Curing Erica’s Phobia

It was somewhere around three in the morning when Erica arrived back at her apartment. She couldn’t remember where she’d been, or how she had gotten back. She had simple walked or run for hours. Her stomach was empty, but the thought of food made her nauseous. Juan would be mad at her about that, she thought to herself. He always called her scrawny, nagged her to eat. And he would know. Even over Skype, he could tell if she hadn’t been eating. She paused at the bottom of the stairs up to her apartment. Just like he would know she’d been with someone else, had let some other man touch her. Erica closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool stonework façade of the building. He would know and he would hurt her. She glanced around at the darkened street, the cars parked here and there, the even darker Green Lake park across the street. A car drove by on the street and slowed. She could make out faces looking her way. She turned and ran up the stairs.

When she opened her apartment door, a slip of paper floated to the ground. For a moment, she just stared at it, but then she remembered the car out front, and she grabbed the paper and dashed inside, pushing locks into place. Once inside, she flipped a light switch and looked at the paper. All it said was ‘Call Me’ and gave a phone number. She knew it had to be either Juan or Eric. She wasn’t even sure anymore if they weren’t just one and the same, full of rosy promises and pain. She pulled her cell phone out and glanced at it. She had muted the ringer at some point when the incessant beeping became too much to bear. The screen was full of missed calls and voice mails and partial text messages. She ignored them all and tossed it onto the couch.

Wearily, she made her way to the bathroom and then to the bed, staring at the wall. It felt like the wall was staring back at her in the darkness, watching her, waiting for her to fall asleep. She rolled onto her back, hoping the ceiling would prove more empathetic, but it only seemed to hang more heavily over her as if a great weight sheltered in the attic, restlessly waiting to crash down on her. She knew its name; memories. It had stirred from its slumber and it was angry at being denied so long. Erica rolled to her stomach, sure she would not be able to sleep with the room closing in on her. Her eyes wanted to close, she was so tired from hours and hours of fear and running, but memories threatened behind her eyelids, dripping down from the ceiling like rain seeping through the damaged roof that was her life. The memories were visions; racks of canes and whips, ropes and shackles. The memories were pain. She lay, her head buried in her arms, her back exposed because it hurt so much more when they struck her front; her nipples, her clit, the skin stretched tight over her ribs.

She could feel them there; Juan, calling her vile names in Spanish through the whistling of a cane; Eric, telling her to breathe between the slapping of leather; and others, shadow figures watching, applauding, laughing, vying for a turn. And then HIM, waiting until her sobbing turned to moaning and her writhing became more urgent, until she begged to come, her desperation voiced in incoherent screams. HE always waited, not letting her come until the pain was blinding, became her whole world. In the beginning, HE was the pain. But now, it came from everyone, everywhere, at all times. Only mindless orgasm freed her from the pain, but ever so briefly. Then it would start again, by others, with different sources and causes. HE set few rules, innovation was rewarded. Her entire world was fear, and pain, and need. Her reward came when her need was fed. Her punishment was when she was driven to famished need and then denied.

Erica was screaming hoarsely and thrashed, until she fell from the bed, flailing even more frantically as she was caught between the far side of the bed and the wall. As she slowly realized where she was, she curled into a ball, kneeling on the floor, trembling but finally fully awake. Her fingers crept between her legs, found the waistband of her sleeping shorts, slid down her belly and between her pussy lips. She rubbed, softly at first, groaning with need, then harder, her fingers slick with the moisture of her overwhelming desire. Her fingers plunged inside as her palm rocked hard against her clit. But the pain was gone with the dream, and she didn’t know how to come without pain. Only Eric held that secret. It was nearly a half hour before she climbed back onto the bed, though she didn’t sleep again. She simply stared wide-eyed at the wall of her bedroom until it was time to get up.

When she did climb off the bed a couple hours later, fully intending to follow her usual morning routine, muscles that had been thoroughly abused for hours on end last night screamed in protest and she gave up any notion of running. It was so hard to figure out what she should do next, when she couldn’t mindlessly follow her routine, but somehow she managed to get ready for work, even though early. When she crossed the street, the bus to downtown was just there, as if called to order. Once she had settled into a seat, things began to feel like they were on their way back to normal. All a bad dream, she thought, never even missing the cell phone she’d left lying on the couch.

Erica stopped at the corner Starbucks and got a mocha and a muffin, though she only made it halfway through the muffin before her stomach started to protest. She walked the half block to her office building and headed for her cubicle. Normal was getting even closer, almost in reach. Except there was someone waiting by her cubicle for her. She stopped at the entrance to the HR department. She was at least a half hour early. No one else was around. Someone – security? – had let a woman into the department. The stranger was an African-American woman in a dark pantsuit. Not particularly threatening, save it wasn’t normal, and Erica desperately needed normal. She started to back out of the department just as the woman turned and spotted her. The woman immediately started her way. There was a guest badge hanging on a pocket of her suit jacket.

Erica turned and ran for the elevator, vaguely aware that the woman was calling her name. When she reached the elevator bank, she pushed furiously at the call button, but it was a big building and people were pouring in to work. The woman reached her before an elevator did. She was holding out an ID even as Erica backed away from her.

“Erica, my name is Joann Majors. I’m with the FBI. I’m on the task force with Eric. I just want to talk to you. Erica, please, I know your upset. I’m not going to touch you, okay? Just talk.”

An elevator dinged and Erica looked hopefully for escape, but it was on its way up, packed with people even after her company’s Finance Manager got off. He glanced at the tense confrontation before him. “Everything okay, Erica?”

Erica nodded, but the man looked at the two women for another moment, before he turned to head to his own department. The FBI agent waited till he was out of earshot. “You have interview carrels in your department. We can use one of those. Just to talk. Please, Erica. Let’s keep this informal.”

Erica stared at her, not even wanting to think what ‘formal’ might consist of. The woman gestured back toward the HR department. When an elevator dinged again, disgorging more co-workers, Erica finally broke free of her paralysis and headed reluctantly back to the department. One of the other HR specialists had just arrived and watched with undisguised curiosity as Erica led the agent to one of the carrels. Inside the tiny glass room, Erica stood with her back to a wall, hugging herself, staring at the floor. The woman gestured toward one of the two chairs, but Erica only shook her head. The agent gave a soft sigh, and continued to stand herself.

