Chapter 2

I finished going through the want ads and making more of those humiliating and always futile phone calls. It’s so frustrating! I can’t even get a damn interview! I occupied my body if not my mind with a little housework and by lunch time my chores for the day were done. I was thinking about changing clothes and taking the bus downtown to spend a few ego crushing hours at the unemployment office when the doorbell rang.

I’m not expecting anyone. In fact, no one ever comes to our door. We aren’t even bothered by salesmen or holy rollers in this neighborhood so I was only mildly curious as I approached the door. I was still debating a trip downtown in my mind when I opened the front door. I was stunned when I saw Josh standing there holding the storm door open and grinning.

Before I could ask him what he wants or tell him to get the hell off my porch he looked me right in the eye and said, “Green clouds.”

I stared at him while the words and their meaning slowly sank into my brain. I was just as shocked as I was Friday night when Rob said those words and I was required to fake slipping into a trance. My reaction might, once again, be mistaken for a woman slipping into a trance. I stood there gaping at Josh, trying to decide what he wants from me and how I should react. He’s looking me right in the eyes and silently daring me to send him away.

I think I knew instinctively what he’s here for. He wants me. He came here for me. I’m now faced with an even bigger dilemma than the one I faced when this happened on Friday. From the moment he spoke those words there was an unspoken threat hanging heavy over my head. If I don’t fake a hypnotic trance and do whatever Josh wants, Rob will be out of a job. That isn’t just a problem for Rob. That’s a huge problem for me, too. We may not be eating well, but we’re eating. I like food. And I like having a roof over my head.

But can I force myself to do the things Josh will no doubt demand of me in order to protect my husband’s job?!

We have nothing to fall back on, no reserves. I know from months of searching and making endless futile phone calls that the only job openings available to women like me with an almost total lack of a work history, at least for the time being, are for strippers and escorts. It seems the world can never satisfy its craving for women who are willing to remove their clothing for money while men suck down beer and watch.

If Rob gets fired we can’t buy food, pay utilities or rent. Our old car is paid for but our insurance will lapse. All these terrible thoughts rushed through my mind in an instant as I stood gaping at Josh in the doorway.

I haven’t yet resolved to let this farce continue. I’m not sure I can. I don’t need to hear the words to know this old man has come to my house today to have sex with me. But I’m not certain I’m the kind of woman who can do that sort of thing. Rob is the only man I’ve ever been with. He was my first and he’s been my only lover.

I continued to stare open mouthed at Josh’s face. He’s waiting to see my reaction. He isn’t a gullible man. It’s obvious he’s still extremely skeptical about this whole trance thing. But I think by now we both know this isn’t about hypnotism. This is about blackmail and my husband losing his job. I can either continue to let the farce play out, allow Josh to, in effect, rape me. Or I can tell him to go to hell and start looking for a homeless shelter to take us in.

Our parents won’t help. Josh’s parents have moved away. His father hurt himself on the job and retired early. They live in a retirement community on the other side of the continent now and we didn’t part on the best of terms.

My parents might, and I emphasize might, take me back if I go to them on my knees and beg. They would absolutely refuse to let Rob live with them. We haven’t exchanged a civil word with either set of parents since before our wedding. But even if that’s the only alternative to being homeless I could never go to them for help. I still resent them for the way they reacted and the way they’ve treated us since we married. My pride may be at a low ebb after months of futile job hunting. But I still have a little of it left.

My swirling, uncontrollable rush of thoughts was interrupted when Josh gently but firmly moved me out of the way and stepped inside. Without turning to look at me he ordered, “Close the door and come in here.”

I finally closed my mouth. I closed the door and turned to see him taking a seat on the couch. He’s watching me with that same arrogant smile on his face. I’m beginning to think he’s capable of only two expressions. An arrogant smile and an arrogant frown.

He’s waiting to see what I’m going to do. I’m pretty much positive he knows I’m not in any kind of damn trance. He also knows I don’t dare say anything because Rob and I can’t afford the consequences we’ll suffer if I refuse to do what he wants. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s waiting to see if I’ll decide to go along to save my husband’s job or call an end to this horrible charade and throw him out.

I know whatever happens next is up to me. That realization is as terrifying as my only two intolerable choices. It’s a mind boggling responsibility. The consequences of choosing either option from the only two open to me could be dire. My husband isn’t here to protect me this time. Can I make myself do this? Can I let another man touch me, have sex with me? Until I opened my front door a moment ago I’d have sworn I’m not that kind of woman, the kind of woman who would do something like this behind her husband’s back. But so very much is riding on what I do here this afternoon. Our very future as a couple may depend on whether I’ll allow my husband’s supervisor to use me like a common prostitute!

I’m not certain how much time passed since I opened the front door and saw him standing there. He seems to be purposefully giving me more than enough time to think it over. He wants me to decide what I’m going to do.

