A Night in the Desert

Chapter IV

She drove back to the highway without incident. The gate had been closed, just as she had left it. She pulled onto the highway and headed back to the city and home. While driving she thought about what had happened to her the previous night. Her bondage hike had been strenuous but she had been proud of herself when she reached the car. She would be sore for many days to come but she had set a goal and completed it. Wearing chains and nothing else had been exciting; perhaps she had some latent streak of exhibitionism. The relief at finding the car and her personal satisfaction at the success of her plan had given her a sort of mental high, a high that crashed when she didn't find the keys.

What had occurred after that she still had to sort out in her head. She had never panicked like that before, the moment when she heard the voice behind her. Attempting to run had been incredibly dumb; she was lucky she hadn't fallen and wound up with a broken nose, or worse. That was the problem with all restraints, she thought ruefully, they didn't know when you were done and they should stop working. In a heartbeat the chains had changed from being play toys to the real thing, putting her at the mercy of a stranger.

She was still confused over her reaction to what he had done. Although she had been terrified, he hadn't actually harmed her in any way. But the way he had spoken to her; she trembled involuntarily at the memory. He had projected such immense power that she couldn't help herself. She had been compelled to obey him, by something she still didn't understand. Her obedience had not been out of fear, not entirely. He seemed to have sensed it, from what she remembered of his words.

What disturbed her most of all was her reaction when he had touched her. At first she had been resigned to being assaulted or even raped, but something quite different had happened. When he had grabbed her breast, she lost it. Even now she could only vaguely remember how she had reacted. She had not recoiled in distaste, determined to fight to the end. No, she wanted him to keep going. She had never had such an intense sexual experience before. She supposed she was fortunate he had not taken advantage of her, but in some perverse way what she felt was frustration and disappointment.

Sue Ann pulled off the highway and headed down familiar streets to her home, a small house at the edge of town. She needed a bath, some food, and sleep, in that order. She would sort out her feelings later. She pulled into her garage, closed the outside door, and went on into the house. Later that evening, lying in bed, she thought about her stranger, how he had made sure she didn't know his identity. Would she ever see him again? For that matter, would she see him for the first time? All she had was the memory of a voice commanding her, of hands touching her.

Monday morning found Sue Ann at work at her usual time. She was still confused about her adventure over the weekend. She needed time to put it in perspective. A few days concentrating on work would distract her. All afternoon and into the night on Sunday she had gone over that one memorable moment. He had put his hand around her throat and whispered into her ear those words she would never forget, I own you . The intensity behind his words had captivated her. She had felt the conviction in his tone. He was stating a fact. He knew it, and more important she knew it too.

She didn't want to contemplate the implications that went with those three simple words. If he owned her, if he came back to claim her again, what would she do? Maybe that was the wrong question, better to ask what would she be able to do about it? That night in the desert she would have done anything for him, no questions asked. What would happen if there was a second time? She could not answer the question and that concerned her more than anything that had actually happened that night.

She picked up her morning cup of tea and took a sip. Better to get some work done and worry about her personal problems afterward. She pulled up the email client on her computer and started to weed out the list. Weekends always produced a slew of junk mail. She had enough practice to run down the header list quickly, zapping the obvious junk mail by sender or header line. One caught her eye, the sender was in her own company domain, but she didn't recognize the name. The header was Derivatives Analysis Has Errors . She had done a spreadsheet analysis on some derivatives a few weeks ago; maybe someone had spotted an error.

She clicked on the entry to bring up the full text of the message. She expected the screen to fill with some detailed explanation of financial transactions. Instead she got one line, centered in her screen, containing three words in a small point size font. I own you read the entire message.

Sue Ann's hands began to shake. She had to take one hand off the mouse and hold them together in her lap. He knew where she worked. Not just that, he could insert email into the private company network. She reached for the mouse and deleted the message. She scanned the rest of her email list. The usual pyramid schemes, urban myth warnings, and multi-level marketing opportunities were there, along with a few work items from senders she recognized. She deleted the junk mail and went through the business items, replying when needed. There were no more messages from her mystery man.

Obviously he had not forgotten about her. It was no longer a question of if, but rather when he would show up to claim her again. How had he known where she worked? She sat in her cubicle looking out the window, trying to figure out how he found her. Her purse was sitting on the edge of her desk. She closed her eyes, of course. She had left her purse in the trunk that night. The trunk that opened with one of the car keys she had left on the seat. Her wallet was in there; it contained her driver's license and business cards. He knew where she lived. She picked up her purse and opened it to see what else he could have found. Right next to her wallet was a slim writing book, her daily diary.

She put everything in that diary. What she did during the day, her dreams at night, all the secrets she would never tell anyone. If he had read it then he knew everything there was to know about her. All the details of her plan were in there. No wonder he had known about the other set of keys at the shed. She had told him. He would have had plenty of time to read it all; she had spent hours walking back up the road.

What next? She could go to the police and claim she was being stalked. The detective would ask who was stalking her and how she had met him. She could imagine the look on his face when she explained she didn't know who he was because she had been blindfolded while bound hand and foot, standing out in the middle of the desert with no clothes on. Either she would get a trip to the mental hospital or the detective would burst out laughing then throw her out.

She continued to work the rest of the day. There were no more messages. In all respects it was an ordinary day. Except for Sue Ann Mendel there would be no ordinary days in her future. Someone had chosen to enter her life and turn it upside down. Someone she could not identify. For all she could tell he walked by her every day. It might even be someone in the same office. No she thought, not in the office. That voice she would recognize in a second.

