Innocence In Chains

Chapter One “I’m on a train,” said Jennifer. “It’s crowded and there is no place to sit, so I’m strap hanging. I look around at the other people on the train the way I do when I am bored. Then I see this great looking guy. He’s tall and dark, Italian maybe, or Greek” “Or a terrorist from the Middle East,” someone gibed. “Come on, it’s her fantasy, he’s whatever she wants him to be,” another voice answered. “Ignore them, Jennifer. Continue.” It was Jana who spoke this time. She had no patience with thoughtless witticisms from the other women in the group. They were inspired by embarrassment, she knew. Inhibitions die hard, even here. They were gathered in Jana’s living room. The group had no name, and no common purpose except frank conversation. One night a week the women came to talk, never less than six or more than a dozen of them. Corporate lawyers sat beside housewives to kick off their shoes and scrunch bare toes into the carpet. They came to let their hair down and sometimes search their souls, an enterprise that only Jana could approach without the safety valves of laughter and tears. It was this reserve that kept the others in awe of her. “He’s smiling at me,” Jennifer continued, coloring slightly. “I know he wants me very badly. I like that. I feel powerful, knowing that he can only have me if I let him, but I want him too. I go to him. The motion of the train makes my body sway, enticing him. I sit on his lap and open my coat to let him see that I am naked under it. Then I spread the coat around us so that no one else can see. When I unzip him, he is hard as a rock and thick as your wrist, but I’m oozing by now, and he glides into me with no trouble. I ride up and down on him, very slowly. No one around us knows what’s happening. He tries to speak, but I put a finger to his lips to silence him. I mock him with my eyes, sure of my control. Then the train goes into a tunnel, and in the darkness I quicken the pace and ride him hard. We c*m together, our cries of pleasure are drowned out by the train whistle.” “That’s so Freudian!” someone groaned. Jana reserved comment and turned to Tam. “Tell us your fantasy.” Tam had been dreading this moment. She had seated herself to the rear of the group and tried to make herself small behind the others, hoping that she would be overlooked. Until now, the fantasies that had been related had aroused, or provoked giggles and groans. She was afraid that hers would shock. Tam had been shy about joining this gathering, and only in the last weeks had she come to hope that she might consider some of the other women friends. After tonight, they would probably never see her the same way again. She could lie, but Jana seemed to have a talent for detecting falsehoods, and was quick to reprimand any member who hedged or evaded when it was her turn to speak. Tam wasn’t glib enough to substitute a rehash of one of the stories they had just heard. She was incapable of invention. If she could bring herself to speak at all, she would speak the truth. “Tam? “It’s hard!” her exclamation exploded around the words. She hadn’t been aware that she was holding her breath. “We all love you, Tam,” Jana prompted. “Nothing that you say will make us think less of you.” A murmur of endearments came from the others. Jennifer called out, “Come on, Tam. Make us hot!” Someone giggled at that, but the giggler was shushed when the other women realized that Tam was beginning to speak. “I’m naked in a stone cell. I’m not even allowed a blanket. My bed is a thin pile of straw. The only light comes from a tiny, high window. I sleep by day in a little patch of sunlight, seeking warmth. My plumbing is a cold water spigot and a hole in the floor. I eat pet food and table scraps. When food arrives through a slot in the door, I fall on it and lick the platter clean. “They come for me at night. They blindfold me and bind me before they lead me away. I never see who they are. There is only the hard grip of rough hands dragging me down long hallways to the torture chamber. If I fight them, they drive me like an animal with electric prods and whips. I never see the room where I am abused, but I imagine that it is covered with white tile, like a surgery or abattoir. They use me like a s*x doll, and hurt me for fun. There are many ways to cause great pain with minor physical damage, and they know them all. They are careful never to endanger my health or spoil my looks, but I suffer like a soul in hell. It goes on night after night. No one knows that I am there. No one hears my screams beyond the walls.” Tam had been delivering her narrative to the floor, unable to meet the eyes of her listeners. Her small body and delicate features made her appear childlike as she clasped her hands together and bowed her head. Her dark hair veiled her large and innocent eyes. It was hard for those who listened to believe that this gamine could tell such a dreadful tale. The banter and wit had gone out of the gathering, and stillness had fallen over the room as Tam’s voice had lowered. When her story began, her words were halting, but they came faster as she lost herself in a private vision. She looked up suddenly, realizing that the intensity of her own desire had betrayed her in front of the entire group. They stared back, mesmerized or frozen in shock, she couldn’t tell. Jennifer cleared her throat and the other women stirred at last, grateful that someone was about to bury what they felt. “Are you rescued?” That would make it all right, of course. Human hope demands the fairy tale ending, the daring rescue, the clever escape, the handsome prince, happily ever after. “No,” said Tam. “I never get out.” Tam was painfully aware that the other women were exchanging glances, though no one would look at her. She knew that the unanimous verdict was in. They all thought that poor Tam was one sick puppy. “Are there any comments or questions?” asked Jana. Something in the tone of her voice made the question seem like a dare. The only response she received was an uneasy silence. Jana’s searchlight eyes scanned the room, but no one could meet her gaze. “Okay, good session,” she announced. “I suggest we call it a night. Maybe next week we can talk about the relationships we have with our mothers.” The women in the room responded with hoots, catcalls, and good natured moans, as each considered her own brand of maternal grief. The cold spell had been broken. Tam sent a look of gratitude toward Jana, realizing that she had just been spared a lot of embarrassment. No one would be analyzing or condemning Tam’s depravity. Jana caught the look, and locked eyes with Tam as the other women gathered themselves to leave. “I owe you,” Tam said with her eyes. Jana smiled back, mocking her with newborn knowing, answering silently, “I will collect.”