Hooker

“I’ll call you,” I told her.

“You’d better.”

I kissed Rachel and departed, then drove home, thinking about what she had said. Up until Friday night, I didn’t really know her well, yet I had kept her in virtual bondage for a weekend. What puzzled me was that I had known this was going to happen, but I didn’t know how I knew. I knew when I had first seen her standing on the street corner in handcuffs. It wasn’t just the handcuffs, it was her. I saw the hookers in handcuffs all the time. That didn’t do much for me, but when I first saw Rachel, there was something about her, some subliminal cue I had picked up on that made me ache to have her as my own captive. Yes, I would call her. Sweet Rachel’s days of standing about in handcuffs were far from over.

There was, however, a potential fly in the ointment. Monday morning, I gave John a call.

“Hi, John, Bob. Hey, what can you tell me about this Gayle Robbins person?”

“Funny you should ask. I ran into the prosecutor late last week and he told me Gayle had approached him before the arraignment and offered to testify as an expert witness. After he questioned her, he realized she didn’t have anything of substance to contribute, just hearsay and her professional opinion. He wasn’t all that impressed with either her credentials or what she had to say, so he decided not to use her testimony. She was apparently rather miffed by his refusal, which she seemed to consider some sort of personal rejection.”

“Oh, really.”

“There’s more. I decided to check up on our Miss Robbins and found out she’s done this sort of thing before.”

“Offered to testify?”

“No, engaged in extracurricular activities. It seems there was this kid at another school where she worked that she thought was abused, but no one else did. None of the teachers or administrators thought there was any indication of abuse, so when she didn’t get any backup from them, she called in family services. They interviewed the kid and also found no evidence of abuse. Apparently, her supervisor ordered her off the case, but she pursued it anyway, despite threats of legal action by the parents.”

“That sounds exactly like what she tried to do to Rachel. I hope she wasn’t able to get the kid taken away from his parents.”

“Her parents. But no, she wasn’t.”

“That’s a relief. What’s with her, anyway? What does she get out of making all these false accusations?”

“They weren’t false.”

“Huh? But you said...”

“I said nobody believed her. About a month later, the girl’s mom took her to the emergency room. She had a fractured wrist and a number of bruises. The ER doctor called family services and Gayle was proven right. They’d just been very good at hiding it until it got out of control.”

“So Gayle was vindicated.”

“Yes and no. She was proven correct, but it didn’t make her popular with anyone. Proving her right proved everyone else wrong, and she didn’t hesitate to rub it in. She’s not all that well liked by her supervisor, her coworkers, or anyone else. To say the least she has an attitude.”

“Oh, Jesus. So that means Gayle isn’t likely to give up on Rachel.”

“That would be my guess. She considers herself infallible and would probably pursue the case even if they did fire her, and I don’t know if they really would.”

“So Rachel gets off the bus at the wrong stop one day and now she’s got this monomaniacal moron on her case. Anything you can do?”

“Not unless she breaks a law. If she gets to be a problem, we could sue her employer. We could sue her personally, for that matter. Even if we lost, between the two of us we could spend her into oblivion on legal fees. Unfortunately, if I’m correct about her personality type, that wouldn’t stop her. Has she done anything since I called the school and her boss?”

“Not that I know of, but I have my suspicions.”

“Keep me apprized. I’ll help if I can.”

The conversation with John was both illuminating and disturbing. However, I decided I shouldn’t get too worried until I had confirmed my suspicions.

Friday I took Rachel out again. As I picked her up, I met Gretchen for the first time. She was fifteen and looked a lot like Rachel, only more gangly. Once she filled out a bit, she would look even more like Rachel. She did not, however, have that quality that Rachel possessed that made me want to own her, control her, tie her up and never let her go. Perhaps that was something that would develop later on, or perhaps she simply hadn’t inherited that trait. That was a good thing from my point of view. I would have found it quite uncomfortable if Gretchen had inspired those sorts of feelings in me, not only because she was so young but also because she was Rachel’s daughter.

Saturday morning, I decided to see if I could confirm my suspicions. I drove over to Rachel’s and parked around the corner from her house, then strolled down her street. The car was parked across the street from Rachel’s. The door was locked, but the window was half way down. I reached in and unlocked it, then climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hello, Gayle. I’m glad to finally have the chance to meet you.”