The next day at work she came in and sat at her desk, hesitant to bring up her morning email. Finally she clicked on the icon, but all that came up were junk messages or work-related memos. Wednesday and still there was nothing in her email. It seemed he had forgotten her again. Thursday she came in a few minutes early, eager to see if there was a message. Again she found nothing. Sue Ann felt a pang of disappointment. She had no way to contact him. Unless he chose to contact her there was nothing she could do.

Friday passed and her email remained empty of any more cryptic messages. She went home in a mixed mood, alternately relieved he hadn't come for her and angry for the same reason. As she went through the door and kicked off her shoes she glanced through the day's mail. A few bills, a few more advertisements, and one envelope with no return address. Curious she opened it. There was a single sheet of white paper. In the center, typed in closely spaced letters, the words I own you .

She sat down on the couch, staring at the piece of paper in her hand. Carefully she set it down on the coffee table in front of her. It wasn't just a tremble in her hands this time. Her whole body was shaking. He did know where she lived. Not really a surprise, but seeing it confirmed was far different than just guessing.

She jumped up and ran to the front door, checking the lock and dead bolt. She went to every window, and then the back door. All locked and no evidence anyone had entered. The garage door, she had forgotten that one. No, she had come in through the garage; no one had been in there. She should be safe, but she didn't feel safe at all. She peeked out from behind the front window curtains. No suspicious cars parked in front of the house. He could be anywhere, maybe even a neighbor. She went back and sat in her chair. Get a grip , she told herself, you are starting to panic again .

She put the letter back in the envelope and put it in a drawer. If this went any further she would go to the police, even if they did laugh at her. He might think it was a game but there was a law against stalking in this state. Thirty days in jail would serve him right for upsetting her like this, but she had second thoughts immediately afterward; somehow that didn't seem right. She stood up and paced back and forth. What to do? She couldn't decide.

She fixed some supper and sat watching the news on TV. She needed a distraction. She was determined not to let some anonymous stranger take over her life. She passed the evening watching a movie on TV and reading a magazine, deliberately forcing herself not to think about what was happening to her.

Saturday morning she lay in bed, thinking back to the previous week. The marks on her wrists and ankles had faded quickly. She held up her hands. No sign at all that last week those same wrists had been locked behind her back in unbreakable handcuffs, with the keys held by some stranger who had his hand on her neck. She closed her eyes, remembering how it had felt, his hand on her throat pushing her head back against the seat. He could have choked the life out of her, but he chose to let her live.

She got up and took a shower. She didn't have anything planned, so she pondered how to best use the day. She did have one idea, something she hadn't done all week. Drying herself with her big fluffy towel she decided. Back to the bedroom, she knelt by the bed and pulled out her toy box. She hadn't bothered to dress to save time. She looked at the same set of handcuffs and leg irons she had worn last week. With all that had happened she hadn't indulged herself for a while.

The leg cuffs went on first. She didn't have socks and shoes on this time, but she wasn't going to be hiking either. She tightened the cuffs down till they were snug against her ankles. She could still stand but she knew she should keep any walking to a minimum. Next she picked up the same Darby style handcuffs and locked one end on her right wrist. She stood up then reached behind her back and put the other cuff on her left wrist. Using the key to close the cuff was much easier; she didn't have the strength to push the locking bar closed by herself. She reached out behind her and set the keys on the nightstand next to the bed.

Just like last Saturday night, except she hadn't bothered with the waist chain. She fell face down on the bed, her hands secured behind her back. She wiggled onto the bed the rest of the way and pushed a pillow out of the way with her chin. She closed her eyes and concentrated on holding as still as possible. A few time she pulled on the handcuffs, just to make sure they were still there. If he came in right now, found her on the bed like this, and grabbed the keys before she could get up, she would be helpless, once more his obedient captive, stripped and bound for his pleasure.

Sue Ann's eyes flew open. What was she doing? She sat up, wiggled over to the nightstand and reached behind her back for the keys. A moment later her hands were free, then her feet. She stood up and went to her closet. She had to get some clothes on right now, anything. Underwear, then shorts and a top, it made up her usual weekend attire. The chains went back in the box and under the bed. She had to do something to get him out of her head.

There was an anthropology seminar at the Natural History Museum at noon. She decided to go. Talking shop with the other amateurs like herself and picking up a few tips from the University and Museum staff would take the whole afternoon. After the seminar she might share dinner with some of the participants. The meeting usually continued on for a few hours more at the nearby pizza joint.

Sue Ann went to the seminar and spent the rest of the day talking about petroglyphs, old Indian sites and preservation techniques. She forgot all about her would-be stalker. Returning home that night she did check for any signs of a break-in, and before bed she made the rounds of all the doors and windows. Not finding any unwelcome visitors, she went to bed.

Sunday was uneventful. Sue Ann spent the day shopping at the grocery store and cleaning the house. Sunday dinner was take-out from the Chinese place, a favorite. She didn't find any more little surprises from her self-proclaimed owner. Monday morning she was back at work, nothing came in on email or in the mailbox when she got home that evening.

Sue Ann fixed a light dinner for herself, some pasta and a sandwich. She had just finished when the doorbell rang. Odd, she wasn't expecting anyone. She went to the door and looked out through the peephole. A man in a suit was standing at the door. Was it him? Had he come for her? "Who is it?" she asked through the door speaker.