“Eric called me and said he had done something stupid that upset you. He asked me to find you. To convince you that we still needed your help.”

“What did he tell you?” Erica asked softly.

“He didn’t give me any details. Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Okay. If that changes at any point, you just call me.” She laid a business card on the little desk in the carrel.

“Is that all?” Erica asked hopefully.

“No, there’s the matter of the Skype call. It’s been set in motion. It’s too late to change that. We need you to talk to Juan on that call.” Erica closed her eyes wearily, suddenly feeling the fatigue of not sleeping last night.

“Will Eric be there?”

“Not if you don’t want him to. You call the shots, Erica.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

The woman studied her. “Have you slept? Maybe you should go home.”

Erica shuddered. “No,” she said softly.

“How can I help?” the agent asked. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” Erica said more firmly, shaking her head.

“All right. Tomorrow evening, we need to meet and discuss what you will say when he calls. Do you want to meet at your apartment?”

Erica pictured the police department and all those guns, and said “Yes, please.”

“Good. We want you to receive his call at your apartment, in case he’s checking your IP address, so that will work out fine. We’ll be there with you the whole way. In the meantime, you call me if you need anything at all, even if you’re just nervous and need a friendly voice. Okay,” she said, pushing her card closer to Erica.

****

On Tuesday afternoon, Erica was on the bus, heading home, when she felt the beginnings of a panic attack. For the past two days, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. It had only intensified, and now it felt like she was being crushed between the eyes at her back, and the appointment with Juan that she was rushing toward. The bus had just crossed the Freemont Bridge when she jumped off it at the first stop and headed on foot toward Gas Works Park trying to breath normally. There was a light drizzle falling, almost more of a mist and she turned her face up to it. Her heart was pounding. Though she swore she wasn’t going to do it, she looked behind her. The only thing to see was the rush hour traffic on Aurora and the cars heading for the Wallingford neighborhood. A few hardy pedestrians were hustling here and there, most with heads down and umbrellas tilted into the drizzle. It only made her feel all the more foolish for her unshakable paranoia.

She turned back and walked with determination, toying with the idea of not going home at all. Even as she thought it, the tightness in her chest began to ease somewhat. She knew there would be hell to pay with Juan if she blew off the Skype session, but it would be far worse if he took one look at her and knew she had been with another man. And she didn’t believe for a minute that he wouldn’t come for her; that Interpol would find him before he could leave whatever country he was in this time. For all she knew, he was already here; maybe even the watcher that she could feel at her back. It wouldn’t be the first time Juan had had her watched. Maybe he’d had someone watching all along, already knew. Even as she thought that, her breath caught. She stumbled to a stop, repeating her mantra for panic attacks: slow breaths, in, hold, out, hold. What little food she had been able to get down at lunch time was roiling in her stomach, demanding release.

She tried to keep walking. If she could get to the park and find a bench to sit on, it would help. She could sit until the attack passed, then decide what to do. She stumbled again, and she was terrified that she would fall; not that she would get hurt, but that some good Samaritan would try to help her, touch her. She stopped again. She was hyperventilating now, losing control. If only she were dressed for running. That always helped, always quieted the alarms in her head, regulated her breathing. She closed her eyes, tried to picture herself running, timed her breathing mantra to the imaginary stride. After a few moments, she pulled out her cell phone and called up her favorite playlist. Even better.

She started walking again, timing her steps to her mantra and the music. Almost normal. How many times had she said that to herself in the last few days? Would anything ever be normal again? As she began to feel better, she briefly considered getting back on the next bus and heading home, but then remembered that the FBI would be waiting there. As she thought that, her phone rang through the ear bud. She dug it out of the pocket and hit ignore, then briefly wondered if they could trace her location through the phone. They were always doing that on TV. She vowed to turn it off when she reached the end of the playlist.

After a couple more blocks, she decided she was feeling so much better, that what she really needed to do was find a nice quiet bar and have a nice cold glass of white wine. On the next likely looking street, she turned north. She didn’t know the neighborhood well, but she was sure if she went up to Forty-fifth there would be someplace to get some wine and something to eat. What she would do after that, she had no idea.

She hadn’t even made it to the next corner when someone grabbed her arm. Erica gave a strangled scream and tore her arm free, instantly back in full hyperventilation mode. She stumbled backward, one hand over her mouth by reflex trying to slow her breathing. When she got her feet under control and was able to look up, it was to see Eric. He was poised as if to catch her, should she fall, but as he realized she wasn’t stumbling anymore, he placed his hands on his hips, watching her. “Breathe,” he said softly. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

She shook her head at him, backing away. “They are waiting for you at your apartment,” he reminded her.

“I’m not going,” she gasped.

Apparently, he had expected that answer. All he said was, “Why not?”

“He’ll kill me.” It came out more as a wheeze, and she covered her mouth again, trying to limit her breath intake.

“He’s not here,” Eric said patiently.

“If you don’t know where he is, you don’t know that he’s not here,” she was gasping every few words, but the effort to talk was actually helping. “What are you doing here? They said you wouldn’t be here.”

He crossed his arms, making no move toward her even though she was backing further away. “They said I wouldn’t be at your apartment. Which is where you’re supposed to be. I’m here because I knew you’d chicken out.”

She straightened, her mouth opened to deliver a scathing retort, but then she couldn’t think of a good argument against the truth. “Just leave me alone.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. This is too important.”

“Fuck you,” she exclaimed, though it didn’t come out nearly as emphatically as she hoped. She turned and started walking. She would have run, but she was in her work shoes, not to mention her pencil skirt. She was rubbing her forehead, trying to relieve the headache that always came on the heels of one of her hyperventilation episodes. She almost ran into Eric, who was suddenly in front of her, blocking the way. She backstepped quickly.

“You can walk with me over to the car,” he said gesturing across the street, “Or we can go the whole route with handcuffs and pat down. You choose.” She went pale, but didn’t respond, so he reached into a back pocket and held up the handcuffs, dangling from a finger.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered.

He gestured toward the car again, then suddenly reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone, tapping a key without taking his eyes from hers. “Eric. I know. I have her here with me. I told you she wouldn’t, so a ‘thank you’ for saving the op just might be in order. We’ll be there as soon as she finishes weighing nonexistent options.” He put the cell phone back in his pocket. “You’re wasting time. You could be out of the rain, in your apartment, having a glass of wine right now.”

