Gargalaphobia

'I might take it easy,' said Vanessa.

'You're a cautious girl. I've noticed that about you.'

'How so?'

'We haven't had any hard-hittin' sessions yet. That's what I'm used to: they come at me and I knock 'em down.'

This rankled Vanessa, firstly because this was the evening she was going to get serious. Secondly, because over the weeks Gabby had developed an arrogant air over her that she had allowed to pass to keep her on-side. Gabby had gone from enunciating sentences in a way that hinted they should be transcribed word-for-word, to outright telling Vanessa to include bits in the book. And because Gabby had written (or, rather, ghost-written) a book that became a best-seller because it lubed up and jerked off every right-wing extremist sentiment whilst taking a huge dump on any moderate Republicans still in office, she thought she knew more about journalism than Vanessa.

The third reason Vanessa hadn't been "hard-hitting" was because she had seen clips of Gabby grilled by reporters; her combative nature when pressed on her wack-job conspiracies resulted in zero progression on either side, Gabby shouting over the questioner until the time was up and then walking away convinced she'd won the debate. Hence: her unfounded confidence that she could wrestle with the best of them.

'I was saving those for later, but if you want them...' said Vanessa.

With a fresh mouthful of drink, Gabby sat up and beckoned, as though up for a tussle.

'Okay: why do you--a highly educated and intelligent woman--believe so many crazy and baseless conspiracy theories?'

'Ha! You're trying to wind me up. Well, I tell ya, this isn't the first time someone's said that to me. All I say is this: folks who call them crazy and baseless haven't read the same things I have.'

'Where do you read about "Deep State Scientists" creating genetically modified vegetables to make people vote Democrat.'

'What's crazy about that? Think about it: "Make sure you eat five a day..." who else says somethin' like that? Doctors, when they're giving you medicine to effect something in your body or your mind. And who eats the most avocados? Californians. And which state keeps voting Democrat...?'

She sat back as though she'd just bullseyed a royal flush and checkmate all in one, taking Vanessa's open mouth to mean she was astounded by this insight, rather than the actual reason -- why argue when facts were sucked into a vortex of denial and logic was AWOL?

She knew there was a bigger scheme, but the glint of the lowering sun in Gabby's self-congratulatory eye made her want to slap her straight into the water.

'What's your relationship like with the media?' asked Vanessa.

'I don't have a relationship with the media,' said Gabby.

'Not even Jackal News?'

'Nope.'

'I thought you'd get on well with some of their primetime presenters, like Erina Tysinger--'

'Nobody there has asked for me since the assassination,' she shrugged and slurped her drink.

'Perhaps because of the campaign ad that had you shooting cardboard cutouts of the opposition candidates?'

'Let me ask you this...' Gabby put down her glass and pulled off her suit jacket. Vanessa momentarily believed she was about to drop a pertinent point. 'When we say movies where the Hollywood elite shoot real people are responsible for kids shootin' up schools, the libtards say, "Oh, no, it's guns that kill people!" But when someone pops the leading Democratic presidential candidate, it's my fault for shootin' some cardboard on TV! Hmm...' she put a finger to her lips and pulled a cartoonishly quizzical expression. 'Jackal News have got no guts. They don't like me for the same reason as everyone else: because I tell it like it is and they can't handle it.'

She sat back, swigged at her drink and rested her elbows on the back of the sofa, again with the demeanour of someone who had made the world's most inarguable point.

'Don't you want a relationship with reporters who see things as you do?'

'Nope. They'll come crawlin', though, and I'll leave 'em hangin' in the wind.'

Vanessa took a prolonged sip from her drink. Gabby had just lied twice about meeting Erina Tysinger and was very convincing. But she was also convincing when she spoke utter garbage. Politics is one of the top professions that attracts psychopaths, but she'd never knowingly met one up close.

Perhaps it was this realisation or the drink--perhaps both--but Vanessa suddenly felt a swimmy buzz of exhilaration and a Pulitzer Prize gold medal for Public Service came to mind.

'How far would you go to get what you want?' asked Vanessa, slurring a little.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you've described Democrats as cockroaches in the past and so presumably you're happy to step on them?'

'Whatever it takes to save this country,' Gabby announced without a moment's pause.

'A bit intimidating to go it alone on a mission like that, isn't it?'

'Every movement needs a leader. It may as well be me.'

