tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 02

The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 02


Susan reawakened in a strange bed for a second time. This time, however, it didn't take nearly as long to remember what had happened. She sat up. Her hands were still linked together by the manacles and the padlock. She remembered he had disconnected the chain that had held her arms above her head. The pajamas she'd been wearing were still on, or at least the top was still on. She looked around the room. He was gone, but she didn't expect that he would be here.

Looking across the bed she saw a card table had been set up. On the table were several things she couldn't immediately make out, so she got up and went over. On the table there was a key, a sealed envelope, and some clothing. She assumed the key was to the padlock. She was right. Taking the key she was able to unlock the padlock that had been holding her hands together. She tried the key in one of the bracelets, but she didn't expect it would do anything, and it didn't. She guessed she'd still be wearing the bracelets, collar, and anklets for a while. She opened the envelope to find a brief message.

"Beneath this envelope you will find something to wear. Please get dressed. Downstairs you'll find rooms that are, quite honestly, retty messy. I had a party last evening while you were asleep. In one of the rooms you'll find some cleaning materials; a mop, vacuum cleaner, a bucket, and the rest of usual stuff. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but if you're inclined it would nice if you cleaned things up. I know you're probably ravenously hungry and dying of thirst. There are lots of scraps lying around on the party tables. Don't nibble on that junk. I'll see that you're well fed later. If you don't think you can resist the scraps, then I've left you your gag. If temptation becomes too much for you then put the gag on. Get yourself a healthy drink of water from the bathroom before going downstairs. I'm sure you know how to do that. "

She read the note again. She thought this one over. He's being sarcastic. Of course, she knew how to get a drink from a bathroom tap. He said she didn't have to do anything. Who was he kidding? She had no choice. If he said clean five rooms, she'd clean five rooms. If he said he had a bucket of fly shit mixed with pepper that he wanted separated, she would do that too.

She looked at the outfit he'd left for her. Holding it up she recognized it for what it was, a maid's uniform, and a small one at that. It was a one-piece black maid's outfit. It had a pretty white peter-pan collar like the pajamas she'd worn earlier. She thought, maybe he's a little bit of a fetishist? The sleeves were short, capped, white, and lace trimmed. The collar was lace trimmed also. There was no apron, but the dress was bunched slightly at the waist, and then spilled outward in dozens of tiny pleats. It came down about mid thigh. It was made of silk, of course. She slipped it on. It was quite comfortable.

Beneath the dress she found a pair of white socks and shoes. The shoes were low-heeled and black, like a child's Mary Jane's. She sat on the bed, pulled the socks on, slipped on the shoes and buckled the straps. The shoes were just her size, and though they seemed a little slippery on the marble floor, they still fit comfortably. She looked at herself in the mirror. There was no bra to hold her breasts up or in place. She had the appearance of a flat chested child. She looked like a little girl.

Well there wasn't anything to do but get a drink of water and go downstairs. She left the gag behind. She thought to herself, if she had to starve first to keep from snacking on other peoples' garbage, she still would never voluntarily wear anything like that gag.

Downstairs Susan found everything the note said she would. There were five messy rooms, a main dining area, two lounge rooms, and two rest rooms. None of the mess was that substantial, and she believed that with a little determination she could get everything cleaned up in a couple hours. She went right to work.

She cleared all the food scraps, dirty napkins, and other trash material off the tables and dumped it all in a garbage can. She found the kitchen not far off from one of the rooms. There was a dishwasher, and she started filling it with dirty dishes. As she worked on the dishes she saw it would probably only take two washings to get them all, plus the silverware, cups, and saucers. The wine glasses they had used were plastic so she dumped them in the garbage. There weren't any pots and pans.

The affair had apparently been catered, since she saw there were several foil containers that still held some residual food. These she also threw in the garbage. Each table had a tablecloth, but she realized these cloths were made of an expensive paper. They couldn't be used again so they met the garbage can as well. No one had spilled anything on the floors so the vacuuming went fairly quickly.

