And I do. Tonight I proved to myself and to Jonah that I truly am strong enough to stand alone.
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“It’s all right. ” The rasp in my voice makes it sound like I’ve been awake for days. “He didn’t hurt me. ”
“Your eye. ” Jonah lifts one hand, as if to touch the side of my face, where the swelling is already tender. But he stops himself long before we make contact, unwilling to force even the gentlest touch.
My puffy lip twinges as I give him a crooked smile. “Hey, you should see the other guy. ”
“Vivienne—”
I can hear every word he’s going to say: the apologies for not knowing what Mack really was, the praise for my courage, and none of it matters. The only thing that matters is that he’s here.
So I slide off the examination table and into his lap, his arms around me and his face next to mine. Jonah kisses my forehead and my cheeks, swiftly and fiercely, yet careful even now not to cause any further pain. When I rest my head on his shoulder, I exhale, and the swirling dark tumult inside me falls still. The pent-up tension of the last hours—the days without Jonah, the months of the Stalker’s attacks—finally it all melts away. Only now does the Stalker’s attack truly end.
“I left you when you needed me,” he says.
“No. You came back when I needed you. ” This is the only truth I care about any longer.
When they show up with bandages for my knee, I’m still in Jonah’s embrace. I never want to leave.
• • •
This isn’t the day of the week when Doreen and I usually meet, but she makes exceptions for emergencies. This more than qualifies.
“You could be a media darling, you know. ” Doreen is teasing me; she knows there’s nothing I’d hate more. “The woman who took down the Stalker. The avenger. That could get you the cover of People magazine, if Jennifer Aniston doesn’t finally get married this week. ”
I make a face. “My life is weird enough already, thanks. ”
Although some reporters camped out in front of my place last night—according to Carmen, who did a drive-by—they’ve focused anew on Mack this morning. On TV and radio are the usual clips of old fraternity brothers and neighbors saying they never suspected a thing. Even some national news outlets have picked up the story, but without any information about the woman who finally fought him off, they don’t have much to go on. Later today, a political scandal or celebrity divorce will knock this off the national radar. Austin will talk about it longer, but in college towns, it only takes a semester or two for memories to fade.
From the town. Not from the first three women Mack targeted. They’ll endure the scars forever. But maybe today they at least feel a little safer.
The only good thing about the media flurry is that it definitely confirms Jonah’s innocence. This morning the department head e-mailed about a meeting, which will no doubt involve the end of Jonah’s informal exile from his university offices and hopefully an apology too. Jonah says he doesn’t want apologies; he wants to get back to work on the latest data from Japan. Deep within that hot exterior, there’s a science nerd trying to get out. I’m just glad he’s been vindicated at last.
“How are you feeling?” Doreen says. “Usually I don’t have to ask that question, but you’ve been dodging it today. Any idea why?”
“Because—I’m not sure how I’m feeling. ” I struggle for the right words. “Last night, I stayed over at Jonah’s. And I was so happy. Completely at peace. Like the rest didn’t matter as long as we were together. ”
“Is that the only reason you found peace?”
“No. ” Which I didn’t fully realize until she asked me. “I faced my worst nightmare and I won. That was . . . incredible. ”
“Why did you win, do you think?” Doreen asks.
“Because attackers expect you to try to get away. They don’t expect you to turn on them. ” But that’s only a partial answer, isn’t it?
Doreen studies my face, no doubt sensing my inner confusion, but waits it out. Her silence often clarifies things for me faster than anything else.
“Partly it’s just luck,” I finally say. “I was older and stronger than I was the first time someone attacked me. Mack didn’t have a gun. I wasn’t sick, or injured. He came after me at home, where I knew my surroundings. Neighbors were around. What happened to me when I was fourteen prepared me for the reality of what he was trying to do. All of that. It helps. ”
As much as I’d like to believe I’m some sort of superheroine, I need to remember that chance plays a role. Rape is all about stealing our power to control our own bodies and fates. Strong women are raped every single day. Men too, as little as we admit it. My escape doesn’t prove I am better, smarter, or more virtuous than the ones who didn’t get away. It’s not a merit badge from God.
