She opened up the program in the DVR menu andstarted playing it. Because she had the luxury of time, she watchedthe national news snippets, as well as the weather forecast. Shefollowed the gossip report, although she did not know half of thepeople they were talking about. Elizabeth sat happily munching onher doughnut, using her belly as the plate like she used to whenshe was pregnant. Sometimes she remembered that she couldfast-forward through the commercials. Other times, she foundherself watching them, just zoning out.
Finally they got to the segment she had beenwaiting for. "Now, we talk with author J.P. Devaney. His fans knowhim from his best-selling tween series, 'The Adventure Chronicles.'His latest work is a significant departure from that and is aimedat a whole new audience." And as the perky blond news reporterturned to face her guest, the camera panned in. Elizabeth droppedher doughnut, leaving a trail of white down her front. Holy shit,it was Jack! What the hell was Jack doing there? What? No! Howcould this be?
Elizabeth sat, rapt attention on the TV screen.Her mouth hung open, her heart in her throat. She didn't even makea move to pick up her doughnut. She could not look away.
"How did this novel come about? What made youdecide to make such a leap from tween fantasy to—a whole new typeof fantasy?"
"I was looking to challenge myself, to trysomething new. I've written seventeen books in 'The AdventureChronicles,' and was getting burnt out. I wanted to try somethingthat would make me work, so that I couldn't cruise through onauto-pilot."
"How does one go about doing research for thistype of—material?"
Jack laughed. "You can say it, erotica. Iinitially didn't plan on it having so much detail but after I wasinspired, I couldn't stop writing. My agent, Sally Bellows, kind ofchallenged me, saying that women would not want to read eroticawritten by a man."
Elizabeth thought she was going to vomit,remembering the opening chapter of the book. House in themountains, ice storm. Wounded, freezing high school girlfriendshowing up on the doorstep.
"And what exactly was yourinspiration?"
"I just liked the idea of a woman who was so atthe end of her rope, so held down by everything, that she totallydeparted from the normalcy of her life."
"And the main character, Nellie—"
"She has a normal life, living the Americandream. But is it? Is it what women really want? She has theeducation, the house, the job, the husband, the kids. But somewherealong the way, she lost her self. And Ben helps her find itagain."
The perky newscaster asked, "I guess I don'treally need to ask where the title, 'Hold Her Down' camefrom?"
"It was a play on words, of course. Obviously,there was the literal, physical interpretation. But more than that,this woman was held down, bound in so many ways. It wasn't untilshe explored that type of lifestyle that she was even able to seewhat was holding her down in the rest of her life."
"Is there a Nellie in your life?"
"Well, obviously, this is a work of fiction. Ido, however, have a chocolate lab named Harold to keep me company.He's in every book I write."
Elizabeth could feel the enthusiastic doglicking her hands, and curling up with her on the worn leather sofaas she sat before the fire.
"Thank you, author J.P. Devaney. His new adultwork, the steamy 'Hold Her Down' is available now in bookstoreseverywhere."
Elizabeth turned off the TV and roboticallypicked up the doughnut off the floor. In a trance-like state shewalked into the kitchen to throw it out. She turned around andlooked about. The first thing that caught her eye was the largeblock of knives of all sizes. Shaking that thought away, she ranupstairs and grabbed her e-reader. She needed to find out exactlywhat was in this book.
She opened up the book, and moved back to thebeginning. The very beginning. She always blew right by thededication and acknowledgments. There it was, in black andwhite.
To Liza—Many years, many miles,many missed chances. Many talks, many laughs, many tears. Manythanks, much love.
Oh God. This was to her. Memories from thatweekend started rushing back. They talked and talked and talked.They, well, she cried. He made her laugh. She laughed until shecried. If she had read this the first time around, would she havefigured it out? She was such an idiot. How could she not have seenthis? She re-read the opening scene, describing the mood and themindset of Ben, and the appearance of Nellie. She was sure thatmust have been how she looked. Pale and alien, bleeding and cold.But he could not have actually gotten aroused, seeing her likethat—could he? She kept reading. He described how he helped herdown the hall and put her in the shower to warm up.
The book goes on to describe her shower, andhow Ben entered the bathroom while she was in the shower, watchingher through the clouded glass. He took her clothing to wash it, andleft his clothing for her. How turned on he was getting, knowingthat she was in his clothes without any underwear. On and on itgoes, describing what had actually happened when Elizabeth hadarrived at Jack's house. And then, there it was, the thingElizabeth had most feared people would find out:
"Well, Ben, I really owe youone."
"I’ll remember that," he said witha wink. "Do you need to call anyone?"
Nellie shook her head. She didn’twant to sound pitiful, but here it was. "There’s no one I cancall."
"No one?" he asked lookingpointedly at her left hand, which was folded across her bodycradling her right arm.
She continued shaking her head."Nope, no one."
He went into the kitchen, whileshe stared blankly at the fire. It was true. She would rather jumpinto that burning pit than call Terry. He probably wouldn’t comeanyway. Her mother had the kids, and would not be able to help her.Nellie did not have the strength to calm her mother down and gether