She'd been dreading the bathrooms. She knew what women could be like, and she'd heard enough about men to expect the worst. To her surprise both bathrooms required minimum work. The toilets all needed a light scrubbing, and sinks had some residual soap scum, but no one had thrown up or otherwise made any excessive messes.

She looked around, and sure enough she had finished in just a little over two hours. She felt good. If this was what he expected of her until she found a way to escape, then this she could handle. She thought about that. She thought about escape, about discovery, rescue. Then she thought some more, after what had happened earlier, perhaps escape or rescue could wait until the absolute most opportune time. There were other ways to skin cat, and in that context, well, she was a woman and he was a man.

Finished what she'd been assigned to do, she started to go back upstairs. Then the 'in house' intercom started to buzz. What should she do? What if someone from the outside was in the house and looking for her captor. This might be her chance to escape. She made for the intercom, and pressed the buzzer. It was his voice, "I can tell by the quiet you're probably finished. If you're hungry, why don't you come through the room you're in and meet me out on the back patio?"

She thought, no escape, but maybe a chance to get something to eat. She really was famished. With food on her mind Susan made a beeline for the outdoors.

When she got outside she saw him sitting back in a chaise lounge. Beside him was a table, and on the table there was food.

Hearing her come out the man spoke, "Please come over and sit down." He pointed to a chair near the table and near where he was sitting. She went straight for the chair and plopped herself down.

He spoke again, "Don't forget your two rules. And don't forget no talking. I know you're hungry. I ordered out some fresh tuna, and some broiled crab. I also have salads here if you want any. I've got potato, macaroni, and a tossed salad here. There are some dressings if you want any. If you're thirsty there's sweetened and unsweetened iced tea. I have some sliced lemon in a container here too. I've already eaten, so I'll just sit here and watch you. When you're finished I'll give you a chance to ask some questions."

Susan looked at everything, took one of the plastic plates, and began to pile on the food. She preferred tuna, but she thought she ought to at least sample some of the crab. She was glad she did, it tasted quite good. Susan steered away from the potato and macaroni salads, but helped herself to the tossed salad. The lettuce was delicious, ivy cold the way she liked it. She had a healthy helping of tomatoes and carrots. She kept away from the peppers. Susan didn't realize how hungry she was. She felt like she was wolfing her food down. She felt like a hungry animal. She bet he probably thinks I'm a pig.

The man watched her eat. He knew she was hungry, so he was surprised at how carefully she picked through everything. He was glad she took both some tuna and crab. He thought anyone as hungry as she would suck this up quickly, but he found her to be very fastidious. As hungry as she was, her napkin was on her lap, she used the proper utensils avoiding using her fingers, even when the crab dish certainly allowed it. Twice, no three times, she very carefully wiped that delicious little mouth of hers.

The man who had hired him had called her a pig, but watching her in action he knew this girl was certainly anything but that. If she was anything she was dainty, a dainty eater. Dainty, that was a good word for her. She had tiny little hands. Women often had hands that were more like claws. Once it looked like she might have burped. He didn't hear anything, but he saw her put the tips of her fingers to her mouth. Her hands and fingers were so small, delicate. He realized he liked this about her. In fact, he was realizing there wasn't too much about her he didn't' like.

After she finished eating he leaned back and spoke, "I guess it's time we talked. This much you know. You've been taken against your will. Someone expects that I will kill you, and there is almost no chance you'll be able to go back to where or who you were. With that out of the way I'm going to let you ask me five questions, but I warn you, use your questions wisely. A thoughtless question cannot be retrieved. Go ahead, start."

Susan looked her captor over. This was ridiculous. Here she was sitting in front of the man hired to kill her and he gives her five questions. What was she supposed to ask? Are you going to cement my feet in concrete and throw me in the river? What, are you going to smother me with a pillow? Maybe you could stuff me in a barrel and throw me over Niagara Falls? She watched him watch her. He was reading her facial expressions. She guessed she better ask him something. She thought and then asked, "Who are you?"

He was quick with his answer, "I'm the man hired to kidnap, perhaps kill, maybe sell, or otherwise use you. Beyond that you have no need to know anything. Go on next question."