“The feeling is hardly mutual.”

“I’m not surprised by that. So tell me, what’s this problem you seem to have with Rachel?”

“She’s a whore. She sells herself to men.”

I now understood. The word ‘men’ had been delivered with considerable venom. I had heard this once before.

Back when Meg had been alive, she and I had always attended the annual Christmas party at John’s office. On one occasion, Marie, a friend of Meg’s, had come with us. We were sitting in the reception area talking among ourselves. The other people in the room included a female lawyer who had her office in John’s building and who I happened to know was a lesbian. Marie got up to take her plate back to the kitchen and took Meg’s as well. She was juggling the plates so she would have a hand free to open the door when the lesbian lawyer said, “Why don’t you get some big strong man to open it for you.” I was very much taken aback. The remark had been made to someone who was a total stranger to her and was filled with contempt.

Gayle’s comment had exactly the same tone. She hated men, and she hated Rachel for surrendering herself to men. I had been puzzled as to her motivation, and now I understood. It was good to know this. It meant that any attempt on my part to charm Gayle, which was my backup plan in case intimidation didn’t work, would only be throwing gasoline on the fire.

“Judge Larkin seemed to find otherwise.”

“Judge Larkin doesn’t have my experience.”

“I’m sure he’s grateful for that.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Alarm bells were starting to go off. Gayle was handling my intrusion with way too much cool. Something was wrong, but I had no idea what.

“Are we done now, Bob? I’d like to get back to work.”

“I see you know who I am.”

“Yes, you’re her pimp.”

“And how do you come to that conclusion?”

Gayle opened a folder next to her seat, pulled out some photos, and tossed them in my lap. I picked up the 5x7's and looked them over. The first one was from last Saturday. It showed Rachel and I stepping off her front porch. I was a pace ahead of her and leading her by the hand, her overnight bag in my other hand. Her collar was visible, but it wasn’t obvious that that’s what it was. The second shot, however, was zoomed in on Rachel’s head and shoulders and both the collar and padlock could be clearly seen as what they were. The third shot was even more startling. It showed Rachel taking a sip from her wine glass. The photo was a slightly grainy black and white, shot on fast film in low light conditions. Nonetheless, her collar and the cuffs locking her wrists together were quite visible. The look on Rachel’s face which I had found so appealing at the time seemed particularly damning in the photo. I knew exactly where Gayle had stood to take the picture. It was taken from my side porch through the side door of the house slantwise through the dining room door which opened off the side hall. I had no motion detector on the small side porch. I wasn’t visible in the picture, having been behind the door frame from where she was standing. I was visible in the next one, leading Rachel to the dining room on her leash. Rachel was seen from the side and her bonds, both wrist and ankle, were visible. The look on her face did not indicate that she found her predicament to be a cause of alarm. Finally, there was a picture of Rachel being led down the stairs, the picture I had wished for at the time. Be careful what you ask for, I thought to myself and tucked the pictures into my pocket.

“Been doing a bit of trespassing, have we?”

“I do what’s necessary to do my job.”

“An ‘ends justifies the means’ person, huh.”

“Whatever.”

“And is this all you have?” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

“I have more.”

“Going to show me?”

“No.”

“In that case, I’ll be going. Thanks for the chat.”

“Fool.”

I wish I could have taken issue with Gayle’s parting insult, but I feared she was correct. My bold foray, intended to confront and intimidate Ms. Gayle Robbins, had ended in ignominious retreat. I had taken the photos with me and Gayle had made no attempt to get them back, which meant she didn’t care if I kept them.

I examined the pictures again after I got home. In and of themselves, they didn’t prove anything, but they would be highly prejudicial. What other pictures had she taken? I couldn’t remember exactly how I’d positioned my chair for dessert. Had we been visible from the side door? What did she have besides pictures? I didn’t know what Gayle intended to do with the photos, but I had a feeling I was the only one she’d shown them to so far. Who else did she intend to show them to? It would probably be the end of our relationship if Rachel saw them. What if Gretchen saw them?

On Monday morning, I stopped by John’s office. I had agonized about this over the weekend. I would find it personally embarrassing to show the pictures to John, but there was no help for it. If he was going to help me, he would have to see them. Nonetheless, it would be difficult. John was an old friend, but I didn’t know how he’d react to them.

