Invisible Girl - An Erotic Romance Pt. 04

She was fully dressed. Her hair—and hat—were neatly back in place. Her face was clear and serene, and she was looking into the mirror of a compact as she retouched her lipstick.

She looked up when she heard Jane come in, gave her a big smile and said, "There you are! I was wondering what had become of you."

"I went out for a walk so you and Father Brian could have some privacy," Jane improvised. As she drew closer she could see that Chrissy's eyes were still a little puffy from crying, but other than that she looked just as she had when she came in.

Amazing.

Chrissy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment at Jane's statement. Then she said, with a casualness that was belied by her anxious expression "Oh? So you didn't...hear anything?"

Jane feigned puzzlement. "Like what?"

"Oh, nothing. I...I just was worried that we might have been talking too loudly, that's all."

Jane shook her head to indicate that she'd heard nothing and saw the anxiety fade from Chrissy's face. "So...how did you like Father Brian?" she asked cautiously.

Chrissy's smile brightened as she replied, "Oh, he was just wonderful! He talked to me for a long time, and gave me lots of good advice."

Talked? thought Jane. O-kay.

"So he helped you?"

"Oh yes, I feel so much better now."

"That's great." Jane thought she should just let it go, but she had to ask. "And he didn't...punish you at all?"

Chrissy's smile dimmed, and she colored slightly and looked away before she replied, "Oh...a little." Then, with an effort, she quickly put her smile back in place, returned her gaze to Jane and continued. "But it wasn't bad, really. I don't know what I was so afraid of."

She nervously reached up to re-adjust her hat, and Jane could see the red chafe-marks the ropes had left on her wrists.

I guess she doesn't know how loud she was screaming, mused Jane. I would have heard her even if I had been out in the woods.

She looked around and saw that all the used tissues had been cleaned up and that the tissue-box was back in its usual place.

But where's the mask, she wondered. Still in the other room, maybe.

Chrissy checked herself one last time before closing the compact. Then she turned to Jane, still smiling, and said, "Thanks so much for helping me. I'm glad I got to meet Father Brian."

"Well, I'm glad he made a good impression on you," said Jane, smiling, somewhat viciously, in turn. "Do you have to run off? You could stay for lunch...or maybe a quick game of Ping-Pong? I'm pretty good with a paddle." This was pure mischief on her part.

Chrissy looked across the room at the Ping-Pong table and a look of confusion passed briefly across her face. Then she brightened again and, turning back to Jane, said, "I'll bet you are. But I really can't stay. I'm dying to get out of these clothes."

I don't know why—you just got back into them, thought Jane as Chrissy turned away and bent down to put her compact back in her purse, which was still on the chair. As she did so, Jane noticed something strange about Chrissy's behind: there was an oddly shaped bulge, barely discernible, protruding from the middle of it under her skirt. There was something familiar about it...

Jane suddenly put her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter: Chrissy was using the mask to cushion her behind!

Chapter Twenty-One

She walked Chrissy out to her car, accepted a hug, and watched with barely concealed amusement as Chrissy attempted to lower herself gingerly into her seat without appearing to do so, with the result that she still sat down faster than she wanted to and was unable to control the grimace of pain which followed, and which Jane politely pretended not to see. She could certainly understand how Chrissy was feeling, being more than a little sore in the same place herself.

I'll just have to play dumb if Mom asks me about the sleep-mask, she thought as Chrissy drove off.

As Jane walked back into the house she realized that she was exhausted. And starving.

The only reason food won first priority over a nap was that she thought that otherwise she might not have the strength to climb the stairs again so she could take a nap. She quickly made and gobbled down a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, along with a glass of milk and, somewhat refreshed, made her way upstairs.

She slept deeply and dreamlessly for an hour and a half. When she woke up she glanced at the clock and saw that her parents were due home at any moment. She decided she would bake some cookies for them. And that's what she was doing when they arrived.

Jane heard them chatting cheerfully to each other as they came through the door and thought, Wow, usually they're dead tired. They must have had a good time.

