by Nancy Madore
Jessica wrapped her arms and legs around Steve violently as he entered her, still in a frenzy of passion, and she jerked his head down toward hers for a kiss. She sucked furiously on his tongue and bit his lip. Steve pulled his head away and looked down at her, slightly surprised. He was bewildered by the passion he found burning in her eyes. He became even more controlled and tender with her in response, slowly pulling himself out of her and then methodically pushing himself all the way back in. She struggled beneath him, moving her hips against his body in an effort to quicken his torturously slow pace and further titillate herself by stroking her clitoris aggressively against him. She yearned to make him lose control. It infuriated her to have him remain so composed while she burned so hot. Angrily she ran her nails down the length of his back, hard and with the intent to draw blood. Steve grasped her hands and held them securely at her sides. He continued his slow, easy strokes meanwhile as he continued to look down into her face. Jessica struggled to free her arms, grasping him more violently with her legs. Although she could not engage Steve in her rough play, his strength as he held her compounded her desire. But she was ever aware that she wanted more from him, and she felt herself wondering what Derrick, the man from the park, would have done in his place. Something in Derrick’s manner caused her to think that he would have enjoyed the rough play and responded in kind. Somehow, in her overly aroused state, this thought took hold and she found herself imagining Derrick taking her aggressively while Steve looked on. These images were quickly escalating into a fantasy that Jessica fervently wished would come true. She clung to Steve as if he really were Derrick, and the look on Steve’s face as he watched her with his expression of surprise enhanced the fantasy for her. She stared up into Steve’s eyes as he watched her; he was always silently watching her. Suddenly she felt she was watching him watch her from across the room while Derrick made love to her. She screamed as she reached another orgasm.
Once the rush of pleasure passed, Jessica felt slightly disenchanted. Meanwhile, Steve, assured that she was at last appeased, threw himself into her. With one final thrust and a deep groan she felt him twitch and the warm wetness filled her.
Jessica clung to him in a sudden panic, but he was already moving away from her. He settled himself comfortably next to her in the bed, contemplating sleep. She stared at the ceiling, wide awake. She was never more aware of the increasing gap between her needs and what she was getting. She thought about Derrick again. Perhaps she should give him a chance. Difficulties immediately flooded her consciousness. She regretted giving Steve the key to her apartment. She reminded herself bitterly that he had not reciprocated by giving her the key to his.
“I have plans this evening,” she blurted out the next morning, interrupting Steve in midsentence. He was running down the list of his activities for that day, as was his habit, to in due course let Jessica know when she could expect him that evening. What once felt like consideration for her now seemed like him taking her for granted. It was really more than she could endure silently on this occasion.
Steve stared at her in surprise. “Oh?” he inquired. “What are you doing?”
“I just have plans.” She looked away from him.
He watched her in his quiet way for several minutes. She refused to meet his eyes. It was clear she was upset, but he couldn’t even begin to guess why. “What’s going on?” he asked her, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about her plans for that night anymore. She was surprised to get this much out of him. She knew he abhorred confrontation.
“It’s not like we’re married or anything,” she said defensively. “I don’t have to answer to you.” Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t seem to remember any of the many things she wanted to say. She really wanted to fight, but knew he would never submit to one.
“Are you seeing someone else tonight?” he asked her, still in his calm manner but with genuine surprise. Regret over having said anything was already creeping over her. The truth was, she was not certain that she really wanted to see Derrick. She didn’t even know if he was still available. She looked at Steve. Normally, his calm manner would have irked her, but now, at the prospect of losing him, it seemed terribly appealing. She absently wondered why she always had to be on the verge of losing something before she appreciated it. She was suddenly afraid and couldn’t bring herself to answer his question, either to admit it or deny it.
Steve stood up. “I’ll clear out then.”
“Steve…” But he was already walking out of the room.
Now she felt panic. She didn’t want him to go. She had only wanted to scare him into showing some emotion. But it was her who was scared. She stood in the kitchen, wondering what to do.
Steve came out in the next minute, carrying an overstuffed bag.
“Steve, can we talk about this?”
“I don’t have time for your games,” he said calmly.
“It’s not games…it’s….” But there was too much to explain and he was already reaching for the doorknob. Suddenly Jessica was angry. “I don’t feel like we are going anywhere,” she blurted out. “We never speak of the future at all, and yet, night after night, you’re here, like we’re married or something.”
Steve turned to look at her. “If I don’t come over one night you get upset,” he reminded her.
“Yes, but…I don’t know. It’s just that it feels like our future is all up to you and nothing to do with me. I don’t even know where I stand with you.”
“You want to know where you stand with me?” he asked her calmly, looking directly into her eyes. His voice was soft and warm and calm, as always. “You were the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He walked out the door.
For some reason this declaration did not have the effect she had imagined it would. In fact, it made her angrier. “So I was just supposed to wait patiently for you to tell me that?” she screamed at him as he calmly walked down the hallway.
