Rachel From the Edge Pt. 03
by G. Lawrence
Near death, Rachel finds a friend
When a national scandal broke out following the sudden death of billionaire Daniel Benson, his ex-wife feared the tightly bound slave girl found underneath his dead body would damage their business interests. And perhaps there is some jealousy. But Rachel has been discovered in her tiny downtown apartment deathly ill. Pamela doesn't want the scandal to get worse.
* * * * * *
Chapter Three
MISSING BOUNDARIES
"More tea?" Rory asked, emerging from the white-tiled kitchen.
"You shouldn't be stealing her tea," Oliver said, sitting on the old couch. After the orderly had scrubbed out the vomit stains.
"I'll leave a few bucks. It's more than the tramp deserves," Rory replied. Oliver held his tongue, looking disappointed in her.
"It's been an hour. What the hell is going on in there?" Pamela said to no one in particular.
"You asked for discretion," Rory said. "Mike promised to keep things mum, but he won't put a patient in danger. Not for you or anyone."
The bedroom door finally opened.
"How do we contact her family?" Dr. Bellows asked, his thin eyebrows bent. He looked angry.
"She doesn't have any family," Oliver replied. "Only a mother who is mentally incapacitated."
"Who is her medical contact at work?" Bellows asked.
"Daniel Benson," Oliver answered.
"Why? What's the problem?" Pamela asked.
"You aren't family. I need to respect her privacy."
"At the moment, we're the only people here, so you'd better goddamn tell us what to do," Pamela responded, standing in his way.
"She has viral pneumonia. Fortunately, the inflammation hasn't damaged her lungs yet. If she wasn't so weak, I'd be taking her to the hospital."
"Hospitals are no place for pneumonia patients," Rory said.
"That's another reason for holding off," Bellows agreed. "With food, liquids, and proper care, Miss Montgomery should recover, but there are other issues. That's why I need to contact her family."
"Can you at least give us a hint?" Oliver asked.
"I'm suspecting clinical depression," Bellows replied.
"What? Now she's too nuts to sign legal documents? What kind of bullshit is this?" Pamela complained.
"Pam, for God's sake, control yourself," Oliver said. "Doctor, what can we do?"
"I recommended additional treatment, but Miss Montgomery declined. She's asked everybody to leave."
"How do you like that? Some gratitude," Pamela said.
"What are you going to do?" Rory asked.
"She's not crazy," Bellows said. "I can't have her committed. I'd like to check on her again tomorrow if she'll let me."
"What if she continues refusing treatment?" Oliver asked.
"She'll die. She's already halfway there," Bellows answered.
The room grew quiet.
"Look, I hate the bitch as much as anyone," Rory said. "But she can't feed herself, or get liquids. Or even go to the bathroom. I'll stay around to help."
"Do you think you should?" Bellows asked. Rory didn't like his tone.
"I may only be a student nurse, but I won't have anyone question my ethics. Not ever. It's not like I need the job."
"I'll notify Dr. Burstein that you'll be missing some classes," Bellows said.
"When can she sign the documents?" Pamela asked.
Oliver took Pamela by the elbow and dragged her out of the apartment. The door slammed. Rory remained behind with Dr. Bellows.
"Have you spoken with her?" Bellows asked.
"I've seen the whore from across the room at office parties. We've never been introduced."
"Does this really need to generate such animosity?"
"My father is dead. Dead because of her. Now Mom says she's trying to steal our inheritance. Am I supposed to like her?"
* * * * * *
Dr. Bellows and the orderly left, having done what they could. Rachel was finally asleep. Rory still thought the shameless slut deserved anything she got, but couldn't help feeling sorry for her. The poor thing was wheezing, coughing, and thoroughly drained.
Rory made herself comfortable. The apartment was small, the carpets needed replacing, and spots in the ceiling showed rain damage. The kitchen was scrubbed clean, pots and pans hanging on the wall. Wilted daisies filled a vase over the sink. There was no evidence that Rachel had been eating. No dirty dishes. No food packaging in the trash bin. No ants.
Rory wandered back into the living room, sitting on the lumpy couch, noticing the TV. Nice, but not fancy. Probably bought secondhand. A bookcase held romance novels and DVDs. Mostly different versions of Pride & Prejudice. A framed photo of Rachel and Daniel sat on the end table. They were standing on the Santa Monica Pier, hugging. The small 24-year-old woman and her tall 62-year-old boyfriend. Both looked very happy. Rory remembered seeing a bottle of vodka in the kitchen and fetched a clean glass.
Unopened mail lay on the floor. One was a bill from a nursing home in Scottsdale, Arizona. Rory opened it. Apparently Rachel's mother had been there for several years, diagnosed with heart trouble, liver disease and dementia. Her care was ferociously expensive. Rory glanced around the apartment again, realizing why Rachel was living in such shabby conditions. Then she saw a cardboard box on the floor next to the door, sealed with duct tape. The word 'incinerator' was scrawled on the side in magic marker. Rory dragged the box to the couch and ripped it open.
