Ripples

  “Go ahead,” he prompted, “take a sip.”

  As she lifted the glass to her lips, she remembered his cocktail from the plane. She looked at Dexter’s glass of water. She couldn’t remember if she’d seen him drink any. Her hand stalled. “Did you...is this...?”

  “Does it contain the drugs I gave you before?”

  Her parched lips came together as she silently agreed.

  “Will you believe me?”

  It was a good question. She shouldn't. “I don't know. I suppose I have no choice.”

  “Yet you'd ask. You hesitated. Why?”

  She did as he said, answering honestly and not overthinking her response. “Because I didn't like it. I didn't like the way it made me feel.”

  Dexter nodded. “That water isn't drugged. Go ahead and take a drink.”

  Obeying, she was rewarded with a clear, clean, and refreshing drink. Unlike what the rancid water from the pipes would have done, each swallow from the glass lubricated her tongue and throat in a way the tea hadn't. How long had it been since she'd had water? She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, and then there were the hours spent on the floor.

  Natalie didn't want to stop drinking. Dexter had said one drink. Perhaps if she never stopped swallowing, it would still be one. Her mind told her to put the glass down, but she couldn't. It tasted too good. Now that her body had food, this was the other element to life.

  The realization hit her: no matter how strange her life had become, she wanted life. She wanted to live.

  Finally, she put the empty glass down, scared to look across the table at what she might see. Instead of anger, Dexter's laugh echoed throughout the small room, reverberating over the stark walls. “My bug was thirsty. Now then, I allowed you your reward before you did your part. It's time. Tell me what you're thinking.”

  “What I'm thinking?”

  He moved his head back and forth. “If I wanted a parrot, I would have taken one. I took you, a thinking and breathing sexy, smart woman. I took you, bug. You're now mine. Tell me how you feel. How...” He gestured about the white room. “...this makes you feel and your thoughts from the time you woke until now.”

  It was a tall order. Exposing her breasts was easier than her thoughts.

  Don't overthink. That was what he'd told her.

  “I was scared. I still am.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was hungry. That's better.” She looked around the room, suddenly realizing it resembled the images she'd conjured in her mind about foreign mental institutions. She wasn't the one who was crazy. No. That person was sitting across the table from her, his arms folded over his wide chest, assessing her and her exposed breasts. “I'm embarrassed and quite honestly, humiliated.”

  “Why?”

  She fidgeted with the blanket on her lap. “I'm sitting here without a top, without clothes, with only a blanket. It should be rather obvious.”

  “You're mine. I'm keeping you. That means every part of you, bug. There's nothing that should embarrass you. Baring yourself to me shouldn't be embarrassing.”

  “But it is,” she answered too quickly. “I don't know you, and regardless of what you say, I don't belong to you. I'm not your bug.” Nat shook her head. “I really hate that, too. It's patronizing.”

  His blue-green eyes lightened with amusement. “Well, that won't stop. I like it. And as I told you, you'll earn your name back.”

  Earn. Why was everything earned?

  “Now tell me,” he went on, “what proof you need to understand that you do belong to me, that you are mine. Would a bill of sale make it better? A contract? I can have one drawn up that we’ll both sign, but essentially a marriage license is the same thing. The one we have now isn't real. But one day…”

  When she didn't respond, he continued, “How about my intimate knowledge of your sexy body? Will that prove that you're mine? For example, the way your pussy clenches even when you're unconscious?”

  Natalie gasped, squeezing her legs together. “Did you...?”

  “Did I...what? Fuck you?”

  She didn't respond as tears filled her eyes. If only she could cover all of herself with the blanket, her face, her head, and of course, her breasts.

  “No,” Dexter answered, “I didn't. I want the first time that I'm inside you to be something we both remember. As much as I wanted to...” He uncrossed his arms as his biceps bulged, and he leaned forward. “...and I still want to—I didn't.”

  A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Thank you.”