“First of all, don’t worry about me. I can tell it’s hard for you to show these to me. You may not know this, but I’ve been aware of your sexual preferences for years.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No, Meg told me.”

“Damn. Meg always was a blabbermouth. Is there anyone she didn’t tell?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question. Regardless, the point I’m trying to make is that, although it’s not my thing, it doesn’t bother me. You’re both consenting adults and Rachel appears to be enjoying herself, so I pass no judgement, although parading Rachel around in public in a collar isn’t one of your brighter moves.”

“I know, but at the time, I had no idea we were being followed around by candid camera. I was hoping you might be able to get the ones taken from the porch suppressed for trespassing or something.”

“I’m not sure if I could, but neither am I sure I’d need to yet. There’s nothing to do until we see what she does. As I see it, there are only two things she can do with these pictures. She can show them to family services as evidence of some sort of moral depravity on Rachel’s part, although kinky sex doesn’t necessarily qualify by itself, or she can show them to Rachel or Gretchen. At the moment, I consider the latter possibility more likely.”

“Why?”

“The picture of Rachel outside in her collar, while it doesn’t help matters, isn’t all that big a deal. It only comes into context with the other pictures, and she can’t show those without revealing that she’s been out peeping through windows. She has enemies at her office and they might well try to use that against her. Just the same, she might risk it. The picture of Rachel chained and leashed would certainly turn some heads. Also, we don’t know what else she’s got. On the other hand, she could throw a monkey wrench into your relationship if she showed them to Rachel.”

“Rachel would be mortified. She’d probably never speak to me again,” I said.

“The other thing she could do would be show them to Gretchen in an attempt to drive a wedge between Gretchen and her mother. That has it’s risks, however. She’s been ordered to stay away from Gretchen, and showing those pictures to a minor might well put an end to her career if it became known she did it, which it probably would.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“For the moment, at least, I don’t think we have any overt legal liabilities. The pictures are most useful for smear tactics. If I were in her position, I’d show them to Rachel. That’s where she could do the most damage with the least risk. The only thing I don’t know is whether or not she cares about risk. Also, we don’t know what else she has.”

I left John’s office with mixed feelings. It apparently wasn’t as bad as I had first feared, but it wasn’t good. Despite my attempts to help Rachel, as a result of my foolishness, she was now worse off than if she’d never met me. The only good thing was that Rachel didn’t know it--yet. She could get an envelope in the mail any day now that would turn her world (and mine) upside down. How was I going to fix this?

That thought begged the larger question. Should I try to fix it? So far the overall effect of my meddling in Rachel’s life had been negative. What if I tried to fix it and made it worse? Perhaps I should just slink off into the sunset. I realized that wouldn’t help. The pictures were still out there and my departure from the scene wouldn’t change that. I’d gotten her into this, I would have to get her out. How?

I had no idea. I had no handle on the situation, no leverage that I could apply to deflect Gayle from her crusade. I needed help. If I couldn’t do it, who could?

Saturday I decided to have lunch north of the river.

“Where’s your friend?” Jacqui wanted to know.

“She was tied up and couldn’t make it.”

“Too bad. So what can I get you?”

“Depends. You seemed fascinated by my companion’s collar. Were you interested in having one like it?”

“Not one like it. I wanted that one, with her in it.”

“Sorry, she’s not available.”

“I know, she’s tied up. Too bad.”

“Maybe I could interest you in someone else.”

“Maybe. What are you doing tonight?”

“Huh?”

“I go both ways. You’re kind of cute.”

“I had someone else in mind. She likes girls. She’d like you.”

“And would I like her?”

“I would hope so. If you do, I’ll pay for the collar.”

“Is she as cute as your friend?”

“Yes, but different.”

“So what’s the deal? What brings you around here matchmaking?”

“Comeuppance. She needs a collar. She needs a spanking. She needs to be distracted.”

“Causing you problems, is she? And you want me to keep her occupied.”

“Exactly.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

“If you play your cards right, you get Gayle--that’s her name. If not, you acquire some valuable experience.”

“You know, when I was young and stupid, I used to get involved in stuff like this. Fortunately for you, I haven’t learned much over the years. So how do I meet this person? You going to introduce us?”