Gabby winked. From her perspective, she had just given Vanessa the scoop of the decade -- she intended to run as the Republican candidate for president, but the smug look she gave as she drained her glass was more than Vanessa could stand.

'So you're not intimidated?' asked Vanessa.

'Never.'

'You're the fearless leader of "right-thinking people"?'

'You got it,' said Gabby, proud to hear her own words quoted.

'And you're not scared of anything?'

'Right,' said Gabby suspiciously. 'Why do you keep askin' the same thing?'

Vanessa slung back the rest of her margarita, placed down her glass and, by way of an answer, reached towards Gabby's outstretched soles.

She had never seen a human move so fast. Gabby snapped her legs away and momentarily hugged her knees, before putting her feet on the deck, all the while with a look of shock that sapped the colour from her lips.

'What the hell are you doin'?!' she said.

Vanessa sobered up but her excuse centre couldn't find a ready explanation. 'Just testing a rumour.'

Gabby's face screwed into an expression of rage. 'Get yo' ass off my property!'

'But--'

'Now! Before I call the cops!'

Vanessa wasn't in the mood to meet the kind of local police department who would vote for Gabby Calhoun and so immediately took up her shoes and headed for the chrome ladder.

'I ain't a goddamn lesbian! You keep your g-goddamn hands to yourself!' screamed Gabby with a passion so extreme that Vanessa doubled her speed down the ladder and onto the dock.

'Get out!' she yelled, pointing to the street.

Vanessa passed a confused Angela, who was halfway across the lawn with another jug of margarita mix. Her heart was thumping as she left the cool grass and felt the warmth of the sun-heated patio stones beneath her feet. She made her way through the house, out the front door and jumped into the rental car. Dumping her stilettos onto the passenger seat, she threw it into gear and stomped on the gas with her bare toes.

She didn't know the Cape Coral streets but was happy to just put distance between herself and Gabby's abode. She calmed herself as she drove. So what if Gabby wouldn't talk to her any more? She had the measure of the woman and knew she'd lied about meeting with Erina Tysinger. Brayden was still her man on the inside and there were other routes to explore. The only thing she really didn't relish was telling Jaz what happened--

Blue lights reflected off the rear-view mirror making her squint. A blast of siren was followed by a loudspeaker announcement, 'Pull it over.'

'Damnit,' said Vanessa. She slowed the car, pulled up against the curb and watched via the side-view mirror as an enormous cop got out, silhouetted against the golden sunset. She gripped the wheel. These days it wasn't a surprise to see anyone--of any race, colour, creed or gender--gunned down on the nightly news. At that moment, Vanessa wanted nothing more than to call Ryan. If he was there, she knew he would calmly take care of the situation.

'Licence and registration,' said the cop from behind tinted aviator glasses.

'It's a rental. I have to get the paperwork out of the glove.'

'Go ahead.'

She handed him her licence and the vehicle details. He skimmed them and said, 'Get out of the car, please.'

She got out without a word.

'Have you been drinking tonight, Ma'am?'

At that point she knew -- Gabby made this happen.

***CHAPTER IX***

This was the first interrogation room Vanessa had ever been in and she did not appreciate the side of the table she was on. All the iterations she had seen on TV looked the same: a table, three chairs, a door, a two-way mirror and a couple of CCTV cameras. This room had all of that as well as a fresh lick of gun-metal grey paintwork.

The one aspect--the main worrying aspect--of the room that was different to anything she had seen before was her seat, which reminded her more of a 1930s electric chair. It sat on what looked like two metal rails that were flush to the floor and had steel binders that locked her wrists and ankles to the arms and legs.

The door opened. Officer Jackson, the arresting officer, made way for a ginger-haired and very rotund sergeant who took pride in his appearance despite his obvious inability to resist cheeseburgers and beer. His name badge read Bryce. He held a riding crop under one armpit and he was reading from a handheld tablet. He spoke out of one side of his mouth.

'Mrs Holbrook,' he said without looking up.

'Yes, sir,' said Vanessa.

'Yes, Sergeant,' said Jackson.

'Yes, Sergeant,' Vanessa repeated.

'Driving under the influence...' Bryce read from the screen.

'Sergeant, I--'

'Did you know this is one of the safest cities in Florida, Mrs Holbrook?' said Bryce.

'I didn't, but I can believe it. It's a very nice place.'

