Yo-yo Chronicles Ch. 07: Bump

Even after the pain was gone, he still stayed home at night. He felt depressed, but he didn't feel like getting high.

A cute girl at work broke the pattern. She mentioned that she was inviting some people from the office and other friends over Saturday night, and he and his girlfriend were included. He told her they had broken up, and she said to come anyway. He went and had a good time talking with people he had worked with and ignored for years. He drank a few glasses of wine and felt good. He didn't get wasted.

As the weeks went by, he was surprised that he didn't feel like going back to the clubs and seeing his old friends. They never called him, but he didn't care. He was making new friends, the kind of people he used to make fun of. He hooked up with some nice girls and even saw one for a few months until they realized they liked each other but weren't in love.

He did well at work and got promoted. When the BBB came to town to talk to him about his new position, he asked Peter about Anya.

"That didn't end well," Peter told him, and then remembered how highly the BBB had spoken of her. "Probably my fault."

"Probably," said the BBB.

Everything was going well for Peter, but one thing bothered him. It was an obsession that he couldn't seem to control. Why was he going to Denny's?

It was the Denny's across the street from his office. For some reason, when he had a free moment, he often found himself there, and unless it was taken, he always sat down at the same table where he had sat the two times he had talked to Anya there.

He looked through the menu each time he went, but he only ordered coffee. While he was waiting, he looked at the walls of the restaurant, the floors, the booths, the tables, every square inch. He even inspected the john a couple of times.

One Saturday night, he was driving someone home, and his route took him past the club where he had bumped Anya.

"Bump rape," he said to himself.

He must have said it louder than he thought, because the girl next to him said, "Bump what?"

"See that club," he said, pointing to it. "I was there one night. It was a while ago, and I was high on drugs and booze. A beautiful girl was taking a picture with her iPhone, and I bumped it with my iPhone and exchanged contact information with her against her will. She accused me of bump rape and gave me a lot of trouble."

"What a cute story," said the girl next to him. "I wish someone nice would do that to me. It sounds romantic."

The next day, he began searching for Anya. Even though her former landlord didn't cooperate and he didn't know any of her friends, it only took three weeks, thanks to his Internet skills. He decided he'd better do what he had to do in broad daylight.

One afternoon, when he was able to leave work early, he drove to her new apartment building and parked in a place where he could see both the lot on the side of the building and the entrance. He saw her and one of her beautiful girlfriends walking from the lot toward the door. He got out of his car and hurried to them. She turned and saw him just as she was fishing her key out of her purse.

Her angry voice didn't match the strange expression on her face.

"So now you're a stalker, Peter," she said. "Cindy, stay here. I have something to say to Peter."

She took a step toward him and spat in his face while Cindy screamed.

"You really are even more disgusting than I thought," she said. "If you don't get out of here now, Cindy and all my friends are going to see the videos. And next time I see you, I'll get a restraining order."

"Damn it, Anya, shut up for a second," he yelled back while wiping his face with his sleeve. "I'm not interested in more of your sick games. I'm only here for one reason: Denny's."

"Denny's?" said Anya and Cindy in unison.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Anya asked.

"I'm talking about the weird thing you said to me. The last time I saw you, you said, 'Think about Denny's.' You were probably lying as usual, because you knew that would eat me up.

"I feel like a fool telling you this, but I've been back at that Denny's dozens of times. I'm so stupid, I'll probably go to jail, but I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me about Denny's."

He dropped his head in silent admission that she had victimized him again, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He waited for her to gloat or call him names or tell Cindy what a loser he was.

He didn't hear anything, and after a moment, he raised his head to see what was going on. He stepped back in shock. Tears were streaming down her face and her breasts were heaving.

He had never seen her cry before, and for a moment, he wondered if this was another game. If it was, it was her most powerful game ever, because she was twice as beautiful crying as she was laughing. He shifted from foot to foot and said nothing until she choked back her tears and started talking.