Her mother called out her name and Jane answered, "In here!"

They came into the kitchen and there were hugs all around. Jane's mother immediately put on an apron and began to help with the cookies, telling Jane about their weekend, occasionally interrupted by Jane's father, who was sitting at the table.

They were both excited because the staff had recognized how good the two of them were at helping others on the retreat and had offered them counseling positions at future retreats. It wouldn't be much more money, her father explained, but every little bit helped. And besides, he and Jane's mother were thinking about writing a book about their experience together; a combined autobiography and counseling manual that other AA centers could use.

Jane, putting away the flour, stopped to look at them and thought she had never seen them so happy together. She felt a little left out. But she told herself that it was stupid to be jealous; wasn't it better this way than the way they were before? Then she thought, No, that's not it at all. She had no idea why she felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden.

She watched them enthusiastically spinning out ideas for the book, and realized: It's me. Now they're normal, and I'm...

Her memory raced back over the events of the morning. What am I, she thought. What kind of person does what I've been doing? What would they think if they knew I'd helped trick someone—a friend, almost—into taking off her clothes, then being tied up and spanked and humiliated, just to please my boyfriend? And me, she admitted to herself. Never mind the fact that it had been done in their own basement.

"Are you all right, dear?" Her mother's voice startled her from her reverie.

"Oh...yeah, I'm just... I was just thinking about how much homework I still have to do. Can you finish the cookies? I really ought to keep going." Her mother nodded, and Jane started out of the kitchen, then turned around, looked at them both and said, "Hey... I'm glad you're back."

She made it to her bedroom before she started to cry.

She closed the door, sat on the edge of her bed and let the tears run silently down her face. She watched as they fell from her chin and into her lap, making spots of darker color in the fabric of her dress.

She wished Peter were there to talk to. She looked over at her bedside table, at the telephone there. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used it. How long has it been since I knew anyone well enough to call, she wondered. It must be years. No wonder I'm... She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

She and Peter had never called each other. They hadn't discussed it; it was just an unspoken part of their desire for secrecy. But she needed to hear his voice. She pulled the phone book out of the table drawer. It was several years out of date, but she knew Peter had lived there all his life.

She found the number. Then she dried her face with a tissue and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Then she dialed.

She hoped that it would be Peter who answered, so she wouldn't have to talk to his father. So when the voice that answered turned out to be female, she was disconcerted. His mother wasn't there anymore, she knew, and he didn't have any sisters, so who could this be? Still, she asked for Peter, and was told to, "Hang on a sec."

Then she heard the same voice calling out, "Peter...phone!" and Peter's voice, very distant, replying, "I'll take it up here," then the clack of the extension being picked up.

Peter called out, "Okay," his voice much closer now, and waited until the other person had hung up before saying, "Hello?"

"Hi Peter, it's me," said Jane, suddenly wondering if he'd be displeased with her for calling.

"Jane! Hi!"

The warmth of his voice, and his obvious pleasure that it was she, made her start to cry again. She tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke.

"Peter, I'm sorry. I know you've got a ton of homework and everything..."

"Oh, that's okay. What's up?"

Jane tried to speak, but nothing came. It was as if the knot of grief in her heart had moved into her throat and was choking her. Then there was a sob, and she dissolved into tears.

"Jane! Are you all right? What is it?" His voice was a frantic whisper. Jane was still unable to speak. "Jane! What's the matter?"

She heard some noise, as if Peter had picked up the telephone, and then what sounded like a door being closed.

"Sorry," Peter said, "I had to take the phone into my room. Can you tell me what's going on?"

She got herself under enough control to speak. "I'm sorry, Peter. It's just that I feel like...like such a weirdo."

She sobbed a few more times, then grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Then she continued. "It's like...when I'm with you, everything we do is great. I mean, I know it's not normal, or what other people do, but it's okay. It's better than okay. I love what we do together—you know that, right? Everything."

"I know." Peter's voice was full of concern. "This is about what happened this morning, right?"

"Yeah." Jane had settled down to an occasional sniffle.

