Chapter 5

Marion stretched out languidly in the tub, letting the warm and sudsy water swirl around her bruised and battered body. She shut her eyes tightly, but still could not shut out the vivid memory of yesterday's events in that dirty motel room. How many times had they forced her to fuck them ... and suck them? God, she couldn't even remember! It had been nearly dark when she'd finally staggered out to her car to leave, barely able to walk from the soreness of her much-abused vagina.

The warm, soapy water stung the still-tender welts on her satiny buttocks as she idly soaped a washcloth and began to scrub away the shame from her soiled body. It was a futile attempt and she knew it; as futile as trying to deny that she had enjoyed every minute of her so-called rape the day before. A wry smile crossed her lips as she realized that she couldn't even remember getting into bed that night. She had fallen asleep before her head had hit the pillow. But now, with this new-found awakening of her body ... how could she ever go back to the way she used to be? How, she shuddered unwillingly, could she keep her terrible "secret" from her son?

"Hey, Mom, you in the can?"

"Y-Yes, dear. What do you want?"

"What's for breakfast? I'm hungry enough to eat a cow!"

"Wait a sec, Randi. I'll be out in a minute to fix us something."

"How 'bout hotcakes, Mom?"

"Hotcakes are fine, dear. Go ahead and take the stuff out of the cupboard; I'm getting out of the tub now." She leaned forward and pulled the plug.

"Hey, Mom, we got anymore of that strawberry syrup?"

"No, baby. You'll have to settle for honey ... unless you want to hop on your bike and run down to the store."

"Naw, honey's okay. I did enough riding yesterday."

So did I, son! she dimpled ironically. So did I!

In the Guadalajara Cafe, Chuck Aaker and Eddie Flores sat on either side of their boasting young friend, Joe Danielson, with incredulous expressions on their faces. Eddie, especially, was somewhat skeptical of his pal's claim ... even with the incriminating magazine spread out on the counter before him. He shook his heavy head and looked Joe directly in the eye. "I still say you're full of shit, Danielson," he spat.

Joe felt his face redden at the fat boy's insinuation. "You calling me a liar, fatso?"

Eddie didn't like to be called fatso. Still, he wasn't certain he was ready for a showdown with the smaller, but faster, boy. He looked down at his bowl of menudo. "Naw, man, I ain't sayin' that ... I mean, what the hell, you got the magazine; but that don't prove you did nothin'. "

"Sure sounds like he's callin' you a liar to me, Joe!" Aaker teased, attempting to defuse the confrontation between his two friends.

"Shut up, Chuck!" they responded together.

A silence passed. Joe stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "Okay," he said finally, "we'll just take a run over to the Rendezvous Motel and ask Archie."

Eddie swallowed a large spoonful of menudo, then took a healthy swig of coffee, baring his teeth as it burned his gullet on the way down. "Uh-uh!" he admonished. "That old mother-fucker would say farts don't stink if you put him up to it."

Joe seethed. "You got any better ideas, fatso?"

"Yeah. Let's take a run over to her place."

Chuck brightened. "Yeah, Joe, let's do that. That time I seen her she had great tit-"

"Shut up, Chuck!" Joe scratched his head of tousled hair. "Okay, fatso. You're on ... on one condition."

The fat boy looked at his handsome buddy and blinked.

"If we score, you gotta shine my bike for a week."

Eddie smiled lewdly. "Whatever's fair, man."

"Let me give her a call first, so's she can get rid of the kid."

Eddie nodded in agreement.

Marion looked up from her morning dishes to wave good bye to Randi as he rolled his bike down the driveway on the way to school.

She pulled the stopper on the sink, then stood idly by and watched the soiled water swirl down the drain. In a way, she was almost saddened to be done with the dishes. Somehow doing them was a very wholesome thing to do this day. She dried her hands on the dishtowel and surveyed the kitchen for something else to do.

Finding nothing worthwhile in the kitchen, Marion drifted idly into the living room. There had to be some wholesome house-wifey thing for her to do that she'd been procrastinating on. The carpets! her mind sang at last. I can shampoo the carpets! Quickly, she stripped off her apron and went to the hall closet to find her coat and car keys. Safeway supermarket rented carpet shampooing machines, didn't they? Well, she'd just pick one up for the day, and ... Ring ... !

Good grief, who can that be?

I'd better answer it, she reasoned, it might be Stephanie seeing if it's okay for her to come over.

"Hello?"

"Hi, lady. It's your ever lovin' R. M. Sunday callin'! "

Oh, God! It was Joe Danielson!

"W-What do you want?" she snapped. "You told me you wouldn't bother me anymore."

"I lied."

"What do you want."

"Where's Randi?"

Marion panicked for a moment. Should she tell him Randi was there, she wondered. No, he'd probably ask to talk to him, just to see if she was telling the truth. "H-He's not here, right now," she managed finally.

"Where is he?"

"He's gone to school."

Joe laughed loudly into the receiver. "Oh, yeah? Then, he probably won't be back before two or three this afternoon, right?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe he-"

"Maybe nothin'! I'll be coming over!"

Marion felt her knees beginning to tremble. "Joe, please ... you promised!"

"You know you ran off without your magazine yesterday?"

Oh, dear God!

"I just thought I'd run it over to you."

"Ms that all?" she queried hopefully. "No."

"Please don't do this to me, Joe. I showed you a good time yesterday, and-"

"I'll be bringing a couple of pals with me."

"No, Joe! You can't! Joe? ... Joe? ... Hello?"