Invisible Girl - An Erotic Romance Pt. 06

After such a big breakfast no one was particularly hungry at lunchtime, but Jane made a salad and some sandwiches and after setting some aside for herself brought the rest into the office for her parents to snack on later. Peter called shortly thereafter and arrived on foot a little while later.

They went for a walk in the surrounding woods. Jane took him to her favorite place, a tiny sunlit meadow with a stream running through it. She had brought along a blanket and—as she was still scratching at a few mosquito bites she'd gotten last night—some insect repellent. Intuitively they each knew the other was sated with sex from the night before, but it was still a pleasure to undress each other and apply the insect repellent to each other's skin.

They lazed in the sun, listening to the stream, talking quietly and exchanging occasional kisses. Jane told him about her trip to Boston and her appointment with Doctor Weissman.

Later, still naked but for their footwear, they walked in the woods some more, holding hands and joking about Adam and Eve. Jane thought that in some ways this was more intimate than anything else they'd done together. To just be naked together because they wanted to be and walking around as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the sunlight dappling their skins in ever-changing patterns as they walked...it suddenly seemed so beautiful that Jane felt tears spring to her eyes.

"Peter..."

"I know." He stopped and embraced her. Then they simply stood there, looking into each other's eyes, swaying slightly back and forth, listening to the forest sounds and loving each other with all their hearts.

Chapter Thirty-One

The sodden bottom of the cardboard box fell out the moment Jane lifted it and '12 Dozen Duncan Yo-Yos' fell clattering to the cement floor. Jane blew the air out of her mouth in a sigh of exasperation. This was not how she'd imagined her new job. She'd pictured herself holding up pretty dresses in front of adorable little girls while their mothers oohed and aahed, not hauling damp cardboard boxes around in the basement.

There was already a streak of dirt on the sleeve of her white blouse and the pantyhose she had forced herself to put on that morning made her feel as though she were suffocating from the waist down. She resolved to buy a garter belt; it was bound to be cooler—and she had a feeling Peter would like it as well.

As she crouched to gather up the fallen toys she told herself that it wouldn't always be like this.

She liked Suzy's mother, Mrs. Jorgenson, who had a warm, outgoing manner similar to her daughter's. She had apologized to Jane for not speaking more with her the night of the party and set about making her feel at home in the store. But then the shipment had arrived at the back door almost simultaneously with two sets of customers who required Mrs. Jorgensen and Suzy's attention so Jane had been sent out back to receive it and bring it all downstairs. She'd had to move some things around to make room in the storage area, and that had led to the small mishap she was now attempting to straighten out.

The rest of the morning went better. Jane learned the layout of the store and how to use the cash register. She helped Suzy and Mrs. Jorgenson wait on customers and even sold a bathing suit by herself to the mother of a crying, squirming five-year old without flinching once.

At noon, while Mrs. Jorgenson looked after the store Jane and Suzy took their bag lunches to the park nearby and chattered amiably while they ate. Jane found herself beginning to recover the sense she'd once had of really knowing her friend the way she had when they were younger, and it made her happy.

What didn't make her happy was spotting Chrissy waiting outside the store when they returned. She had her back to them and was peering in the store window with her hand to the glass as they approached. When Jane greeted her she jumped as if frightened and whirled around.

"Oh, hi Jane, hi Suzy—you startled me," she said with a nervous smile. "I was just passing by and...remembered you were working here and thought I'd say hello. But I really have to get back to work now. It was nice to see you, though."

And she'd hurried off. Jane noticed that she was carrying a manila envelope under her arm.

She and Suzy turned to each other, shrugged, and went back inside.

At the end of the day Mrs. Jorgenson let Jane out the back door into the alley, where Jane had chained her bike, and bid her goodnight before closing up. It took a moment for Jane to get the ancient lock on her bike chain to work, but it finally let go, and after storing it she walked her bike between the buildings to reach the sidewalk.

Where she found Chrissy waiting for her.

She looked almost as nervous and ill at ease as she had that Sunday morning in Jane's basement, and she had trouble meeting Jane's eyes.