"Oh, Peter, you idiot," she said. "You just repeated right back at me what I told you at Denny's. Don't you even listen to yourself? Can't you remember when I said the first thing you needed to know was that I lie, that you'll never know whether I'm telling the truth or whether I'm just manipulating you. You silly stupid idiot. You don't need a blindfold. You are a blindfold. Now get out of here."

She turned around, put the key in the lock and pushed into the building lobby. She was sobbing loudly. Cindy was bending over her purse. When she lifted her head, he saw she was crying, too. She looked back at Anya and then rushed at him, stuck a piece of paper in his hand and went back to Anya. He looked at it. It was a phone number.

His mind was reeling as he walked to the car. He drove to the nearest coffee house, ordered a big black one and sat as far from everyone else as he could. He looked into space and went over in his mind every minute that he had ever spent with Anya, whether on the phone or in person. There weren't that many, and he was soon finished. Even though he already knew, he went through everything again just to be sure he was really that stupid.

When he was done sifting through their history for the second time, there was one thing that still bothered him, but at that point it didn't matter. He picked up his phone and dialed the number.

Cindy answered. He heard sobbing in the background.

"What should I do?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," she said. "I'm busy right now. If you're still at the office in an hour, why don't you call me back then?"

He called back in an hour, and Cindy said, "I'm on my way home. If you're not the stupidest jerk in the world, you'll go over there right now."

She hung up.

When he pressed the button next to her name, he heard a soft weepy voice ask, "Who is it?" He didn't say anything, and she hung up. A minute later, he pressed the button again, and this time there was no voice, but she buzzed him in.

He knocked at the door and waited. After a couple of minutes, he knocked again. He heard feet shuffling. She looked through the peephole and then ripped open the door. She was in a robe and her beautiful face was streaming.

"Oh Peter!" she said as she fell into his arms.

He held her tightly at the threshold of the apartment. She clung to him and cried until his shirt was wet from her tears. Finally, she shook herself and pulled him in the door.

When she had calmed down, he said he wanted her to tell him everything.

"I will, Peter," she said through her tears, "all in good time, but there are priorities in life. First, I have to ask you, no, I have to beg you to forgive me. See, I'm down on my knees, Peter. I don't deserve for you to forgive me, but I'm selfish and I want it anyway.

"If you can't, please lie to me, Peter. I'll cherish that lie for the rest of my life. Please, Peter."

Peter was melting like an ice cream cone, but he tried to stay frosty.

"Now who's stupid, Anya," he said. "You lied, so now I should lie? I'm not ready to forgive you -- yet. See that clock over there. In exactly half an hour, you're forgiven and not one minute before. But only if you forgive my stupidity."

"I'm afraid we're running into a second priority," she said, standing up. "We'll have to postpone the forgiving for a while."

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. As she opened her robe, she said, "Tonight is about tenderness and love. Everything is soft and smooth. Nothing is hard or fast."

She pushed him away when he tried to put his head between her legs.

"Thank you, Peter," she said. "I know you mean well, but tonight is about doing only what we love to do."

"I've changed, Anya," he said. "I want to make love ten thousand times to every one of the ten thousand hairs between your legs."

For the next three hours, there were tears and many other secretions. There were softness and tenderness, but there were also hardness and frenzy. More than anything else, there were sighs, sighs of pleasure, sighs of satisfaction and sighs of contentment. They fell asleep in each other's arms, and they woke the same way.

He called in sick the next day. After breakfast, he began pumping her for information.

"You need time to absorb it," she said. "All I'll tell you today is that after you bumped me, I was angry, but by the time I got home, I was curious and by the next day, I was dying to hear from you. I waited more than two weeks to call you with that phony bump rape story so I could finally meet you."

For more than a week, he went to her apartment straight from work. Each night, once they were exhausted from making love, she told him more.

