Sarah Kate - Pretty When She Cries

“It’s looking pretty good,” he said. “I was worried there for a bit. We’ll put some more cream on it and keep the bandage on it.”

He sat with her on the bed. He fondled her breasts a little through her dress, seeming bored. “Don’t you have to work?” she asked, hoping he would leave.

“I’m on a disability pension,” he said.

She wanted to ask him what his disability was, but she left it alone. It was probably a mental disability. Something was broken in his brain.

“Do you ever get out and have fun?” she asked. She tried to keep him talking in case he decided to fuck her out of sheer boredom. She didn’t risk asking him about his family, his daughter. She didn’t know what reaction it would bring about.

“Me and the boys play poker some nights,” he said. “Sometimes go fishing. I should take you. Have you been fishing before?”

“Once, with my dad.”

“Are you a daddy’s girl?”

“Not really, no.”

“What’s your daddy doing letting you fly all the way over to another country by yourself? Doesn’t he give a shit about you?”

“They’ve always trusted me, my parents. They’ve always respected my independence.”

“And look where it got you. You’re just a baby. Your daddy should never have let you out of his sight. But then I wouldn’t have got you, eh? It’s the natural way of things I suppose. I should ring your daddy and thank him for giving me such a sweet, prissy little bitch.” He gave her an insulting tap on the cheek.

“You’re starting to like it here,” he said. “You’re starting to realise how good fucking is. I don’t think you’d go back to your parents if I told you to. I think you’d cling to me crying, begging me to take you back with me and screw you softly.”

“If I promised to come back, would you let me go see my parents, just for a visit?” she asked.

He struck her across the mouth, and her hair was scattered over her face.

“Do you think I’m fucking brain dead!” he said. “Don’t play games with me.”

She held her hand over the spot where he had hit her, shocked by his violence. He pushed her hair away from her face, and leaned in close. “You’re not going anywhere. Why are you bitches always trying to run off?”

“You just said—”

“I know what I said!”

“I would come back,” she said, she knew she was pushing her luck, but she couldn’t let him think he was right. The blood came up into his neck and face, he sat motionless, dangerous. “I don’t have to, I was just asking,” she said.

“Brush your hair, or put some make up on or some shit. You look ugly,” he said. He puffed his pillow and lay on it. “I have to sleep. I’m getting one of those headaches.”

She sat for a while, watching him sleep, hating him, then she grew weary and lay down.

He slept for a couple of hours. She was afraid to move and wake him. When he had one of his headaches coming on, she had to be dead silent. He opened his eyes, and stared right at her with a blank look. It was as if there was nothing there behind those eyes. He reached out and pressed her nose, then her lips.

“What time is it?” he asked. He sniffed, like he had a cold, and sat up. He stayed hunched on the edge of the bed.

She glanced over her shoulder to the bedside table. “Just past three,” she said.

“What are we going to do for dinner?” he said. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Yes,” she said. “I used to cook all the time.”

“You can’t cook in that shitty kitchen. I don’t think I’ve got anything anyway. I might have to drive into town.”

He put his boots on, then looked at her. “I like that you cook. You’ll have to make me something one time.”

Later that afternoon he came in with some water for her and some crackers with butter.

“I forgot to go into town,” he said, and she knew this was dinner. He unchained her, which she thought was odd, but didn’t say anything.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned in close. The crackers were salty. She bit off another small piece and tried to ignore him. He put his hand gently in her hair and kissed her cheek as he would her mouth, then worked his way to her lips, then down to her neck, he sucked on her earlobe. She kept chewing, and stared off to the side, passively allowing him the pleasure of her face and throat.

As he got hotter and hotter he kissed her mouth so she couldn’t take another bite, and took the cracker out of her hand. He slipped the thin straps over her shoulders and kissed her bare shoulders. He grabbed her legs and dragged her down on the bed to lie flat on her back, and tugged the dress down the rest of the way over her legs and slipped it off her feet. Something was hot and tight in her chest. She watched submissively, waiting, as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You do it,” he said, taking her wrist and sitting her up.

When she hesitated, he took her hand and lifted it to his body. She unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, and got on her knees to push it off his shoulders.

“Do you know how much it turns me on when a girl undresses me?” he said, toying with her breasts.

She found the top button of his jeans and tug it open. She pushed his jeans down his hairy thighs, and he pulled them off the rest of the way. His hands slid up the sides of her gently curving hips, and went all over her sides, shoulders, tits, waist, buttocks. He slipped his arm around her slender waist to keep her kneeling, and kissed her neck, holding a fistful of her hair.

He pulled her closer, her arms hanging at her sides, and arched her body, pushing her white breasts upwards, and her head back, as he kissed the front of her throat and under her chin. His mouth went wild over her breasts, sucking on them deeply. Her fingers clenched convulsively at his shoulders, as she tried to resist the urge to break away from him. His hands stroked and rubbed her shoulders, and worked their way in and out of her soft blonde hair and moved all about her back.

“The attention’s all been on you,” he said. “Rub my shoulders, put your hands over my chest and face, run your fingers over my back and kiss me.”

She pressed her lips lightly on his, and moved her mouth softly. Her whole body was tense. She ran her hands over him and felt that his back was tense but in a different way. He held her face, and they kissed some more, his hot wet tongue slipped into her mouth.

“Somebody home?” hollered a voice from inside the house. She froze solid as a rock. It sounded like the same guy that had visited before.

“Up here!” James yelled back. She was horrified and tried to pull away. She heard the heavy tread approaching up the stairs, but James kept her restrained in his arms.

The door opened and the guy came in. She pressed her body into James, hiding herself against him since she couldn’t pull away from him. She kept her face down and didn’t dare look.

James kissed her, then moved away and gave the other man full view of her. She collapsed and put her arms over her breasts.

“Go over to him,” said James.

She wouldn’t budge.

“Nicole!”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face, and hugged her knees to her chest. There was nowhere to escape. James stood at the side of the bed, and the other man was standing near the door.

“Come over to me,” said James. “Nicole,” he said as if she was embarrassing him.

She wouldn’t move.

“Get up! Get here!” he said as though commanding a dog.

“No!” she screamed when he reached over the bed and grabbed her ankle. He dragged her struggling to him. He held her wrists together, pulling her close.

She tried to pull away. “No! You can’t treat people this way—”