She said, "Let's go to the park," and Jane sensed that this was not a request, despite Chrissy's timid demeanor. Something had changed and Jane thought she'd better find out what it was. So she walked her bike next to Chrissy as they made their way to the park. Neither of them spoke but their glances sometimes met, and Jane noticed that Chrissy was carrying the same manila envelope as before.

The sky was overcast, and the wind smelled of approaching rain. Jane hoped that this wasn't going to take too long.

As they entered the nearly deserted park Jane headed for the closest bench, then put her bike on its kickstand and sat down. She looked with frank curiosity at Chrissy, who sat down next to her but looked straight ahead, holding the envelope in her lap.

"I want to see Father Brian," Chrissy said, still seeming to look at something directly before her.

So what else is new, thought Jane. She said, "I know, Chrissy, but I told you, I don't know where..."

"You're lying." Chrissy's voice was matter-of-fact, emotionless.

Jane stopped short, and Chrissy went on, without turning her head or changing the colorless quality of her voice. "I know what you did, you and your friend."

Oh no, thought Jane.

She began to stammer, "Chrissy, I-I'm sorry..."

Then she stopped as a thought struck her: If she knows what really happened, why is she still asking to see Father Brian?

Chrissy continued as if Jane hadn't spoken. "Tell your friend that I want to see Father Brian. Soon."

Jane found this last remark eerie; why was Chrissy referring to your friend and Father Brian as two different people? It frightened her a little. Still, even though she was sorry she had gotten into this situation, and she knew it was her fault, Jane was going to put a stop to it right now.

"Look," she began, "I'm sorry about what happened. I know I..."

"Does your friend know about this?" Chrissy lifted the envelope and without looking over placed it on Jane's lap.

The wind gusted just at that moment and almost tore it away before Jane could grab it. Inside were what appeared to be official forms of some kind. They looked old. Clipped to the front of them was a set of pictures of a woman, one of her facing the camera and one in profile. There was a disembodied arm at the bottom of each shot holding a card with numbers on it.

Mug shots, Jane realized with a start.

In the first picture the woman seemed distraught; her hair disarrayed, her eyes glassy and unfocussed, seeming to look at something above the camera. Jane was sure she'd never seen her before. What does this poor woman have to do with...

Then she looked more closely as she noticed something familiar about the woman's features. No—it couldn't be. She flipped up the pictures and sought out the name on the forms.

McIlvray.

Jane quickly read through the form, trying to decipher the blurry copy and the official euphemisms of the report.

Subject taken into custody in Piggly-Wiggly grocery store, 307 West Main Street...

She read on in dismay. According to witnesses Peter's mother had been wandering around in the store, muttering to herself and glaring at the customers for nearly half an hour. And when the store manager had finally approached her and asked if she needed help, she had turned away from him, taken a steak knife from her purse and stabbed him with it, screaming that he was the anti-Christ. He had later died from his wound.

Jane let the papers fall to her lap. She was horrified. She was sure Peter had never been told the true story; that he believed, as he had told her, that his mother had had some kind of mental collapse and was in a sanitarium only because she couldn't take care of herself.

And he's already so ashamed, Jane thought. If he were to find out the truth...

The papers and the envelope were lifted from her lap. Jane turned and saw Chrissy stuffing all the forms back into the envelope.

Chrissy then stood up and, still not looking at her, said again, "Tell your friend that I want to see Father Brian."

She started to walk away then turned back and for the first time looked Jane in the face, speaking loudly to be heard above the rising wind. "And don't tell him anything else," gesturing with the envelope for emphasis.

The implied threat was clear: Peter was not to be told that Chrissy knew. Jane looked into Chrissy's eyes and saw for a moment the same dislocated look she had seen in the picture of Peter's mother.

Then Chrissy turned and was gone.

Jane continued to sit on the bench, stunned, until the first drops of rain caused her to jump up, get on her bike and hurry home.

She was distracted all through dinner. Her parents asked her a few questions about her job, but fortunately were soon deeply involved in discussing the outline for their book.

