CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 79
“Some of the guards are in the other room watching us.”
“Don’t you worry about that, sugar. There’s always someone watching in this place. Let’s give ‘em a show.” He chuckled, but then stopped abruptly when he realized that I wasn’t amused along with him. I scanned the room and saw the camera mounted on a bracket high on the wall in the corner of the room. It was aimed so I’d be facing it. I could feel my eyes welling up with heated tears. “Hey now, don’t you give that any thought,” Tom said in a soothing voice. “Look at me now, darlin’. I’m the only thing that you should be thinking about. Forget about everyone and everything else.”
I did as he said, and focused my attention on him. They seemed to have him secured well, especially his hands. He tried to move, but the straps and cuffs held him tight. And yet, they hadn’t put anything over his mouth at all, which frightened me. Tom had bitten four of his victims. The guards wouldn’t go inside any enclosure with him without their gear, which included helmets that protected their throat, but they were allowing us to be as close as two people could get with his mouth completely free. I didn’t believe that Tom wanted to hurt me, but he did at times have the desire to attack, to kill. Once he had even told me that he needed to kill. I wasn’t sure he had complete control over his own behavior in this regard.
I hesitated, my terror making it impossible to take the next step toward him. “I’m afraid,” I said in a small voice.
“Oh, hell, no. Don’t get like this now. I’ve been looking forward to this. Come on over here,” he coaxed, but I couldn’t move any more than he could. “Holy shit, look at you tremble. You’re terrified of me.” He looked amazed, then reflective, and then something else—I had the impression that he enjoyed my fear, that he felt a certain amount of pride for being the cause of it. “I guess this is a lot different than when you have those nice little bars between us.” He gave a hollow laugh. “What the hell are you afraid of? I’m all tied up. I’m entirely helpless.”
“I’m afraid you’ll bite me,” I said in a smaller voice. I could run, and if I did there would be nothing that he could do about it. He couldn’t chase me. I should run.
He gave me an appraising look and nodded slowly. “Okay, I understand. Take that scarf of yours and gag me with it, then I won’t be able to do that.”
I knew that gagging him with a scarf was ridiculous, especially the sheer silk one that I wore. It offered no real protection from someone like him, but it did comfort me on a psychological level, and it was enough to keep me there. “Okay,” I said.
I noticed the pleasant scent of soap and shampoo as I got close to him. My hands were shaking as I brought the scarf up to his face, but he held completely still while I secured it, tying a firm knot behind his head. I touched his temple, running my fingers down the side of his face and then his neck. I closed my eyes for a moment, drinking in the heady feeling of his warm skin under my fingers. I was touching him—actually touching him—the forbidden one. My senses swam.
I studied Tom’s features. His eyes were calm, placid, and the blue in them seemed to stretch on forever like the evening sky. He nodded, watching me. And even though he was gagged, the part of his mouth that was still visible showed a smile. He was grinning the way evil does when it knows it has you.
The hesitation left me then. The nervousness I felt morphed into exhilaration, and I didn’t care anymore who was watching or what this would cost me. This moment was worth any amount of fallout I would have to endure.
I tore my clothes off and climbed on top of him, sitting on his thighs while I tugged at the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, easing them down far enough to free his cock. Tom was well endowed. I realized that I hadn’t been able to see all of him the day he jerked off during our visit.
As my fingers found his erection and began stroking, I reveled in the sound of his bliss. The only thing more heavenly than closing my eyes and listening to his rich, enchanting intonation was keeping them open so I could take in the look of pleasure on his beautiful, bruised face.
My insides roiled with need and desire. I straddled him, guided his cock to the place where he belonged, and as I rested my weight down on him I felt him slide up inside of me, filling me beyond what I thought I could take. I threw my head back and groaned, the sensations of pain and pleasure from Tom’s phallus being just a little too big comingling.
