She'd always loved to run, but over the past few days it had become a necessary therapy. He was inside her head now and try as she might, she couldn't run far enough to escape him. The best she could do was turn the music up to 10 on her walkman and run until her thighs and calves locked up in agony and her breath poured from her lungs like a searing liquid.
Her watch told her two hours had passed since she'd done the hurried stretches at the beginning of the track. She had achieved the numbness she needed to go home and face her life.
Limping back to the parking area, she watched the children laughing and jumping and running through the playground in the center of the track. She envied them their innocence, their lack of responsibility and their absence of troubled thought. Their minds centered on only the moment at hand, no on what might have been.
As she approached the car, she frowned, puzzled. There was a white paper on her windshield, anchored by the wiper blade. It fluttered in the warm evening breeze - too large to be a parking ticket - even though she knew she was parked legally anyhow. For some reason, she was struck with the image of a white flag of surrender. That was a word she could not keep out of her mind anymore.
She plucked it off the car and unfolded it as she did some cool-down stretches to ease the knots in her legs.
"When I watched you today, I could see the fear in your eyes. When you chose not to respond to my page, you only hurt yourself. You keep trying, Miss, thinking you want to run away from me, but you cannot run away from who and what you are. I see your hurt, I see the struggle, but you've tasted the ecstasy of surrender and you will never be satisfied without it. I don't hold your fear against you but I will only offer you one more chance, then I will disappear from your life if you do not wish to accept what I have to offer."
Her first reaction was a great gasp of disappointment at the thought of losing something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Before she could consider that paradox, she jerked her head up to scan the crowd around the track, realizing he must be somewhere nearby.
Cold chills crawled over her skin as she imagined him watching her now. She could be staring right at him and not know him, as she'd still never seen his face. She tried to replay her afternoon, thinking of all the people she ran by. Had she seen him and not known?
Her body began to tremble with her need for him. It angered her, betraying her this way. She quickly fumbled with her keys, dropped them once, then threw herself into the solitary sanctuary of her car. She couldn't drive away though, she couldn't even move, her hands shook so badly.
She despised him for bringing her to the point of begging. She could never forgive him for making her call herself a slave. It was degrading! Humiliating! She would never let herself be put in that position again - to be made to say that and especially to feel that.
Just as her body had done, her mind quickly turned traitor too with one question. What did he actually do to make her behave the way she had?
Insulted, she wanted to cry out in protest, but it quickly became clear that he'd actually done nothing. She had chosen her actions, she chose her feelings and at the moment of culmination, she'd relished them.
Evidently he was still watching because at that moment, there was a quiet beeping sound from the console between her seats. She'd hidden the pager there to keep it from her husband. She reluctantly and breathlessly reached for it.
There was an address and a room number and one sentence, "Instructions on the bed. Or will you keep running?"
The ache was too strong today, or maybe she had simply run out of resolve. No, no… she still had that, she thought. She would drive to this place and confront him. He was obviously stalking her and that was illegal. She would demand that he leave her alone!
Lying intently to herself and clinging to her false intentions, she brought the trembling under control and backed out into the street.
The address was a hotel just as she'd expected. The door to the room was unlocked and she entered, hoping to catch him there, to get this over with as quickly as possible, but the room was empty. A note written on the same kind of paper lay on the bed… "Shower and make yourself ready for me. There is a robe in the bathroom. When you are done, stand looking out the window. When you hear the door open behind you, do not turn around. You trusted me before, now let me know I can trust you."
She scowled, tossing the note down. That was cheating, playing on her sense of honor that way! But she did need a shower, being still damp with the sweat from the run. What could that hurt?
As the hot water beat down on her face, she tried to think of all the ways she would tell him off. Strangely, each sounded more petulant than the last to her and that made her even more angry.
The robe hung where he'd said. With her body clean now, it would be a shame to put the damp, sweaty clothes back on, so she slid into the thick terry cloth. It covered her from neck to ankles and gave her a sense of barrier.
He wanted her by the window. Maybe that meant he was watching the window so he'd know when she was finished. If she looked out now, she'd surely see him and she had no doubt she would know him instantly. But as she took her place, tugging the curtain back a little, she heard the door creak behind her. Immediately she froze, wondering how he'd known.
She fought to get control of her breath, to slow her pounding heart, but it too seemed to be against her… thinking only how happy it was to know he was there. Her hands played nervously in front of her, wringing themselves.
The door closed and there was silence, but there was no question about his presence in the room. It filled the area, washing over her like a warm spray, making her feel small and insignificant.
"Is there something you need to say to me?" that smooth and at-once familiar voice said quietly.
All the things she'd thought to say went fleeting out of her mind, leaving it an empty shell. Her mouth was dry and she closed her eyes. A moan escaped her throat.
"There is something, Miss. I feel it. Tell me."
Grasping at the first and only thought she could find, she flung it at him in self-defense. She blurted, "I don't want to be here."
"Then leave," he said calmly. She heard keys dropped on the dresser. He'd batted away her only thought as easily as swatting a fly.
"I'm not ready for this," she tried again.
"Yes, Miss, you are. Or you would not have come to me again." Another effortless deflection.
"Stop!" she cried, shaking her head violently as if she could dislodge him that way.
He moved quickly and she felt him behind her, embracing her tightly.
"Ssh," he whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Hush, Miss. I am here now."
She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing in his clean scent. He stroked the wet hair away from her forehead gently.
"Why do you fight me so, pet? You think that you are so afraid of losing control. Tell me truthfully though, haven't you been out of control all along, since you first knew the sensation of submission? Haven't your thoughts flown wildly about in your head, trying to understand why?"
