Gagged (19 page)

I look at Jasmine. She looks at me. And then we both look away, everything changed forever.

“Put your fucking clothes on, both of you,” Caspian says as he zips up, ludicrously expensive clothing soiled with his come, uncaring. “But on the way out, don’t forget to take one of my cards from James’s desk. There’s a private number, and you’ll need it.”
 

Jasmine, still looking away from me, nude and perfect and freshly fucked as I rush to gather myself, looks up at him. Finally I find my voice and say,
“Why?”

“Because tomorrow, it’s your move.”
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A
URORA

I
DRIVE
US
HOME
. W
E
get into the car without a word. My arm shifts across the console and rubs against Jasmine’s. I flinch, then she mumbles, “Sorry,” but otherwise we say nothing. I try to watch her from the corner of my eye, but won’t turn my head. From what I can see, she’s doing more or less the same, trying to watch me.
 

We park.
 

I walk inside first, carrying my camera bag. Jasmine lags behind, messing with something in the backseat. When she comes in, far enough behind me that there’s no interaction, she’s only holding her own bag. Some time later she emerges from her room in gym clothes, but not her usual garb. Gone are the tight leggings and jog top; today Jasmine’s in baggy shorts and a loose-fitting tee, the kind of thing I’d wear to exercise. She doesn’t look over. She simply leaves. It takes her two full hours to return, and then she goes right into her room. It’s that way until evening.
 

I dream of darkness then wake up sweaty and ashamed.
 

In the morning, Jasmine isn’t in the kitchen like usual. I look at her bedroom door, see it closed, hear her moving around behind it. I consider knocking but don’t. I consider pouring myself a bowl of cereal but don’t do that, either. Instead, I decide to make a drive-through run for a breakfast sandwich even though it’s Sunday and I’ve nowhere to be. Just as I’m getting ready to leave, I hear Jasmine’s doorknob turn. I rush the final few steps outside and to my car before she can enter the living room.
 

The second day passes. My phone rings with a San Francisco extension I don’t recognize, but the caller doesn’t leave a message. It rings again, and again there’s no message. Finally the same number sends me a text:
 

If you don’t take your turn, you forfeit.
 

Caspian.

Well, fuck him. I’m over it. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; but I’ll be damned if I’ll walk into a situation where he can fool me a third time. I won’t feel like an idiot. More than I already do.

I get a few more calls. I drive around, heading nowhere, not really wanting to go home. There’s no reason. Caspian was right about one thing: James wanted Jasmine, and Jasmine wanted James; Caspian wanted to watch, and I guess I must’ve found it hot if I came as hard as I did. I can’t exactly put my finger on why yesterday was wrong. I only know that it was. We’re all adults, and no one was forced.
 

I drive to a scenic overlook and stare out across the bay, over the Golden Gate Bridge, feeling like a tourist. I hate Caspian for what he’s done to me. To
us
. If he’d just said and done horrible things, I’d be able to hate and dismiss him. But what happened was so much worse. He only suggested terrible things; he only aligned the stars so that Jasmine and I could do what we did. The actions were ours. He didn’t corrupt us, because we were perfectly capable of corrupting ourselves.
 

I get to wondering if he was right all along. I don’t like the idea that he might be.
 

Maybe we really are out of control, under our skins.
 

Maybe, when you get right down to it, we’re every one of us beasts.
 

I knew better on Friday night. I definitely (with Friday fresh in my memory) knew better yesterday. I even knew better while I was doing the things I shouldn’t have done. I could have left but didn’t, knowing full well I’d regret it. I could have pulled Jasmine away, knowing that today would be as awkward as it’s already been. We were all trapped in the moment. Caspian gave us a chance to act out, and we did. He turned the thumbscrews, compelling us to indulge all our base, lustful instincts. And we thanked him.
 

Thank you, Caspian, for forcing me to do this thing I want to do but can’t admit.

Thank you, Caspian, for making it impossible to refuse, because a deep part of me wants it.

He says I’m denying who I truly am. He even says he’s trying to help me, and that makes me laugh. Yeah, right. He just wants me naked so he can try and fuck me. He wants to corrupt the sweet virgin because that gets him off.
 

I remember his cock in my mouth.
 

I remember watching Jasmine and James, wishing in some small way that things had been different yesterday — that I’d have been forced to be where Jasmine was.

If you don’t sit on my dick, I’ll take all the money away.
 

I wonder if I wanted it. I wonder, if he’d said that to me, if I’d have been disgusted, or if I’d have been grateful — because I’ve thought about it constantly since. I’m a good girl. I’d never do the things Jasmine did, especially not in front of my friend.
 

I remember her tongue on my pussy. I remember my orgasm.
 

She wanted to do it. I wanted her to. So what was the harm? Why do I feel so
wrong
?
 

My phone rings. It’s my friend Alice, who’s in my senior photography course. We’ve been supporting each other on our final projects, so I talk her through some stuff, happy for the distraction. Five minutes after we hang up, she calls again with new questions, and I talk her through those as well. Then I get back in the car and drive, headed for home. I’ll have to face this thing eventually.
 

My phone rings a third time, and I pick it up without thinking. But instead of Alice, I heard a low male voice.

“Having trouble coming up with ideas?”
 

I tense. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. I’m driving, so I need to keep my eyes on the road. I’m about to start pressing buttons when the phone says, “Don’t hang up.”

I hang up.
 

The phone rings, and I let it go to voicemail.
 

Then it rings again.
 

And again.
 

And again.
 

Finally I pick up and spit, “Leave me alone!”
 

“Do you know why it bothers you, Aurora? It’s because now, when you look in the mirror, you can finally see yourself. Not the doll your parents created, but you. It’s not a bad thing. Just different.”
 

“Don’t call me. Don’t
ever
call me.”
 

