It happened a summer a few years ago. Sam and I were renting a few rooms in big wooden house in a residential area. That was while I was still working in that old dump of a town.
The people we were renting from had gone away on vacation, leaving their son at home. He was a high school senior and by the time his parents took off, he had already graduated, and was going to go away to college in the fall. Patrick was always staring at us, not in any unsettling way, and anyway, Sam and I didn't take much notice of him. We were so wrapped up in each other the house might have been demolished piece by piece around us, without us paying much attention.
I'm not ashamed to say that we were making out pretty much round the clock. Why not? We were 24 and more in love than anyone else had ever been, or so it felt that strange summer. The weather was totally unpredictable, one day it was hot and sunny, with an intensely tiresome humidity, then the next day a thunderstorm would shuttle back and forth between our town and the next. Not much rain as I remember it, but that might be just the way it seems today.
Sam and I were in the loft. It was spacious and unless the weather was very hot, quite cool during those interminable summer days. We worked most of that summer, so I can only guess that this must have been during our brief vacation. Not that many days, but so much happened in that short time. I'd like to say that it was the heat that was impairing my judgement, or maybe the lack of sleep and food. Well, we had better things to do...
Either way, we were going at it in a particularly reckless way, when suddenly we became aware of the sounds of someone else moaning, very close by. I reacted instantly, and pushed Sam off, grabbing the sheet to cover myself. For a second or two, the poor guy was completely dazed. But he caught on soon enough and went off in search of our watcher.
He came back within seconds, dragging the culprit by the hair. It was Patrick and he was looking extremely sheepish.
Under normal circumstances that would have been enough to cool down my temper, but this time I felt violated. He had been watching me and Sam in the most intimate of situations. Getting off by looking at me, in this private moment.
I wanted him to pay for that. From being something beautiful, our love-making had turned into something sordid, and now he would be punished for it. Maybe then I might feel good about sex again.
I couldn't have been more wrong, but for a while it really seemed as if we'd stumbled onto something extremely hot.
Sam was all for giving Patrick a piece of his mind, leaving it at that. But my blood was all heated up, and I wanted more satisfaction than that. Still clutching the sheet to me, I stared at the poor kid with murder in my mind.
I could see him shaking slightly at the knees, but it didn't make any impression on me. Not then. Afterwards it has haunted me in my dreams. What right did we have to do what we did? Even if his crime was a heinous one in itself.
"Seen anything you like? Answer me."
"I'm sorry, Cathy."
"Sorry isn't good enough. So this is how teenagers get their kicks?"
Sam was already losing his resolve, and I could see him weakening. If I didn't do anything fast, he'd just let the kid go with just a slap on the wrist. I wouldn't stand for it. Giving Sam one hard look, I pushed on so I wouldn't lose my nerve.
"Sam, tie him up."
On both faces looking back at me there were stunned expressions of horror. I couldn't let that bother me. Maybe they didn't take me seriously, but they would soon learn otherwise.
"Go on. Tie his hands and legs, to that door frame. Move it, Sam."
After another slow, appraising look at me, Sam did as I told him. Was it my imagination, or was there a glint of excitement in his eyes? Either way, he didn't waste any time carrying out my order.
Patrick seemed to be stunned into silence. Even so, he seemed to have lost some of his fear of me. He too seemed to be anticipating my next move. With some effort, Sam was finally able tie Patrick to the door frame.
Satisfied with that, I searched my mind for the next move.
"Good. Now take off the little punk's t-shirt."
Sam didn't seem to like that one bit, but he did as I told him. What Patrick thought was a little harder to discern. His chest was heaving in such a way that his hot 18-year-old muscles were showing off nicely. The biceps too, were impressive without in any way being excessive.
"Ok. Open his jeans in front."