sipped the beer. Every time she heard a sound she moved with a start. She thought it was Murdoch. She sat there and waited for him. Her grip on the beer can was so tight that she’d crushed it without even realizing it.
When she finally heard Murdoch’s bike pulling up outside the house about an hour later her cheeks were streaked with tears and a mess of mascara had run down from her eyes.
*
S HE SHUT OFF THE LIGHT and waited for him. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Murdoch had tried to have his way with her before, many times, but this was the first time that she would be allowing him to do what he wanted. This was the first time she wouldn’t be resisting.
It felt strange. Usually she would have her dresser up against the door by now. Tonight was different. She wasn’t doing anything. She was just waiting. The sooner he came in, the sooner it would be over. For the second time that night she would be giving some old, decrepit biker something that he had no right to.
She listened as he shut off the bike, stumbled in through the front door and helped himself to a beer from the fridge, just as she had an hour earlier.
“Rosey,” he called out.
It made her skin crawl. She wished she was anywhere else in the world.
She told herself to remember this moment. The next time she felt like being stupid, or naive, or weak, or trusting, the next time she felt even the tiniest bit like being a human being, she would remember this moment and think better of it.
*
W HEN SHE HEARD THE BEDROOM door open she was hidden under the covers of her bed, shivering. She’d already shut off the lamp. The room was pitch dark.
Murdoch was stumbling around in the dark, knocking things over.
“What the fuck?” he said. “You in here?”
She didn’t answer.
“Come on now, sweetie,” he said. “This aint going to take more than a minute.”
She controlled her breathing. She was having a hard time keeping her breath steady. She had so much fear and so much rage pent up inside her, mixed together, that it was hard even to think straight.
“I’m here,” she said, quietly from under the covers.
“That’s my girl,” Murdoch said.
She found him so repulsive. She knew it was her own stupid fault she was in this situation, she had no one to blame but herself, but all the anger she had right now was directed at Murdoch.
Murdoch turned the lamp back on. The light revealed the situation in all its hideousness. Murdoch was leering at her, his face distorted by lust. His eyes were hungry for her. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. It seemed he turned into some sort of a monster before having sex. She didn’t understand how men could be so desperate as to fuck women who obviously didn’t want them. It didn’t seem natural to her but then what was natural about the situation she was in?
Murdoch pulled down the blankets that were covering Rose and threw them to the floor.
“You’re still dressed,” he said, disappointed.
What the hell did he expect? This was practically rape as far as she was concerned.
“It’s freezing in here,” she said.
He looked at her, his hungry, greedy eyes seemingly feeding on her already.
“Now, now,” he said, “there’s no need to be testy. We had an agreement.”
“This is hardly an agreement, Murdoch,” she said.
Murdoch held up his hands, his palms, open, as if protesting his innocence to a cop who had a gun pointed at him. “Alright,” he said, “if you’d rather we just told Serge everything that happened and leave the matter up to him, I’m fine with that.”
Rose thought about it. She wondered if that might actually be the easier course to take. No one even knew she’d asked Bill for help. All they knew was that she’d sucked him off. But she couldn’t take the risk. If Serge spoke to Bill about it, Bill would say what had happened and then what? Serge had certainly killed dancers for trying to escape. She knew that much.
Not asking the customers for help
When she finally heard Murdoch’s bike pulling up outside the house about an hour later her cheeks were streaked with tears and a mess of mascara had run down from her eyes.
*
S HE SHUT OFF THE LIGHT and waited for him. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Murdoch had tried to have his way with her before, many times, but this was the first time that she would be allowing him to do what he wanted. This was the first time she wouldn’t be resisting.
It felt strange. Usually she would have her dresser up against the door by now. Tonight was different. She wasn’t doing anything. She was just waiting. The sooner he came in, the sooner it would be over. For the second time that night she would be giving some old, decrepit biker something that he had no right to.
She listened as he shut off the bike, stumbled in through the front door and helped himself to a beer from the fridge, just as she had an hour earlier.
“Rosey,” he called out.
It made her skin crawl. She wished she was anywhere else in the world.
She told herself to remember this moment. The next time she felt like being stupid, or naive, or weak, or trusting, the next time she felt even the tiniest bit like being a human being, she would remember this moment and think better of it.
*
W HEN SHE HEARD THE BEDROOM door open she was hidden under the covers of her bed, shivering. She’d already shut off the lamp. The room was pitch dark.
Murdoch was stumbling around in the dark, knocking things over.
“What the fuck?” he said. “You in here?”
She didn’t answer.
“Come on now, sweetie,” he said. “This aint going to take more than a minute.”
She controlled her breathing. She was having a hard time keeping her breath steady. She had so much fear and so much rage pent up inside her, mixed together, that it was hard even to think straight.
“I’m here,” she said, quietly from under the covers.
“That’s my girl,” Murdoch said.
She found him so repulsive. She knew it was her own stupid fault she was in this situation, she had no one to blame but herself, but all the anger she had right now was directed at Murdoch.
Murdoch turned the lamp back on. The light revealed the situation in all its hideousness. Murdoch was leering at her, his face distorted by lust. His eyes were hungry for her. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. It seemed he turned into some sort of a monster before having sex. She didn’t understand how men could be so desperate as to fuck women who obviously didn’t want them. It didn’t seem natural to her but then what was natural about the situation she was in?
Murdoch pulled down the blankets that were covering Rose and threw them to the floor.
“You’re still dressed,” he said, disappointed.
What the hell did he expect? This was practically rape as far as she was concerned.
“It’s freezing in here,” she said.
He looked at her, his hungry, greedy eyes seemingly feeding on her already.
“Now, now,” he said, “there’s no need to be testy. We had an agreement.”
“This is hardly an agreement, Murdoch,” she said.
Murdoch held up his hands, his palms, open, as if protesting his innocence to a cop who had a gun pointed at him. “Alright,” he said, “if you’d rather we just told Serge everything that happened and leave the matter up to him, I’m fine with that.”
Rose thought about it. She wondered if that might actually be the easier course to take. No one even knew she’d asked Bill for help. All they knew was that she’d sucked him off. But she couldn’t take the risk. If Serge spoke to Bill about it, Bill would say what had happened and then what? Serge had certainly killed dancers for trying to escape. She knew that much.
Not asking the customers for help
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