Bryce looked up to detect whether she was mocking him and she saw the precise moment he realised how attractive she was. She was unnerved that it made his next statement noticeably more aggressive. 'In which case you'll understand why we don't want out-of-towners comin' down here and harrassin' our congresswomen.'

'I thought I was here for driving under the influence?' If she could have moved her leg she would have literally kicked herself in the journalistic instinct; this was not the time to be clever.

'That's right, Mrs Holbrook,' said Bryce as Jackson moved the table and the two other chairs to the corner of the room, 'you're here for two violations -- driving under the influence and assault.'

'Assault!? I've been interviewing--'

Bryce gestured to Jackson who opened a metal panel embedded in the wall and pressed a button.

Vanessa caught her breath as she felt her head swim with vertigo. She then realised that her chair was tipping backwards as the metal rails in the floor raised to form two robust steel quarter-circles and the back of Vanessa's chair touched the floor.

'I'm entitled to a phone call and a solicitor!'

'You're from New York, Mrs Holbrook -- you don't know what you're entitled to down here. There are measures we can take when we believe that one of our elected politicians are under threat,' said Bryce. 'Officer Jackson...'

Vanessa could only watch as Jackson stepped forward. She had no idea what he would do next but detected a leering glance up her skirt as he hesitated between her legs. She jumped when he took hold of both of her stilettos and pulled them off.

Her palms and feet sweated when she was nervous, which made the air feel all the cooler as he stood back.

Bryce's lip curled. 'If you are going to have such large feet, I suggest you at least wash them, Mrs Holbrook.'

The insult over their size drew a blunt retort. 'I do wash them. I was just walking on a lawn earlier--'

'Sneakin' around, huh?'

'Gabby Calhoun's lawn, because she invited me to be there.'

'I don't like your tone, Missy,' said Bryce.

'Maybe if you sat me up straight I'd sound different...'

Her assertive air faded as Bryce threw the tablet onto the table and took hold of the riding crop. He lifted it against the sole of her right foot. Her toes curled instinctively.

'I want my phone call,' she said.

Bryce said nothing but tapped the crop gently and rapidly up and down Vanessa's bare sole. Aside from being surreal, this was easy to endure and Vanessa tried to ignore the thought that things could get worse. Soon her foot began to tingle.

Still at the same tempo, Bryce gradually increased the strength of each hit. Soon Vanessa felt her sole start to vibrate with heat. Sweat formed on her soles and palms and, as the sensation turned into an unignorable sting, her fingers and toes wriggled and she chewed on her cheek. Then she noticed Bryce grinning at her agitation and she forced herself to relax.

A quick swish-thwack! across the ball of her foot brought her back into the moment and she grasped the arms of the chair.

'I wasn't doing anything wrong,' she said.

'We'll find out,' said Bryce and hit the ball of her foot with several short, sharp strikes. She jumped with each hit.

'That hurts!' she said.

Bryce and Jackson looked at one another and snickered. 'Well, of course it does, Mrs Holbrook -- that's the point,' said Bryce and traversed her sensitive high arch to the heel. She grimaced with each strike.

She could see his enjoyment increase along with her level of distress. The strikes were getting sharper and the new, irregular timings in between each whisk of the crop was somehow making the eventual impacts worse.

Vanessa clenched her toes, gritted her teeth and held her breath but it didn't help. Her fingertips slipped with sweat against the chair arm. The thought of this getting worse made tears form in the her eyes.

There was flash of sadistic victory in Bryce and the next crack across her sole caused the tears to roll into her ears.

'Ow-w-w!'

'I think we'll give that foot a rest,' said Bryce. Vanessa felt a brief relief, 'and move on to the other one--'

'No!' cried Vanessa, swallowing back tears. 'I haven't done anything!'

'We're still to find that out,' said Bryce, ready to begin again when a digital buzzer sounded. He went to the panel by the door and lifted a receiver. Vanessa could hear a female voice at the other end of the line but couldn't make out what she was saying.

'Sergeant Bryce,' he said. 'Yep... Understood.' He hung up the receiver and opened the door. 'She's free to go,' he said to Jackson and left the room without looking at her again.

The wave of relief almost caused Vanessa to burst into sobs, but she held it together.

Jackson loomed between her legs. 'Seems like we don't need to hold you any longer.' His leer up her skirt had lost all subtlety. His eyes were locked on her panties as he spoke. 'See? You didn't need your phone call or a solicitor. It's a shame though -- our policy is for corporal punishment until we are sure we have the truth. I've always thought there were much more creative ways of getting information from people.'