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“Okay, it’s good to acknowledge that,” Doreen agrees. “But I want you to give yourself your due. You drew from a kind of strength you worked hard to build for years. Mack tried to take away your control. You took it back. ”
That’s when it hits me. I don’t know if this is what Doreen was leading toward—whether she herself even realizes it—but finally, I do.
My rape fantasies helped me.
The fantasy is the exact opposite of rape. When Anthony pushed me down on that couch, he controlled everything; I controlled nothing, not even my own body. But when I’m fantasizing inside my own mind, I have absolute control. By taking the scenario that frightened and hurt me the most, and owning it, I was reasserting my own power.
And with Jonah—even at his most brutal moments, he has always, always respected my boundaries. He has frightened me, dominated me, made me ache and weep. But I’ve always known beyond the tiniest sliver of doubt that all I had to do to stop one of our games was say the word silver. I control him as much as he controls me. With his help, and his love, I mastered my nightmares.
All these years, I’ve beaten myself up for my rape fantasies. Told myself I was sick or strange. I’ve carried around this tremendous weight of shame. No longer. Never again.
I lift my chin as I say to Doreen, “It wasn’t about taking back my power. It was about realizing I’d had the power all along. ”
Thirty-one
A few days later, Jonah and I return to our favorite hotel lobby bar for a new round of negotiations.
The outfit is more casual this time: black maxi skirt, heather-gray tank, cropped denim jacket. No jewelry except the sapphire earrings Jonah gave me for Christmas—paired with this outfit, they’ll be written off as costume jewelry by anyone who notices. They could be, for all it matters; Jonah gave them to me, so they’d be precious to me whether they were rhinestones or the crown jewels. My hair hangs loose, which disguises the remaining bruises near my eyes.
(When I left the department office today for my “hot date,” Kip wordlessly gave me a concealer stick to cover the remaining shadows. When I tried to return it, he told me he wouldn’t be needing it any longer. )
Jonah’s as comfortably dressed as I am—jeans, long-sleeved black tee—but his expression is wary. He’s more uncertain about our next moves, but that’s okay. I’m sure enough for both of us.
After the bartender has vanished, leaving behind two glasses of pinot noir, it’s time to begin. “Okay,” I say. “The first thing I want to say is—I don’t want to give up our games. But it’s not only up to me. ”
“You said the role-playing helped you,” he admits. We already discussed the revelation I had in my last session with Doreen, so he’s had some time to process this. But Jonah remains wary. “Maybe there are ways it helped me too. I think we need new limits, but . . . I’m willing to consider the possibilities. ”
“Thank you. ” I squeeze his hand. “There’s one main thing I want to change, Jonah. I don’t want the games to be the only kind of sex we share. It seems like that’s healthier for you, and besides, I don’t want that to be the
one way I can find pleasure. ”
“I want that for you too. How do we get there?” His expression is rueful. “It didn’t work so well the last time we tried. ”
“No, it didn’t. But the way we handled it put a lot of pressure on me to respond or else. I should’ve been clearer with you from the beginning. Let’s just—hang out for a while, okay? Play around in bed. Make me feel good, and don’t worry if it doesn’t get me off. ”
Jonah sighs. “That’s the exact opposite of how good sex is supposed to work. ”
“Not for us. Not for now. ” I lean closer and playfully whisper, “You know it still feels really good even if I don’t come, right?”
“Right. I just wish—” But he stops himself. Jonah is accepting that we can’t beat ourselves up about our progress, or the lack of it. We have to take each other as we are. “I won’t worry. I promise. ”
“Good. Because what I need is time to explore. To find out what else might work for me. When I know that, we can go back to the games—but for now, I want to take a little time for discovery. What do you want?”
