Vow of Silence

by Roxy Harte

  I let out a long sigh, and it sounds full of frustration and desperation. It’s surprising. I didn’t think I had any emotion left.

  “How can I leave now, knowing I have to worry about your safety?” Lin sits back down, and I hate the worried look I see etched into her face.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure her.

  “If I beg you not to go to the hospital or contact Gigi in any way while I am gone will I be wasting my breath?”

  Swallowing hard, I shrug. Two men beat me senseless and could have easily killed me if they wanted, but that does not seem deterrent enough. Gigi needs me. I close my eyes at the arrogance of my thoughts. What she needs is medical professionals—physical therapists, psychologists—not me. I fall forward, hugging myself and allowing myself to cry. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I ache as badly as I did ten years ago.”

  “George, you must release your guilt. You must forgive yourself. That is the only way you will begin to heal. You must put Gigi back into your past—that is where she belongs—only then will you have a future.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right, but how can I ever push Gigi back into my past?

  “You were in love with her,” she guesses.

  “Not inappropriately so. Not sexually.” I try to keep my voice calm and even. Why do I doubt my words? “She just needed someone to give a damn about her.”

  “A noble quest.” She meets my gaze. “You were a good man to try to help a troubled teenager. You are still a very good man. You care about people. That is why you went to the hospital even though it was never a wise thing to do.”

  “Why not wise?”

  “Because she has already broken your heart once. She has a power over you that I pray you will be able to escape.”

  Her calm, rational demeanor irritates me. I suddenly realize that I want her to be angry with me. I want her to rant and rave. I want her to force me to see my own stupidity.

  “Do not let her destroy your soul.”

  Her request makes me shudder.

  “I am not an innocent.” Strong emotions cross Lin’s face as she purses her lips. “I can tell you think about her even when you are with me. You still want to save the lost girl, the injured girl. In her you saw the tender young growth of a budding masochist, and you wanted to be the one to mold her into something more, but the laws of society forced you to bide your time until she was of a legal age. Only she couldn’t wait. She tried to force your hand and the resulting scandal destroyed you—I’m not talking about your career, I’m talking about you the man—because your mind couldn’t wrap around the truth of it. You wanted her then and you still want her now. In time I have no doubt you will fuck her.”

  “You are definitely not an innocent, but I don’t think your theory is as on target as you’d like to believe.” I stand and take Lin’s hands. I pull her to her feet. “Come to the bedroom. I want nothing more than to spend the time we have left making love to you over and over again.”

  She pulls away from me though I still hold her hands.

  “You’re being irrational. Before she was admitted to the hospital I hadn’t seen her for a decade, because I hadn’t wanted to see her. You are going to have to trust me.”

  “I trust that you have already declared yourself polyamorous and while I am away, you will indulge yourself. Will you be okay with me seeing others as well?”

  What? Of course, fair is fair wars with no way. “Do you want to see others?”

  Lin smiles as mischievously as a Cheshire cat. “You have said that you are capable of loving many people. That every human being is capable of very deep emotional and sexual bonds with a multitude of lovers. As I become more accustomed to the ways and rules of your world, I have to assume I will have equal opportunity to put your theories to test.”

  Exactly. Why place unreasonable limits on our relationship? I should be thrilled that she has grasped the basics so easily.

  “I’ve been researching the modern polyamorous movement.”

  Funny, I thought it was a lifestyle…

  “And I believe now is a good time to discuss if I am to be your primary partner with all of the benefits that go with having that distinction. It only seems right that my needs rise above others.”

  I blink at her. “I’m surprised we’re having this discussion.”

  “Yet it is an important one to have, do you not agree?” She kisses me. “If you are my primary and I am your primary, it only seems right that we approve each other’s sexual partners. Not all of your clients of course, but those men and women who will be significant in our lives. I should be given the opportunity to approve or deny whether you take a relationship with Gigi to the next level.”

  Ah, there’s the crux of it.

  “I do not want you to have sex with this woman who has twisted something in your mind. You didn’t get to have sex with her when she was a child and now that she is a woman you want her, and saying that you are poly makes it okay for you to fuck her.”

  “Don’t be ugly, Lin.”

  “Ugly? You think what I say is ugly?”

  “I need to figure out what I’m feeling for Gigi, and I need you to understand that. You want me to say that I want only you and no one else, and I can’t say that. I will never be able to say that.”

  “I understand that. I do not understand that you want to see more of this woman who destroyed your career.”

  “She was a child, Lin. She didn’t destroy my career. Circumstances at the time warranted that I step down from my positions and I chose to follow a different path.”

  “You’re a sex worker, George, a high-paid prostitute! You were a psychiatrist, a respected professional at the top of your field.”

  “Stop talking. I love you. Nothing will change that. I need some air. I’ll be back in a few hours to take you to the airport.”

  As I pass through the threshold, pulling the door closed behind me, I hear her voice, still strong with anger, but fading with defeat, “Everything has changed, George. The minute you walked through that door, everything changed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gigi

  “The sooner you accept your fate, the better off you will be.” I awaken to Lenka towering over me. I bolt upright, feeling better sitting rather than lying when he is in the room.

