Elizabeth Finn - The Devil’s Pawn

The vagina doc, Dr. Michaels, is a middle-aged bland-looking man with a gentle personality. I’m at ease at once with him. Derek has blessedly decided to stay in Dr. Michaels’ office during my exam, thank God for small favors. Whatever ground I gained with my mouth in the limo would be dashed in a second if I had to suffer stirrup time with Mr. Pennington watching.

As we turn to leave Derek in Dr. Michaels’ office, he throws out one last comment to the doctor, while pinning me to the wall with his eyes. “Take a look at her right elbow, too, if you will. She had a bit of a temper tantrum last night.”

My eyes bulge and my cheeks flush scarlet red as Derek continues to appraise me. Apparently he was watching. As I pull my eyes from his and follow Dr. Michaels down the hallway, I concede that Mr. Pennington has indeed just taken back the reins.

Once changed in the exam room, I take my place on the table. I’m very aware I’m still incredibly sore, and this could be incredibly uncomfortable, but Dr. Michaels moves quickly. Within mere moments, my exam is done and his swabs collected. I’m given a birth control shot that will stop my monthly menstruation. It will be effective within twenty-four hours, and I’ll need only visit him every few months to be re-injected. It seems being a whore is quite the regimented, organized business.

Once Dr. Michaels is finished with me and I’m re-clothed, he walks me to his office. As we enter, Mr. Pennington looks up from the magazine he’s been reading. Dr. Michaels takes a seat at his desk while I sit in the chair next to Derek.

When the good doctor is seated, he directs his eyes to Derek and speaks. “Her elbow is fine. Bruised pretty bad, but nothing to worry about. However, I’m more concerned about the state of her vagina. Someone’s obviously worked her over.”

Derek’s eyes snap to mine in an instant, as a completely unrecognizable expression settles in on his beautiful, cold features. I think for a moment it might be pain, or guilt even, but as his jaw clenches and his darkened eyes hold mine steadily, his look becomes anything but compassionate. As his eyes return to Dr. Michaels, I wonder in curiosity why it is that the doctor didn’t simply ask me about the apparent state of my nether region. I suppose my health is now the responsibility of Mr. Pennington, and my input is no longer necessary. While Dr. Michaels holds Derek’s eyes, it becomes quite obvious. Mild mannered as Dr. Michaels may be, he knows how to hold Mr. Pennington’s feet to the fire. He’s forcing Derek to be accountable for me and for his actions, and from the look on Derek’s face, he’s well aware of this fact.

But Derek doesn’t shy away from Dr. Michaels’ question and answers bluntly and truthfully. “I took her virginity last night.”

“Well, that would explain it. Since when is Trimbles hiring virgins?”

“Good question. You’d have to ask Grayson what the hell he was thinking with this one. I sure as hell don’t know…” His eyes flit coolly to mine, caring nothing at all for the embarrassment and insult he’s hurling at me.

Dr. Michaels regards us both in curiosity as Derek holds my eyes, and I hold his in obstinate anger and fury at his comment.

Eventually, Dr. Michaels responds, “She’ll be fine but give her a night to recover. Her shot’s done, and she’s ready to go. I’ll call you with the results of the swab and the blood test, but given the fact she was a virgin until last night, I hardly expect to find anything.”

Mr. Pennington stands to leave, and I follow. He doesn’t say a word to me as we exit the building, and it isn’t until we’re back in the limousine and he’s raised the privacy glass that he speaks to me. He’s upset, and it terrifies me. “Why didn’t you tell me I hurt you?” My mouth falls open as I search for the right response. Did he hurt me? I’m sure he didn’t. I’m sore. I’m not hurt.

“Derek … er … Mr. Pennington, you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” My cheeks are flushing as I speak, and given the look in his eyes, he doesn’t believe a word of what I’m saying.

“What if your appointment with Dr. Michaels hadn’t been until later this week? Huh? I’d have fucked you tonight without a second thought, and would you have stopped me?”

“I didn’t think I could stop you.”

“You have no business being here if you don’t understand your rights. You can quit at any time, and you can refuse me at any time as well. If you don’t have a good reason, you’ll likely lose your job, but it is your choice. You have to tell me if you are hurt. I will never set an expectation that you accept a man, myself included, if you’re hurt, but if you don’t make me aware, you can’t expect me to make the right decisions. You tie my hands if you’re dishonest or hide something from me.” He’s speaking forcefully, and the anger radiating from him is like tendrils of a fiery whip lashing out at me. I’ve upset him, and I don’t like it.

He breaks from my eyes and looks out the window, once again ignoring me. He has ended this conversation, and with each passing block, it is clear he has no further interest in speaking to me. When we pull up to Trimbles, the driver opens the door and I step out, but Derek doesn’t follow me. I’m left standing alone on the curb. The doorman collects my dresses from the trunk, and I’m escorted with my packages up to my room.

Once in my room, I strip out of Liz’s dress and soak for a long time in the bath. The pain I felt this morning is already dulling and diminishing with every passing hour, and the water feels good on my body. As I exit the bath, I hear a knock on my door, and when I pull it open, I’m happy to see Liz standing there. She bounces into the room and starts riffling through my new dresses, looking over each appraisingly. I take in her appearance, and I suddenly feel very out of place once again. I’m standing by in my old tattered jean shorts and T-shirt. At least my shirt is fitted and not one of the oversized holey ones buried in the dresser. Liz, on the other hand, is in another form-fitted dress with heels. Again her hair is impeccable, her makeup flawless. She is such a girly girl and pulls it off so incredibly.

As she continues to riffle, she comments, “Not very … garish, are they?” She cocks her head to the side, studying my favorite gray dress. “Very … pretty.”

And she’s right; it’s “pretty,” and quite frankly, I feel pretty when I see it. None of these dresses look anything like the short mini dress I was in all day today. They are exactly as Derek requested of Jacob, demure.

Liz continues appraising the dresses one at a time, seeing the pattern emerge. Once she’s through them all, she looks at me curiously before speaking. “He doesn’t want you to look like a prostitute at all, does he? Hmmm. I wonder if that’s for his benefit or yours,” she says with a sly smile creeping across her face.

With that last statement, she stands, winks at me, and leaves my room. I like Liz, and she is definitely my first friend in this place.

I wake after the sun has gone down and the night sky outside my window is brilliant with the lights of the city. After hanging each and every one of my dresses up earlier in the afternoon, I’d collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep instantly. I wake slowly and relaxed, and my phone rings. It’s Mr. Pennington. He tells me to come to his room and hangs up the phone before I have a chance to respond. I rush to the restroom, taking in my curls with a grimace. They are their ever-unruly selves, and I give up trying to tame them, not wanting to keep Mr. Pennington waiting.