She glanced at the car, then did a double take. It was a scruffy white Toyota, and she’d seen it before, on the street in front of her apartment, in a parking spot near work. She looked back at him with anger flaring in her eyes. “You’ve been following me?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or texts. I’ve told you before. I had to know that you were safe. Where did you go Sunday night?”

“I don’t remember,” she said defiantly.

“Jesus, Erica!” He took a deep breath, and in a calmer voice, said, “You could have stayed, let me explain.”

“Really? And see what you were going to use on me next? What’s your favorite? Whips, canes?”

“Enough!” he said sharply, as she began to back away again. He put the handcuffs back in his pocket, but closed the distance and took her arm. He didn’t let her pull away this time, dragging her across the street to the car.

“Eric,” she cried out. “Please, let go. Ahhh!”

“I’ll let you go when you get in the car. Time’s wasting and we have a lot to go over before Juan calls.”

“No, I can’t talk to him. He’ll know!”

“That’s the whole idea, remember?” He was opening the passenger door. “Get in!”

She tried to brace against the roof of the car, but he pulled her arm away and twisted her down into the seat. She shrank back from the contact, effectively ensconcing herself in the car. He shut the door and hurried around the car before she could attempt an escape. When Eric settled into the driver’s seat, she had her head back against the seat and her eyes closed, trying yet again to get her breathing, and thereby her panic, under control. “You’re okay,” he said reassuringly. “Just breathe.”

“Fuck you,” she replied in a gasp.

“Fasten your seatbelt or I’ll do it for you.”

When she didn’t respond, he began to reach across her, and she hurriedly grabbed the latch to pull it across her lap, finding the buckle. There was a very soft sound with each intake of breath that sounded almost like a sob, and she was rocking ever so slightly in the seat, but when he said, “Ready?” she nodded, knowing the sooner they left, the sooner she would no longer be alone with him.

It only took a few minutes to reach her apartment and he found a parking spot at the end of the block partly in the red zone, but he didn’t seem to care. He came around to her side of the car and held the door until she climbed out, looking up at the second floor apartments as if it was the first time she’d seen them. All the lights in her apartment were on. Eric put an arm around her back, without actually touching her, and gestured toward the stairs. She started toward them as if to a funeral.

When they entered the apartment, she stopped just inside the door, staring at all the people and at the cables running across the floor. Eric nudged her forward to be able to close the door, and she didn’t even seem to notice, on overload from all the activity. Eric secured the locks on the door so she couldn’t make a quick escape then went into the kitchen to pour her a glass of wine. Agent Joann Majors came up to her, talking as if she had just arrived from work and had never contemplated abandoning the project.

“Let me show you what we have set up, okay? Over here we have a computer that will mirror everything that is happening on yours, except, of course, it won’t have a camera feed. We’ll be able to watch his expressions and everything. It is connected directly to your computer, not over the WAN. You’ll be on your laptop at the kitchen counter and…”

“I usually…” Erica started.

“What?” the agent asked, with obvious concern.

“I usually am sitting on my bed,” Erica blushed bright red. “Naked,” she whispered.

“Okay, no problem,” she looked over at the tech sitting on the couch. “Kill the local window. Move the laptop to the bedroom.” Another tech hurried to obey. She looked expectantly at Erica. “Anything else?”

“We’re going to need longer cords,” someone called and someone else hurried to accommodate them. Erica was beginning to pant. She had never had this many people in her apartment before, let alone futzing around in her bedroom. Agent Joann took her by the shoulders, then quickly let go as trembled and turned wide eyes her way.

“I want you to go in the bathroom and take a long, hot bath. When you finish, some of these guys will be gone or at least out of sight, and we can discuss what you’re going to say. We’ve got Chinese and pizza around here, too. What do you prefer?” Eric was pushing a glass of wine into her hand.

“Pizza?” he said, and she nodded numbly. Eric and Joann exchanged a knowing glance, then Joann was guiding Erica toward the bathroom.

“Very hot. Soak and relax,” she said as Erica disappeared into the bathroom.

When Erica emerged almost an hour later in a terry cloth robe, the apartment did seem quieter, though she didn’t look into the outer room. Almost immediately, Eric was there with a fresh glass of wine, as if he’d been watching for her. And a moment later, Joann was bringing her a microwave-warmed plate of pizza. She sat cross-legged on the bed to eat, staring suspiciously at her laptop, propped open. The sleeping screen was staring back at her blankly.

Joann sat on an end corner of her bed while Eric leaned against a wall. Joann took a deep breath and plunged in. “So we have to discuss how this conversation needs to go.”

“He’s going to kill me,” Erica muttered.

“That’s not going to happen,” Joanne asserted. “We won’t let it.”

Erica scoffed quietly, but then simply said, “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, the basics are that you met someone else and you don’t want to see him anymore,” Joann replied, “But you need to build up to that. If you just blurt it out, it will seem rehearsed.”

“You think?” Erica said, sarcastically, but then she added. “I’ve got this. I know what you want, and I know how to get him there. Trust me.”

Joann started, “We do trust you, but…”

“Really?” Erica demanded. “You are asking me to trust you with my life, but you don’t trust me to know how to push my lover’s buttons? Which do you think takes more skill?”

Joann looked at her and blinked, but Eric interjected, “She’s right. If anyone can work this asshole, she can. I say we give her the latitude she needs.”

Erica didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes on Joann’s. It was painfully obvious that Joann had misgivings. She was one of those who liked everything scripted, by the book. Erica didn’t really care at this point. She knew if they went by the book, Juan would see it and disappear, and either he would come for her or he would send someone for her. Either way, she was over. If she played him her own way, she had maybe a small chance of surviving, but only to fall in with the next Juan, or Eric, or whatever the name might be; the outcome would be the same – pain, and then death. She had worked out all the odds as she lay in the bathtub, soaking in hot water and sweet smelling bubbles as if the painful realities of her life were only a temporary distraction when in reality it was the pleasure of the bath that was the temporary distraction. Her life had always been hell, with little pleasures interspersed just to remind her how boundless the hell was. Well, fine. If nothing else, she could choose how painful the end was.