  More gratitude for things that should never be gifts: a blanket, food, and her purity. And then she remembered his words. “But you said you know how...how I clench?’

  “One taste. I'm a man, and you're a beautiful woman who was bared to me. One day you'll want me to taste you, to bury my face in your cunt until you scream my name. It was only one taste.”

  Her head fell forward as more tears flowed.

  “Bug?”

  Her head snapped up. “Violated!”

  Dexter's gaze darkened. “I didn't violate you.”

  “You asked me how I feel. There, that's it. Violated.”

  “You were not. I could have. You were right there.” His large hand slapped the table. Plates and glasses jumped as silverware clanked and water sloshed. His expression hardened. “I could do it right now. Who's going to stop me? Not you. Not anyone.

  “You need to get that through your head. You're now mine to do with as I want. Even knowing that you're mine—at my disposal at any time—I respected you enough to go no further than to remove your clothes, taste your lips, kiss your soft skin, and yes, take one small taste of your warm pussy.

  “Do you know what you did?”

  She shook her head. She didn't want to know. The meal she'd eaten along with the tea and water were churning faster by the second. “No.”

  “You instantly became wet. Did I want to be inside you with my fingers, tongue, or cock? Yes, but I didn't. I'm not sure what other assholes you've been with, but when I do those things, it'll be with your consent and for your pleasure.”

  Her neck straightened. “None.” She wasn't sure why she'd told him—why it slipped out—but she had, and she couldn't take it back.

  “None,” Dexter repeated her word slowly as the realization hit him. “None, no one?”

  She shook her head.

  “You've never been with a man?” He stood, the astonishment overtaking his whole demeanor. “Answer me, damn it.”

  "No! No assholes in my past, no good guys either." You're the only asshole.

  Dexter ran his hand over his face and paced a small circle. "Fuck. Fuck." He turned her way. “No, you're lying. You're twenty years old. High school...college?”

  “So because I never slept with a man, there's something wrong? Fine, there is. And I want to keep it that way.” Tired of this discussion, she pulled the blanket back over her shoulders and tucked it around her chin, covering her breasts. “I'm not lying. I'm also done with the sandwich. Leave the water, if I've given you what you wanted or if you've taken it. If you're not satisfied, don't leave it. Let me dehydrate or starve. I don’t care. Whatever. I'm done.”

  He yanked her to her feet, holding her shoulders at arm's length. “You're not in a position to dismiss me—ever. We're done when I say we're done.” His eyes were now the deepest ocean depth. “Do not fucking lie. Are you a virgin?”

  She lifted her chin. “I was when I woke yesterday.”

  “One fucking taste, a kiss to your sweet, wet lips. I didn't...how the fuck would I know?”

  Indignation rang as her volume increased. “I don't know, you could have asked or let me tell you. There are more possibilities than drugging and kidnapping me!”

  She didn't see his hand until it was too late. The slap echoed throughout the room. Her cheek stung as tears filled her eyes.

  Dexter took a step back. “Don't make me do that again.”

  Make him? What could she possibly say? He'd just hit
her, actually slapped her.

  Dexter's tone hardened. “Respect. I gave it to you by not fucking you when I could—which includes right now, too. You give it to me. That was your last outburst. The next one will be met with a harsher reply.”

  Harsher than a slap?

  She straightened her shoulders, ignoring the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Yes. I'm a virgin. And if you want the money my father will pay to get me back, you'll return me to him that way.”

  Dexter took another step back, increasing the distance between them and rubbing his hand over the dark blond stubble on his chin. “You have this all wrong. I'm not holding you for ransom. Not everyone is after your daddy's money. I have plenty of my own.

  “You're here for one reason: because you're mine. We're meant to be together. I'm not returning you.” He turned a small circle. The muscles in his neck tensed as his jaw clenched. “Now, bug, we're done. Drop the blanket.”

  Her eyes widened.

  He tipped his head toward the floor, the spot where she'd knelt. “Stand in position—unless you'd rather kneel.” His blue-green eyes shone her way, daring her to disobey.

