Tomcat

Chapter Five-2

“Sure,” Tommy said, actually feeling a flood of relief. “I'll see what Jilly's up to.” Tommy didn't want to be alone but, somehow, she didn't want to be with David, either.

“Jilly?” Tommy said when she heard the phone connect. “Look. Something's happened. This morning. It's shitty.”

“Are you ok?” Jilly's voice was tight; abruptly raw with concern. “What's happened? Are you hurt?”

“No; not hurt. But I might wish I were dead.”

“Tommy?”

“Look, is Rick home?”

“Yeah. But I'll kick him out. You want to come over?”

“I could use some company,” Tommy said.

“Give it half an hour and then come. Rick will be happy to get away for a night.”

“Thanks.” And Tommy closed her cell phone.

Jilly opened her door and Tommy stepped through, a belligerent look about her face. “Here...” And Tommy pushed the bottle of scotch into Jilly's hands.

“Tommy. What the hell?”

“Look. I'm sorry. Ok?”

“What?”

Jilly got Tommy situated on the sofa and returned a moment later with two glasses. She poured. Tommy took a deep gulp of straight liquor and tried to settle herself.

“Ok. What happened?” Jilly asked, straight up, after Tommy had swallowed another mouthful.

“I got myself f****d. Royally.”

Jilly cringed and shifted closer on the sofa. She took Tommy by the chin, raised her face to the side to catch the light and studied her jaw. “You've been beaten.”

Tommy knocked her hand away. “It shows?” She laughed sourly.

“Yes. The bruising. What happened?”

“I went for a damned massage... you know. Like in Ann's magazine.”

“And...”

“And there were a bunch of guys there.”

“Oh Christ. And they beat you.”

“Yes.”

“But it didn't stop there. They wanted more?”

“Oh yeah!”

“What did they do to you, Tommy?”

Tommy gulped scotch. “I can't tell you. I can't never tell nobody.”

Jilly tried to take Tommy into her arms but Tommy stonewalled her. Turned away.

“Don't martyr yourself, Tommy,” Jilly said. “Lots of women have been humiliated. Probably most. We deal with it.”

“But it was so fuckin'...”

“Too fuckin' awful to tell me?”

“Jilly. I can't.”

“It happened to me, too. Years ago.”

Tommy stiffened. “To you? You never said...” There was a hardness about Jilly's eyes that frightened Tommy. Jilly was looking over Tommy's shoulder, thinking. Tommy shirked down to avoid her eyes, dropping into the crook of Jilly's arm; placed a hand across her tummy.

“I've never told anyone. And its festered for years.”

“And now?” Tommy hazarded the question.

Jilly reached for her scotch. “I've suffered with it. You shouldn't have to. We both talk, we both deal with the shame.”

“Jilly. I dunno what to say.”

“They didn't r**e me,” Jilly closed her eyes. “But for a young teenager, it was just as bad.”

“Jilly, you don't have to...”

“I was hanging out with a few guys in the neighborhood. I wasn't into dolls; tree-forts were more interesting. And the guys were building one in the woodlot. They had pilfered some plywood that morning. And some rope. We hiked into the trees, like always, but there was something different going on. One of the boys was older, and I overheard him talking about my clothes; wondering how I would look without them.”

“But you were just a kid...”

“Yeah. And I got an early education. They set me to work with the rope; platting it for a ladder. But, in the end, they used it to tie me to the tree.”

“Oh Jilly, no. I don't need to hear this.”

“What? You own the private concession on shame and abuse?”

“No. But...”

“I was sitting with them, working the knots out when I felt a hand on my back. It was the older boy. He wasn't stoking but tracing the outline of my bra strap. I twisted around to face him and he asked me what it felt like to be a girl. When I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, he reached out and pulled on my breast. 'What's it feel like here?' is what he said. I jumped up and they grabbed me. I kicked and punched but there was four of them and before I could do anything, I felt hands on the front of my shirt. I spun away when I realized they had the buttons open but stopped fighting when I saw the knife. He slipped the blade under my bra, between the cups, and pulled. The guys hooted and howled when they saw my n*****s. There was no stopping them, then.