Joann looked into the impossibly dark orbs that were Erica’s eyes, within the pale visage and knew she was making the wrong choice, but she nodded. “What will you say?”

Erica shrugged, chewing her pizza. “Depends on what he says. He’s the one in control…”

“You need to be the one in control,” Joann interrupted.

“I need to let him believe he’s in control. He’s the Dom.” She glanced meaningfully at Eric and Joann followed that gaze with a puzzled frown. Eric narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “I need to let him lead me to where I want him to be.”

“Can you control your panic?” Eric asked quietly. “Do you need to take your anti-anxiety medicine?”

Swell, Erica thought. He’s been through my medicine cabinet. She shook her head. “I suspect he will give me reason to panic. He would know if I was faking it. He’s seen the real thing often enough.”

“He doesn’t normally do that when you Skype, does he?” Joann asked.

“No, and you know damn well he doesn’t because you’ve been fucking eavesdropping on us for how long now?” Erica snapped.

“Erica!” Eric warned, “We’re trying to help you, here.”

“You can help me by trusting me to know my lover.”

“You didn’t know he was into human trafficking, now, did you?” he said in a low voice.

“It didn’t come up in conversation when he was fucking me. Sorry,” she said bitterly. She was staring at Eric angrily and didn’t notice the signal that Joann made to him. He apparently did, though, because he left the room with obvious reluctance.

“Still don’t want to tell me what that’s all about?” Joann asked after a moment.

Erica shook her head. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Look, he’s going to go ballistic when I tell him – or when he figures out – that I’ve been with someone else. I’m not sure which way he’s going to blast, but regardless, I know my response needs to be full on panic. Anything less than totally convincing will make him suspicious.”

Joann was watching her in silence for a long moment, then suddenly stood and went into the outer room. Erica heard her snap a command, “Outside!” Curious, she climbed off the bed and went to the door. In the outer room, the apartment door was just closing, apparently behind Joann and Eric, as they were nowhere in sight. There were only a couple of tech guys now, fiddling with computers, and a man in a rumpled suit that hadn’t been there before. He turned from watching the apartment door and saw her. He crossing the room with an outstretched hand. “Erica, I’m Special Agent Jerry Robbins. I’m the head of this task force…” Erica was backing away from the hand he was proffering, and as if suddenly remembering a briefing, he pulled his hand back. “I’m sorry. I just want you to know how much we appreciate you doing this. I know it will be hard for you but it’s incredibly important.”

She merely nodded, her attention on the door where Joann and Eric had disappeared. After a few moments, she retreated into the bedroom, sipping nervously at her wine as she checked her computer and network connection. It was still hours before the call was due. She finished her wine and padded back out into the main room to get some more. Joann and Eric were back, conferring with Agent Robbins, and yet another man had joined them, dressed casually like Eric. Everyone, including the two techies still fiddling with their computers turned to stare at her. Erica came to a stop and tugged at the hem of her bathrobe, wondering if it had ridden up, affording a view of her ass. When no one said anything, she kept on her way to the fridge and her bottle of wine.

Eric moved around the counter and took hold of the refrigerator door. “You should eat some more before you drink any more wine,” he warned.

“You should be thankful I’m managing to keep down what I did eat,” she said, pulling harder on the door handle. He relented and she refilled her glass.

“I want you to meet a fellow detective of mine,” Eric said, gesturing toward the newcomer. Erica sighed and turned. “This is John Henning.” Erica nodded at him, pleased that he didn’t reach out to shake her hand.

“Detective Henning,” she acknowledged.

“John,” he insisted. “I’m sorry we’ve invaded your space tonight.”

She shrugged. “I’ll live. For now,” she added, glaring at Eric.

“Maybe you should try to take a nap,” Joann suggested. “There’s really not much to do until two and I promise we’ll be quiet as mice.”

Erica nodded vaguely, but she wandered back into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed, tapping idly on her computer, checking email and Facebook without paying much attention to what she saw. She finished her wine and dozed for a while, but she was awake when Joann came back into the bedroom and settled into a chair opposite Erica. “I’m going to be right here with you. The others will communicate with me through my earpiece. I’m going to write messages for you in this notebook. Just be careful you don’t make it obvious that you are reading something or looking at someone other than him on the screen. I’ll make anything I write as brief as possible and hold it in different places. Understand?”

Erica nodded. “Anything you want to ask me before the call comes through?” the agent asked her.

“Can I have some more wine?”

“You usually have some when you’re talking to him, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get you some. Don’t open the window until I get back in place.”

When she returned, and settled back in her chair, Erica clicked on the Skype window and made sure she was signed in. “Your bathrobe,” Joann reminded her.

Erica shook her head. “I know what I’m doing. The more I let him play into the Dom role, the less attention he’ll be paying to any suspicions.”

Before Joann could respond, the computer pinged. Erica clicked on answer and his face appeared on the screen. She noted that the background only showed nondescript curtains. She tilted the back of the laptop to give more of headshot for him to look at. “Hi,” she said with a smile.

His eyes narrowed. “Have you been eating enough? Your face looks thin.” Erica lowered her eyes guiltily. “Is that why you haven’t disrobed? You’re trying to hide your scrawniness? Take your bathrobe off,” he commanded.

Erica ran her fingers through her hair. She ignored whatever message Joann was holding up for her. “Maybe we should talk first, you know, about Paris,” she suggested, letting a hint of nervousness play through her voice.

“Take your bathrobe off. Tilt the camera. I want to see you now,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she said softly. She pulled the bathrobe off and tossed it aside. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with the stem of the wine glass tucked between calf and thigh. As she slowly tilted the laptop screen to provide more of a view for him, she heard him take in a deep breath.

“Lower,” he commanded when she had stopped the tilt. She obliged slowly, as if reluctant. When her face was not in the shot any longer, she glanced at Joann, who was frantically trying to get her attention. She read a new message from the agent – ‘Too Soon for Paris’ – and shook her head.

“Erica!” She knew he was demanding to see her face again, so she tilted the screen and he had a view of her face and breasts, just like he preferred. “You have lost weight,” he accused. “And I see you are drinking wine, on an empty stomach, no doubt. What have I told you about this?”

“Three meals a day, Sir, and only one glass of wine.”

“And how many have you had?”

Erica hung her head. “This is my fourth, Sir.”