They made no comment when Jane excused herself early, saying she was tired from the first day of work—which was true—and headed up to her room.

She needed to think.

Peter needed to be protected, that was the most important thing. And Jane couldn't see any way to do that without letting Chrissy have what she wanted. But that meant lying to Peter, or at least misleading him—letting him continue to think that Chrissy didn't know who 'Father Brian' really was—because telling him the truth would lead to other questions, such as why Jane was asking him to see Chrissy again.

Chrissy.

Jane had always found her odd, but now there was something scary about her. That Chrissy would resort to blackmail just to... And this whole business about 'your friend' and 'Father Brian'. Jane was sure that Peter had been right when he'd guessed that Chrissy needed to be 'punished' by a 'priest' in order to justify it to herself. If Chrissy met with 'Father Brian' again, would she wear the sleep-mask and pretend—to herself as well as to Peter—that 'Father Brian' was a real priest? It seemed likely under the circumstances.

Jane shook her head in wonder. All this blackmail and self-delusion for the sake of a few erotic thrills. What Chrissy needed was a boyfriend like Peter.

But not Peter.

Jane emphatically did not want to share him with Chrissy again. But she didn't have any choice that she could see. And she was sure Peter would enjoy repeating his performance as Father Brian, as long as she presented the idea properly.

And even though she was furious at Chrissy for blackmailing her, and more than a little afraid of her apparent craziness—or maybe even because of those things—she found herself becoming more than a little excited by the possibilities.

All right Chrissy, she thought, you asked for it. You got off easy last time.

But this is only going to happen once more, she told herself.

The phone rang and she answered on the first ring, assuming, correctly, that it would be Peter calling to see how her first day at work went. The bookstore was open nights, unlike Mrs. Jorgenson's store, so Peter, as the summer help, would often be stuck with the late shift and had just gotten home.

They didn't talk long as they were both tired. Peter told her his schedule for the week—he had Wednesday night off—and they made plans to get together then. Jane told him about her day: what it was like working with Suzy and Mrs. Jorgenson and how the customers and their children behaved. But she hung up without saying anything about Chrissy.

She had plans to make.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chrissy arrived at work early, carrying a jacket she didn't need over her arm to hide the manila envelope she was carrying. She hurried downstairs, let herself into the File Room and quickly replaced the McIlvray file in its proper folder. Only then did her heart begin to slow down. If her father ever discovered she had taken it out of the station, never mind what she had used it for...

Still feeling a little faint, she sat down at her desk and covered her face with her hands. She had taken an awful chance. Still, she had done it! She was sure Jane would do anything to keep her friend from finding out the truth.

Chrissy replayed the scene in her head. She felt bad about forcing Jane to do it, but Jane didn't understand, couldn't understand that Chrissy needed Father Brian! Needed him to chastise her and purify her again so she could be good! Wasn't that reason enough to do what she had done?

A small voice in the back of her mind, the same voice she had been trying to ignore since taking the file, said, You know very well that 'Father Brian' is only... But she clamped down on it, her hands curled into fists on either side of her head as she shook it back and forth, trying to throw the nagging voice out of her mind. I need Father Brian! I need Father Brian! She repeated it over and over to herself, hoping to drown out the other voice even as it replied in counterpoint: You want Father Anthony. You want Father Anthony...

No! She wouldn't listen! She filled her mind with memories: memories of being humbled and shamed...and then cleansed with pain. Being tied to that sawhorse and scourged—like the martyred saints, she thought. I offer You my suffering, Lord. I do this in Your name, that I may become worthy in Your sight.

She tried to recall the pain of her punishment: The stinging slaps that hurt so much at first and then as she surrendered to them were transmuted into fires of purification that started to suffuse her whole body with grace; the sudden distraction and return to earthly shame as her panties were yanked down, leaving the source of her sinfulness exposed; then the deeper, harder scourging that stoked the purifying flames higher and higher until Light suddenly burst out of her every pore and she was cleansed.

Forgiven...