But once Steve was gone the anger left her. She began to cry and simultaneously reached for the telephone.
“Well, well,” Linda said with a self-satisfied little laugh. “A little push will work wonders.”
“He said wanted. Past tense. And then he left me,” Jessica pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s yours. If you want him, that is. We have to see what happens with Derrick.” Linda was annoyingly cheerful, as if what Jessica had just told her was good news. The mention of Derrick made Jessica wince.
“Are you kidding?”
“Look, you already suffered the consequences for it. You might as well do it.” Linda’s matter-of-fact attitude made the idea seem more palatable.
“I don’t even know if Derrick is still available.”
“He is.”
“He’s probably forgotten about me by now.”
“He hasn’t.”
And he hadn’t. He was delighted to hear from her, in fact. “How are you?” he asked. He sounded as if he was smiling.
“As it turns out,” Jessica said, gaining courage from his friendly tone, “I’m free tonight.”
“That’s great,” he said, clearly pleased. Then, without a moment’s hesitation he moved in to close the deal, “Is seven too late?”
“That’s perfect,” she agreed, hardly able to believe that she was doing it. And just in case Steve had a change of heart—he had not returned her key—she added, “Can I meet you out?”
Throughout the rest of the day, Jessica wavered between nervous excitement for the night to come and anxiety over whether or not Steve would call.
“Did he call?” Linda asked when they spoke later.
“No.” Jessica was filled with remorse.
“Well, give him time,” Linda said, unperturbed. “He will.”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to wear tonight?” Linda asked, effectively changing the subject.
Jessica appeared at the designated meeting place—which was a posh restaurant she had often h
inted to Steve about, but never managed to get him to take her to—wearing her clingiest little black dress and heels that she knew from experience she could stand in for no longer than fifteen minutes before collapsing in excruciating pain. But she felt terribly sexy and excited in spite of her lingering guilt about what happened with Steve. The fact that he had not called assuaged much of her guilt. Meanwhile, Derrick was waiting for her at the bar.
The date with Derrick should have delighted her; for the food and atmosphere were everything she had imagined and Derrick was a perfectly charming man who asked all the right questions. Even better, he listened to her answers with genuine interest. But Jessica discovered that she could not so easily enjoy another man’s company while she was still so involved with Steve. Even so, she repeatedly found her attention being lured away from her concerns over her relationship with Steve and back to her charismatic date. He was almost too charismatic, she realized—and too attractive, too. She felt there was something contrived in his polite, funny, engaging dating technique. But she couldn’t put her finger on it, and it didn’t matter anyway because her thoughts kept returning to Steve.
Steve. At least with him she had something real. And now, more than ever, with the fear of having lost him, she found herself dwelling on only Steve’s better qualities.
Somehow she managed to get through her dinner with Derrick without revealing her inner conflict. In fact, she could see that Derrick was completely enamored by her.
“It’s still early,” he said. “Why don’t we go out dancing.” Her mind immediately went to Steve, who hated to dance, and absolutely refused to go no matter how much she pleaded with him.
“I don’t think so, Derrick,” she said. Suddenly her mood was black and she was pining to see Steve.
Derrick paid the bill and walked with her through the parking lot toward her car.
“Are you sure you don’t feel like dancing?” Derrick asked. “I know this great place that plays the best music.”
“I’m not up for it tonight,” she began, about to suggest that they do it another time, but instead she decided to come clean. “Actually, Derrick,” she said, giving him an apologetic look, “I have a boyfriend.” He stared at her, genuinely shocked, and she felt compelled to explain her behavior. “I was having some doubts about it, but…” Her voice trailed off.
Derrick had remained speechless throughout this garbled explanation, but all of a sudden he released a small derisive laugh. “So you went out with me…why?”
Jessica sighed. “Look, Derrick, I was confused when I called you. My boyfriend and I have been having some problems. But I want to try and work it out.”
He laughed without humor. “That doesn’t answer my question, does it?” Jessica could see that he was genuinely angry and she suddenly noticed that they were the only two people in the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. They had stopped walking at some point, but she abruptly resumed walking to her car.
Derrick grabbed her arm, causing her heart to stop. “You women and your games,” he said with disgust. The charming Derrick of a few moments ago was now an angry man. He spoke directly into her face, not talking to her but at her. Even so, he noticed the look of surprise in her expression, which made him even angrier. “How dare anyone question your behavior, right?” he said with another humorless laugh, shaking his head.
“Please, Derrick…I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” he interrupted her. She could smell the alcohol he’d consumed with dinner on his breath. “You knew exactly what you were doing. What was it? You wanted to piss your boyfriend off? So you used me.”
“Let go of my arm!” She didn’t like that he guessed so close to the truth.