“My pants were pulled off and they pushed my face up against the tree; the rope tied around, under my armpits, and I felt the knife again. The boy cut my underpants.

“They took turns digging between my legs: jamming fingers here and there, opening, exploring, smelling, tasting. It was disgusting. I stood for half-an-hour and took it. When they finally tired, they threw me to the ground and stood over me. They undid their zippers.”

“f**k Jilly. They didn't!”

“Sure they did. All over my face, my hair, my tits...”

“And there was nothing you could do?”

“Two of the boys where standing on my hands. I couldn't turn away. It was the most humiliating moment of my life.”

“You never told me.”

“I've never told anyone. But the boys sure did. Within a couple of days everyone at school seemed to know. Most of the girls shunned me, but a couple were curious: One asked me if it hurt to have s*x in the bum and another wanted to know what I was going to do with the four babies.

“Of course, to the guys at school, I was now ass-candy. Boys I didn't even know wanted to meet me after school. And others just knocked me into the lockers and grabbed at me, right in the hallway, with everyone watching. Laughing.

“And then this crazy woman phoned my mom and told her I should be locked up in a school for bad girls.”

“So what happened?”

“I actually had to change schools. A councilor helped me. I told her I was having trouble making friends, but I think she must have heard; she got me transferred out, no questions asked.”

“And now? How do you feel about it now? After all this time?”

“I guess I've come to accept the fact that they were just boys. They were curious and didn't understand about how a woman feels. About privacy and personal invasion, and how their actions could cause hurt. I have to believe they weren't being vindictive; for my own sanity. But I did suffer.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I've spilled. Told you a secret one knows, including Rick...”

“My turn.” Tommy reached past and poured scotch. She didn't look into Jilly's face.

Tommy told her everything: About Cory, the men with the cameras, the tearing and hurt, the forced s*x, the spanking, and finally, about the plastic flower they had forced up into her. Tommy drained another glass.

“Could you possibly get pregnant?” Jilly's first question!

“Yes. The last guy completed the act.”

“Get that checked out first of all. You don't need a stranger's baby.”

“I'm going to kill those bastards,” Tommy said.

“Not quite yet, you're not. You need some time to think things through. You need to be rational.”

“Rational? They held me down and...”

“Yes they did. Held you down and took what that wanted. Think of it as a business transaction. You just haven't been paid back yet. But don't go off the deep-end. We need to be smart about this. You got vacation time coming?”

“Vacation time?”

“Yeah. I think you need to talk with David. Tell him you need some distance. Then go; give yourself some time to decompress. We'll figure it out; come up with a plan. The cameras are telling; this is far from over. They're not done with you yet.”

The day the letter arrived, David had already left for work and Tommy was just locking the front door. She spotted the envelope in the box and an uncommon chill chafed her skin; Tommy had been expecting it and with bloodless, unresponsive fingers, she tore at the flap and shook out the sheet of paper; dreading what it would hold for her. Tommy reached for the phone.

“Jilly. You in for a little hunting trip?” she whispered.

“Ooh. What are we hunting?”

“A predator,” Tommy replied.

“Good. I love to eat predator. I'll bring 'Missy' along?”

“Missy would be good. Very good.”

“So they got in touch?” Jilly said.

“Yeah. Found a letter in my box this morning. No stamp. The bastard came right up to my front door. When I get a hold of 'em I'm going to rip his arms from the sockets and jam them right up his ass!”

“Whoa baby. Cool it! We agreed to think this thing through. We agreed, remember? Come up with a solid plan before getting all het up! You remember that?”

“Yeah, but...”

“Look,” Jilly continued. “Take a walk around the block. Ok? Get some fresh air. Work it off. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“Thanks baby. But better hurry; I'll leave without you!”