“The rougher scenarios—like the cabin, or what happened at Redgrave House—I can’t go there again, Vivienne. I just can’t. ”
“Okay. ” I’ll miss those, but I’ve still got my memories and my imagination.
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He continues, “But some of the games, I think I could still handle. The stuff that’s less violent, more—coercive. Where the roles are more clearly fictional. ”
I think I understand what he’s talking about; we’ll definitely be able to figure it out when the time comes. “If that works for you, it works for me. ”
“And it’s not like we can’t try a few new tricks along the way. ” He brushes his fingers through my hair. The flickering light from the nearby fireplace burnishes his skin, darkens his gray eyes. “I was thinking—I only used a vibrator on you once. You liked that. ”
“A lot. ” The memory brings a blush to my cheeks, even with Jonah. That was the first time I ever experienced anal sex, and with the vibrator I wound up coming repeatedly, hard, so much so that it was one of the greatest sexual experiences of my life. “Yeah, we could try that again. ”
“Maybe some other toys too. You don’t have anything except that ludicrous pink thing Geordie gave you. High time we changed that. ”
He refers to Geordie’s past role in my life without any sign of jealousy. While I think he’s still getting used to our closeness as friends, Jonah understands that relationship better now.
“Other toys?” I’m not an idiot—I know what’s out there—but I want to hear exactly what appeals to Jonah’s imagination. “Like what?”
Jonah’s fierce smile sends the usual thrill through me. “Let me surprise you. ”
“Hmm. I like surprises. ”
“I know you do,” he murmurs, drawing me close again. The soft R&B music playing in the bar flows around us, and I sigh in anticipation.
But there’s no rush. We have to get used to taking our time.
“There are other games we could try too,” I suggest. “Other kinds of domination, or other power fantasies?”
“What, like a French maid thing?” Jonah raises an eyebrow.
I laugh. “If you think that’s hot, sure. ”
I expect to hear him scoff, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s unwilling to rule anything out at this stage. Or who knows? Maybe he actually likes the idea of me in a French maid outfit. Interesting. “I find you hot in pretty much anything. Or out of it. ”
“Then feel free to come up with some possibilities. ” Does he have a lingerie fetish, or could I inspire one? Would being wrapped in all that silk and lace do something for me? Or maybe a corset . . . “While I’m still learning to get there—I kind of don’t care what we try, you know? As long as it works, and it’s good for both of us. ”
“Okay,” he says. “I can see that. Let me think of a few suggestions. ”
I can’t wait to hear this, but I also want to give him plenty of time to consider the options. Jonah’s been so endlessly inventive with our games so far; who knows what he might come up with when we expand the playing field?
That line of thought has me so titillated that I decide we’d better talk about something less sexy, before I start drooling on the man in public. “Um—you know, Jonah, I wanted to ask—I’ve been feeling so guilty—were you able to get a refund on that apartment?”
He laughs. “No. So I turned it into a ‘scholarship,’ gifted it to a student and her husband who were having serious financial troubles. Anjali and Arun are moving in next weekend. ”
“Next best thing, I guess. ” Better, really. Jonah and I maintain the independence I still need, while two people in genuine need get to enjoy a great place to live and some peace of mind. “And did you ever get around to calling Carter and letting him know he has absolutely nothing to hold over you any longer?”
“Didn’t bother. Talking to Carter always ruins my day. I let Maddox share the news—he’ll enjoy it more, anyway. By the way, Maddox wants us to come back to Chicago around spring break. Says this time he’ll throw us a real party. ”
“Spring break? Will it be above freezing yet in Chicago?”
Jonah grimaces. “Maybe?”
“You know, I think summertime would be perfect for a trip to Chicago. ” I trace the line of Jonah’s shoulder, the slant of his throat. “For spring break, how about—the mountains? Tennessee, or maybe Colorado. Someplace where we can nest in a little cabin and look at the beautiful scenery and make love in the woods. ”
“Remind me to let you plan all my future vacations. ”
“Got it. ”
We grin at each other, relieved and happy almost to the point of silliness. But the intensity swiftly returns to Jonah’s gaze. “Speaking of making love—”
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My breath catches. “Yeah?”