“Next time you’re complaining about what assholes us guys are,” he said, “think about tonight.” He released her arm then, actually thrusting it away from him vehemently. “Whatever you get, you’ve got it coming to you.” His voice was filled with disgust.
Jessica rushed to her car, stopping so suddenly that she actually slammed into the side of it, and fumbled hastily for her keys. She looked over her shoulder as she pressed frantically on the unlock button on her key chain, but there was no sign of Derrick anywhere. He had disappeared. This frightened her even more, and she scrambled into her car and immediately locked the doors from the inside. Her heart pounded erratically as she turned the key in the ignition and quickly drove away. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw that no one was behind her. She was trembling. Sometime during their exchange in the parking lot, she had become convinced that Derrick was a dangerous man. Now, her mind leaped to the killer from the park. Suddenly, it became apparent to her that the killer returned his victims there because it was the place where he had first met them. She had even come to the conclusion that Derrick was that killer.
She had been digging through her purse for her cell phone while she drew these conclusions. She had intended to call 911, but even though her eyes continued to scan the rearview and side mirrors to see if anyone was following her down the dark road, she was beginning to calm down. Once the initial terror subsided, she was confused. What did she really have to report to the police? She had gone on a date with a man who became angry when she told him she had a boyfriend after he had dropped a hundred and fifty dollars on dinner. The police would no doubt think she was crazy. The farther she drove away from the parking lot the crazier her fears seemed, even to her.
Besides, Derrick had not actually hurt her or threatened to hurt her, and there was no doubt that he could have done so if he had really wanted to.
Suddenly, Jessica was exhausted. She remembered why she hated dating so much. All those years of being single and going out with men, she had repeatedly vowed that if only she could find a good, decent, normal man, she would cherish him forever. And isn’t that what she had found in Steve?
She remembered her sexual fantasy about Derrick while she was making love to Steve the night before, and she shuddered with horror. She simply had to speak to Steve. With impulsive finality she punched Steve’s telephone number into her cell phone. “Come on,” she whispered into the phone, but there was no answer.
Jessica cautiously made her way home. She was getting more and more anxious over Steve. Where was he? She dialed his number again. Once again he didn’t answer. This time she let the call go to his machine. Tears came to her eyes, blurring her vision, as she listened to his voice on the answering machine; so calm and kind and simple. She wondered if he had gone out on a date, like her, and the thought brought with it a sudden surge of jealousy and uncertainty. She realized this must be what he felt like when he left her that morning. His recorded greeting had run its course and there was a long series of beeps.
“Steve…Steve…I love you!” She rushed headlong into her message without planning what she would say. The tears were running down her cheeks as she poured her heart out over his machine. “I was confused before because I was afraid. I didn’t know what you felt and you weren’t as communicative as I wanted you to be. But you are the man I want and only you. Please, forgive me…oh, Steve…” She began to sob, and finally hung up the phone.
At the other end of the telephone line Steve stood very still, staring at the answering machine while he listened silently to Jessica’s voice. There was a slightly muddled expression on his face as he listened. He seemed worn out and uncertain.
An image of her came to his mind as he mentally said her name. Jessica. He was stupid to have trusted her. The rage rushed over him again. He had allowed himself to be made a fool of yet again.
Steve shook Jessica’s image from his mind, pulling himself back to the present with a jolt. He reached over and pressed one sinewy finger firmly over the delete button, erasing the offending message. Then he turned back to the woman waiting beside him. He was not quite finished with her. She stared at the ceiling with an expression of euphoria. Carefully and meticulously he finished carving his mar
k into her cold, lifeless flesh.
PETER, PETER PUMPKIN EATER
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
had a wife and couldn’t keep her.
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
and there he kept her very well.
Joyce hurried through the house, anxiously putting things in order before Peter returned from work. Having just showered, she picked up her soiled clothes and stuffed them into the washing machine, setting the cycle to presoak. Next, she sat down in front of the computer and quickly and systematically deleted all the e-mails she had received or sent that day, and then, for good measure, she purged the computer’s history file altogether. After that she made a quick detour to the kitchen, where she looked all around in the cabinet drawers for a packet of matches. Finding some at last, she took them upstairs into the master bathroom and, pulling from her pocket a collection of notes and letters, placed them along with a lit match in the small metal trash container that was kept there. She watched the paper burn thoughtfully. Had she forgotten anything?
When Peter arrived home a short time later there was nothing discernibly amiss and yet, no sooner had he stepped over the threshold than he was overcome with a sense of disorder. There was all around him the impression of unreality, and he faltered for a moment; puzzling, like a player over a game board. He dropped his keys and briefcase on a nearby table wondering where Joyce was, and in that instant she came into his view, greeting him with her usual Mona Lisa smile. Peter stared at her as she approached. Was there something different about her? Yes, as she crossed the room her eyes darted about the room, landing everywhere but directly on Peter, and he got the distinct impression that she did not want to meet his gaze. She seemed, to his heightened senses, affected.