“Hardly. I don’t think she would like you if she knew I sent you. In fact, it would be a good idea if she thought you had no interest in men whatever.”

“Oh, one of those. Well, they can be fun. So how do I meet her?”

“When do you get off?”

“In about an hour.”

“You’ll find her in the middle of the 1800 block of Spruce on the west side of the street. She’ll be in a red Dodge. Just walk up and get in. If the door’s locked, tap on the window.”

“She’s just sitting on the street in her car? Doing what?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Something’s weird about this. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“At the moment she’s occupying herself by being a nuisance. You’ll distract her and she’ll be grateful for the interruption.”

“I don’t know about this.”

“You don’t have to do it. You could go home and be bored.”

“Those are my options? Be bored or be an idiot?”

“Try looking at it this way: It’s Christmas or it’s not Christmas, and you get to decide.”

I returned home. Jacqui would do it or she wouldn’t. If she did, the consequences were unknown, but I figured worst case she would distract Gayle enough to cut down on the amount of time she devoted to following Rachel’s movements.

I took a shower and changed. Rachel and I were going to dinner this evening. I left to pick her up.

Circling Rachel’s block, I saw no sign of the red Dodge. I parked in front of her house and walked up to the door. The door opened before I rang the bell. Rachel stepped onto the porch.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

She was obviously agitated about something. I helped her into the car and as we pulled away she was looking behind us.

“She’s not there. I already checked.”

“You know Gayle’s been spying on me?”

“Yes, I caught her out here last Saturday. When did you discover her?”

“A few days ago. She’s out there a lot. Sometimes she’s right across the street, but other times she’s up or down the block. I called the police, but they said she’s not breaking any laws, so they can’t do anything.”

“Well, call them anyway every day that you see her. Also write it down. It may help to have a record of her activities.”

We went to dinner and afterwards I took her back to my house. I unlocked the front door and paused to scan for Gayle. Rachel went on in. After looking around, I stepped into the entry hall. Rachel was already in the main hall.

“Rachel, you’re forgetting the rules. Come back here.”

On Rachel’s last visit, I had informed her that the ‘rules’ were now in effect. I had a house rule (which I enforced intermittently) that women were not permitted past the entry hall until they were collared and bound.

Rachel returned to the entry hall.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” she said as I bound her wrists and locked her collar on her.

“That’s alright. When we get upstairs you can draw an envelope to help you remember.”

“Not another envelope...”

“If you prefer, you can choose your own punishment.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll take the envelope.”

I led Rachel upstairs. With the shades drawn, the second floor was reasonably proof against the type of spying that Gayle had been doing. I got her undressed, then held out the box of envelopes.

“Choose an envelope,” I told her.

Rachel chose an envelope and opened it. She looked at the card, then handed it to me. I could tell she wasn’t thrilled with this one.

CHOICE

You are to choose how you will be punished.
If your choice is not a valid punishment,
or is considered to be too lenient,
you must draw a blue envelope.

“What’s a blue envelope?”

“A blue envelope contains two cards.”

“So I have to choose my own punishment?”

“Yes, you do.”

“So what do I choose?”

“That’s up to you.”

“No, I mean what are the choices?”

“Well, you already know about spanking and standing in the corner. You might also choose to be gagged or tied tightly for an extended period. You could be tickled, stand on your toes, be locked in the closet for a time, or any number of other things.”

“I don’t like this. Why don’t you just do whatever you’re going to do to me.”

“No, no, you have to choose. That’s part of your punishment.”

“What if I don’t want to choose? I don’t think I want to be punished at all. Untie me. I want to go home.”

I untied Rachel’s wrists, which were bound in front of her, and removed her collar. She got dressed.

“Please take me home.”

“If you wish.”

We got in the car and I drove her home. Neither of us spoke. When we got to her house, she got out and went up the walk to her door. I sat at the curb until she was inside, then returned home.

I had tried to push things too fast. Rachel was passively submissive. She would have submitted to punishment if I had simply visited it upon her, but forcing her to actively participate in her submission, to choose her own punishment, was more than she was ready for and she had fled. As long as she could pretend the things she was surrendering herself to were being done by me, she was okay, but I had tried to make her do something that would cause her to have to admit to herself the true nature of her desires.