Susan was chagrined. Her first question was used in asking something pointless. Shit, this whole conversation was pointless. She should have asked his name. She corrected that with her second question, "What's your name?"

His answer came back, "As far as you're concerned I have no name. Look at it this way. A dog knows its owner, and might respond to certain sounds, but the dog doesn't really know its owner's name. Now understand I'm not your owner, master, or anything like that, and I'm certainly not inferring that you're anything like a dog. Along those lines please put any fear of degradation, disgrace or humiliation from your mind. I might still decide to end your life, but I won't debase you as a person. I'm just the man hired to kidnap, kill, sell, or otherwise use you. Beyond that you will find out nothing."

Susan could have kicked herself. Aside from the gnawing pain and fear his answers inspired she had two questions wasted. This wasn't fair. This was so stupid. What was he saying? Hey, I'm going to kill you anyway, but here's your chance to ask questions. If the whole situation wasn't so bizarre she'd cry. She thought for a moment. Let's give it another try, "Who hired you to hurt me?"

He answered, "Have I hurt you? I don't think so, not yet, and maybe not ever. No, you're not free to leave, and yes, I did take advantage of you sexually, but no one has harmed you beyond taking your freedom and a little carnal exploitation. As for the person who hired me, it's safe to say it's someone who doesn't like you and does want me to hurt you. Also, as you can tell, I haven't satisfied my end of the bargain, and may or may not. I haven't decided anything yet. I can't let you go, but I may never physically harm you beyond what has already been done. Then again, I might kill you once we're finished this conversation"

How consoling, she was down to two questions, and the only assurance she had was he might finish her off when they stopped talking. His last comment, the idea he might not do more to her than he'd already done offered little solace. She thought she would use a different tact. She knew she was well known as an attorney, but did he? If he knew he had a celebrity he might think twice about anything he had planned, "Do you know who I am," she asked.

Again his answer was immediate, forthright, and unsatisfactory, "I know who you were, but who you were isn't who you are now. Your previous identity no longer exists. That person is dead even if you aren't. As of the other day you ceased to be anything other than the person I acquired in a business transaction."

You have no name, no identity, no property, no past, and no certain future. You have only the present. As for any name you might have? You have no name unless I give you one, and right now I don't' know if I want to name you."

Susan was struck dumb. She'd never thought things could have gone this far. It was true he hadn't used her name, not once. He was telling her she didn't exist. That wasn't true. She knew who she was, and she knew people would be looking for her. Her rescue was certainly imminent.

As though he was reading her thoughts he preempted her, "I know what you're probably thinking. You're thinking people will worry about you. People will want to find you. People will try to rescue you. I've already looked into your situation. You have parents, but you haven't had anything to do with them in years, and from what I found out I can understand why, and they certainly don't have a clue about you. You have no real friends, only employees and competitors. Most of them, if not all, will be glad you've disappeared. You have no societal connections. You've never been to any church. You donate to no charities. The only club you belong is a health club. In short, if anyone notices you're gone, they'll probably be glad of it. You'll be one less competitor in an already too competitive field. Now what's your last question?"

She clenched her fists together in front of her chest, her faced squeezing into an angry mask, lips and mouth quivering. Her first instinct was to leap at him. She saw he was prepared for that.

Susan's poise collapsed in a maelstrom of uncontrollable tears. She'd held it in so well until now, but his succinct, cold blooded, even cruel appraisal of her life was undeniable and overwhelming. It launched an avalanche of stored up tears. He had her to a tee. She was nobody, only a legal machine, a machine who had been grinding out and grinding up the law. Her whole body shook as she held her head in her hands and cried. In desperation she looked at him. She was lost, trapped, in the hands of a mad man, a man whose singular purpose was her death.

All she had left was one more question. Beyond that nothing seemed to count. She needed to get a grip. She believed there still might be one thing left. It wasn't much. Actually it wasn't anything at all, but it was all that was left. It would sound stupid. She was grasping at straws. It would sound like she was wasting her last precious question, but if her life was about to end it suddenly really mattered. Sometimes it was the most worthless things that ended up having the greatest value. She asked, "Since you seem to know everything about me, and you know no one gives a damn, you also must know I have a cat."