Jilly pulled up to the curb minutes later and Tommy slipped down into the passenger seat of the Audi.

“Blackmail?” The first words outta Jilly's mouth. Tommy couldn't answer, she was so angry. She could only cast her eyes down to where the letter seemed to throb in her fingers. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee,” Jilly said and, checking the mirror, pulled into the street.

She drove to the doughnut shop a couple of blocks over and Tommy slipped her ten bucks. Jilly came back with a couple of large coffees and settled down behind the wheel; blowing steam and sipping, blowing and sipping. Thinking. Jilly finally broke the silence: “You know, Tommy... this thing can’t get much worse. But on the plus side, these guys have no idea who their dealing with. It's been awhile since I kicked some ass. But we gotta be smart about it. You understand? C'mon, let me have a look at what they said.”

Tommy passed the page over and Jilly skimmed through it. Then read it again; more thoroughly this time, before dropping it down, holding it in her lap and sipping more coffee; staring out to where the midday traffic streamed along the sun-parched pavement. “Someone's going to pay,” Jilly breathed coldly.

“Jilly?” Tommy asked, her voice sounding small for once, ineffectual. “Jilly? What am I going to do?”

Jilly finally turned to her and offered a brave smile. “This website they’re talking about. Have you seen it?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Ok, but you know what’s on there, right? I mean those guys weren’t shooting video to show the grand kids. You start giving them money, they will suck you dry.”

“I know. I know.” Tears had started to gather and Jilly handed across a box of tissues.

Tommy grabbed the box from Jilly's hand, crushed it and tossed it onto the floor mat. “I don't need fuckin' nose-wipes!”

Jilly withdrew, but took the outburst without complaint. She had known Tommy far too long to take her flares of anger to heart.

“They haven’t threatened you yet,” Jilly continued, “but it’s just a matter of time. Your husband and kids will be first. They will demand more and more money, to keep the video under wraps. When are you leaving, anyway?”

Tommy's head came up. “Damn it, Jilly. I can’t leave. Not now...”

Jilly let out an exasperated sigh. “Look. We’ve discussed this. You’re an emotional f**k-up and you’re not helping yourself by hanging around. At this rate you’ll be a basket case this time next week. And I can’t look after both you and your problem.” Jilly turned to face Tommy. “You understand what I'm saying to you, girl?”

Tommy looked down to where her hands were balled in her lap. “Ok... ok. Sure, I understand. But where should I go? Where can I go?”

“It doesn’t f*****g matter. Just grab a credit card and get the hell out of here. Fly to Europe, take a cruise, rent a cabin, but go. You say David’s at work?” Tommy dully nodded. “Ok. As soon as we get back, I want you to call him; tell him you're taking some time for yourself. Tell him you’ll be gone for at least a week. Got it? And when you get back home again, this thing will seem totally different to you. Trust me on this. You’ll be doing everyone a gigantic favor by disappearing for awhile; and then we’ll deal with it. I promise you.”

Tommy nodded her head. She was such a flippin' pain in the ass. But thank god she was lucky enough to call Jilly her friend.

It took a couple of days for Tommy to find the right time to tell her husband: “I'll be away a few days; a little private time.” David didn’t quibble. He saw a gift: A week of beer, pizza and unlimited access to the sports channel. Tommy could have hoped for a little interest on his part, concern even. But the self-serving bastard paid for it the morning Tommy left; she lifted his car keys.

In the predawn, Tommy was behind the wheel of his vintage Corvette. She took #278 out of the City and when she hit Interstate 95, Tommy pointed the broad nose of the car south. It was still dark and, with the exception of the eighteen-wheelers, Tommy had the road to herself. She dropped the shifter into third and lay her foot onto the accelerator and got a rush as the car effortlessly approached ninety. Tommy moved over to the inside lane and, hitting fourth, let the road vibrations hum in her thighs and lower back. Better than s*x, she thought. Better than Cory.