There was silence for a long moment. Erica tentatively raised her eyes to look at the screen. Juan was glowering at her. “I am very angry, Erica. You are fortunate you are not here, right now.” She quickly lowered her eyes. “Do you think because I told you I was not coming back as expected that you could do whatever you wanted?” His voice was almost a growl.

“No, Sir, but…”

“But what? Are you planning on offering me excuses? Have I not made clear to you how I feel about excuses? It is as if I must start your training all over again! What other rules have you broken? Look at the camera, I need to see your eyes.”

Erica lifted her eyes, looking at his image on the screen. “The camera,” he snapped. She raised her eyes slightly to the tiny lens just above the screen.

“Sir?”

“What other rules have you broken?” he asked very slowly, enunciating each word.

“None, Sir,” she answered, her eyes sliding to the side.

He pounced. “You’re lying!

She snapped her eyes back to the camera. “No, Sir!”

“So now I must add lying to your list of disobedience. Do you intend to continue this?” He leaned closer to the screen. “You may not survive the punishment if you keep lying to me.”

Erica didn’t have to fake the shudder that went through her. “Please, Sir.”

He straightened suddenly. “Is this about Paris?”

“I can’t do it,” Erica said, shaking her head miserably. “I can’t come to Paris.”

He stared at her hard across the ether. “So now you can’t even address me properly?”

“Sir,” she gasped, brushing at tears.

“And why can’t you come to Paris?” he asked coldly.

She looked every which way except at the screen. “I would have to give up my job, I don’t have enough money, Sir.”

“You’re lying again,” he said flatly.

“Please, Juan…”

“It’s another man, isn’t it?” he demanded.

“What? No, Sir.” She wiped at her tears to avoid looking at the camera.

“What else would keep you from me? Look at me, damn it!”

“I swear it’s the money, Sir.” She looked at his image and saw seething anger. She didn’t have to fake the panic blooming in her chest.

“I can always tell when you’re lying to me, Erica. You do that asinine breathing thing. You’re doing it now.” He leaned closer to his screen. “Tell me the truth. Did he touch you? Yes or no.”

“There’s no one but you, Sir.”

“Yes or no,” he snapped so fiercely, even from the other side of the world, that she jumped.

Erica was hyperventilating, now, her hand over her mouth. “Yes. Or. No,” he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered, so softly she wasn’t sure the mic would pick it up.

“Did he fuck you?” Juan demanded furiously.

Erica began sobbing between her rapid, racking breaths. She could only nod.

“Get control of yourself and tell me his name,” Juan demanded. “I need to finish this!”

Still racked by sobbing, ragged breaths, Erica shook her head, then reached out and slammed the laptop closed, breaking the connection. She lifted the wine glass and drained it, then fell on her side curling into the smallest ball she could achieve, trying desperately to slow her breathing. Joann just stared at her until Eric pushed into the room and grabbed her robe, spreading it over her. He knelt beside the bed. “You did great, Erica, just breath now, nice and slow. You’re okay.” A moment later, they heard her cell phone ringing in the outer room. It somehow managed to sound like an angry ring to Erica. Eric looked over at Joann. “There’s some Tylenol in the bathroom.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, but went to fetch it, taking the wine glass to fill with water.

Erica’s breathing had slowed, but she was hiccupping. “You need to all get out of here. He’ll probably have someone here watching me by morning,” she said, between hiccups.

“We’re clearing out right now,” Eric assured her. “But one of us needs to be here,” Eric said. “If you don’t want me to stay, then it can be John. We’ve let Juan think you found someone else; if he sends someone to watch, and they report that a man is with you, then that will just confirm it.”

“No!” she exclaimed, and the vehemence cured her hiccups. “The only chance I have of surviving this is if he thinks he’s scared me into repentance.”

“We have to keep you safe…”

“You can’t!” she shouted at him. She noticed Joann standing by the bed with the Tylenol. She sat up without shame and donned the bathrobe before taking the pills.

He was studying her with a furrowed brow. “What have you seen, Erica? What have you seen him do that makes you so sure he will try to kill you?”

She shuddered, but then muttered, “Nothing.”

“You may be able to fool Juan with your acting skills over Skype, but you can’t fool me right here, right now. You’ve seen something. Tell me!” he demanded.

“Eric! Leave now,” Joann ordered. Eric scowled, but left the room. Joann sat on the edge of the bed. “Can’t say the man has problems with self-doubt,” she muttered. “What if I stay with you?”

“No offense, but I pegged you for FBI to minute I saw you,” Erica mumbled, gathering her wine glass and getting up from the bed.

“Are you going to have more?” Joann asked.

“You think I’m going to be able to sleep after all this?” Erica said, waving vaguely about the room.

“Is Eric right? Did you see something that makes you believe Juan will try to kill you?”

“No,” she said, heading into the outer room. Eric, John and the FBI agent were conferring at the kitchen counter. Erica ignored them and proceeded to the refrigerator, trailed by Joann.

“Did you hear something?” Joann asked softly.

Erica moaned as she opened the refrigerator and realized all of the wine was gone. She settled for some orange juice instead.

“Erica?” Joann prodded.

“The man has anger management issues, okay?” Erica headed back toward the bedroom. She passed a computer techie rolling up cabling from her laptop. “I thought it was just me, my… phobias. But after Eric told me about the warrant, well, other stuff started to make sense.”

“Like what?”

“Supposedly, he has an apartment somewhere in the city, but he never took me there. He always came here or we went elsewhere.” She settled cross-legged on the bed as Joann stood in front of her. Eric had returned to lean against the door jamb, listening. Erica wasn’t sure if Joann was aware of him or not. She didn’t really care. “One time, someone came here looking for him in the middle of the night. I was… tied up at the time so Juan went to the door to deal with it. It sounded like the guy was trying to tell him something important had happened, but Juan just went ballistic. I don’t think he ever let the guy finish what he was trying to say. And then… it sounded like Juan might have thrown him down the apartment steps. A few minutes later, I heard him on his cell phone. He was arguing with someone. I heard him say ‘finish it’ several times. When he came back in the bedroom, he was… particularly cruel. I heard him use the phrase a few times after that. I think it was his euphemism for killing.”

“And he said it on the Skype call,” Joann commented.

“It was his way of saying he would see to it that the man I was with was killed, and probably me, too.” Erica’s eyes slid toward Eric and Joann turned to look at him. Then Agent Robbins was there, interrupting.