  With her heart beating faster, she dropped the blanket and made her way to where he'd pointed. Biting her lip, she did as he'd said: feet shoulder-distance apart, shoulders back, arms at her side, palms out, and lastly, chin up. The cold chill returned, tracking up her body with a prickling awareness from the soles of her feet upon the hard floor all the way to her tingling scalp.

  As if she were no longer there, Dexter busied himself, putting the food back on the cart as well as the table and chairs. Once the room was clear, he turned. His gaze moved up her body, lingering momentarily on her pussy and then her breasts. When their eyes met, he said, “A virgin.” He shook his head. “I guess I do know how to pick them.”

  Natalie momentarily closed her eyes.

  “I'll leave the blanket and the rest of the water. Don't move until the door is shut. When I return be exactly as you are now. For the rest of the day, my two rules are simple. First, no touching or pleasuring yourself. Don't think that you can in the bathroom. There's a camera in there too. And do not bathe. We'll discuss that on my next visit.”

  He walked closer until the musk of his cologne filled her senses and the warmth radiating from his chest rippled over her bare skin. “Tell me, have you? Touched yourself? Made yourself come?”

  Heat sparked in her cheeks. Not only there, a flicker of flame heated her core with an embarrassing rush of warmth.

  “Please, Dexter.”

  His grin grew. “Oh, you have. I can tell. It's permissible to think about it. When you do, think about how much better it will be with a man, one who knows how to please you.” His knuckle caressed her jaw. “That's it, bug, imagine. Just do not touch.” He stepped back as his cocky grin widened. “Can you behave?”

  “Yes.”

  “For the record, I said you should never feel embarrassed, and I meant it. I'm glad to know you've touched yourself. I can tell the idea turns you on. Your cheeks are pink, and I smell your arousal.” He laughed. “Even caressing your own tits made you hot. Remember that now, even touching your own perky breasts is against the rules. I’m the only one who can bring you that kind of pleasure.”

  He tweaked her nipple. “Oh, the possibilities.” He pinched it harder.

  “Ouch,” Nat said, not moving from her position.

  “What I didn't say is that I wouldn't humiliate you. I will. Because I also enjoy that. I'll also exalt you. You can plan on me doing both. Just remember, it'll only be me who’ll debase you, only I’ll see you broken, because only I can put you back together.

  “You're my bug, but more importantly, you're also my queen. No one else will ever see or know what we do alone.”

  Her breathing deepened at his final statement. Though his speech left her future open to more possibilities than she could conjure, his words weren’t said as a threat, but as a promise.

  And then he was gone. Natalie's shoulders relaxed as the door shut. She rushed to the blanket lying on the floor and wrapped it around her.

  She replayed the entire encounter.

  She wasn’t insane or having a break with reality. Dexter was.

  The man was certifiably nuts. What did he mean that she was his? What did he mean about her not being ransomed? If she weren’t, how would she get back to her life? And how dare he tell her not to touch herself? She hadn't planned on it. But now, the seed was planted...

  Chapter 14

  We must accept finite disappointment,

  but never lose infinite hope. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

  The Rawlings family listened to Phil through the telephone’s speaker. His explanations and revelations regarding Natalie’s strange text message and subsequent messages did little to relieve their anxiety.

  “She didn’t disappear into thin air!” Tony’s deep voice resonated as his statement was punctuated by the pounding of his fist on the antique desk. Normal reasoning had been lost days ago. A wizard in all things business, Anthony Rawlings could be ruthless. His family, however, was another matter. They were his salvation, his joy, his world. The deep lines emanating from the sides of his dark eyes as well as dark circles below were but outward evidence of the sleepless nights since their family holiday was derailed.

  Claire’s face fell forward at the sound of her husband’s frustration. Each piece of unrest added to the stress. Her emerald green eyes were bloodshot from crying too many tears, yet they hadn’t seemed to dry out. As the family looked closer at the computer screen, more moisture teetered upon her swollen lids. Taking a deep breath, she too focused on the image.