“Pull over. Up ahead, at the fruit stand.”
 

I’m about to ask what he means, but then a fruit stand buzzes by on my right. There are strawberries and blueberries and peaches and apples, and then there’s something else that nearly stops my heart. The stand is a little thing, not much more than a table by the roadside, with two enormous bouquets of white flowers on each end.
 

“You have no idea how hard that was to coordinate in time. Turn around. They’re yours.”
 

“Are you following me?”
 

“Close. I’m tracking you.”
 

I look at my phone. I want to throw it out the window but don’t.
 

“Aurora?”

I say nothing, but I’m sure he can hear my angry breathing.
 

“I shouldn’t be helping you. It’s your turn, after all.”
 

“Fuck you. And fuck my turn.”
 

“There’s my dirty girl.”
 

Something snaps. I feel my eyes filling with furious moisture. If he were here with me, I’d slap him. If he were here, maybe in my backseat, he’d grab my arms to stop me from slapping. He’d pin me down. I’d struggle, but there’d be no point, and then he’d do what he wanted. I’d have to accept it, feeling all the pleasure against my better judgment.
 

My voice comes out in a scream.

“Fuck you!”
 

“It’s almost as if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I don’t! I never want to hear from you again!”
 

“Why not, Aurora? I didn’t once force you. I didn’t hold you against your will. The first night,
you
decided to start dancing like a stripper.
You
came to me in the bathroom. Yesterday,
you
decided to come back. Why did you return if you were so bothered?”
 

“Jasmine made me.”
 

“Hmm. Despite the fact that Jasmine came alone the first time. Despite the fact that I offered those donations as no strings attached.”
 

I think back. He’s twisting my words.
 

“If you were so bothered by the idea of my buying Jasmine’s journalistic integrity, you could have stopped her from deleting the files. It took her a while to do it, and you knew what she was up to. If you were bothered by my suggestion that she and James get amorous in front of us, you could have gone home.”

“And leave her alone with you?”
 

“Or you could have taken her with you.”
 

“That’s not how it was.”
 

“You’re wrong. That’s
exactly
how it was, Aurora. I never stopped you. I never even touched you. I couldn’t even have taken the money away. You watched me put it into escrow. It was yours — or at least the schools’ — whether you chose to participate or not. And it still is. If you hang up on me now, I couldn’t stop those lawyers from handing it over.”
 

I stop. I think. He’s right. That’s the point of escrow. An agreement is made, money is set aside, and a third party makes sure it goes where it belongs. But we didn’t sign any agreements. This bet is off the record. It’s possible he’s lying and that the money hasn’t been transferred, but I don’t think so. This is a mind game, not a wager.
 

“Maybe I will hang up.”
 

“Go ahead.”
 

I drive. My wheels on the asphalt make a low thrumming as cars whiz by on my left.
 

“Do you know why it bothers you so much? Because you’re light, and I’m dark. That’s what makes us such a great couple.”
 

“We’re not a couple,” I say. But he just barges on.
 

“But I know what you’re thinking. All we did was have a miniature orgy. Not even, really. Jasmine got hers, and we watched. She touched you, but only a little. So how is that dark if it was my turn? How does that prove that my worldview is correct and that yours is naive?”

I don’t know what to say.
 

“It’s a catch-22. If you like the edges of human experience, you’ll lap them up, and they won’t feel like edges. If you like the darkness, it won’t feel dark. If you like pain, then it may as well be pleasure.”
 

“I never said it was painful.”
 

“Not yet.”

“I don’t want to play anymore.”
 

“But that’s where you’re wrong. You absolutely do. I know you, Aurora Henley. I’ve been watching you for months. I’ve run all your LiveLyfe activity through advanced behavioral algorithms I’ve developed with my friends at Eros. I just met with them recently — I took a data stick with me and ran you through Halo, the best of those algorithms. Halo is magic. It tells me what you’ll do before you do it.”
 

I feel cold. He’s been watching me for months? Still I don’t hang up. If I’m afraid and don’t run, is it because I’m curious? Or am I just stupid?

“Like what?” I say.
 

“Like if your friend is slighted by some pompous asshole, you’ll blow up if you see him. You seem quiet, but you have fire inside. So you won’t just let that pompous asshole get away with it. You’ll follow him right into a coffee shop and shout him down, then you’ll follow him upstairs to his office.”

That first day. Jasmine’s interview. He did it on purpose, knowing I’d see him outside the Hill of Beans and chase him inside.

“And if you’re given a chance to break loose and dance, you’ll do it. If you’re given a sex toy and some choice words, you’ll be intrigued enough to use it even if it was given to you by a handsome stranger.” Caspian chuckles.

Again I say nothing. The phone is warm against my ear, but I won’t put it down.
 

“You’re a bit like a butterfly, forcing its way out of a chrysalis. Only the resistance feels painful. If you accept that you are the person you’ve recently been, none of it will hurt. You and Jasmine? You’re the same as you were yesterday. It shouldn’t matter, if you accept your desires, that you watched her get fucked up the ass. It shouldn’t matter, if you accept that I’m right about all of us, that you enjoyed her tongue on your pussy.”
 

I want to reply that I was drunk and not in my right mind. But while that was true Friday, it wasn’t yesterday. I want to tell him that I was coerced, but that isn’t true, either. I could have left and kept the money. I chose to stay; I chose to participate. Just like I’m choosing to stay on this call.

“All I’m offering you, Aurora, is
you
. All I’m threatening you with is the person you
truly
are … once your social bindings are cut away.”
 

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong about me.”
 

And Caspian says, “Then prove it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A
URORA

I
IGNORE
C
ASPIAN
. F
UCK
THAT
guy. After I hang up, he keeps calling, but I’m no longer interested. Eventually I remember that I can block callers and do so.