She started crying again. This had been too much. He was so cruel. He intended to be cruel. Between the tears and the weeping she asked her last question, "I have a cat. Where's my cat? Can I at least have my cat? You've taken everything else. You know I'm nothing. You know no one really cares if I live or die. But can I have my cat? Please?" By the time she got to please she'd lost all control again. She held her head in her hands, broke down, sobbing, weeping, and crying uncontrollably. There was nothing but absolute desolation.

The man looked at her. Despite a career of waste and destruction he'd always thought himself to be a compassionate person. What he wanted to do was grab her in his arms, hold her, and somehow reassure her, but he knew he couldn't do that. She didn't know, but maybe, just maybe, there might be at least one more person who did care a little about her. He may be a fool, but he thought he might be that one person. Him of all people!

He'd studied her past, her career, and the reason why someone wanted her dead. He'd never concerned himself with the right or wrong of what he'd ever done until now. He must be going soft. How stupid, the man hired to kill this woman wanted to protect her. What a joke that was. If he didn't get away from the table he might say something he'd regret.

He looked at her and brusquely said, "Get undressed. Do it over there in the bathhouse. You'll find a jumper or something you can put on. Don't try to go anywhere. I'll be right back." He got and left her.

Susan tried to pick up the pieces of her broken life, or what seemed to be a broken life. She thought, things couldn't be as bad as he said. I'll work this through. This is a tight spot. If he doesn't kill me I'll find a way out of this. She said these things to herself, promising herself she wouldn't quit, but at the same time she realized that everything he had said was true. She started toward the bathhouse. Let's see what he has in store this time?

The man went inside and found his cell phone. He called one of his crewmen. Someone picked up a phone on the other end of the line. The man asked, "Did you find a cat at the apartment I sent you to this morning?"

On the other end the man answered, "Yes, we have it here. What do you want us to do with it?"

The man responded, "Throw it in a shopping bag and bring it to me now please. I'm on the patio in the back of the house."

On the other end came the crisp reply, "Will do."

When he returned to the patio he found her waiting in the same chair he'd left her in. She'd been to the bathhouse, and had changed clothes. Her eyes were swollen from crying. She needed a lift, "Let me see what you have on? Stand up and show me."

Susan felt like a fool, but she stood up.

He said, "Turn around. Let me look at the whole show."

Susan stood and slowly turned a full three hundred sixty degrees. He got the full view.

What he saw only convinced him more completely that this girl was something special. The outfit she had on was a one-piece jumper or dress. It came about midway down her thighs. It had a scooped neck, again there were short sleeves trimmed in tiny ruffles. The neckline was also trimmed in ruffles as was the hem. It was a pale blue outfit made of soft cotton, and it matched her blue eyes almost perfectly. It was slightly bunched just below her breasts in what he thought they called an empire waist. He liked her in it. The slight tightening gave her breasts just enough support to lift and help shape them.

Below her breasts the dress spread slightly in several large pleats. There were no stockings or socks, but she had on a pair of low-heeled white shoes. They were similar in shape to the shoes she'd worn while cleaning. The shoes and short dress without nylons or socks made her legs look that much more naked. Yes, he liked the look. It turned him on.

He reflected on what made him to not want to just kill her. She was pretty, but pretty women were a dime a dozen.

She had a vulnerability that made her different, but that wasn't enough to keep her alive.

He remembered watching her in court. She was good, and the man she skewered deserved everything he got. Maybe that was it. She was a good lawyer. She won her case. The man she beat deserved to be punished. He didn't like him from the start, too damn smug. But he'd killed lots of innocent people for money paid by some really nasty customers.

They'd had some decent sex. He enjoyed the sex, but that hardly mattered. He remembered what a friend once said, 'stand them on their heads and they're all sisters.'

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bycarvohi© 15 comments/ 39445 views/ 6 favorites

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