“There’s been an email. You should look at it.” Erica didn’t even try to hide her annoyance that these people knew about her emails before she did. In fact, the agent was handing her cell phone to Joann, not her. She scowled and wondered if she had any vodka stashed away somewhere that she could add to her orange juice. They even knew her pass code, she noted, as Joann tapped it in to her phone. Eric must have been watching closely one of the times she entered it. Damn. She would have made a dash to the bathroom just to get away from them, but her curiosity about the email was roused. Joann was reading it with a puzzled frown. She finally handed the phone over to Erica.

“Has he ever been this mysterious before?”

Erica read: ‘You are to have nothing more to do with that man or any man but me. If you do, I will know. I have purchased a plane ticket for you. Be at the international terminal at 2pm Thursday with your passport and a carryon. I will send someone who will give you your ticket there. You will only have a few minutes to get through security and to the plane. If you are not on that flight, we are finished. Consider carefully if that is a risk you are willing to take.’ Eric reached out for the phone to read the message himself. She handed it over and looked at Joann with a shake of her head.

“He likes to sound like a suave Spanish aristocrat; ‘my dearest’ this and ‘my beloved’ that; ‘I cannot wait until we are together again;’ that sort of tone, you know, until we reach the bedroom and he starts doing his sadistic Dom thing. This terseness, and the way he was on Skype tonight, that is the bedroom Juan. And the one I would hear on a few occasions when he was on his phone.”

“What sorts of things did you overhear when he was on the phone?” Joann asked.

She shrugged. “Nothing more than the tone of his voice, really. He usually turned it off when he was with me. If he had to be on a call, he would go into a different room, often speak in Spanish. Occasionally something that sounded Eastern European.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t understand. If this ring he was a part of was destroyed, what does he care about me? Why isn’t he concentrating on hiding? Why is he sending me a ticket for Paris?”

“I doubt it’s for Paris. That’s probably why he didn’t simply send you the ticket info. He would know his emails could be monitored. And wherever that ticket is to, it’s probably only the first leg on a convoluted route to get you to where he’s hiding,” Joann replied.

“That’s what I mean,” Erica said in exasperation. “Why would he be taking these risks over me? Why would he expose himself like this? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Because he can’t stay away from you,” Eric said.

“What?” she said with a confused frown. “If he was in the human trafficking business, he could have any woman he wanted.”

“Exactly. But he wanted you. He made himself vulnerable the minute he hooked up with you. His cover could have been blown any step along the way. Hell, he put you in the hospital, Erica. You could have exposed him then. But still he came back.”

“But why?”

“Maybe it’s the way you respond to his sadism. Maybe, in his own fucked up way, he loves you. It doesn’t matter, because it’s going to be his downfall. But right now, we need to get you to a safe house.”

“No!” Erica insisted. “I’m telling you, if I leave, he’ll know it and he’ll know something is wrong. I have to do what he says, show up at the airport. Then you can find out where the flight is to and have Interpol looking for him there. And you can nab whoever he sends to watch me or meet me at the airport. Maybe get more information so you can to put him away for good.”

“That will just get us a couple of flunkies. We need him to try to come back here. Just like we discussed,” Eric added, for the FBI’s benefit as well as hers. “He’s hoping to avoid that by having you come to him. We need to make clear that’s not going to happen. If he sends someone, they need to find you gone into hiding already.”

Eric was staring at her. She was staring at her hands twisting in her lap. Joann looked at Agent Robbins. “Your call, chief.”

“We’re running out of time,” Eric prodded.

“Safe House. Get her out of here,” he snapped, obviously annoyed about something. He pulled out his phone as he went back into the outer room.

“No, I’m not going anywhere,” Erica protested, but no one was listening to her. Eric was in her closet, pulling a suitcase down from the shelf and throwing random clothes in it even as Joann was gathering clothes from her chest of drawers. She tossed a sweat suit at her.

“Get dressed,” she ordered as she headed into the bathroom for more things to pack.

In a fit of petulance, Erica tossed them back at the disappearing agent. “I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Eric scooped the clothes up and held them out to her. “Ever hear of protective custody? Holding cell or safe house? Give you three guesses as to which one just might have wine available.”

Erica snatched the clothes back. “Turn around.”

“Really?” he asked with a smirk, but he went into the outer room. She grabbed some underpants out of the suitcase and dressed, pulling on her running shoes as Joann came back out of the bathroom with toiletries she dumped into a pocket of the suitcase, zipping it all up. Joann turned off the lights in the bathroom and bedroom, then Erica followed her into the outer room. She noticed that the techies and John were gone.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Agent Robbins told her. We’re going to turn off the rest of the lights and you and Eric are going to leave from the front of the building. If Juan’s been watching at all, he would already suspect that Eric is the other man, so it would make sense for you to arrive with him and leave with him. The rest of us will leave through the back entrance to the empty apartment across the hall that we’ve been using. John is already out there. He’ll follow you, watching for a tail. Once we’re sure it’s clear, you’ll be taken to a safe house. And you will stay there,” he added emphatically.

Erica glanced at Eric. He was holding her purse out to her. Alone, with him? She could feel the ball of panic. It always started at the base of her sternum, fanning up and out like a raptor unfurling its wings. He cocked his head at her. “Don’t get scared. Get mad,” Eric said very softly. Robbins glanced at him with a quizzical look, but Erica reached out and took the purse, then stepped carefully around him to leave. He took the suitcase from Joann and followed. “Don’t look around,” Eric said softly when they were on the stairs. “Let John be our eyes, okay? Just head straight for the car.” Erica nodded, concentrating on her breathing. When they reached the sidewalk, she glanced at him. He was putting a Bluetooth earpiece in. He grinned at her. “Do I look really important?”

She smiled despite herself. “Right up until you look like you’re just talking to yourself,” she muttered.

His grin widened. When they reached the scruffy Toyota, he opened the creaky trunk and tossed the suitcase in, then just for show, opened her door for her, before climbing into the driver’s seat. Once in the relative anonymity of the vehicle, he did a thorough scan using the mirrors and tinted windows. When he started the car and pulled onto the empty street, he continued to watch the mirrors closely, driving slowly and heading east toward the freeway. Erica stared out the side window, trying to time her breathing to the passing streetlights. “John’s behind us,” Eric said after a moment. He glanced over at her. “How are you doing?” She shrugged, not turning toward him. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked as he pulled onto the freeway on-ramp.

