeah. Mr. Kramer took us all out for pizza.”
“Oh, that was awfully nice of him.” Mom yawned, patted her mouth, and squinted at Lane. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’ve got a miserable headache. And cramps.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Hope it didn’t ruin your time.”
She shrugged. “I’ll be okay after I’ve had a shower and some aspirin.”
“What’s your father doing?”
“Snoozing on the sofa.”
“He overindulged.”
“Yeah. He was upset about Pete’s accident.”
“Whatever. I think I’ll just let him stay there.”
“Okay. Night, Mom.”
“Sleep tight.”
Lane went to her bedroom. When she came out with her robe, light no longer spilled into the hallway from her parents’ room.
In the bathroom she turned on the light and locked the door. She took off her clothes. Sitting on the toilet, she removed the tampon.
Don’t want you ruining your nice skirt, Kramer had said before pushing it into her.
He actually kept a supply on his boat.
The tube was sodden with blood and semen.
Lane knew she shouldn’t flush it down the toilet, but she couldn’t leave such evidence in the wastebasket. She had never used tampons. If Mom noticed it...
She flushed it away.
Leaning back, she looked down at herself. Her skin was red where he had punched her. Red where he’d squeezed her. Red where he’d sucked her. She thought she could smell his saliva. A sickening, sweet odor. But not as sickening as the taste in her mouth.
Groaning, she leaned forward and peered down. Her blond curls were matted flat, dry now but sticking to her skin. Under the sparse hair, her skin had a reddish hue like her breasts. She saw no blood. Or anything worse. Kramer had licked her clean.
Her vulva looked like a raw wound, the lips crimson and shiny.
Lane winced when she eased her legs together. She stood up, hobbled to the sink and started to brush her teeth. The toothpaste had a minty flavor that overcame the taste of Kramer.
She stared at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror as she brushed. Her hair looked windblown. Her eyes
