With Friends Like These...

We all have a circle of friends who can talk us into doing things that deep in our hearts, we know to be extraordinarily bad ideas but at the time, seem like they make perfect sense. I was the voice of reason for ours. If I was *good* at being the voice of reason, or getting my two idiot friends to actually listen to me, I wouldn't be telling this tale.

We had spent most of our adult lives as friends. We were the same age, our kids had gone to the same schools, we more-or-less lived in the same neighborhood and socialized in the same circles. One by one, we divorced or separated from our husbands around the same time. This was also around the same time our kids left the nests.

So there we were, reinventing ourselves. Laurie got her real estate agent's license, Marie found a spot helping run a local Congressman's office and I went back into Human Affairs. The gym replaced PTA meetings, downsizing our homes took center stage and online dating substituted for making family dinners.

If it sounds boring and you want to stop reading now, I don't blame you. The best part of the dates were trying new things on the menu. Overall, the consensus was that the sex was no better than our memories of our X's.

Life had reached an impasse for all of us, and when we finally sat down together and faced facts, none of us wanted to just give up. We all made the best of how we looked to the world, we all still had our libidos and when we started sharing, it was obvious we all had some pretty wicked imaginations. Hot sex. Dirty, sweaty sex. Pounding, dangerous and breathtaking sex.

But Laurie was the one who took risks. Big risks.

She dated a few married men (and found that to be a dead-end). Then she decided she wanted to try swinging. Marie and I did our best to talk some sense into her, but she kept pushing the envelope until she found a married couple worthy of her time.

It took three glasses of chardonnay (in all of us) before she spilled those beans to Marie and I. Laurie had met a couple and they all seemed to *click* but she wanted us to back her up for their first meeting. At first, I wanted nothing to do with this mess but Marie's curiosity was clearly radiating from the moment Laurie asked for our help.

All we had to do was 'be there' in case things got weird. If it got weird, we'd be the ones to make the rescue phone call that allowed her to leave gracefully. Since it was obviously going to happen and I didn't want Marie to go alone, I caved.

Fast forward a few, to a crisp fall day right before lunch. The sky was bright blue and all was right with the world. Marie and I arrived super early and took a corner table in a coffee shop where we could see everyone and everything (including the bathrooms and back door) inside, as well as anyone parked outside. About ten minutes before the 'date', the couple showed up.

I saw them first, getting out of a newish, white four-door BMW parked about three or four spots down the street.

They were about our age, professionals. They were both tall and took care of themselves. Their suits hung like they'd taken a break from a catalog shoot. I will admit to being somewhat relieved at the normalcy I saw, but when I glanced at Marie she was completely focused. Unhealthy, almost.

I dubbed them then and there as Mister and Missus Beamer. He had thick, distinguished grey hair and I mentally bet myself was a lawyer of some type (turns out he was). Her close-cropped copper 'do was from the bottle, but it was striking without being tacky. I couldn't ignore her rings. They certainly looked like a wealthy suburban couple just meeting for lunch, maybe finalizing schedules to whatever charity events they had to attended.

I was going to whisper something equally catty in Marie's ear, but she was still focused on Mister. A lightbulb went on. "You just got a crush!"

Marie flushed, knowing she'd been busted. "Shh!"

"Why? They can't hear us, no one's paying attention to us. Wow, so that's what turns you on?" I wanted to have fun with this.

"Hey, tell me he's not hot." She squirmed in her seat, wry smile spreading.

"He's a package deal. You want him, you have to take her. I didn't know that interested you."

My friend was silent for a moment. "Haven't you ever wondered?"

I looked at Mrs Beamer again. "Sure. With the right woman, why not?

*

We watched the conversation warm, we saw the couple discretely slide papers across the table (Laurie had insisted on notarized STD test results right up front) and she returned the gesture. If you knew what to look for, there were dozens of other signs that everyone at that table was flirting. They certainly approved of Laurie -- a 5'7"-ish skinny brunette with close-cropped curly hair hinting of grey, green eyes and a penchant for dressing in a way that made men smile even if she didn't have curves.

The deal was this 'date' was supposed to last only 30 minutes, then Laurie was going to excuse herself however it was going. I got antsy around 45 minutes, since there was only so much mundane bullshit Marie and I could rehash.

