He got quieter too. Quiet in a way that made me figure he’d forgotten me and remembered himself. When I felt him move the rest of the way in, that’s when I nearly cried. From the relief of it. I let up on my arms and sank into the other one’s lap, wanted his hands in my hair again.
The one behind me, he’d put his hands underneath me. Was almost holding me. He had his hand on my stomach and I felt myself rocking back into him. Could feel his other hand between my legs, his fingers playing me.
He kept at this pretty long and so I could stay lost in the movements of his hands. But then he came and once that happened he pulled out quick like the other one had. Told him to unlock me. The guy couldn’t wait to, he did it fast. Was already on his way out of the car and that left just me and the talker.
He cuffed me again, this time with my hands behind my back. “You’re pretty,” he said, and he unbuttoned my shirt, unhooked my bra, and for a while he just looked. Then he put two fingers to my lips, forced them into my mouth. He traced down my chin and my throat, my breasts. First one, then the other.
“All of you’s pretty,” he said, opening my legs. He seemed back to looking but then he stroked me and so now we both knew I was wet. “So you haven’t had enough yet.”
He said this putting his fingers into me, fucking me a little but then stopping. “Don’t worry,” he said, “you’ll get plenty.”
Then he was laughing again and I was back to pulling at the cuffs so they cut my wrists. And after some more of this laughing and looking he said, “Let’s see. We’ve read you your rights.”
I nodded because what did it matter?
“And, smart girl like you, you understand them.”
I nodded again.
“All right then,” he said. “Not much else to do.” He opened the door, which he’d never quite closed. Got out and then leaned back in. He found my bag somewhere on the floor, and after a glance inside he threw it into the front seat. Then he picked my clothes off the floor and tossed them my way. Said, “Here, get yourself dressed.” And then he was laughing again.
The two of them got in front. He did the driving. I just sat there. Leaned back hard against my arms because except for my wrists it didn’t hurt to do this. And besides, the hurting wasn’t so bad and leaning forward left me bumping around.
I braced myself with my feet, but without my shoes I didn’t like how the floor felt – gritty and sticky in places and hot from the heater. The whole car felt this way, the seat against my skin felt sweaty and I wanted them to open a window. Still, the worst thing was knowing the drive wouldn’t last long. That the police station wasn’t more than a few blocks away.
Sure enough we got there soon. The quiet guy started in before the other one turned off the engine. Me, obviously I had to wait. He came around and opened the door, told me to get out. The asphalt was cold and I shifted my feet back and forth and couldn’t help shivering. He took his coat off and put it around my shoulders. He didn’t button it, though. He fished around the car until he found my clothes and my shoes again. Rolled all of it together and tucked the bundle under his arm with my bag. Then I felt his hand on my neck, steering me.
It wasn’t one of those bustling station houses, just a small-town one. There weren’t more than two or three cops there, them and a desk sergeant who sat at an actual desk, a small one, not some big embankment. He called my escort “Pete.” Said, “What you got there, Pete?”
Pete said, “Just what it looks like.”
You might think with less people around it’d be easier, standing there the way I was, but it made it worse because it meant the ones who were there looked and kept looking. Had nothing else to move on to and so lingered.
And it meant a man did the searching and him being older and embarrassed about it only made it harder. I would’ve rather Pete had done it, though at least this one got my skirt back. He let me put it on, and my shoes and my stockings, and let me button my shirt. I never did get my underwear back.
I was the only girl inside. And there were just two men in the adjoining cell, too drunk to notice me much after a small fanfare. I sat on the bench – the one that goes around the edge in that kind of cell, most of the way around anyway. I wanted to pace but stopped myself because of how it would look. And how it would feel, too. It’d get me worked up, only remind me more where I was.
Sitting, I could close my eyes and forget things – almost not be here or anywhere.
I wanted a cigarette. I had for a long time. But I knew it’d take me quite a while before I could manage asking for favors. I told myself I’d be able to if Pete wasn’t there. Or if he was the only one there. I still had my eyes closed but I could hear him recounting my arrest for the others. They weren’t saying anything, just grunted occasionally. Like the one who searched me, they seemed mostly embarrassed.
I couldn’t tell if I was embarrassed. I didn’t quite listen but I heard some of it and then some more. And then I opened my eyes. Pete was saying “I got her in the car and that’s when I showed her my badge and you know what she does? Huh? She unbuttons her shirt. She shows me her tits and tells me I can suck them. Starts grabbing at my belt and when that doesn’t work, she takes off her skirt and the rest of it. Won’t put her clothes back on. Just keeps showing herself to me. I had to cuff her to keep her still. Go on and ask Ed.”
Ed wasn’t around, not that I could see, and pretty soon Pete was gone too. That’s when something inside me shifted. When I noticed he’d left, my breathing changed and I thought I might cry if I didn’t get a cigarette. The desk sergeant gave me my pack. Lit one for me and then soon after he was lighting another, though already I’d begun rationing. Counting how many were left and how long they could last me.
The whole night went that way. Counting things. Hours, bars, cinder blocks – anything at all to keep from examining the exact way I’d gotten here. And just who’d had his hand in it.
Nine
The next day, first thing, Ed and Pete took me over to the county courthouse. They’d showered and changed. They’d probably even slept. I wore the same clothes.
They gave me ten minutes with my public defender. I spent most of it trying to make sure he couldn’t see I wasn’t wearing underwear. I concentrated on this because it was clear from the start I wouldn’t be able to control anything else.
The guy said his name was Jim something. He started talking before he even sat down. He told me a concerned citizen had taken an interest. He actually used those words. Anyway, this concerned person had offered to foot the bill for my rehab.
“Rehab for what?” I said.
Jim looked at me like “get serious.” Then he said, “It’s a good deal. It keeps you a minor. That wouldn’t be possible otherwise.”
“So what,” I said. “How long could they keep me?”
“They’ve got resisting arrest, attempted assault on an officer.”
That sobered me some. Seemed getting fucked in the car was just the beginning of the fuckings lined up for me, that Ingrid’s husband had lined up.
I should’ve realized this sooner except I wouldn’t let myself think. Not for a minute. I couldn’t believe he’d spend this kind of time and money on me. The arrest, yeah, well sure, but this? But then if he couldn’t get to Ingrid, who else was there?
I glazed over. Let Jim lay it out for me. A private rehab facility. This was the deal that was supposed to excite me. Make me feel lucky. Spare me from sixty or ninety days locked up with the big girls.