  “These are the photos from the Munich airport in customs,” Phil said through the speaker. He and Taylor had flown immediately to Germany to track down the missing Rawlings princess. “With the holiday, it’s been difficult to get cooperation. Finally, I involved the US Department of State. Even with them, half the workforce is unavailable, on holiday themselves. The problem is that Natalie is an adult. We have no proof of foul play. According to her messages, she’s simply missing the planned stay in Nice.”

  As Phil spoke, repeating the excuse they’d heard from every public agency they’d contacted, Claire stared at an ever-changing slide show of grainy black and white pictures. According to German customs, this was the footage that showed Natalie’s entrance into Munich. In each shot, her head was down.

  The hairs on Claire’s neck stood to attention. This was the first time they’d seen the pictures.

  “As you can see, that’s the backpack she always carries when she travels,” Phil said.

  Claire shook her head. “Something isn’t right.”

  “...no issues with the border patrol...” Phil continued to speak.

  Claire knew her daughter and even with the poor quality of the photos, she was certain that wasn’t her daughter.

  “That’s not her,” Claire said, speaking louder.

  Everyone in the room turned her direction. There were only two eyes she saw. The room grew quiet until Phil spoke again.

  “It’s difficult to see with the quality of image, but these are from the German border patrol, with the help of the US embassy. They were able to trace her back from her passport.”

  Claire shook her head as Nichol wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Mom, we can’t really see her.”

  “Tony, that isn’t her.”

  He looked from his wife to the screen. “Stop the slide show,” he said. “Go back.”

  Slowly the pictures showed in reverse order.

  “Stop.”

  It was a rare look at the young woman’s face.

  “Goddamn it!” Tony said as he turned back to Claire. “You’re right.”

  Slowly all four sets of eyes took a step closer.

  The image on the screen enlarged. Again, it was Phil speaking. “I think you’re right. I’m sorry. I was going with the information…”

  “What does this m
ean?” Nate asked. “Does that mean someone else had her passport? Did she ever get on the plane? If that’s not her, where is she?” His concern was evident in the way his deep voice pitched higher with each question.

  “Do you have any images of the plane disembarking?” Tony asked.

  “Yes,” Claire said, a small kernel of hope coming to life. “Let me see everyone getting off that plane. I don’t care if she’s been disguised. I’ll know her.”

  “Phil?” Nichol asked, “what about the text messages?”

  “They’re now coming from a new phone. Nat’s phone was found at the airport. I wish that were a good thing.”

  “Why isn’t it?” Claire asked.

  “It was left on. Natalie would know we’d find it.”

  “So it was done on purpose. Couldn’t she have done it?” Nichol asked. “I mean, maybe she wanted you to find it, to know she was avoiding you.”

  “Phil,” Claire spoke without acknowledging their older daughter. “In the text messages I’ve asked her personal questions, as you suggested, and she’s answered them.” She reached out to her husband’s extended hand. “It has to be her. She has to be…” Claire couldn’t get herself to say the word alive. She refused to believe there was any other possibility.

  “Even though the location is turned off, Taylor and I have been able to triangulate the origins of the texts to a wide geographical area. If she would call and speak for any length of time, we’d have a better chance of pinpointing her location.”

  “I’ve tried to call back,” Claire said.

  “We all have,” Tony said.

  “The phone is turned off, immediately going to no voicemail. I know,” Phil said a mask of professionalism hiding the combination of grief shrouded with annoyance. It wasn’t like him to run up against brick walls. Claire knew he was as upset at himself as he was at Natalie.

  “Phil, don’t give up, please,” Claire said.

  “Roach, we know you’ve got this. I don’t give a damn that we don’t have proof that she didn’t do this willingly, but I think there’s more. I think...” He hesitated as he looked toward his wife. “...we need to at least consider that she was taken.”