But finally my time was up. He said, “I guess it’s time to see if this hypnotism crap works. I’m still not convinced.”

He didn’t speak the words. But the threat is there. I can make him leave if that’s my decision. But life as I know it comes to an end if I don’t play along. Actually, life as I know it comes to an end no matter what I decide.

“I think we can dispense with that sexy little bikini this time. Take your clothes off, Renee.”

There it is. And now I have to decide. If I could only think more clearly! If there were only some other option! I need more time!

I felt the flush spreading from my hairline, down my face and neck to my chest. Even my ears are burning! I know that obvious physical reaction is an obvious sign I’m not in a trance but there’s nothing I can do about it. This is far more humiliating than what I did Friday night. My skin is crawling and there’s an ice cold ball of fear gripping my stomach. I’m almost certain a person in a real trance would exhibit none of those symptoms but I’m just as certain Josh is aware of that fact. So now it comes down to whether or not I’m willing to allow him to coerce me into having sex with him or suffer the consequences.

My hands seemed to respond to his order even before I came to the conclusion I have no choice but to do whatever he wants. Maybe I’m in a trance after all!

My fingers shook uncontrollably as they slowly unbuttoned my blouse. My temples are throbbing and my knees feel weak. I forced myself to not think about where this is going, about the terrible things I’m going to have to do with this arrogant old redneck rapist who is probably ten years older than my father.

I pulled my blouse out of my shorts and unbuttoned the last two buttons. But then I stood there holding the sides together, still not certain I’m capable of doing what Josh just ordered me to do.

I don’t think I ever actually came to a decision. There’s really no decision for me to make. I’m trapped. I have no choice. I can only go along, doing what I’m told with as little thought as possible. I let my blouse fall open. I can no longer look Josh in the eyes. I looked off into the space over his head and slid my blouse down and off. I didn’t know what to do with it at first. There’s no nearby piece of furniture on which to place it. I could move closer to the nearest piece of furniture but I’m not certain I can make my legs move so I dropped the blouse on the floor near my feet.

I’m wearing a rather plain white bra. There’s nothing sexy about it, nothing except the fact that it’s an undergarment and it’s the only thing between my breasts and the leering gaze of this ogre who came here today to rape me. There’s no delicate lace trim. No great amount of cleavage is on display. My bra covers more of me than any of my bikini tops, much more than the one I was forced to wear last Friday. But Josh obviously enjoys the sight of me in my bra. His evil grin widened as he enjoyed my humiliation, my submission, and his power over me now that I’m apparently going along with this degrading charade he created with my naïve husband’s unwitting assistance. Well, maybe I can’t blame Josh for creating it. But he’s certainly taking advantage of it.

I looked down at the floor while my trembling fingers struggled with the button at the waist of my shorts. I couldn’t bear to see the expression on Josh’s face when I removed my one remaining outer garment for his amusement.

The button squeezed out of the buttonhole and I fought back the tears of shame as I slid the zipper down. I slid my feet out of my sandals and worked my tight shorts down over my hips, careful not to take my panties with them even though I know that soon the panties will go, too.

I stepped out of my shorts and straightened up. I felt an incredible urge to cover myself with my arms. I told myself that would be a silly gesture. It will only add to my embarrassment by demonstrating to Josh just how hard this is for me. But knowing it would be a waste of time and being able to resist the urge are two different things.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t looking at Josh when I did but I’m aware of the effect that deep breath has on my breasts and I assume he’ll be amused. I know I can’t put off the inevitable any longer. Even though I know Josh is all but certain I’m not really in a trance I have to keep playing the game. I need that cover for the terrible thing I’m being forced to do. I have to pretend I’m in a trance or I know I’ll never be able to make myself go through with this.

I reached behind my back and struggled with the clasp on my bra. It took a lot longer than usual but I finally managed to get it unhooked. I felt my heart racing as I slowly lowered my arms and let the straps of my bra hang free. I hear my heart pounding. I swear I can feel my blood rushing through my veins. I wonder if I’m going to faint.

This man, a man I just met on Friday and don’t like, this man who is making me do the unthinkable is about to become only the second man to see my breasts. I’ve spent most of my life protecting my modesty, carefully avoiding doing anything to make a spectacle of myself. I don’t wear revealing clothing. I mean, sure, I wear a bikini to the pool or the beach. But I wear modest bikinis. I don’t put my body on display for anyone but Rob, and then only in private.

The thing that bothers me almost as much as what I’m doing is that for some reason my breasts are tingling and my nipples are erect as if in anticipation of being put on display! I’m not and I’ve never been an exhibitionist. I don’t have an exhibitionistic bone in my body. At this moment I’m embarrassed almost to the point that I can’t draw a breath. What the hell is my body trying to tell me?!!