She heard footsteps on the stairs. Quickly she opened her eyes and made a pretense of being already at work, grabbing the first available folder...and resolutely not noticing that the hand she used had emerged from beneath her dress.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Tuesday went by quickly for Jane. She already felt more familiar with the store and had discovered, to her surprise, that she felt quite comfortable dealing with the customers and their children.

She found that if she made a game of it the children would submit more willingly to all the measuring and general fuss that clothes shopping involved. To little girls she would say, while pretending to speak to the mother, "Oh, what a pretty little doll you brought me to play with—I think I'll dress her up in some of my nicest outfits." And when the girl giggled or protested that she wasn't a doll Jane would act surprised and say, "Ooo, a talking doll! That's even better!" and generally charm her into playing along. Boys were more difficult but Jane could usually at least distract them with one of the toys kept behind the counter for just that purpose. Mrs. Jorgenson was pleased with Jane's facility and told her so as she let her out the door at the end of the day.

There had been no sign of Chrissy at lunchtime, for which Jane had been grateful, but she wasn't particularly surprised, as she wheeled her bike out of the alley, to find Chrissy waiting in the same place as before.

Jane thought Chrissy looked as bad as she had on that Sunday morning: nervous, pale, eyes restless and smudged underneath from lack of sleep And despite everything that had happened yesterday Jane found herself feeling sorry for her. She walked her bike up to where Chrissy was standing, greeted her and told her gently, "I'm sorry, I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet. I'll be seeing him tomorrow night, all right?"

Chrissy stared back at her as if having trouble understanding her speech. Then after a moment she looked down, nodded briefly and turned away.

Jane drew alongside her and walked next to her in silence. She wanted very much to understand what was happening to Chrissy, to help her if she could, but couldn't find a way to begin. Finally she said, "Chrissy, are you sure this is what you want?"

Chrissy, without looking over at her, nodded sadly and kept walking. Jane tried again. "Look, I understand how you feel. I really like it when Pe-"—she suddenly remembered Chrissy's strange designation—"uh, my friend spanks m..."

Chrissy suddenly whirled on her and hissed, "You don't understand anything, you little whore!"

Then she turned and ran down the street. Stunned, Jane watched as Chrissy hurried across the street, jumped into her car and roared off, tires squealing. She didn't turn to look at Jane as she drove by, but even from that distance, and without her glasses, Jane could see that she was crying.

Jane was thoughtful as she pedaled home, and even more doubtful of the wisdom of going along with Chrissy's demands. Chrissy was moving from the 'Weird—Occasionally Scary' category in Jane's mind to one marked 'Really Scary.'

But she didn't know what to do; was there some way she could tell Peter that Chrissy knew who 'Father Brian' was without having to explain the hold Chrissy had over her? Or should she just allow the meeting to happen and trust Peter's sharp wits?

If the latter, she was definitely going to advise Peter to start by tying her up. Tightly.

When she arrived home she found her parents seated at the kitchen table. They seemed to be in a celebratory mood. In fact, as Jane entered the kitchen her father was holding a glass of lemonade up towards her mother as if about to make a toast. When he saw Jane, though, he put down his glass and held out a section of the evening paper to her, grinning broadly. Her mother was looking down, but she too was smiling and, apparently...blushing.

Mystified, Jane took the newspaper. It was the local news section of The Ridgeton Ledger. At first she couldn't see what the excitement was about, but then her eye was caught by a headline: "LOCAL DEMS DEBATE VIETNAM POLICY". And underneath was written, "Special to the Ledger by Eva Harkin."

"Mom! Oh my gosh!" She threw her arms around her mother's neck, almost whacking herself in the face with the newspaper in the process, and jumped up and down until her mother exclaimed, in a muffled voice, "Please, Jane—let me live long enough to write another one!"

When Peter called later that evening Jane again said nothing about Chrissy. She wanted to bring it up—as diplomatically as possible—in person. Instead they tried to make plans for the next night, when Peter would be free.

He said, "Well, I was thinking about taking you to the drive-in but Dad needs the car, and anyway..." Jane could hear a smile creeping into his voice. "You're kind of dangerous to have in the car—you're liable to get kidnapped or something and we'd never get to the movie."