  He turns to pace anxiously, and it is strange to see such a powerful man trapped by nervousness. He falls over me, holding himself up with his hands on either side of my head. I can feel his breath on my face and it smells sweetly scented with anise, perhaps licorice or ouzo. “Learn to love me, be my wife.”

  “I’m not marrying you.”

  “Then you will be my slave, forced to my will. It can be a good life or a hard life for you. The choice is yours.”

  “What does my father have on you that you would be willing to do this?”

  “Your father offers me protection.”

  “You? Need protection?” The thought is laughable.

  A nurse enters the room and he drops his face lower, making us seem like lovers instead of the truth—whatever that is—at the moment I feel threatened. He lowers his mouth and kisses me unexpectedly. I don’t struggle or offer any indication to the nurse that I need help. I don’t understand why I don’t.

  His kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before—gentle but determined, with an underlying promise of cruelty or passion. He leaves me trembling…and quite speechless.

  Wanda is my nurse’s name. She is as short as she is wide, a black woman originally from the Deep South, she busies herself as she prepares to check my vitals. Only after Lenka leaves the room does she say anything at all. “Aren’t you a lucky woman? That man is as hot as asphalt in mid-August.”

  I gape at the empty doorway, expecting him to return, but of course he doesn’t. Wanda chatters incessantly and the only thing I hear clearly is that I am to be released tomorrow. “Of course you’ll have to come back for therapy every other day, and you may need surgery on th
ose vocal cords in the future—”

  I burst into tears.

  “Isn’t this good news?”

  I shake my head.

  “Too soon,” I gasp, straining my voice. It hurts unbearably. How can I explain how afraid I am of leaving the hospital? God. Lenka. My parents. All are threats I don’t possibly have the strength to deal with. I need to talk to George.

  Chapter Fourteen

  George

  Lin has been gone for over a week and hasn’t called. I won’t call her. I can’t even say that I regret walking away from the ridiculous fight we were having, though I wish she’d been there when I returned. I can only assume she took a taxi to the airport.

  Preparing for the grand opening party at Bedlam has been a salvation. I can always count on the club.

  When my phone rings, I am surprised to hear Gigi’s voice. I can tell she is straining to make herself heard. Her voice is a ruin of what it once was. “They’re discharging me.”

  “So soon?”

  “My therapy can be completed as an outpatient.”

  “So you are going home? Wow.”

  “I can’t go back to my old apartment. At least not until they capture whoever did this to me. I’m terrified he knows where I live. And I can’t stay with my parents, that would be too unbearable. I’m going to check into a hotel, but they won’t discharge me to a taxi. Will you pick me up?”

  “Of course.”

  The actual discharge is a nightmare. The paperwork is never done on time.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask Gigi.

  It is obvious she is nervous. Every time the elevator bell chimes, her eyes dart to see who is exiting.

  She assures me everything is fine, but I don’t believe her. By chance I notice today’s newspaper lying next to her bed, and the headline leaves me stunned.

  GRUESOME MURDER-SUICIDE SCENE DISCOVERED

  The bodies of Diego Aparicio and his niece Isabella Aparicio, both of Juarez, Mexico, were discovered in an abandoned warehouse scheduled for demolition, the result of what appears to be a murder-suicide although there are no leads as to what led to this tragic event.

  Lifting the newspaper, I ask, “This was your father’s gardener?”

  “Yes, and his niece.”

  “He found her—and killed her?”

  Gigi shakes her head and is obviously paler than moments ago. Her voice is a rough whisper when she declares, “I don’t believe that.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  Again, she shakes her head and shrugs. I notice her hands are shaking. It’s obvious she’s terrified. It’s just as obvious that I’m going to invite her to stay in my guest room.

  I’m an idiot. The thought drifts through my mind a dozen times, but my arguments are stronger. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d sheltered someone who was hiding from danger. I live in a gated community, and the security measures Thomas added when he and his brother were hiding out are still in place. My house is probably the safest abode in California.

  I wait until I have her settled into my car before I ask, “Would you like to stay at my house for a while? At least until the freak that did this to you is found? Or we can find you a new apartment with high security?”

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Gigi, we’re friends. What we do for friends is never a burden.”

  Once I have her settled at my house and have given her the grand tour, skipping the basement, I am relieved to see Gigi finally start to relax. “Can I get you something? A glass of wine?”

  “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” It is going to be hard to get used to hearing her ruined voice.

  I lead her out to the pool garden and immediately realize my mistake, not because she is uncomfortable, but because I am. I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to think of this walled courtyard as Lin’s domain. This is her favorite place, and it seems like she should be sitting here with us.

  She isn’t going to react well to learning Gigi is staying here.

  I toy with the idea of not telling her. Surely in three weeks time Gigi will be settled in a new place, and the past will finally be put to rest.