I tried to put that inner turmoil out of my mind. I reached up and pulled my bra straps down off of my shoulders and slowly pulled them down, letting the cups fall away from my breasts. Normally, after I remove my bra I briefly massage my breasts for a few seconds. I don’t think they like being restrained this way. I have to resist the natural impulse to do that with Josh watching. I’m afraid he might get the wrong idea.

I dropped my bra on the small pile of clothing beside me and tried to swallow the lump in my throat as my fingers reached for the elastic waistband of my one remaining garment. I told myself I’m only prolonging the agony by delaying. This old man has no doubt seen numerous women take their clothes off. But none of those women were me. Dear god! It’s so hard to do this!

I took another deep breath even though I knew that when I did I was only adding to Josh’s pleasure. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and forced myself to slide them down and off as quickly as possible in order to get it over with. I straightened up and kicked them away, once more fighting the urge to cover myself with my arms.

Somehow I found the strength to look up at Josh. My timing was terrible. I looked up just in time to catch him in the process of adjusting what appeared to be a large, uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants as he stared at my naked body. He didn’t even try to disguise the look of pure lust on his face. The bastard wants me to know what he’s thinking!

I looked into his eyes and my mind screamed, ‘I don’t want to fuck this man! I don’t want this man to touch me! I want him to leave. I never want to see him again!’

I know my mind is about to be very disappointed.

For just a few seconds I wondered if my marriage and my husband are worth this. What would happen if I pretended to come to my senses and kicked Josh out? Would he really fire Rob?

I looked in his eyes and I had my answer. He would. It may be that he’s been looking for an excuse to fire Rob. But I can’t help thinking the vindictive bastard wouldn’t do it so much to get rid of Rob as to teach me a lesson for not surrendering. If I don’t go through with this our life, such as it is, will surely collapse around us.

As if he were reading my mind, Josh seemed to wait until I once again came to that inevitable conclusion and crooked his finger at me, calling me closer.

On rubbery legs I took the half dozen steps necessary to close the distance between me and the dirty old man sitting on my couch. He’s sitting with one hand resting over the ominous bulge in his pants as if trying to call my attention to it.

I don’t really know what I’m thinking now that I’m naked, now that my rape is imminent. Actually, I’m not thinking. Not really. I’m just feeling. I’m scared. I’m too scared to think. I’m aware of an overwhelming sense of humiliation that I’ve come to this, trapped into allowing a man I can’t stand to do anything he wants to me because of a foolish, immature, and totally unnecessary statement my husband made in a foolish attempt to impress the men on his team at work.

I feel compelled to watch his eyes as I come to a stop in front of him. It’s as if I have the forlorn hope that I might be able to anticipate his moves and defend myself if I keep my eyes locked on his. Foolish, I know. I’ve already surrendered. I’m standing here naked, waiting for his next command. There will be no attempt to defend myself. It’s too late for that now and if I’m honest with myself I know I’m not capable of it.

His fingers began moving lightly over the large outline of his hard cock. I thought to myself, ‘Good! Play with yourself! Cum in your pants, you lowlife son of a bitch and get the hell out of here!’

But I know that isn’t going to happen. He’s just enjoying the moment and undoubtedly doing anything he can think of to make this ordeal more unpleasant for me.

“Move your legs apart. Spread ‘em! I want a good look at the sweet, young, tight little pussy I’m about to stick my cock into.”

I know he’s being vulgar on purpose. The prick is daring me to object to his course language!

I didn’t object. Well, I do object. But I’m keeping my objections to myself. I can’t voice them now. I’ve already lost this game. I’m left with no alternative but to play it out to the end. I spread my legs about shoulder width apart, trying very hard not to imagine what I must look like to him.

He grinned and exclaimed, “Damn! Fuckin’ beautiful! There’s nothing I like more than young stuff! How old are you, Renee?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen! A fuckin’ teenager! I bet there ain’t been a lot of cocks in that tight little hole, have there?”

Damn him! It’s bad enough I have to do these awful things! Are the foul language and this awful third degree really necessary?! But I have to keep up appearances. I have to play the game. A girl in a trance doesn’t complain about foul language. I was fighting back the tears again when I finally responded meekly, “No.”

He leaned forward slightly and his hand came to rest on my thigh just above my knee. Where his flesh meets mine I feel almost as if I’m being burned. I choked back a sob as his hand started moving. He watched his hand, seemingly fascinated as it crept slowly up the inside of my thigh. It was just a fraction of an inch below my naked sex when he asked, “How many? How many guys have fucked you, Renee?”

I can feel the warmth of his hand on my pussy, or I imagine that I can. I can only ignore it. I meekly answered, “Only one. Just Rob.”

I nearly jumped a foot in the air when his fingertips moved slightly and finally came to rest on my mound. He chuckled at my response but his eyes are locked on my pussy now.