"All right. Well, why don't you tell me the whole story and then we'll talk about it, okay?"

"Okay."

So Jane told him everything, beginning with her careless remark at the party where she'd met Chrissy. She told him how Chrissy had sought her out and how she, Jane, had baited the trap with stories about the fictitious Father Brian. And how finally she had lured Chrissy down to the basement.

Then she told him about what had happened afterwards, when her parents came home: how she'd suddenly begun to feel that she was an awful person. "...and that's when I knew I had to call you." She felt the tears beginning again. "Peter, I'm not really a bad person, am I?" She wiped furiously at her eyes and sniffled.

"Of course you're not," he reassured her. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I've been thinking about this morning too. And now that you've told me how it happened I think I understand it better.

"Jane, I think maybe you're feeling bad, but not so much because of what happened as the way it happened. You kind of did the same thing Chrissy did."

"What do you mean?"

"You thought you were doing it all for me—and I know you were mostly doing it for me—but I think you were also doing it at least partly to see if you could."

Jane started a furious denial and then stopped.

He was right.

"Oh Peter, that makes me feel worse!"

"I'm sorry, Jane, I didn't mean to. I'm just trying to sort things out." He fell silent again, then said. "I think you're feeling kind of the way I did after that first time. You know, in the bathroom?"

"Uh-huh," said Jane, not quite following.

"Even though it was really exciting while I was doing it? I felt terrible afterwards because I'd made you do what I wanted without caring how you felt. I still feel bad about it sometimes."

"Oh, Peter—that was so long ago...and it turned out all right, didn't it?"

"You know it did.But do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I think so," Jane said, and heaved a sigh. "I did a really bad thing."

"No, you did a good thing, I think-or at least an okay thing-even if it was kind of for the wrong reason. I mean, you said she came to you looking to be punished, right? She even asked about getting spanked?"

"Ye-essss..."

"Okay, so it's not like you forced her to do anything, like I did to you. She had a pretty good idea what might happen when she came over this morning, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"But me no buts. 'Father Brian' gave her some good advice..."

"Yes, you did."

"And then I tried to send her on her way, and what happened?"

"Hey, that's right!"

"Mm-hm, and now that I think about it I'm pretty sure that's what this was all about in the first place. I mean, yeah, she was upset about that business with the priest, but I think to some extent she was just using it as an excuse."

"Because she really just wanted to be spanked..."

"Sure seems like it, though she doesn't seem like the type. Maybe when she heard you talk about it something clicked. And having it done by a priest made it all right for Miss Goody Two Shoes.

"And you saw what happened: she hollered and carried on, but you know as well as I do that she loved it. She came—you saw it. I'll bet you anything she asks you how to get in touch with Father Brian again. Did she say anything after I left?

"Well, nothing about that, but oh, Peter..."

And she told him about how Chrissy had pretended that nothing much had happened, and by the time she got to the part about Chrissy using the mask as a cushion and trying to sit down in her car, Jane was laughing almost as hard as she'd been crying before.

Peter laughed with her and then he said, "Oh by the way, I never thanked you for going to all this trouble, just so I'd have somebody else to spank. You really are something else."

Jane felt her spirits sag again. "Isn't that why I called you in the first place?"

"Yes, but you know that's not what I meant. You were sure enough of me, of us, to set me up with another girl. I mean, she never knew it was me, of course, but still that was really brave. And you know what part I liked best?"

She thought for a moment. "Watching me spank her in my panties?"

"Nope. Though I certainly enjoyed that."

"Me too."

"I noticed. No, my favorite part was..."

"Pulling down her panties?"

"No." He paused. "The best part, for me, was what we did afterwards. Just you and me."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong, that whole business with Chrissy was incredible. I loved it—you know that—and I love you for doing that for me, and I wouldn't have missed it for anything. I just want to make sure you know that you don't have to, you know, keep coming up with things like that.

"Oh Peter, I don't think I'll ever try anything like that again."

"Good. You're all I need. Really. More than I deserve."

