Page 53 of The Dominator

He shed his clothing, including two guns plus a knife and leg holster and piled it all on the floor beside the tub. He got in behind me and started to massage my shoulders. I started ugly-crying big time. He soaped my back up with a giant sudsy sponge and then passed the sponge to me and I resumed the rest of the soaping up in the front, still crying.

He reached around and tenderly cupped my chin, then tilted my chin up to pour a cup of water over my hair and massaged my scalp, lathering my hair. He lathered it up with a strawberry-scented shampoo and it felt so good I thought I might just fall asleep. Then he rinsed my hair several times with the cup and then lathered himself up hair to toes, rinsed, leaned forward, pulled the plug out and let it drain.

I went to get up but he pulled my back against his front and kissed my temple and kept me there while it drained. Then he leaned over and turned the taps back on to refill it with clean water. He reached over to a shelf beside the tub and poured some lavender scented foam bath in. He pulled me back against his chest and leaned back in the water against the back of the tub. By this time, I had stopped with the tears, but still had the shudders.

He let the tub fill and then we soaked for a while, not talking; I was just listening to the sizzle of the bubbles on our skin and the sound of crickets and frogs outside.

I started to feel like I was sinking into sleep against him but then he nudged me to let him out. I leaned forward. “We’re both washed clean, okay?” he said.

I looked back over my shoulder at him. By the look on his face I think he saw this as monumental, almost like a baptism, for both of us. I nodded slowly. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. My heart ached, thinking about him coming to get me, about him saving me.

I pulled the plug and watched the bubbles and water go down the drain while he dried himself off and then put a fluffy white towel around his waist.

“Hungry, thirsty?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He left the room and I got out, dried off, and then went to the sink. I found a box of new toothbrushes under the sink, along with toothpaste and mouthwash. The tears came back and I cried softly as I washed my mouth out. I wondered if I’d ever forget that horrible man’s taste for the rest of my life. Just thinking about it made bile rise and I started retching and then vomiting in the sink. I knew it was loud, so loud that if Tommy was in the bedroom still, he’d be listening to this. It was like my stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.

When it finally stopped, I brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash again and again and again, until my mouth was burning from all of it. I spent…I don’t know how long… rinsing, gagging, coughing, rinsing, spitting, gagging and choking some more. I towel dried my hair for a few minutes before my arms started to ache and then I stepped out into the bedroom. It was dark but I could see that Tommy was in the bed on his usual side, facing my direction. I sat on the edge, dropped the towel and climbed in beside him. He sat up and pulled a clean-smelling t-shirt over my head, then once my arms were in the holes, he passed me an opened bottle of water and said, “Drink.”

I drank about half of it and then put the bottle down on the table beside the bed. He immediately pulled me to his chest and held me tight. I felt his hands in my hair and his lips on my forehead. I touched his cheek and it felt wet. Was it from the bath? I felt a drip hit my finger. Oh my God…he was shedding tears for me.

I started to cry again and he held me tighter, “What did they do to you, baby? Tell me. Then you’ll never have to talk about it again.” His voice sounded a bit strangled.

There were no tears left in my burning eyes and my throat hurt from all the sobbing and throwing up. He waited, rubbing his hand up and down my back and then he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.

After what felt like forever, I finally gained enough composure to speak. “The guy who drove the car from your house, he forced himself into my... my...m-mouth. Earl shot him for it before the guy could f-finish.” I felt him tense up but he didn’t say anything. He just squeezed me tighter. “It happened just before they drove me to you. That’s the only…the only thing,” I finished off.

“No one, no one will ever, ever again…” he started and it sounded like he was saying it through gritted teeth. But he didn’t finish; he just pulled me even tighter against him.

I fell asleep on top of him, our bodies pressed together, and for the first time he wasn’t hard, wasn’t plotting one of his games to get inside of me. Rescuing me, cradling me, washing the filth off me, holding me while I cried, and shedding tears for me – that got him inside of me in a different way.

* * *

When I woke, I jackknifed up, out of breath. Then I realized where I was.

Well, I didn’t know where I was, exactly, but he was still beside me, so I settled down.

He was lying there looking at me. He pulled me to him and his mouth touched the top of my head. He looked exhausted, like he still hadn’t even slept. He still looked rough, too, with the shiner I’d given him, bruised lip, and the scratches still on his face.

I settled my head against his chest and closed my eyes, trying to tell my heart to settle down. The sun was up and the room was filled with light. I looked around. It was a pretty bedroom with a white ruffled lace bedspread on the white wicker framed double bed. The white room kind of went with last night’s whole baptismal theme. The only splash of color was a vase of fresh pink, yellow, and orange daisy-like flowers on the wicker dresser and a big green empty rucksack beside a black suitcase opened and sitting on a big, wicker rocking chair. I could see it was filled with my clothes and his clothes. I closed my eyes and focused on the steadiness of his heartbeat, feeling strange, feeling cared for.

“You should sleep a bit longer. We got in really late,” he said, smoothing my hair behind my ear.

I nodded, thinking he was right, because those days in that basement I think I only slept twenty winks at a time, but a few minutes later it was probably obvious that I wasn’t falling back to sleep.

I was lying on him, staring off into space. He pulled away, but took my hand in his and pulled it toward him and kissed each knuckle. Then he leaned over a little and took a phone off the nightstand and dialed a number.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Need breakfast. Can you have her put it outside the door? Tell her to knock when she brings it, but no disturbing us. Ask my brother what time the flight is.” He held the phone for a minute and then said, “Right” before hanging up.

I went to move away, thinking he was getting up, but his grip tightened and he didn’t let me go. He buried his nose into my hair and squeezed me. We stayed there for another few minutes just holding one another until a noise outside the door and then a brief knocking on the door startled me. I think I must’ve jumped two feet at the noise.

He got up, walked to the suitcase in his underwear, got into a clean pair of army green cargos, and then stepped into the hall. I got up with the duvet wrapped around me and leaned over the suitcase and pulled out some underwear, a bra, a pair of jean shorts, and a t-shirt that had been packed for me. I glanced in the top flap of the suitcase and there was a toiletry bag with some of my makeup, hairbrush, deodorant, razor, manicure tool kit, and my own toothbrush. There were two other changes of clothes and two pairs of shoes --- a pair of my sneakers and my leather flip flops packed in the suitcase.

I took an armful of things into the bathroom to get dressed and try to make myself presentable. As I passed the door, my eyes landed on his guns and knife on the nightstand.

He came back in with a covered breakfast-in-bed tray.

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