She gave him a scathing sidelong glance. “I’m wondering if I’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire,” she said, cursing the fact that her voice sounded so weak and pathetic.

“You haven’t,” he said sternly. He merged into traffic that was flowing at speed, but still seemed heavy even in the middle of the night, heading for downtown Seattle. He tapped his earpiece. “Eric. Yeah, see anything? Good. I’m going to take the Union Street exit. Moving to the left lane now.”

“Union is on the right,” Erica pointed out.

He grinned at her. “I know.”

“Oh, god,” she muttered. “You’re going to get us killed and save him the trouble?”

“This baby may look like she’s on her last wheels, but she’s got a secret under the hood,” he replied, patting the dashboard. He eased his way over to the left lane. “Easiest way to see if we have a tail,” he provided by way of explanation. As he neared the exit, he went back to his cell phone conversation. “Yeah, John, you ready?”

Erica grasped the armrest on the door and the side of her seat. “Are you seriously going to…” Then she was holding her breath as the car swerved sharply across four lanes and between cars to the exit. She didn’t breathe again until they turned onto Union.

“John? No? Okay, great. Just waiting for the address of the safe house, now. Maybe we’ll cruise the gut while we wait.” He tapped his earpiece and ignored the scowl that Erica gave him. She settled back against the headrest, her eyes closed wearily. Eric glanced at her a couple of times. “You want some coffee or something?” He turned north on First Street. Erica only rolled her head from side to side. After a few minutes, he pulled into the drive through of a fast food place. “Erica. Do you want something?” he repeated.

“Yeah. To go back in time about three years,” she snapped without opening her eyes.

He sighed and ordered a cup of coffee, picking it up from the window. He pulled into a parking space and removed the lid from the cup, then pulled his phone out and swiped till he reached the contact he wanted. “Growing old here,” he complained when the connection completed. He paused a moment, then said, “That’s funny, we must have a bad connection. I thought you just gave me an apartment number. No, no! What part of safe ‘house’ do you not understand? Jesus! I don’t want to hear that budget shit!” He poked the earpiece and tossed the phone into the console. Then he drank nearly half of the hot coffee, before replacing the lid and putting it into a cup holder. He gripped the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car and pulling back out into traffic on First Street. Erica appeared to be asleep, but he wasn’t fooled. Her breathing was much too fast. She was edging toward another panic attack and he suspected that her fatigue was the only thing keeping her from falling over the edge. He headed northwest toward Queen Anne Hill.

By the time he had climbed up to the address that he had been given, Erica eyes were open and she was looking down on Elliott Bay, seeming somewhat calmer. Eric found the small apartment building, only six units, and felt a little better about security. He parked in the space marked for unit six, and looked up at the unit. There was one light on, which was promising. He looked over at Erica. “Ready?”

“No,” she said, steadfast in her contrariness.

Eric just grinned and got out of the car, circling to the trunk for her suitcase, then to her door to open it and hold out his hand. She only glowered at him, climbing from the car. Eric gestured for her to lead the way, pointing toward the second floor end unit. Erica climbed the stairs slowly. When she paused outside the apartment door, Eric knocked and smiled encouragement at her. She rolled her eyes. A woman opened the door and let them in, without any comment or request for identification or anything. Erica stared at her, but Eric seemed unfazed, taking the key from the woman and letting her out, then locking the door behind her. It took him only a moment to find the master bedroom, deposit her suitcase therein and, when she still stood just inside the main door, encourage her to move to the master bedroom by subtly threatening to physically help her along the way.

He pointed to the bed. “Lay down. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to rest. What can I get you? Water?”

“You can leave me alone,” she said, sounding more weary than firm.

“Done,” he agreed, pulling the door shut behind him. For a moment, Erica only stared at the bed, but then she hit the light switch and fell on the mattress, not even taking her shoes off.

****

Erica awoke a few hours later to a quiet commotion in the outer room and people shushing each other. She pulled the pillow over her head, but then something fell in the kitchen and she jumped, her heart pounding, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. She stumbled to the bedroom door and peeked out. John and Joann were in the kitchen, putting away groceries. She didn’t see Eric anywhere. “Don’t you people ever sleep?” she complained.

Joann left John to finish and crossed the room to her. “Were you able to sleep at all?” she asked.

“Some,” she said with a shrug. “Where’s Eric?”

“We sent him home with that rusted hulk of a car. It’s not exactly Queen Anne material. I don’t even live in Seattle and I can figure that out. Come have some breakfast. You want an egg or something?”

“I usually just eat some granola. Can I go to work?”

“Oh, hell no,” John said from across the room. “You’re supposed to be in hiding. Eric mentioned granola. Don’t know if this is the right brand, but my wife likes it. Just looks like squirrel food to me. He also mentioned Mocha, so I picked up a cup this morning. Just let me know if it needs to be warmed up,” he said, pushing a Starbucks cup across the counter.

“So going for a run is probably out of the question, too,” she said with dismay.

“Just give us a couple of days,” Joann assured her. “We’re checking all the airlines. He must have put the ticket in your name if he told you to bring your passport. That’s his first mistake. I hate to say it, but I think Eric was right. He’s reacting, not acting, so he’s not being careful, not thinking about what he’s doing. We’ll trace the payment. We’ll get the bastard.”

Erica looked at her in surprise. In her officious pantsuits, she hardly seemed the sort to spout profanities. She smiled to herself, wondering if Eric would have reprimanded her for the language. Joann seemed to outrank him, though Erica had no idea how the task force worked. And she couldn’t help wondering how much Eric told her about what had happened between them? She knew she sure as hell wasn’t going to discuss how stupid she had been to trust someone who turned out to be no better than Juan. People were supposed to learn from their mistakes, not keep repeating them.

Erica shuffled across the room and sat on a stool at the counter to sip the coffee and pick at the granola. “What am I supposed to do all day,” she complained.

“There’s a TV,” John pointed out.

Erica just rolled her eyes. She finished her granola and coffee. “I’m going to take a shower. A very long shower.”