"Oh Peter..."

"It's true. Now, are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Do you still feel like a weirdo?"

She thought about it. "Well, kind of...but I don't mind it so much."

"Well, that's better, I guess. Y'know, I've thought about this, some." He paused, searching for the right words. "It's true that we do some things that aren't the same as what everybody else does.But that doesn't mean that everything else about us is different, does it?"

"Nooo..." said Jane, thoughtfully.

"Okay, then. Everybody's different from everybody else somehow, so what's the big deal?"

"Yes, but..."

"But me no buts! You're sweet and you're smart and you care about people. You're a good person, Miss Harkin."

Jane felt a sweet pain in her chest. "Really?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.

"Well," he replied, "not so good that you don't need a good spanking once in a while, but still..."

She burst out laughing. "Well, I should hope not!" Still laughing, she said, "Oh, I love you."

"I love you too, weirdo. Hey, I've got to get back to work. You okay now?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and if you talk to Chrissy?"

"Yes?"

"Find out where she got those stockings. Whoo-hoo-hoo!"

He sounded like Curly of the Three Stooges.

"You jerk. See you tomorrow." She was smiling as she hung up the phone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Almost immediately there was a soft knock on the door, and Jane's mother came in, holding a small plate of cookies. "I thought you might want to have some while they're still warm. We do nice work."

Jane accepted the plate. The cookies smelled wonderful.

Her mother glanced around the room, took in the desk, with its unopened books. "I thought you had a lot of homework," she said, smiling. Then she saw the crumpled, sodden tissues on the bed. She looked more closely at Jane. "You've been crying. Honey, what's the matter?"

She sat down next to Jane on the bed and put her arm around her shoulders. "I heard you talking on the phone. Is somebody being mean to you?" She suddenly got a knowing look. "A boy?"

Jane looked up at her mother. "Oh no, Mom. I mean, I was talking to a boy, but he wasn't being mean or anything."

She knew she had to offer some explanation, and looking into her mother's concerned face she was sorely tempted to tell her everything. She loved Peter,and knew she could talk to him about anything, but she sometimes found herself wishing she could talk things over with somebody outside the relationship. It was one thing to hear Peter tell her everything was all right, but she wanted to hear it from her mother.

"Mom? How long did you know Dad before you got married?"

Her mother seemed taken a little aback by this change of subject for a moment, but answered, "A couple of years. You know we met in college...he was in law school and I was a lowly sophomore," she finished, smiling. "Why? Are you planning to marry somebody?" She glanced significantly at the phone.

Jane grinned and looked down. "Oh, Mom...of course not."

She gathered her courage and looked up again. "Mom? Before you were married, did you...did you ever..." Then her voice faltered, and she had to look down again.

Her mother looked blank for a moment. Then comprehension dawned, and she glanced again at the telephone before replying. "Oh my," she said, raising her eyebrows at Jane, "I wasn't expecting to have this conversation for a while yet. I can't believe you've grown up so fast."

She took a breath to steady herself. "Well. First let me answer your question: yes, I did. But never with anyone but your father."

She looked carefully at Jane, as if wondering whether to continue. Finally she went on. "In fact, we got married a little sooner than we'd planned...when we found out you were coming."

She smiled a little wistfully at the memory, then suddenly sat up straight as a new possibility presented itself. She turned to Jane, taking her by the shoulders and peering intently into her eyes. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Jane shook her head. "No, Mom." She looked back at her mother, noticing for the first time how much her mother looked like an older version of herself.

Her mother sagged with relief. "Thank goodness for that " She turned her questioning gaze back on Jane and continued, "But you've been..." she searched for the words, failed, and finally looked the rest of her question at Jane.

Jane forced herself to meet her mother's gaze and nodded. Then, wanting to reassure her, said, "But we're always really careful, we..." She stopped, embarrassed at discussing the technical details with her mother. "He always wears a..."

She was cut off by her mother's sudden fierce embrace. "Oh, honey, you're so young!" And Jane suddenly realized that her mother was crying.