Лоуренс Блок - Catch and Release

And she proceeded to do what countless of her sisters have done, not on the gritty pavement of a parking lot but in the sweet embrace of the marriage bed. To wit, she faked an orgasm.

It must have surprised the daylights out of her partner. I don’t know what sort of fantasy life Gregory Dekker may have led, but he wouldn’t have been the first rapist to persuade himself that a potential victim actually longed for his embrace, that a woman taken initially by force might be rendered passionate by his lovemaking, and might enjoy it as much as he did. None had shown any sign of enjoying his attentions in the past, but who was to say that his luck might not change?

If he’d entertained such fancies, he must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Because here was this creature, moaning and twisting in his arms, and ultimately wrapping her legs around him and crying out Yes! and telling him, as he lay exhausted in her arms, what a great lover he was and how she’d always dreamed of a man like him and a moment like this.

Did it enter his mind that she was putting on an act? Even if he believed her, wouldn’t it be safer in the long run to bash her head in or break her neck?

He may have thought so, but she tried not to give him time for thought. She kept cooing at him, telling him how wonderful he was, talking about the extent of her excitement and satisfaction, running a loving hand over his distorted features, raising her head to kiss his misshapen mouth.

And then, as if unable to help herself, she fell upon him and behaved, well, like an impressionable White House intern.

By the time she was finished, she had effectively saved her life. Dekker believed what she wanted him to believe — that he’d excited and satisfied her and left her begging for more. And beg she did, wanting to know if she would see him again, if they could do this with some frequency. And wouldn’t it be even more wonderful in a bedroom, with the lights lowered and soft music playing, and the comfort of a mattress and clean cotton sheets?

They made a date for the following night. He was to come to her apartment at nine. He got there at eight and rang her bell at ten, confident by then that she hadn’t set up a police ambush. She met him with a drink in hand and soft music playing, telling him truthfully enough that she’d been worried he wasn’t going to come.

He made an excuse, but later, at the evening’s end, he told her how he’d staked out her building to see if any cops showed. “Just give me a minute,” he told her, “and I’ll hook your phone lines up again. I pulled them before I came in, in case you were planning to make a call.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said.

“Well, I know that now,” he said. “But I had to be sure.”

Before he left she made him a cup of cocoa. After he left she stood at the sink, rinsing the cup, and pondering the curious situation she was in. Her rapist was her lover, and she was fixing cocoa for him.

He saw her the next night, and the night after that. When he came over the following day he had a sheepish expression on his face. She wanted to ask him what was the matter, but she waited, and he got around to it on his own.

“I may not be much good to you tonight,” he said. “On account of what came up this afternoon.”

“Oh?”

He was working, he said, prowling apartments, seeing what he could pick up, and this woman walked right in on him. “Last thing I wanted,” he said, “but there she was, you know?” And he got this little-boy smirk on his face.

She let her excitement show in her face. “Tell me,” she said.

“Well, I did her,” he said.

“Tell me!”

“What, you want the gory details? You know something, Susie? You’re as bad as I am. What I did, I was behind the bedroom door, you know, waiting for her, and she walks through and bingo, I got one hand over her mouth and the other grabbing her tits. Little tits, way smaller than yours, but they were nice.”

The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and the woman never got a look at his face. “So I didn’t have to, you know, do her.”

“Kill her.”

“Like you have to do if they get a good look at you. But it was dark, and I got some tape over her eyes before they got used to the dark. So she never saw my face and she never saw my dick, so what’s she gonna tell them? What it felt like?” He laughed, and she laughed with him. “There’s guys who get a kick out of, you know, finishing ’em off. Personally, I think that’s sick. Waste of good pussy, you know?”

“But sometimes you don’t have a choice,” she said.

“That’s it exactly. Sometimes you don’t have a choice. And if I got to do it, well, it doesn’t bother me. You do what you gotta do. Anyway, who told her to come home in the middle of the goddamn afternoon? She’s supposed to be working, so what’s she doing at home?”

“She deserved it,” she said.

“Probably half-wanted it,” he said. “Like you the first time. Except this one wasn’t like you, she was crying and making a fuss. Nice, though.” He chucked her under the chin. “When I was done with her,” he said, “I thought, oh shit, I’m not gonna be much good to Susie. She finds out, she’s gonna be pissed.”

“I’m not, though. It’s exciting. Tell me what you did.”

The report included anal intercourse, and she pouted when he told her. “We never tried that,” she said.

“Well, most women don’t like it.”

“I’m not most women,” she said. “Oh, what have we here? It looks as though you’re going to be able to do something after all. My goodness!”

He left finally, after downing a cup of cocoa to soothe his stomach. His stomach had been bothering him lately, and he agreed that the cocoa would probably help.

Two nights later, she told him how it excited her to think of him raping another woman. “I only wish I could have been there,” she said.

“To watch?”

She nodded, moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. “Maybe help,” she added.

“Help?”

“I could hold her hands,” she said. “Or...”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe do stuff.”

“Like fool around with her?”

“Maybe.”

“Like how?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe, you know, touch her. Do things to her.”

“You ever been with a woman?”

“No.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it.”

“Well,” she said, “if she couldn’t do anything, you know. Like if she was tied up? And I was in control?”

“You are one crazy bitch,” he said.

“Well.”

“Man,” he said, “now you got me going. Maybe we could, you know, pick somebody out, follow her home. Or if I was working and I found somebody, like, I could call you. Or...”

She had a better idea. There was this woman she knew, a former coworker. A honey blonde, creamy skin, good breasts.

“You’re hot for her,” he said.

The woman was attractive, she allowed. And she knew how they could decoy the woman to a motel, where he could have a room booked. And they’d be waiting for her, and when she came in...

He helped her plan it out. “One thing,” he said. “This broad knows you. And she’ll know who lured her to the place, and anyway she’ll see you when we do her, she’ll see both of us. Unless you’re telling me she’s gonna like it?”

“No,” she said. “She’s not going to like it.”

“Well then,” he said. “You got to realize what’s gonna have to happen when we’re done. When the party’s over, she ain’t gonna turn into a pumpkin.”

“I know.”

“What I mean, I’ll have to do her.”

“We’ll both do her.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mean do her like have sex with her. I mean do her so she’s done. Finish her, is what I’m saying.”