PROLOGUE
“I’m getting ready for a delicious hot soak in my Jacuzzi. Miles Davis wailing on my CD. Sandalwood incense burning. My shades are drawn. I’ve got a sea of candles lit. A flickering symphony of soft light and sound. I’m staring at myself in my full-length mirror, running my palms lightly over my breasts. They’re surprising large for such a petite woman. My skin feels like velvet. I shave all my body hair. Nothing but luscious, glowing, healthy flesh. I use moisturizer religiously. Spread it over my body every night. Mmm, smells so good. Like roses…”
“No.”
“You don’t like roses? Musk then. Pungent, earthy. Now I’m stepping into the steaming, foamy water…”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Tell me where you really are.”
“Where would you like me to be? Curled up in my king-sized bed? Under a puffy white down comforter. Wearing a demure little nightie…?”
“No.”
“What kind of a scene are you into? I can give you anything you like.”
“Give me the truth.”
“Truth costs.”
You say it lightly, cajolingly, but you mean it.
“What if I make it worth your while?” he says.
“This isn’t about money.”
“Who’s talking money?”
“You’re confusing me.”
He’s scaring you.
But you’re intrigued. More turned-on.
“Do you have a husband? A real decent guy, right? Hard-working. Maybe a little constricted. Conservative. Distracted at times. In the sack…”
“I’m not married,” she says.
You’re edgy. He’s getting too close to the truth.
“Did you kiss him good-bye this morning?”
“I told you I’m not…”
“Describe it for me.”
“What? The kiss?”
Risky. Dangerous. You don’t want to think about your husband. Not now of all times.
Instant shame.
“Every detail,” he says. “What time was it? Who made the first move?”
“Is this what turns you on? I want to please you.”
Only because it pleases you. He’s a means to your selfish end.
“Start with the time.”
“Around seven. Seven-fifteen. He was rushed. Overslept. Late for work.”
You’re being honest now. Violating your rules. Feels exciting.
“You were still in bed?”
“No. In the kitchen.”
“Were you making his breakfast?”
“No… Yes.”
What if you give too much away? You don’t want to be found out. You want relief. Release.
“Yes.”
“No. Bet you were packing lunch for the kiddies. How many do you have? Two? Three? Pretty little blond-haired beauties?”
The shame is rushing in like a tornado. You want to hang up. But you won’t.
“I’ll tell you about the kiss,” she says.
You think you can distract him.
Distract yourself.
“Okay. Tell me about the kiss.”
“He meant it to be a quick peck. Like I told you, he was in a hurry.”
“Right. Overslept. Running late for work.”
“So I…caught him by surprise. When his soft, dry lips touched mine, I slipped my tongue in his mouth. Teasing. Coaxing. Wrapping my arms around his neck. Pressing my body against his.”
Liar. You’ve been pissed at Peter for days.
You use that. The old—see what you’ve driven me to.
“Was he hard?”
“Yes. I could feel his erection against my thigh. He pulled me even tighter to him. My tongue went deep, deep in his mouth. I cupped his tight, firm ass. Squeezed hard. His hands were on my hips. He’s got very large hands. Powerful. He started whispering, ‘Let’s get naked. Do it right here on the kitchen floor’. Before I could say anything he was attacking the buttons on my blouse, hiking up my skirt…”
“Ask me if I’m hard. Isn’t that what you want to ask me? Don’t you want to know how good you are?”
“No.”
Boloney. It’s crucial.
“Bullshit.”
“Okay. Are you hard?”
Sucker. He’s got you now. Right where he wants you.
Where you want to be.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he says, ‘This isn’t working for you either.”
“What do you want? Want me to talk dirty? Is that what you like? Juicy cunts. Monster pricks. He doesn’t have to be my husband. He doesn’t have to be a he. Tell me what you need.”
Feeling desperate. Scared. Angry.
It's not really about what he needs.
“Where are you now really?” he asks.
“What?”
“Are you at home?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“In my…office.”
Now the truth’s irresistible.
You’re terrified and exhilarated at the same time. You’re hooked.
“Got the door locked? Does your secretary know you’re on the phone? Did you tell her you didn’t want to be disturbed? Are you disturbed?”