“Let’s go back to my apartment,” he whispers. “Take a little time for discovery. No games. Just fun. ”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel some uncertainty. If I didn’t hope for some magical sexual recovery that grants me multiple orgasms on demand. But mostly I feel hopeful, and happy, and sure that Jonah and I are finally on the right path. With a smile, I say, “Let’s get out of here. ”
• • •
Jonah and I work together to get my clothes off. Muscles are still sore; bruises still linger. He’s gentle as he removes my jacket, and lifts up my legs, one by one, to slip off my shoes. I have to take it slow as I peel off my tank top, because otherwise my arm will twinge terribly, but the good side of it is that I get to show off for Jonah. To know that he’s watching the swell of my newly exposed breasts, barely contained by the creamy white lace bra. As soon as I tug it free of my arms and toss it aside on his bed, Jonah grabs me at the waist and bends to plant a kiss in the hollow between my breasts. I respond by lying back and arching my hips, silently urging him to slide my skirt down my hips—which he does.
He kisses me again on the soft flesh just below my navel, then steps back to start stripping in turn—though much more urgently. Yet his voice remains laconic as he says, “I’d like to shower. Want to join me?”
“Absolutely. ”
As much as I love my little house, I do not love the tacky plastic bath-and-shower stall inside its tiny bathroom. Jonah’s shower, meanwhile, is the latest in luxury—marble tiles, a walk-in two-head shower, and a simply carved teak mat just above the drain. The other times I’ve stayed over here, I’ve indulged with soaks in his equally enviable stone bathtub. So I’m overdue for a turn in this shower . . .
I take a moment to admire the sculpted lines of Jonah’s naked body as he steps in and think, So, so overdue.
He turns the knobs until gentle twin streams of steaming water begin to spray, then holds his hand out to me in invitation. I step into the mist and into his embrace.
Our lips meet as Jonah pulls me near. Rivulets of w
ater flow between my breasts while I snuggle closer to his chest. His broad hand strokes my belly, then cups my ass to bring me even closer. I feel his semi-erect cock stir against my upper thigh, and I laugh into his kiss.
“You said you were going to be patient. ” I grab his ass too, squeezing to relish the firmness of his muscles. “You don’t feel patient. ”
“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. ” He keeps pressing kisses against my forehead and throat.
“Weakness is not your problem,” I insist, taking his cock in one hand.
Jonah whispers, “Fuck. ” Although he half turns, as if to stop me, he doesn’t go far enough. Not that I’d let him get away if he did.
Just because I might not have an orgasm for a while doesn’t mean Jonah has to be deprived too.
Slowly I start working him with my hand, using the flowing water to slick every touch. My thumb runs around the sensitive head, teases the slit; I chuckle softly as I’m rewarded with the first drops of pre-come. Jonah groans as I start with my other hand too. That lets me cover almost the length of his shaft, to feel just how thick he is, to relish every ridge and vein.
“Wait,” he says hoarsely, and then his fingers find me too.
My first impulse is to tense up. I don’t know if I can come like this, I don’t think I even want to try yet! But then I breathe out and force myself to relax. Jonah’s thumb begins making circles around my clit, a touch so deliciously tantalizing that I can enjoy it even if it leads nowhere.
Jonah, however—I’m leading him straight to the brink.
We kiss again, open mouthed and sloppy, as we each quicken our movements. Little sparks of pleasure ignite inside me as Jonah works—never enough to start a fire, but more than enough to provide a warm glow. His other hand strokes my back, palms one of my breasts, and then cups the back of my head to hold me in place as he kisses me deeper. I go on tiptoe, inviting him to slide even lower with those long fingers of his. They’d feel so good inside me.