Invisible Girl (An Erotic Romance), Pt. 11

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.