The gag did nothing to quiet Tom’s moaning, but it did render whatever he was trying to say unintelligible. His face, wet with sweat, was a depiction of unbridled lust. I wondered if this was the way he looked when he did the sick things that he seemed to need, the acts that he said he loved more than anything else in the world, the thing that he might very well do to me if he wasn’t in restraints. Those thoughts only excited me further. It was so easy for me to envision my man in the underworld with flames all around him.
I knew what I was doing was sick and wrong, but I didn’t care. I wanted the evil inside of me. I needed him. I lost myself in the ecstasy, the rapture, the overwhelming feeling of victory. His eyes burned into mine as I moved, and I sensed something foreign creeping into my psyche, cementing us together, connecting us on a much deeper level than before. Then finally, I felt the sweet, magical release of endorphins flooding my bloodstream, overtaking my senses. A second later, Tom’s sounds of bliss joined mine and we both reveled in a euphoria that seemed to go on forever and end too soon.
After we both came, I thought about loosening the gag so he’d be able to talk. He didn’t look dangerous now that he was spent. He seemed too content and relaxed to do any harm. And he had to be affected by the intensity of the love that had just coursed through us. I hoped that was true.
I lowered my face to his slowly, carefully, and kissed his forehead as I reached behind his head and untied the knot in the scarf. I removed it, still too afraid to kiss his mouth. Then I slid downward and cuddled up to him. I pushed his T-shirt up to expose his chest and I rested the side of my head on him, rubbing my cheek and then my mouth against his thick, soft hair. I breathed deeply, enjoying the musky smell of his skin and his sweat. For the next few minutes we were silent except for the sound of our breathing.
“I feel like everything else in my life up to this point has been meaningless, just something I had to go through in order to get here with you now,” I confessed.
“It was. We were meant for each other.” He sighed, and I flinched as I felt his breath tickle my scalp through my hair. I hadn’t realized that his mouth was so close to the top of my head. “Rebecca,” he said quietly. “I know you’re afraid, but I want you to kiss me.”
I buried my face in his chest and replied, “I don’t know…”
“I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Think about it. I’d have to be insane to do that. What the hell else have I got? You’re the only nice thing I have to look forward to in this world. I won’t ruin that. I promise.”
But was that true? He ruined a lot of things. He ruined people. He ruined lives. And for all I knew he might be insane. I felt as though I had been getting to know him pretty well during these interviews. Tom seemed to have opened up to me, but ultimately he shared what he chose to share. I couldn’t know exactly what went on in his head. I still didn’t feel like I could trust him entirely.
“Wrap your arms around me, darlin’. I wish I could hold you. God, I wish I could hold you.” I heard a sob catch in his throat. I slid up his body slowly until my eyes were level with his, and I saw that his eyes were full of tears. “I’m in love with you, Rebecca. You know that, don’t you? You believe me.” He looked sincere, but why had he asked if I believed him? My suspicion rose; I wasn’t sure what to believe. I hadn’t realized that this visit would be laced with so much pain.
I could only nod in reply. Tears ran down his face but he held my gaze. “My wife,” he whispered with an intensity that was electric.
“My husband,” I answered.
“I love you forever. Even after I’m gone, Beck, even after I’m gone…”
“Don’t,” I said, and before I knew it my fingers were on his lips. I had taken the leap of faith without even realizing I was jumping. Then with an air of heedlessness I brought my face down and pressed my lips against his. I felt a fresh fire ignite in me. My hands were in his hair, clutching his head, holding his face against mine as his tongue explored my mouth, sending a tingling sensation through my entire body. The pressure of his flesh against mine was rapturous, the way his tongue and lips felt as he kissed me enthralling. He filled a longing in me that I thought could never be satisfied, all the while making me hungry for more.
I could feel his erection against my thigh, prodding, insisting. I needed him. He moved his hips, pushing his cock against me and threw his head back, groaning loudly as he slid inside. This man could take what he wanted even while restrained, yet he begged, “Please baby, please baby…” He kept repeating it breathlessly until I gave him his orgasm. And when he came he yelled and thrashed against his restraints; he looked like a crazed animal that was trying to break free. One last show for the men watching the monitor.