He slowly lifted his hands towards her feet. Vanessa stiffened in her restraints, expecting another pinch of pain. Instead he briskly ran the tip of each index finger down both soles. Vanessa's body shuddered uncontrollably and the restraints rattled. She looked at him in nervous confusion.

'See?' he said. 'So many other options.'

***CHAPTER X***

The floodgates opened as soon as the rental car left the Cape Coral PD HQ. So much so that Vanessa had to pull into a mall car park and cry it out. She called Ryan several times but only got his voicemail. She needed a hug from him immediately and so dried her face and put herself on autopilot all the way back to her hotel in Jacksonville, being careful not to give the cops any reason to pull her over again.

She collected her things, drove to the airport and paid over-the-odds for a ticket to New York. The whole time she felt a warm vibration in her right foot. There were several times on the journey when she almost broke down but made a deal with herself that she would wait until she was in Ryan's arms.

It was almost 2am by the time the taxi dropped her home. The flat was in darkness, save for a bedside lamp in the bedroom. She dropped her luggage, went to the bedroom and was surprised to see Ryan awake, in just his boxer shorts, covered in sweat and lust in his eyes. She wanted to tell him about her ordeal but, at the same time, assumed he'd been working out and wanted to know how this transformation took place. She only spoke to him yesterday when he was still lethargic with Long Covid. The bed covers were a mess. Had he been thrashing in his sleep? He got up from the bed with the most prominent erection she could recall seeing in person. She needed a hug more than she needed sex, but it had been so long that when he grabbed her by the arms, she let herself be taken.

Ryan pulled her onto the bed without saying a word. They rolled over, he pinned her arms to the sheets and passionately kissed her neck. She loved his natural smell. It took her back to the first wild months of their relationship. He pulled her top apart and tore off her bra. Squeezing her breasts with his large hands, he buried his face between them. She gasped with delight as he kissed and nibbled at her nipples then roughly tossed her onto her front.

Tears of mixed emotions seeped silently onto the bedspread as Ryan yanked down her skirt and panties and parted her legs. He pulled her hips close, his hard cock sliding into her wetness with sublime ease. He was harder than she had ever felt him before. Slow, strong movements became faster and her firm buttocks slapped against his groin as he thrust faster and faster. They had never climaxed simultaneously before, but his huge pulsing dick was stimulating her in exactly the right way and her head tingled on the verge of ecstasy as he began the moan that she loved to hear. She felt the first spurt of pre-cum from him, one more and she would go over the edge...

'Now it's your turn!' said Ryan.

The sparkles in Vanessa's head stopped her from asking what he meant and, out of nowhere, Ryan's fingers wriggled into the muscles of her waist.

A wave of sensation overwhelmed Vanessa and she collapsed face-first into the mattress. She clapped her elbows to her sides and tried to pull herself away, but he held her fast. She drew breath to scream with frustration and anger but was undermined by a burst of laughter.

'Now... it's... your... turn!' Ryan shouted, erupting inside her more and more with each word. On the fifth thrust, he flopped on top of her.

Vanessa wriggled free and fell off the bed. She clambered to her feet and backed away, 'What the hell, Ryan!?'

Ryan appeared confused as to whether Vanessa was serious or not.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Why did you do that?'

'I thought it's what you wanted.'

'Ruining my orgasm? Why would I want that?'

Ryan's confusion was joined by irritation. 'Baby, I don't understand. If you didn't want me to do it, what was earlier all about?'

'Earlier? I've just got back.'

A clack sound elsewhere in the apartment gave them both a start.

'That was the front door,' said Vanessa.

They went to the living room and turned on all the lights. There was nobody there.

Ryan went to the front door and looked through the peephole. The outside corridor was empty, but the door to the stairs was closing shut.

'Somebody went down the stairs,' he said.

'Who?' said Vanessa.

He gestured that he was naked and wasn't going anywhere fast.

Irritated, Vanessa dashed to the bedroom, pulled on her skirt and blouse and ran to the stairwell. The sound of a door echoed several floors down. She went back to the flat. Ryan was now deflated on the sofa, sapped of all energy.

'What's goin' on?' demanded Vanessa.

'I don't know!' said Ryan, perplexed. 'All I know is that I finished looking for jobs and I went to the bedroom, laid down and fell asleep. Then I got woken up by... what I thought was you stroking my back.'