I suggested we get the ball rolling and text Laurie something that'd let her escape. Marie wanted to keep watching and after five minutes of pointless bickering, I sent a simple "?"

We watched our friend dig out her phone, say something to her new friends and answer. "You two go on, I'm ok. Really. Will call when I'm done".

My inner voice screamed 'no! bad idea!' and Marie's infatuation made her useless, but the day was running on. After an hour, we got up and slipped past them. I made eye contact with Laurie briefly, and the trite phrase 'twinkling eyes' was an understatement.

*

It was somewhere around dinner time when I got another text from Laurie. "Hate to be a drama queen, but can you two come over tonight? I need to talk".

As much as I had to do, this was too good to pass on. I could blow off the gym tonight.

*.

Marie drove up a minute after I did. Laurie had the bottle open already.

"What are you two doing Sunday night?" Here we go, thought I -- I'm going to get my first invitation to an orgy. My expression betrayed me, and Laurie started laughing.

"No no.... I have to work this weekend, and they understand but they want to see me Sunday night. Since I have Monday off...."

Marie's overeager-to-please streak perked to the surface: "I'll take off Monday!"

I went home grumbling that night. I'll admit now to being jealous. At the time, I just had the worst thoughts and unable to ignore them, sent an email to my assistant. I was taking Monday as a personal day.

Better safe than sorry.

*

It was around 11pm Saturday night when my phone rang. I normally never answer numbers that I don't recognize, but for whatever reason I clicked on the green button.

A man's voice, nice and low. "Hello, Cathy. Happy Halloween. Do you know who this is?"

I'll play, I thought to myself. "No clue. Isn't it one day early to be playing Mischief Night games?"

"You're feisty. Laurie said you were." My heart stopped. Well, it felt like it.

"Oh, we know you and Marie were there -- even if Laurie hadn't told us afterwards. You two were too hard to miss. This is Mister Beamer" Fuck. This was awkward and I wasn't in a positon to help. I let several seconds go by, until the silence was almost crushing.

"So what can I do for you?"

"Let's talk about you. Laurie is first in line, but from what she told us we think we'd like to spend some time with you as well."

They hadn't even been with my friend yet, and they were hitting on me. Thousands of thoughts and responses ran through my head, but all my lips could do was ask "You work this fast all the time?"

"When we have the good fortune to meet someone like your friend and the chance to meet her friends, no one in their right mind would hesitate. Besides, Laurie can be very candid."

I was going to kill that loose-lipped bitch for sucking me into her dating games, but the more this guy talked the more I wanted to listen. Besides, it was Saturday night and I obviously didn't have anything better to do. I wanted to sound cool, calm and composed when I replied "Go on".

He talked and I mostly listened. Mostly. For the next ninety minutes, maybe a little more. His voice got to me and after about 30 minutes, when he started to turn the conversation into my confessional, I got the sense that Mrs Beamer was listening.

I didn't mind. I answered his questions. About the things I've done and the things I wanted to do, as well as the things I didn't think I could do in the foreseeable future. I gave myself permission to let my hands wander while he carried the conversation from a Q&A to a verbal peek into my possible future. I knew they knew what I was doing, and truth be told I loved having them as a audience, even if it was only hearing me.

*

I debated telling Marie about that late-night call and technically my betrayal of Laurie, but I figured it could wait. Eventually everything would come out in the wash, but for today I was going to let it lie.

*

Marie came over around 4. Laurie was supposed to be done showing houses at 5 and text us when she was headed out. We were also supposed to get messages from her at 8pm and midnight, as well.

I was dressed like I was ready to rush to the hospital -- just a pullover sweater, jeans tucked into boots with my jacket and purse by the front door. Marie always overdresses and will always look like a petite bottle-blonde soccermom-in-heels.

At five, we got a text: "Ok, here goes! Wish me luck!" I thought of about six or seven smartass replies but with a cold lump in my throat, all I wrote was "Be safe".

Marie and I went to a local Thai restaurant to kill time before the next call. Still anxious, I abstained but Marie had two glasses of wine with dinner. It was just before 8 when we got the next text.