Afterwards, I sat in my car for a long while, astounded and dazed, replaying each second of the exquisite madness in my head. It seemed crazy that I was about to do something as mundane as drive my car after what I had just experienced, but it was time for me to go home.
I went straight to Bellevue with the exception of one stop to fill the gas tank and get a hamburger. As I drove past the exit I would have taken to visit my aunt and uncle, I felt a twinge of guilt. I hadn’t spoken to them since Thanksgiving. They had expected to see a lot more of me since they knew my travels brought me so close to their house.
My aunt had mentioned that a weekly visit would be nice, but I’d probably put it off until Christmas. I couldn’t see them right then, and I certainly couldn’t tell them what I’d been up to lately. In fact, I felt my face flush with the humiliation I’d feel if they ever found out about my marriage to Tom and our special visit. Until now, I had never envisioned getting married without my aunt and uncle’s blessing and their presence at the ceremony, but this situation was different. It wasn’t a real marriage.
Chapter 31
November 30th, 2012
The next day I spent most of the morning on automatic pilot, dwelling on Tom and the time we’d spent together. I stood in my driveway, just about to get into my car, when Scanlon pulled up in front of my house. He parked with the same reckless abandon that he drove, ending up well into my flower bed before he finally came to a full stop. Jumping out of his car, he slammed his door shut with such force I thought his windows might shatter. He looked far too upset to drive. It was no small miracle he hadn’t killed someone or piled his car up on his way here.
“Is it true?” he yelled. “Or is this some sick practical joke the assholes at the prison are playing on me? One of the guys I know out there called me and—did you really marry that sick motherfucker? I didn’t believe them, but it’s just that…the marriage certificate is in the county records. I don’t see how they could fake that. Can you tell me what the fuck is happening? Is this real?”
I couldn’t answer him, and I couldn’t look him in the eye either. Scanlon seemed ready to explode with furious energy. He began pacing back and forth in front of me as he continued to shout. “Holy shit! It’s true? It’s true, isn’t it! Goddamn it! Is it also true that you fucked him? Of course it is! Motherfucker! I can’t believe this is happening! Am I having a fucking nightmare? Oh God, it’s real isn’t it! Jesus!”
When he grabbed me by the shoulders I could feel his hands tremble. He shouted in my face, “Why? Can you at least answer that? Why would you do this?”
I didn’t have an explanation that made any sense. The real answer was simply that I was lost. “I don’t know.”
He seemed to take some encouragement from my confused demeanor and changed tactics. “Look, this can’t go on anymore. It can’t happen again. What you need to do is start the divorce proceedings immediately, and you’ve got to stay away from that prison. You can’t see him again. Do you think you could get an annulment? I think that would be quicker than a divorce. You could just tell the judge that you were out of your fucking mind when you did this, because honestly, I can’t see any other way that this could have gone down.”
“Darryl, I can’t do that,” my voice felt so small.
“What? My ears can’t be working right. Did I just hear you say…” he stopped, stunned and speechless, and then he exploded again. “No! Oh my God! No fucking way! There is no fucking way that this is happening! You’re going to fix this!”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t divorce him.”
“Don’t you understand who he is? Can you not comprehend it? You just married a murderer! Not just any murderer, but the same sick motherfucker that tore my neck open with his goddamned teeth! It’s a miracle that I’m even alive. I almost bled to death at the scene. I don’t know how the fuck the surgeon managed to put me back together in time to save me. That man doesn’t have any regard for other human beings. We’re just things for him to hunt and play with. How the fuck did you get so warped that you actually married him? Jesus, it just doesn’t get any fucking sicker than that!”