  “Why did you become my friend?” Gigi stares at her wineglass.

  “You intrigued me.”

  “Because I cut myself and wasn’t ashamed of my scars?”

  “Your scars were trophies. Or so it seemed at the time.”

  She considers that. After a moment she meets my gaze and agrees. “I can see that, although I wouldn’t have been able to at the time. I was marking my survival. Instead of notching a bedpost, I notched myself.”

  “The scars weren’t an outward acknowledgement of inner turmoil, they were sexual encounters?”

  “More or less.”

  I’m completely disappointed and try to hide the fact behind a sip of wine.

  “The first time I met a stranger for sex he choked me out and left me lying in an alley. I was so happy I was still alive that I cut myself, so that the scar would remind me how lucky I was.”

  Taking her hand, I push back one of her long sleeves and turn her palm up so I can see if the scars that travel from wrist to elbow remain visible after so many years. They are still white but not as shiny as they once were. I count a hundred distinct evenly spaced scars. I take her other hand and do the same.

  “Two hundred men?” I see the teenager in my mind.

  She amends, “Strangers.”

  “And they all choked you out?”

  “Choked me, beat me, sodomized me, burned me. I was always glad to escape with my life.”

  “Have you stopped cutting yourself?”

  She laughs. “I ran out of arm skin years ago. I didn’t want to ruin my legs. I always thought I had great legs.”

  A single glass of wine quickly becomes two empty bottles on the table.

  “Was it a compulsion?”

  “Scarring myself?”

  “No, the dangerous liaisons.”

  “I wanted to know what it felt like to be under someone’s complete control. I wanted to know how it felt to understand that my next breath was dependent upon their will.”

  “I wish the community would have been more open then. There are places teens can go now to understand their feelings.”

  “Alternative Sex Centers? Do you really think they could have helped me?” Gigi laughs hysterically, laughing until she can barely breathe. She slaps her leg, takes a drink of her wine and chokes on it. She is weeping when she says, “You do know that they have to preach abstinence until adulthood, right? Because kids don’t have sex. Kids really don’t have masochistic tendencies? Or sadistic leanings. Tell me you believe that.”

  “The centers provide counseling. They offer advice.”

  “Was that what you thought you were doing for me? Did you see a future masochist in my young eyes?”

  “I don’t think there was ever any doubt you were a masochist, but I think there’s more to your story than deviant sexual orientation. You’ve been destroying yourself little by little for too long for there not to be.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  By now I am thinking it is either time to strip her where she sits or take a shower, drink some coffee and manage to get to work on time. I am really worried about Gigi. The more I learn, the more troubling her situation becomes. Now is not the time to consider entering into a relationship with her. “You aren’t going to stop, are you?”

  “I can’t.”

  “I want you to meet someone.”

  “Someone?”

  “One of my Dominants. I want you to do a scene with him. I want you to have an alternative to the dangerous activities you’ve been seeking.”

  “At Lewd Larry’s?” She laughs. “Nothing a professional is allowed to do to me is going to be worth my time, George. You have to realize that.”

  “I didn’t say a session during normal business hours. And the club isn’t called Lewd Larry’s now. I renamed it Bed
lam. It’s darker and moodier than Lewd Larry’s used to be.”

  “Darker and moodier? I’m intrigued. Will there be pain?”

  “As much as you can handle. I think if you can find an outlet—perhaps someone who can safely administer the kind of pain and fear you crave—you could break this dangerous cycle.”

  “And what’s your Dominant alias, George? Do you have one, or are you just referred to as the High Master?”

  I know she’s making fun of me, of the club, but I answer her anyway. “Doctor Psycho.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gigi

  It’s a chilly night and I duck deeper into the wool jacket I pulled on as an afterthought. Bedlam looms ahead, its neon sign a beacon to the lost and lonely, the deviants seeking refuge from the mundane. George promises me I can find relief from the agony that sends me blindly seeking pain among strangers. The man I’m meeting tonight is a stranger. We both agree I am on a path of self-destruction I won’t return from if I continue the patterns I have. This meeting was arranged by George. It will be safe, sane, consensual. I see him leaning nonchalantly in the shadows of the building. I assume he considers himself well-hidden but I am attuned to George. Coconspirator, enemy, savior. He wouldn’t send me into a dangerous situation.

  I don’t approach him, preferring to allow him to believe he is still well-hidden as I enter the club. Loud music pounds at me from all directions. Naked dancers trapped inside Lucite boxes gyrate maniacally. Most of the dancers are clad in leather or latex, and I stand out like a sore thumb.

  “Gigi Marconi?” A man approaches with his hand outstretched, looking like a Marine recruit poster model. His hair is buzzed close to his head and from the way his t-shirt hugs his body, I think even his muscles have muscles. Dear Lord. A mental breakdown is in order as soon as I’m done here. I never expected the guy I was going to meet would be hot! Smoking hot! Holy crap. Forget trying to scare me, just fuck me!

  I feel my face redden as I shake his hand.

  “I’m Matthew Farris.”