The contents seemed very strange for the incinerator. Rachel's diploma from Palmdale High School was on top. She had graduated with honors. Then her acceptance letter to Harvard. Harvard? And with a scholarship, too. Certificates for swim competitions. A flattering letter offering her a senior research position at Marbury & Benson, signed by Oliver Mendelson. Rory had been told Rachel was an intern.
Tucked inside the box, Rory found a stack of video disks. Outdated technology, but good if you want to keep the contents off the internet. Rory wondered what secrets Rachel was trying to hide. In the bottom of the box, she found an old laptop computer. It seemed that Rachel was seeking to hide her crimes by disposing of the evidence, but the scheme had now failed. Those secrets would be revealed.
Bank accounts were the first to be explored but proved disappointing. Rachel's account had only held a paltry $12,000, and that had been transferred to her mother. Rachel's credit card balance had been paid off. An insignificant sum.
Rory spent the whole evening and two vodka martinis looking through every file Rachel had, but the good stuff wasn't there. There were hints that Rachel had come from an abusive family, but she dropped out of Harvard when her parents got sick, losing her scholarship. Her father had died, and the expenses mounted. The laptop held almost nothing about her work at Marbury & Benson, though it did contain her Harvard term papers. Rory only understood bits and pieces of the mathematical puzzles, but it looked like Rachel was really smart, and her professors agreed.
There was a video disk in the laptop's tray, similar to the stack she'd found. The date was ten months old. Was it evidence of Rachel's plot to exploit her father? Rory would find out, though she got another drink first.
The video started by peering into a dark room. Her father's bedroom at Canby Place. Someone was sleeping in his bed, covered by a sheet. And then a looming figure entered the room, dressed in black, wearing a mask, holding a rope. He approached the foot of the bed. A rather small-boned woman was asleep. Rory watched the intruder tie her ankle to a bedpost, and then reach for her other ankle.
"What are you doing?" the woman said, partially in the dark. She tried to pull back, struggling, but the intruder was too strong. He tied her other foot to the far bedpost. She clutched the sheet, still hidden in shadows.
The lights in the room became bright. Rory saw it was Rachel sitting in the giant bed, and knew it was her father wearing the black outfit.
"Go away. Go away or I'll scream," Rachel said, looking more nervous than afraid.
"I don't think so," Daniel said. And then he drew a knife. Rachel used both hands to cover her mouth. Daniel pulled the sheet off the bed, finding her naked. He ordered her to lie back while tying her hands to the headboard, leaving her spread-eagle. Rachel pulled against the ropes, but the knots were too tight. Over six feet tall and weighing two hundred pounds, there was little Rachel could have done against her father even if she wasn't tied up. She looked like a twig being menaced by a grizzly bear.
"Okay, lady, tell me the combination to the safe," Daniel said, attempting a Brooklyn accent.
What the hell? Rory thought.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel whispered.
"You don't give me no choice. I'll hafta make you talk," Daniel said, waving the knife.
Rory leaned forward, pausing the video. Something about the knife was wrong. And then she realized: it wasn't a knife at all. It was a plastic toy. Like the ones her brothers played with as children.
"Please don't hurt me," Rachel whimpered.
Rory was no stranger to bondage porn, having watched it with her girlfriends. But there was something different about Rachel. A palpable vulnerability. She was either an uncertain novice or a terrific actress.
Daniel pulled a cloth from his back pocket. A gag. He moved up, tying it across her mouth. Her eyes began to look desperate.
"Remember, you made me do this," Daniel said.
The camera mounted on the bedroom wall showed both of them graphically. Her father was lying on his side next to Rachel, still wearing the burglar costume, his hand roaming her body. Rory wasn't keeping time, but it seemed to go on for quite a while. And Rachel did not appear to be faking, squirming at every touch. When Daniel's hand traced down her stomach and went between her legs, she arched and fought, seeking escape. Her breathing was heavy. Daniel pulled off his mask, smiling devilishly. He was so handsome. And excited. He continued working her.
"Gonna give me the combination now?" Daniel asked. "Or do we keep doing this? Because I can do this all night long."
Rachel shook her head. Daniel slid to the foot of the bed, hovered over her for a moment, and then went down on her, the camera only showing the back of his head. Rachel was trying to scream through the gag, but it wasn't fear. Her whole body was twisting in the ropes, and Daniel was having no mercy on her. She appeared to orgasm. And orgasm again. Rory felt her heart pounding. Watching her father seemed so wrong, and yet she couldn't turn her eyes away.
Rachel was left panting, still tied hand and foot, as Daniel left the room. He returned a minute later carrying martini glasses. He removed the gag.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm good," Rachel sheepishly replied. "That was stimulating."
"You think? I wouldn't have guessed."
Rory studied the interplay. It was the first time she'd ever heard Rachel and her father speaking to each other. The audio was excellent, even picking up their whispers. Daniel looked particularly virile. Muscular. Better than he'd looked in years. Rory realized that, though this was a sex game, it seemed like more. They spoke like a couple, not a tycoon and his employee.
