A Stone Cut without Hands Ch. 10

With a glance to the side, George noted Courtney's bright pink blush before he replied, "Courtney, I'm a man and you're a pretty girl. There are men who have committed murder for less than you just showed me. I know you've committed yourself to me, but I'm afraid that because you're sexually inexperienced, you haven't really thought about what that includes."

Although George would not have believed it possible, Courtney's blush turned even brighter as, in an effort to hide it, she reached down to the floorboards for the sack. In the process, her dress rode up exposing her pussy. With aplomb, Courtney opened it, searched for panties and then with a grin, slipped them over her feet and pulled them up, being sure to flash a glimpse in George's direction before the interesting parts were hidden again.

As soon as she was dressed, she scrambled back to her seat, this time folding her legs on the seat towards the passenger side so that she could press as much of herself as possible against him. To make her feel more comfortable and to encourage her show of affection, George used the stub of his left arm to steer and put his right hand over Courtney's shoulder to tuck her under his arm.

"Can you really drive that way?" she asked, a trace of worry in her voice.

"Yes," George reassured her, "it isn't comfortable for long periods of time, but we are only 10 minutes from home and holding you is a dream come true."

Snuggling under his arm, Courtney felt a need to brace herself against the pressure her position was putting on George, so she put her right hand on his thigh and inadvertently pressed against the lump in his lap. So embarrassed, she couldn't say anything for a minute, it made her think about the "lumps" (she didn't like using the naughty words) that had penetrated her during the rape. Even though she remembered everything, the whole experience seemed more like a dream or a movie, except when the reality of the thing in George's lap caused her to focus on the memory.

"George, is it wrong to talk about what happened when I was raped?" she asked, being certain to refer to it as "rape" in compliance with George's orders.

"Well," George answered, "I'm not a professional counselor, but I think it depends on a woman's personality. For some women, rape is worst than death, and can never be forgotten. Others may actually have a fantasy wish to be raped. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

"I think maybe, because I was drugged, it doesn't seem to be very real," Courtney answered. "I mean I didn't like it, and the memory makes me feel dirty, but the only time I think about it is when something happens to make me think about sex. And that is what I was trying to ask about. I can remember a lot of the things they did to me and told me to do and I am not sure which are bad. I keep worrying that I might do something that would make you mad."

"I see, well then perhaps my opinion will help. Personally, I believe that anything that two people do that is acceptable to both is okay. So, two people who are planning to be intimate have an obligation to talk about everything either of them want to do so that they know what is acceptable."

"It is a complex subject and one which, all too often, is shunned to the point that one or both parties to a relationship are badly hurt. But it is not one we can discuss now, because we are almost home. Reaching for his cell phone, he continued. "I think we should try to reach the Sheriff Dansie. It would be better if we can reassure them that you're safe. Please take the phone and try to redial the last number I called."

It took only a minute for Courtney to figure out the cell phone and redial, so well before they arrived, Courtney handed the phone back telling him that it was ringing. When George put it to his ear and heard a woman answer, he was momentarily confused until he remembered that he'd tried to call everyone he knew in Lincoln County to be sure that the cellular service was still turned off. Mabble had been the last call. "Hello, Mabble, its George Marshal. I've been trying to call all day, but the phone service was off. I wanted to let the Sheriff know that Courtney is with me and that she's safe. I thought I was calling the sheriff when I got you. Could you get my message to him?"

"Oh thank goodness, George. The deputy called about a half-hour ago and said that Courtney had disappeared. We've been so worried. I'll let everyone know that you're both safe."

"Please reassure everyone that I wouldn't have taken her if she was being taken care of properly. They didn't want to admit her and they sure weren't guarding her, so I felt obligated to make sure she was safe. And please remind Dansie that he has my cell phone number if he needs us."

"Thanks for calling, George"

As George closed the cell, he pulled up to the driveway of a campground filled with RV's. A moment later he parked next to an old motor home that looked like it had truly seen decades of hard service.

"Welcome, My Angel, to my humble abode." George beamed.

As they entered through the front door, George was subconsciously humming another tune.

I'll go where you want me to go dear George.
Whether it be over the mountain or sea.
I'll do what you want me to do dear George.
I'll be whatever you want me to be.