I looked up at the game. "We still might just have a chance," I said to my friend Thomas.
Thomas looked up from his magazine. "Down 25-14... but they're inside the 20. Score here and 7 minutes is plenty of time left."
Hamilton had fallen behind Edmonton 18-0 in the first quarter, and I had written it off as yet another loss in a dismal season for the Tiger-Cats. Now there was a faint flicker of hope. "Come on!" I yelled at the TV. "Get that touchdown and we're right back in this thing!"
The next play shattered my daydream. "Quick toss to the flat... INTERCEPTED! He 's at the 30! The 40! The 50! Past midfield... he could go! 20... 15... 10... 5... TOUCHDOWN! Edmonton has just put the nail in the coffin of this one!" said the announcer, somewhat breathless at the end. "31-14 now, with just 6:52 to play!"
"JEEZ!" I yelled angrily. "They blew it again!" I rose to my feet and started to stomp off in the direction of the spare bedroom.
"Going to worship at the shrine of Karla again?" Thomas asked me. "I know you like a book, Jimmy."
"You got it," I replied. "The pain of a soon-to-be-six-game losing streak seems to fade away in here."
"You're a funny fellow," Thomas replied. "Your obsession with Karla Homolka is dangerous. You're never going to meet her, and even if you did, she's a known killer!"
"Horsefeathers!" I snapped. "If she hadn't met that psycho Paul Bernardo none of that would have happened. And I still don't think she got a fair trial."
"Let's not go through that again," Thomas said. "Well, I'll let you do your thing. See you next week for the season finale."
"OK, buddy," I called. back "Have a good week."
God is without doubt a woman, and She has a very odd sense of humor. Just 2 days after Thomas's assertion that I would never meet the object of my obsession, I was in a bar, trying again to forget Hamilton's horrific season -- 3-14 with a game to go not too long after winning the Grey Cup. I was slowly nursing a beer [one does not accumulate a wealth of 6 million Canadian dollars by being a drunk] when I saw a woman sitting at a table in the farthest possible corner of the bar, completely alone, with her back turned to me. She looked totally miserable.
I walked over to her table, sat down, looked up and felt a titanic sense of shock pulse through me. The woman's blonde hair now had some gray. Her face had a few more worry lines and was more drawn than in the photographs. Her body was a little bit thicker. There was absolutely no question, however, that I was facing Karla Homolka.
Doing my best not to let on that I knew who she was, I stuck out my hand. "Hello," I said quietly. "I'm Jimmy Thompson. It's a pleasure to meet you."
She stuck out her hand, seemingly taken aback by my quiet approach and lack of a cheesy pick-up line. "I'm Karla," she said.
"I'm not going to ask if I can buy you a drink," I said, "nor will I say something stupid that obviously is intended to get you into my bed for a night. I also won't spend the next hour bragging about myself. I'll just be honest and say that I saw you drinking alone, thought from my angle of vision that you seemed attractive, and came over to discover that you are in fact very pretty. Women don't drink alone like that unless there's something on their minds, so if you want to talk about it I'll just sit and listen."
"Are you as honest as you seem?" Karla replied. "I've never met a man who was at all decent, that's what's on my mind. I'll be honest with you, too: I detest men. Men are vicious, lying assholes and traitorous to boot, not to mention most of them are criminally abusive."
"I understand how you feel, Miss Homolka," I responded, "but not all men are Paul Bernardo. I've long dreamed of proving this to you. And I hate to say it, but you'll have to, and I know this will be difficult, trust me for the next 10 minutes."
"You know who I am," she said with an open-mouthed stare, "and you didn't get up and walk away? You're not at all scared of me?"
"I've thought for years you got a raw deal, Miss Homolka," was my response. "I think you are capable of loving and trusting a man again, but it will take a very special effort to break down the barriers... and I think I know how to do it. Did you drive here?"
"No," she replied, "I walked."
"Come with me," I said, "and I'll make sure you will overcome your anger and turmoil."
Reluctantly, Karla rose. "You do the slightest thing that makes me suspicious," she said, "and the deal's off. I don't see how you can prove your point, but because you seem determined to, I'll let you have one chance."
"Agreed," I responded. "My car is right outside."
10 minutes later, we were pulling up to my house. "I'll show you around the house later," I explained, "but there's one thing you need to know now."
I took her into the room where I had a virtual shrine to her. Pictures of her were on every wall, "Invisible Darkness" was displayed prominently, and the large desk was covered with printouts about the Bernardo case. She looked very impressed.
"I've created a very special room, in anticipation that this day might someday happen," I said. We descended several flights of stairs into a sub-basement that no one else knew about. I had constructed and furnished it myself.
The centerpiece was 6 4-inch diameter posts, padded on the top and about 3 feet tall, arranged in roughly the shape of a human, giving support to the low back, neck, forearms and lower legs. "I'd like to play a game," I said. "The rules are simple. I wall disrobe and lie on the posts." I pushed a button on the wall and chains emerged from the ceiling, with cuffs for the 4 limbs. "You will put the restraints on me at the wrists and ankles. You may use any of the numerous devices in the room to do whatever you want to my body. I will be completely under your control. We will do this and you will let me know when your anger is gone. It will be your therapy."
"Deal," she said. I slipped out of my clothes and Karla helped hoist me into position before applying the cuffs.
She had changed into a sexy dominatrix outfit of black leather while I was undressing. "You will refer to me as Mistress Karla, you pathetic worm!" she screamed at me. "You will be mine to command at will. Now kiss me!"
She removed the top of her outfit and thrust her breasts at me. "Kiss me very well or you will be punished!" she snarled. I obediently licked at her nipples. "Suck harder!" she said. I sucked her nipple and swirled my tongue as firmly as I could.
Karla strode over and removed a glass whip from its hangings. I had had the material made with small pieces of glass sewn in so they wouldn't come out. This meant each blow inflicted many small cuts. "Not good enough, slave!" she growled. The whip cracked several times across my chest, leaving a series of red marks oozing with blood.
"Excellent, Mistress Karla," I said. "That's a great way to relieve pent-up anger."
"You didn't so much as flinch," she said. "I don't know how you didn't, but I want to see you begging me to stop!"
A carborundum-blade knife was next. Specially ordered, its blade could slice a single layer of cells off of a culture. It was similar to, but less expensive than, the diamond knives used in biology labs.
