Andrew Vachss - Down in the Zero

"And now she— "

"She still does it. I still…hit her. And she makes me come. She was the one…with the vibrator. She put it inside me, held it there. She taught me to do it."

"Why did she make the video with you?"

"For my business. It was Charm who got me into it. Right after my father died. She knew people, she said. Men mostly. I could do what I liked, and they'd pay for it."

"You didn't need the money…?"

"No. We have lots of money. In a trust. Just the income, not the principal. But it's a lot. Enough for anything. I just…got into it. I always liked doing the men…Charm said we should do the video together because men like to see stuff like that. Two women. It's a real turn–on, she said. Besides, I had to have a thing."

"A thing?"

"Yes. Like, 'it's your thing,' see? Some people's thing is painting. Or riding horses, or whatever. Charm said, if you don't have a thing, you have no thing. Get it? No thing…nothing?"

"So what's her thing?"

"Charm is a scientist," Fancy said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Everything is building blocks to her. Like DNA. Little blocks. You take them apart, see how they work. That's her thing."

She reached one hand toward my face. I stroked her right arm, feeling the hard biceps muscle.

"Pretty powerful, isn't it?" she whispered.

"Sure is. From all that tennis?"

"From all that whipping," she said. Then she started to cry.

"I shouldn't have done it," she said, much later, cuddled against me so close I could hardly hear her.

"Done what?"

"Hit Charm. She was just trying to make up for something that wasn't her fault. She couldn't do anything about my father. He was too powerful. Everybody knew him. Everybody respected him. I could understand why he loved Charm— she always kept his image. Made him proud. In school, she got the top grades. And she was beautiful, not like me."

"You're a beautiful girl, Fancy"

"Charm fixed that too. I…wasn't. I was chubby as a kid. Fat, even. Charm looked like a model— me, I looked like a butterball. But she told me that I could be in control. Started me exercising. And she watched everything I ate. But I was still…I don't know. Not ugly or anything, but…"

"That was in your head, girl."

"No it wasn't. It was in my mirror. Every night. In my mirror, I could see what I was. My nose was too big. And my chin was, like, pushed in. When I was nineteen, on my birthday. I remember it like it was yesterday. I wanted to get Charm something special. To show her how much I loved her. You can't buy anything for Charm— we all have money, it wouldn't mean anything. I got her a cat. A special, special cat. An odd–eyed white, it's called. He had one blue eye and one orange— he's so magnificent. When I gave him to Charm, she broke down and cried, she said he was so beautiful. She loved the idea that he was special— nobody knows exactly how you get one, they just show up in a litter. Most of the time they're born deaf, but Rascal wasn't. He's a stud, Rascal. Charm always breeds him."

"Did she ever get any more?"

"No. Not yet. And you know what she got me? For my birthday gift? Plastic surgery. They fixed my nose and my chin. They even pinned my ears back a little bit…so they wouldn't stick out. When the bandages came off, I was different."

"You just looked different."

"No, I was different, Burke. A different person.

"Where did you get the plastic surgery done? In Europe?"

"No," she said. Something in her voice, something I couldn't figure out. I left it there.

"I thought you said you hated her, Fancy."

"I do. I mean, I did. Before I understood. We're sisters. Twins. There's nothing closer than that. I'm not stupid— I know she's a manipulator. But if it wasn't for Charm, I'd be a basket case. She stopped me once…from killing him."

"Your father?"

"Yes. You could never understand how he made me feel. Like I was nothing. It wasn't just the spanking. Not even in front of Charm. He was always…teasing me, he called it. I was fat. I was stupid. I was lazy. I made him ashamed of me— that's what he always said. 'You never make me happy.' He said that all the time."

"You were really going to kill him?"

"I came back once. After he was finished with me. The door was closed. Charm was in there with him. I…wanted to hear her getting it too. I know it was wrong, but I just wanted to know…"

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I waited and waited. Finally, Charm came out. She snuck down the hall, to her room. I opened the door and I peeked in. He was asleep. On the leather couch he had in the den. Sleeping like he was dead. I wished he was dead.

"I told Charm what I did, how I tried to spy on her. I always told her everything. She said it always happened the same way— after he was finished, after she left, he would go to sleep. We had some men working out back. Building an extension on the pool. They always left their tools outside. One of them, he liked me a little, I think. He was always talking to me. He had a hammer. A sledgehammer, with a short handle. I stole it. Kept it in my room. They never found it— I could hear them shouting out back, looking for it. I showed it to Charm. I told her, the next time it happened, I was going to go into his den and smash his skull until he was dead."

"Wouldn't they figure…?"

"That's what Charm said. That I'd get caught. I didn't care about being caught. You know what Charm told me? She said he had a fatal disease— she saw a doctor's report. In his desk. Cancer. He was going to die in a year or so, that's what she said. So, if we could wait, we'd have everything. And he'd be gone. Later, I figured out she must have been making it all up. When he…killed himself, the note he left, the one on the computer, it just said he was depressed. Sick of everything. The lawyer who read us the will, he said they had done an autopsy— there was nothing wrong with him.

"Not with his body, anyway."

"He wasn't sick— he was mean. Pure mean. If he was sick, he would have treated Charm the same way he did me. Now the only way I can feel like I'm somebody is when I'm role–playing."

"With the whips?"

"Yes, with the whips. Men pay me to do it. They wouldn't pay if they didn't want it. Want me. Money, that's the proof."

I lit a cigarette, blew smoke at the ceiling. Every little street hooker I'd ever known had a name for their pimp. Daddy.

"Charm was the one who taught me," Fancy said. "The power of a fetish. Do you know how strong that can be?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking of another kind of fetish— the kind they use in voodoo.

"You don't ," she said fiercely. "It controls everything. Charm showed me. A man who needs to beat a woman to become aroused…that controls him. If you offered him a night with the most beautiful woman in the world…straight stuff, plain vanilla…he'd pass it up for the chance to whip any old ugly beast."

"But when it's over…"

"It's never over. It just comes and goes, see? That's the power. It's inside them, not me. I just learned how to see it. How to be it."

"So what do you get? You don't need the money."

"I get…wanted. I'm a star. In the scene, everybody knows me. I have slaves— they do whatever I tell them."

"So why…?"

"Why you? I listened to Charm. Better than even she thinks. The power of a fetish, like I told you. It had a power over me too. I wanted to…see the other side."

"What do you mean?"

"S&M, it's different from hanky–spanky. S&M, it's about pain. You take enough of it, the endorphins just start flying around inside you. It opens up the nerve endings, changes your temperature…everything. That's what they tell me."

"Who?"

"My…clients. It's more than just a turn–on, it sets you free. But hanky–spanky, that's a scene , you understand? What you feel, it's all inside you. Everything's important— the way you dress, the words you use…everything. It's not about pain. Not real pain. When it works, you get out…I don't mean you come, I mean you…get to what the real you is. The doms, they never really get it. I never got it— I just heard about it. They say it's a search for the truth. A line you step over. I wanted to see. To be free."