“No.”
Liar.
“I’ve got your number,” he says.
“Obviously.”
You play along, but you’re nervous.
He has got your number, Natalie.
“How long have you been at this?” he asks.
“Long enough.”
“See what I mean?”
“Look, I’m not doing it for you. I’m sorry, okay. Maybe you want someone else…”
“I don’t want someone else. I want you.”
“You’ve got me.”
“Did you drive your car to work?”
“What? Yes.”
“Got a car phone?”
“Yes…but…”
“Call me from your car phone. Leave now.”
“Why my car phone? Where am I going?”
This is where you start to totally lose it, Nat. Step right off the edge.
“Are you in your car?” he asks.
“Yes,” Natalie says.
“Where?”
“In…in a lot.”
“Take off your panties. And your bra.”
“What? No. I…There are…people…”
“Come on. You know you want to. Bet your heart is racing.”
The danger is electrifying.
You’re feeling more and more disconnected from real life.
“I’ve never done…”
“That’s what makes it so exciting. Are you working on the panties?”
“Yes.”
You flash on the consequences, but this feels so good. You convince yourself nothing can happen. You’re still safe.
“Slipping them down your velvety soft thighs?”
“Yes.”
“Now your bra.”
“I don’t think I can… Someone’s walking right by my car. Looking at…me.”
“Do it right now,” he says.
“Okay, okay…”
You tell yourself you have no choice. You can’t help yourself.
“Are you aroused?” he asks.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Come and find out. The Parkcrest Hotel on Boylston. Room 1290. The door’ll be open. I’ll be waiting.”
“You’re crazy…” she says.
You’re the one feeling crazy, Nat.
Powerless. High.
“How long will it take you?”
“I’m not…I can’t…”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes,” she says.
“Drive carefully.”
“Close the door. Take off your blouse. Very slowly. Then your skirt.”
“I’m not into anything…kinky,” Natalie says.
Be honest. You’re too far gone for rules.
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. How’s that?”
“You’ve got to use a condom. This is crazy enough without…”
“I’ve got a drawer full of condoms. Every color. Every flavor. Now do as you’re told.”
You hear it as ‘be a good girl’. Good girls are loved.
“Now come here to the bed,” he says. “I want to feel your soft velvety skin. I want to breathe in the smell of roses. I want to touch you all over. Make your whole body hum.”
It’s a dream. He’s Prince Charming. Everything is so perfect.
“Yes, yes…”
You let him take charge. You’re body is humming, Natalie.
“Yes, yes…”
You tell yourself only this once, never again, but you’re already obsessing over the next time.
“Yes. Oh please…”
You still believe you can handle it but you’re deluding yourself.
You’re really out of control now, Nat.
“You pig. You fucking pig!” A new voice. Another woman.
“Oh God…who…what…?” Natalie stammers.
“Oh, shit! Meg,” he cries out.
“You bastard. You goddamn bastard,” the intruder at the door shrieks at him.
“What…is this? Who…are you?” Natalie gasps, panic squeezing her words.
Abject terror.
This can’t be happening. Not to you.
“Come on, baby…Meg, honey…don’t…I’m sorry…” he whines.
“I’m sick of your sorrys. Your lies. Your sluts,” Meg snarls.
“Please… It isn’t what you…think,” Natalie begs.
It’s worse and you know it.
“Shut up,” Meg warns. She's got a gun in her hand.
Natalie starts to sob. “Please don’t kill us. Oh please, I’m begging you…”
You're drowning in fear. Feeling desperate.
It’ll be on the news. That’s the worst part. Worse than dying. Everyone will know the hideous truth.
“Please, please…I have two little children…”
Deluged with remorse.
Self-pity. Self-hate.
Meg waves the gun at her. “You let him sweet-talk you. You let him use you. Right?”
“No. No, I…”
“Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know…he was…involved with someone.”
You didn’t care, Natalie.
Anymore than you cared that you were involved with someone.
“You let him call all the shots, right?” Meg persists.
“No. Yes. Wait…I can’t think straight. Oh please, please put that gun away. Please let me go…”
“You’re sorry?” Meg’s voice is taunting.
“Yes, yes,” Natalie cries.