Darryl leaned forward, hands on his knees, and took a few ragged breaths. I was afraid that he was going to have a coronary and I didn’t want him to keel over on my front lawn, especially now that a few of my neighbors had come out of their houses to watch the festivities. At that moment, I couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than the drama that played out before me.
“Darryl,” I said, placing my hand on his back. I wanted to make him feel better, but was unsure what to do or say. I rubbed his back, put my other hand on his shoulder and drew him toward me. “Come on inside.” He stood up and took one more deep breath. I could see that he tried to calm himself, although he was still so upset that his entire body trembled.
As I guided him to the house, I said, “You don’t have a jacket. Are you cold?”
“Huh?” He seemed confused by my question, and shook his head dismissively. He followed me through my front door and into the kitchen in silence.
“Do you want a beer?” I offered.
“Haven’t you got anything stronger?”
“Sure do. How about some “Jackie D”?” I took a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Whiskey from a cupboard and set it on the kitchen countertop.
“Yes, that sounds really good right now.” He looked tired, wiped out actually, almost like someone who was going into shock. I held up an ice tray and a can of cola with a questioning look and he shook his head no, so I poured straight whiskey into a shot glass and set it on the counter in front of him. It took only a fraction of a second for him to snatch it and swig it down.
“Wow. You’re a thirsty one. Let’s go sit down.” He looked at the alcohol as though he worried that we might leave it behind. “I’ll bring the whiskey with us. Come on, big fella.”
I led him to the couch and he plopped himself down. Then he looked around my living room, scanning for whatever clues he could glean, ever the detective. His eyes settled on a picture of Tom that I had printed out and put in a nice frame. It was the only picture that I had of him on display. With regret I realized that there weren’t any photos of Tom and I together, not even from the wedding. Since we had all been required to stay back at least four feet from his cell, Tom and I weren’t able to stand next to each other for a decent shot.
Scanlon looked away from the picture then put his head in his hands and muttered, “Aw shit.” I filled his shot glass again and set it on the coffee table in front of him. He downed this one a little slower than the first. Maybe that was progress. We sat in silence for a little while. Scanlon seemed to be trying to calm himself down. Finally he said, “I don’t get it. Why do you love him? He’s a monster and I’m a nice guy. Why don’t you love me?”
“Who says I don’t?” I shot back. His expression told me I shouldn’t have said that to him, although I felt there was some truth in it. I had very intense feelings for Darryl Scanlon that definitely included friendship and attraction. To be honest, I felt something much stronger than mere friendship. Every time I’d seen him or even spoken to him on the phone I’d felt as though a great deal more could be on the horizon. I saw potential.
Darryl was a good man. He was kind, and he seemed to want to look after me, albeit in a somewhat aggressive, bullheaded manner. But now I saw a look of hopefulness in his eyes that didn’t belong there. I didn’t want to treat him like a yo-yo, making him think he had a chance and then dashing his hopes. He needed a clear message that he shouldn’t wait around for me. He needed a clean break.
“Do you mean there’s a chance for us?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry.”
“How do you feel about me, Rebecca?”
The eyes that looked into mine were wounded, broken. He deserved better. As I thought about him and pondered what to say, I was filled with warmth and happiness. I felt myself smile as I answered. “I think you’re a wonderful man. You’re kind, handsome, intelligent, affectionate, you’ve got a great sense of humor, and you’re so persistent; you just never give up. I’m not surprised that you finally caught Tom. You’re truly amazing.”
Had I really just said that? I made it sound as though Tom’s capture was a good thing. But it was, or at least it should’ve been—only, it meant I was separated from my husband. I felt confused again.
“You like me,” he said with an expression of wonder.
“Well, yeah, but—”
“I wish you could have seen the look on your face just now when you rattled off all the things you like about me. You were glowing, Rebecca. And you don’t want me to give up.”
“What? Oh no, I didn’t mean to say that, Darryl.”
“Well, what did you mean? Do you have feelings for me or not?”
“I can’t. I’m married.”