"I don't thnk I want to play anymore. Come get me". There was an address. Marie paid the bill while I fumbled with my phone, bringing up a map. It was 15 minutes away.

I drove like a maniac, while Marie panicked. She fat-thumbed her phone a dozen times and it wasn't until we were driving up to the place that she found out the address was one of the homes Laurie was responsible for showing. The real estate sign in front with her photo on it would have also been a good clue.

I moved fast, parking in the driveway behind Laurie's Mercedes. I took my can of mace out of my purse, left it in the car and my keys in my pocket in case we had to leave in a hurry. Her car hood was cold (I watched a lot of tv when I was married and playing housewife). The front door was open.

Fuck.

Ever the dippy one, Marie was talking a mile-a-minute. I put my finger over her lips and said "Be quiet. We don't know what's going on so just.. stay close to me and don't say anything. Ok?"

Marie focused enough to nod and I tried the door. Unlocked.

The lights were on and the house staged for prospective buyers. We slipped in, leaving the door cracked. If I was smart, I'd have just back out and gotten in my car, called the cops and let them deal with this stupid shit but if Laurie had been such an idiot to have met people at a client's house for .... Whatever... then I didn't want to risk getting her fired over what consenting adults did.

Wall to wall carpet. I could hear music from below us, in the basement. I've watched enough horror movies to know that we were soooooooooooo not splitted up. "Follow me" I whispered over my shoulder, and Marie tagged along with her hand gripping my shoulder as I gently walked back to where I thought I'd find the basement door.

Sure enough, it was on the other side of the kitchen. I could see light from down there.

"Laurie?" I asked, not loud and trying to sound casual.

"Down here." Her voice was just above a whisper.

I went down a few steps and squatted. She was sitting in the middle of a recreation room that was mostly empty, save for her chair. She was in a pool of illumination made by three standing work lights.

My instincts kicked in, barely keeping a wave of dread in check. Down the stairs I went, Marie tottering along behind and as I got closer to my friend, the situation became more surreal.

Laurie wasn't voluntarily sitting in that chair. Duct tape around her wrists pinned her arms to the chair's, with more duct tape around her ankles so only the toes of her pumps touched the concrete floor. Her hair and makeup and suit jacket were disheveled and she had a distant gaze that told me she'd been drinking. Heavily. I think.

There was a satin scarve hanging awkwardly around her neck and it took me a few second to realize that it had a fairly big knot tied in it. The knot was stained with lipstick.

Her phone was on top of her purse, by her side on the floor but obviously out of reach.

What.

The.

Fuck.

It was then that I realized what Mr Beamer's phone call was about Saturday night. I knew that if I asked Marie, she'd admit to getting a similar call this weekend.

We'd all been set up. They knew about all of our frustrations and had socially engineered us into spilling our guts -- on audio recording, no doubt.

I didn't have a knife, I knew Marie didn't have one and I was about to go get one from the kitchen when I heard the soft scratch of a shoe on concrete.

It was in the dark. In the corner. Mr Beamer was standing there, watching us, but I couldn't see his face. I wish I could tell you I said something appropriately defiant and smart, but I didn't.

I was scared. Beyond scared. Worse when I realized he was wearing a black hood of some sort, which is why I couldn't see the white of his face.

Marie whined "Cathy, do you see" just about the same time I heard scraping behind me. Too much happened too fast at that point; Marie shrieked and turned for the stairs, the figure in the darkness ran diagonally and tackled her hard.

A hand slipped over my mouth, chin and nose and pressed something sticky against my skin. Someone taller than me. I have always hated being short.

I tried to pry and only dug my fingers into leather. Too much. More than we talked about. Much more. I was aspirating what smelled like English Lavender hand soap while another arm circled around my waist like a snake. I caught glimpses of the blackness of Mr Beamer covering a squirming Marie as I dealt with my own problem trying to breath -- Mrs Beamer, I'm sure of it -- bringing me down to one knee and the stars at the edge of my vision and thinking "oh fuck they listened to everything I said why do I talk so much" and cold concrete and someone's body heat and we're breathing so heavy it feels like hyperventilating and the room is spinning and Laurie is just looking down at me us why fuck can't have to should heavy

[Fade to black]