You really believe it. You’re convinced if you live through this you’ll never do anything warped ever again.
“No,” Meg snaps. “He’s the one who should be sorry.”
“I am sorry, Meg,” he says.
“You don’t sound sorry, Stevie. Does he sound sorry to you?”
“Yes. Yes, he does. He is…”
“Tell him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.”
“What?”
“No,” Meg says. “I have a better idea. Make him get on all fours. Like a dog. A mongrel. Have him lick you all over. Then kick him over here so he can lick me.”
“Oh God…you’re out of your mind,” Natalie says. She looks at him for confirmation.
He’s smiling. “I wouldn’t cross Meg, honey.”
“What are you saying?”
Are you beginning to guess, Nat?
“Then we’re going to show him how it’s really done,” Meg says.
“Show him who’s calling the shots here. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“I don’t…understand.”
“Sure you do,” Meg says. “We’re going to have ourselves some real fun now. Tell her, Stevie.”
He doesn’t answer. But he smiles again.
“Oh God…” Natalie whispers. “You set me up. This was all…planned. The two of you…It’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
“Order him to get down on all fours,” Meg demands. “Now.”
“I…can’t…do this…”
“Now,” Meg shouts.
You thought you’d sunk to the bottom. But you still had a ways to go.
*
“You thought you'd sunk to the bottom. But you still had a ways to go.” Greg's voice is low. Insinuating. He is one of the three probers—digging for the truth.
Chris, who is sitting next to Greg, makes another assessment. "You're still turned on, Natalie. Go with it."
“Yes,” Tina says. “Finish it, Nat.” Tina is the third examiner into the psyches of Natalie’s ménage à trois. She is seated at Chris’s right.
“They're right, Natalie,” Meg says, her face flushed. “Make Steve get down on his hands and knees. Make him crawl. Isn't that what she told you to do? Isn't that what you did?”
“I…can't. Please…” Natalie holds up her hand. In front of her face.
“Let's stop it here and look at what's happening,” Dr. Caroline Hoffman interjects. The psychiatrist has remained silent until now. Deliberately removed from her therapy group. The dispassionate observer of the psychodrama.
Natalie still has her hand up.
“Are you feeling attacked?” Dr. Hoffman asks her.
“Yes. Meg’s really pushing. I think she’s getting off on it.”
“Bullshit. I’m just playing my part in your little reenactment.” Meg swings sideways in her chair, turns her face away from the group circle. “You laid out the whole scene.”
“And what’s your scene, Meg?” Steve asks. “What’s your sexual quirk?”
*
"What’s your sexual quirk?”
“Let's pause here,” Dr. Hoffman says as she uses her remote to stop the video. “Are there any questions about the session so far? Comments?” She eyes her colleagues who are grouped around the conference table at Boston General Hospital's prestigious Institute for Special Problems.
“There's a lot of evident pain and shame,” Dr. Alan Rogers says, removing his glasses, carefully placing them beside his note pad. He is the chief psychiatrist at the Institute. “But what comes across most, from all of them, is the raw rage. Especially Meg’s.”
Martin Bassett, a psychiatric resident raises his hand. “I was wondering, Dr. Hoffman. Where do you draw the line?”
“What line?” Caroline asks.
The resident smiles disarmingly. “Between, let's say, a zealous interest in sex and…obsession? Isn't one man's—or woman's—perversion another's pleasure? I mean, if no crime's committed and you aren't putting your life or your partner's in jeopardy?”
“It's not an easy question to answer,” she says. “A key distinction is that when you're in the throes of a sexual addiction you're sexually out of control. What Steve expressed on the videotape. Feeling hooked. Needing it more and more. Believing you're nothing without it.” She speaks in measured tones.
“Meaning that you only come alive when you're having sex?” Martin asks.
Caroline responds coolly. “Actually, I think Meg may have answered your questions in the group session, Doctor Bassett. Why don't we finish viewing the tape and take it from there?”
******************************************************************************************
Want to read the whole novel?
Only $2.99 to download. Click here!
Posted via email from Chain Reaction
Uncategorized | admin | 
September 30, 2009 11:43 am | 
Comments (0) 
Subscribe