When she emerged almost an hour later, only Joann was left in the apartment. More out of boredom than hunger, she went to the kitchen to see what food had been stocked. Joann followed her and sat at the counter. “I think it’s time to talk about what happened between you and Eric.”

Erica was peering into the refrigerator. She scowled as she found a bottle of juice and opened it, but when she turned back to the agent, she had carefully composed her face. “What did he tell you?” she asked.

Joann smiled. “You know that’s not how it works. You tell me and he tells me, and I compare stories. Erica, this is important.”

Erica turned away from her and leaned against the counter, drinking from the bottle. “He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want, save maybe nagging me about where and how I ran in the morning.”

“He called me on Sunday and told me that he’d done something to upset you. You didn’t disagree when I told you that Monday morning,” Joann pointed out.

Erica shook her head. “It wasn’t something he’d done. It was something he’d failed to reveal.”

“What?”

“You need to talk to him about that.”

“I’m talking to you because you are the one that was upset.”

Erica turned back toward her. “In case you haven’t noticed, a hell of a lot of things upset me. Panic is my middle name. The only reason I can be this close to you without my heart leaping into my throat is because there is a counter in between us. Look, Eric annoys the hell out of me. He likes to push my buttons. So do the rest of you,” she accused. “That’s a cop thing, obviously. The thing is, all my buttons are panic buttons. I found out something, it made me panic. I don’t do fight or flight. All I know how to do is flight. Anyone else would have shrugged, or asked him about it, or maybe even have gotten pissed at him about it, but I ran. It’s what I do.” She turned on her heel and strode back toward the bedroom.

“So you’ll be fine if he stays here with you tonight?” Joann asked.

Erica stiffened, her hand on the bedroom door knob. She turned partially back toward the agent. “As annoying as he is, I would feel safe with him here. And that’s the whole idea, right?”

“Right,” the agent agreed. Erica turned back toward the bedroom. “Erica, look at me.”

She made no effort to hid the fact that she was taking a deep breath before she turned to face the agent. Joann pinned her with a piercing stare. “Did Eric have sex with you?”

Erica stared back, feeling brave given the distance she’d put between them. “He did nothing to me that I didn’t ask him to do.” She turned quickly and opened the bedroom door, but not quick enough.

“If he had sex with you, that raises ethical questions. You’re vulnerable.”

Erica squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath before turning back to the agent. “Exactly. Do you think I could stand getting close enough to someone to have sex with them?”

“Juan,” was all that Joann replied.

“Juan beat me as foreplay. Eric never did anything that hurt me. So how could he have gotten close enough to me?” She turned on her heel and entered the bedroom, almost slamming the door behind her.

****

At some point, Erica managed to fall asleep and recoup some of the lost hours from the previous night. She was mostly just staring at the ceiling, though, when someone knocked on the bedroom door. She climbed off the bed and went to open the door, finding Eric there. “We’ve got some dinner here,” he said, giving her an appraising look.

“Already?” she said, trying to look past him.

“Two reasons. I heard you skipped lunch…”

“I fell asleep,” she said, in no mood to get lectured by him as well as Juan about her eating habits.

“Fair enough. The second reason is that Joann volunteered to cook, but she needs to get out of here and get some rest herself. If you’d rather trust my microwaving skills, then we can eat some processed food-like substance later.”

“Fine,” she said, pointedly waiting for him to back away before trying to squeeze through the small space he left in the doorway. She saw a faint grin play across his face as he backed up a couple of steps. Erica took a few steps into the outer room just as Joann was pulling a hot dish out of the oven and the delicious smell was wrapping itself around her like a warm blanket. She stared in wonder. “You made lasagna?”

“That’s my cure for the boredom of safe house sitting,” the agent confessed. “You want to grab some plates?”

In short order, the three of them were sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, feasting on the lasagna and garlic bread. When they had finished, Eric volunteered to take care of the dishes, claiming it was his only kitchen skill, other than running a can opener or microwave. When the sound of running water would drown out their conversation, Joann turned to Erica. “I’m going to be leaving in a minute. This is your last chance to request a different roommate for the night.”

Erica glanced over at Eric, conscientiously loading the dishwasher and shook her head. “It’s okay.” She shrugged. “I really do feel safe when he’s around. It’s like having a big brother that teases you all the time, but you know he’s going to have your back on the playground.”

Joann snorted. “Not the analogy I would have chosen, but if you’re sure. You have my number still?”

Erica nodded. “It’s in my purse.”

Erica rose to go into the bathroom off her bedroom. When she returned, Joann was in the kitchen with Eric, jabbing a finger into his chest. Whatever she was saying was cut off as he looked over and saw Erica in the doorway. Erica hid a smile as she watched the relatively petite agent apparently reprimanding the much taller, broader detective. Joann cocked a warning eyebrow at Eric before she picked up her purse and turned to leave. As she passed, she told Erica, “I will see you in the morning. Call me if you need something.”

“I don’t have my cell phone,” Erica mumbled.

“It’s at your apartment, in case Juan tries to trace it. You can use Eric’s or the landline. Right?” she said, turning toward him.

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin.

Erica watched the FBI agent leaving, wondering if she had made a mistake. Eric’s grin seemed so cocky, so self-assured. Like he knew she wasn’t going to reveal anything about him, just like a good submissive. Is that what she was? Just a good submissive? To Juan, to Eric, to anyone who came along with just enough self-assurance to cow her into submission?

When Joann had left, Eric came around the kitchen counter toward her. Erica quickly shut the bedroom door and backed away, sitting on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands. There was only silence from the outer room; a silence that became more ominous as the minutes passed. When she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, she tiptoed to the door and opened it. Eric was leaning against the wall right outside with a wine glass in his hand. He held it out toward her. She took it with both hands, avoiding touching his fingers. He gave her that grin again.

“Come sit out here. We’ll put a Netflix movie on and just sit and watch,” he said. “Clothes on and everything.” Grin.

Erica scowled at him. He made an abortive attempt to wipe the grin off his face. “Seriously. Just a movie. Just something to pass the time. I’ve got some coffee brewing for myself.” He raised his hands in the air and backed away from her toward the kitchen. “Or if you want, you could give me a chance to explain Sunday.” He gave her a speculative look. “Nope,” he answered his own question. “Too soon. Movie it is. What do you feel like watching? Action, adventure, chick flick, porn?”