She explained that she was just starting her career as a clinical psychologist focusing on drug and alcohol dependencies, how she wanted to try out some of her theories about treatments for severe cases but she couldn't experiment with actual patients.

Nearly everything she had told him about herself was a lie, especially about being a perverse and sadistic abuser of men and knowing how to sexually torment and humiliate them. She had only had one boyfriend in high school and two in college and knew little about men or sex. She was making up her "experiment" with him as she went along.

She told him how even the first time she talked to him, she had felt strange, because she was repelled by the kind of person he was, and yet she was attracted to him.

When he called her, she was surprised and elated, but when they hung up, she thought a long time about what she should do. Although she had feelings for him, she saw the downward spiral he was on and wondered if some of the things she was theorizing about would help him.

In the end, she decided that trying to save his life was more important than exploring a relationship, even though it would make him despise her. Before she called him for their first date, she took a couple of crash online video courses, bought a camera and rented some others and some lights. She turned her bedroom into a studio and practiced by making videos of dolls in various obscene positions.

She told him how she was hoping and praying that what she had done to him would snap him out of his lost-weekend syndrome, and how she was disgusted with herself after she gave him the Denny's clue, because she had put her affection for him ahead of his cure.

She said she daydreamed about him even though she knew they'd never be together. When he confronted her, she was afraid that he wanted more humiliation. That's why she spit at him. It had devastated her.

Peter was glad she gave him the information slowly, because it was hard to digest. A couple of weeks after they reunited, he told her, "I no longer forgive you."

"What?" she said in a frightened voice.

"If you want me to forgive you, you've got to do something bad to me first," he said.

She collapsed into his arms and cried.

**************

He kept waiting for her to explain the one thing that bothered him, but she never did. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"You've talked about all your lies but not the one that could be a problem. You promised me that what you were doing was just between the two of us.

"I'm sure your friends Carrie and Rip will keep their mouths shut, but everybody's human, and I'm worried that one night one of them might get drunk and tell someone how you let a man rape me while you and your girlfriend watched."

"Give me a minute," she said and went to her laptop.

A few minutes later, she said, "Come over here. I know you don't want to watch these videos, but stand behind me and look at the monitor. Do you see that woman pushing the big lifelike dildo into you? Does she look familiar, although my hair was cut shorter then? Now look at the chair, where there's a woman watching them."

"You mean the doll?"

"That's Carrie. Rip is that Viking doll on the other chair. It's amazing what you can do with a few whispers, some shoes and opening and closing doors. All it takes is imagination. I see you're fascinated by the dildo. Does it turn you on? Right now, it's making me want sex with you. You're engaged to one weird chick."

"I was wondering how the dildo managed to squirt come into me," he said.

"I'm glad you didn't look in my refrigerator," she said. "I was collecting the come you ejaculated into those cups and keeping it frozen. I gently warmed it in the microwave before putting it into the dildo. The only trouble was warming it up made the smell so strong it was almost unbearable. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"You can turn the video off now," he said with a shudder.

******************

At the wedding reception, the BBB told him his wife was worth a dozen Peters, and Peter told him he was right. Then the boss introduced his fiancee to both of them. She became Anya's best friend, and when Peter became a vice president, the four of them often took business trips together followed by vacation getaways.

After they had their first child, Anya continued to see patients part time. She was often asked to give seminars about her research into semi-sadistic therapy for hard-core dependence. Many psychologists weighed in on her theories about stripping a patient's life away until all that was left was a foundation on which to build a new, less self-destructive personality. There was much pro and con argument about the technique's efficacy in peer-reviewed journals.

Sometimes a new acquaintance would ask Peter how he met Anya. He came up with an answer that he memorized.

"I was one of her first patients. After she cured me, I blackmailed her. Unless she married me, I threatened to flood her website with anonymous bad evaluations."

*

For background on the stories of edrider73, see "Author Interview: edrider73" by Literoticauthor. Tag: "author interview."