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Helen hung up before I could say anything; the dial tone droned in my ear.
Putting down the phone, I slumped slowly down onto the bed, stunned by her
final words. I shivered and clutched the flimsy slip to my body. Strangely, I
did not think about leaving. The thought never crossed my mind. What I did
want to do was hide. I wanted to find some small dark crevice I could crawl
into to avoid her promised confrontation. I knew that was hopeless. I looked
the clock over her bed. It was 6:40. She would be home, perhaps with a
stranger, at 7:20.
For slightly more than thirty minutes I did not move. I sat quietly on the
edge of her bed, by the phone, my mind not really focused. The red high heels
were pinching my feet; the toes on my left foot stung. I looked down at my
thin legs. Encased in the delicate, white stockings, they looked different,
strange, as if they did not belong to me at all. The thought passed my mind
that I could not really tell, just by looking, if these legs were male or
female. I rubbed my forehead and cheek with one hand. Without thinking about
it, I let my hand drop to my chest. The gradual swelling beneath my slip,
created by the padded brassiere, reminded me of the way Helen's breasts felt
when I caressed her through her blouse. I shivered again and looked at the
clock. 7:10.
This couldn't be real, it couldn't really be happening to me. It had to be a
game! Or maybe she was testing me. She'd come through the door, glance at her
waiting drink and at me dressed in this ridiculous fashion and kneeling beside
the couch, and she would laugh. Then I'd laugh, too, and she'd tell me it was
all some idiotic game she was playing, some silly, offbeat amusement she'd
read about in a magazine. She'd kiss me and we'd both laugh again and hug and
kiss and make a dozen stupid little jokes. Maybe we'd even make love. For the
first time since I arrived home earlier that afternoon I smiled.
7:15
I pulled myself up off the bed, did my best to plant my feet securely beneath
me, then began hobbling toward the door. I discovered that if I kept my weight
unnaturally forward and took only very small steps I could walk without
turning an ankle or falling. I headed toward the kitchen. For a moment I
panicked; I couldn't find the tonic water. At last I spied the smallish bottle
on the top shelf of the pantry. I stepped toward it and my right ankle began
to give way as the spike of its matching shoe skidded out from under me on the
slick, tile floor. I grabbed the pantry door, cursed, and lunged forward and
snatched the bottle off the shelf.
I dropped two ice cubes into Helen's drink, slammed the refrigerator door
shut and quickly staggered toward the living room. I glanced at the numberless
clock over the entertainment center. It looked like I had a minute or two to
spare. A coaster! Damn, I knew she'd kill me if I didn't use a coaster. She
was always nagging me about it. With her drink clutched in my right hand, I
lurched back toward the kitchen. Where were the damn things? I began jerking
drawers open at random. I got lucky on the third try. I grabbed one of the
stacked, blue, plastic circles then spun around, praying my feet would stay
under me. I zig-zagged back to the living room as fast as I dared.
I dropped the coaster onto the coffee table, then gently centered the glass on
top of it. I knelt down, relieved to be off my untrustworthy feet, then rested
most of my weight against the upholstered edge of the couch. I was excited.
She'd be home any second now and this lunacy would end.
I heard footsteps outside the door. Remembering her instructions, I lowered
my head. The metallic jangle of her overstuffed keychain, followed by the sound
of a key sliding into the lock sent my pulse racing. The whispering squeak of
the opening door stopped my breathing. I sensed more than heard or saw her
moving into the room and toward me.
She crossed the room. She dropped her pocketbook on the dining room table.
The muted sound of paper sliding against paper suggested she was examining the
day's collection of mail. After a pause that seemed an eternity in length I
heard her carpeted steps again coming toward me.
"Very good, JoAnna," she said from somewhere above me. "I am pleased with
you." I started to raise my head, unsure of what I wanted to say. "No." Her
voice was stronger. "Do not look at me. Do not speak!" Confused, I dropped my
head until my forehead was resting against the near edge of one of the three
cushions on the couch.
Ice clinked against glass and I guessed she had picked up the vodka tonic I
had made for her. She sat on the edge of the couch next to me. Her nearness,
and the oddly reassuring scent of her perfume, comforted me. For a full thirty
seconds of silence neither of us moved. At last, she put a hand on the crown
of my head, then slowly caressed my hair.
"This is not a game, JoAnna; I want you to know that." There was a huskiness
in her voice I had never heard before. Her hand slid down to my neck. "This is
very real." Her fingers brushed my cheek. "Do you understand me, do you
believe me?"
I could not think. Fear and confusion mingled within me with an altogether
unexpected calmness. Her fingers gathered in a fold of my skin, then pinched
my cheek until it burned with pain. "Answer me, darling. Do you
understand?"
"Helen - ," I started to reply, lifting my head from the couch.
She pushed my head back down. "I know you are afraid. Of course you are. It's
only natural, I suppose." She began stroking my hair again. She moved closer
to me. "But do you understand what I want from you now?"
Her touch was hypnotic. I felt myself relax. "Yes." My voice sounded as if it
were coming from someone else.
"You do have a choice, you know," she said quietly. "You can leave. Do you
want to leave, JoAnna? Do you want to be Joe again?" Her touch was now so
light I could barely feel it. "Do you want to be that sad, pathetic little man
so full of bitterness and self-pity?"
Is that how she saw me, I wondered, is that what she thought I had become? I
shivered. "No," I said in that faraway voice. I began to cry.
"Good," she cooed. I felt her bend down over me. Now her words came in a
purring, sensual whisper: "I don't ever want you to be that man again. Not
ever. I want you to be JoAnna. I want you in lace and satin; I want you curled
up at my feet. I want you to please me, to do anything I ask." Her lips
brushed against my ear. "And I want you to live only to please me, for my
happiness to be your only thought." She was silent for several seconds. "Can
you do that, JoAnna? Can you live only for my happiness?"
I was warm. I felt safe with her over me, with her hand running through my
hair. Nothing but her nearness mattered. Tears rolled down my cheeks. She
loved me - after all I had done, after all the cruel, stupid things I had done
to her, she still loved me. I began to cry harder. I wanted desperately to
please her, to do anything she asked of me. I never wanted this warm intimacy
to end.
"Yes," I sobbed. "Yes, Helen, please let me be JoAnna. Let me be your
JoAnna!"
"It will not be easy," she said. "You will need to learn, to be trained, to
please me." She kissed me again. "Are you willing to learn?"
"Yes," I answered, my voice hoarse from crying. "I want to learn. I want to
learn so I can always please you and never disappoint you again."
"Do you promise? You won't disobey me no matter how hard it becomes for you
to do what I command?"
I gently moved closer to her. "Yes, I promise."
"I love you more than I ever have before, darling." Her words poured over me
like warm, pure water. I felt cleansed and more alive than I had in years. I
never wanted this moment to end.
To Be Continued...
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