Curing Erica's Phobia Ch. 03

"I want you to go in the bathroom and take a long, hot bath. When you finish, some of these guys will be gone or at least out of sight, and we can discuss what you're going to say. We've got Chinese and pizza around here, too. What do you prefer?" Eric was pushing a glass of wine into her hand.

"Pizza?" he said, and she nodded numbly. Eric and Joann exchanged a knowing glance, then Joann was guiding Erica toward the bathroom.

"Very hot. Soak and relax," she said as Erica disappeared into the bathroom.

When Erica emerged almost an hour later in a terry cloth robe, the apartment did seem quieter, though she didn't look into the outer room. Almost immediately, Eric was there with a fresh glass of wine, as if he'd been watching for her. And a moment later, Joann was bringing her a microwave-warmed plate of pizza. She sat cross-legged on the bed to eat, staring suspiciously at her laptop, propped open. The sleeping screen was staring back at her blankly.

Joann sat on an end corner of her bed while Eric leaned against a wall. Joann took a deep breath and plunged in. "So we have to discuss how this conversation needs to go."

"He's going to kill me," Erica muttered.

"That's not going to happen," Joanne asserted. "We won't let it."

Erica scoffed quietly, but then simply said, "What do you want me to say?"

"Well, the basics are that you met someone else and you don't want to see him anymore," Joann replied, "But you need to build up to that. If you just blurt it out, it will seem rehearsed."

"You think?" Erica said, sarcastically, but then she added. "I've got this. I know what you want, and I know how to get him there. Trust me."

Joann started, "We do trust you, but..."

"Really?" Erica demanded. "You are asking me to trust you with my life, but you don't trust me to know how to push my lover's buttons? Which do you think takes more skill?"

Joann looked at her and blinked, but Eric interjected, "She's right. If anyone can work this asshole, she can. I say we give her the latitude she needs."

Erica didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on Joann's. It was painfully obvious that Joann had misgivings. She was one of those who liked everything scripted, by the book. Erica didn't really care at this point. She knew if they went by the book, Juan would see it and disappear, and either he would come for her or he would send someone for her. Either way, she was over. If she played him her own way, she had maybe a small chance of surviving, but only to fall in with the next Juan, or Eric, or whatever the name might be; the outcome would be the same - pain, and then death. She had worked out all the odds as she lay in the bathtub, soaking in hot water and sweet smelling bubbles as if the painful realities of her life were only a temporary distraction when in reality it was the pleasure of the bath that was the temporary distraction. Her life had always been hell, with little pleasures interspersed just to remind her how boundless the hell was. Well, fine. If nothing else, she could choose how painful the end was.

Joann looked into the impossibly dark orbs that were Erica's eyes, within the pale visage and knew she was making the wrong choice, but she nodded. "What will you say?"

Erica shrugged, chewing her pizza. "Depends on what he says. He's the one in control..."

"You need to be the one in control," Joann interrupted.

"I need to let him believe he's in control. He's the Dom." She glanced meaningfully at Eric and Joann followed that gaze with a puzzled frown. Eric narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "I need to let him lead me to where I want him to be."

"Can you control your panic?" Eric asked quietly. "Do you need to take your anti-anxiety medicine?"

Swell, Erica thought. He's been through my medicine cabinet. She shook her head. "I suspect he will give me reason to panic. He would know if I was faking it. He's seen the real thing often enough."

"He doesn't normally do that when you Skype, does he?" Joann asked.

"No, and you know damn well he doesn't because you've been fucking eavesdropping on us for how long now?" Erica snapped.

"Erica!" Eric warned, "We're trying to help you, here."

"You can help me by trusting me to know my lover."

"You didn't know he was into human trafficking, now, did you?" he said in a low voice.

"It didn't come up in conversation when he was fucking me. Sorry," she said bitterly. She was staring at Eric angrily and didn't notice the signal that Joann made to him. He apparently did, though, because he left the room with obvious reluctance.

"Still don't want to tell me what that's all about?" Joann asked after a moment.

Erica shook her head. "Sorry," she muttered. "Look, he's going to go ballistic when I tell him - or when he figures out - that I've been with someone else. I'm not sure which way he's going to blast, but regardless, I know my response needs to be full on panic. Anything less than totally convincing will make him suspicious."

Joann was watching her in silence for a long moment, then suddenly stood and went into the outer room. Erica heard her snap a command, "Outside!" Curious, she climbed off the bed and went to the door. In the outer room, the apartment door was just closing, apparently behind Joann and Eric, as they were nowhere in sight. There were only a couple of tech guys now, fiddling with computers, and a man in a rumpled suit that hadn't been there before. He turned from watching the apartment door and saw her. He crossing the room with an outstretched hand. "Erica, I'm Special Agent Jerry Robbins. I'm the head of this task force..." Erica was backing away from the hand he was proffering, and as if suddenly remembering a briefing, he pulled his hand back. "I'm sorry. I just want you to know how much we appreciate you doing this. I know it will be hard for you but it's incredibly important."

She merely nodded, her attention on the door where Joann and Eric had disappeared. After a few moments, she retreated into the bedroom, sipping nervously at her wine as she checked her computer and network connection. It was still hours before the call was due. She finished her wine and padded back out into the main room to get some more. Joann and Eric were back, conferring with Agent Robbins, and yet another man had joined them, dressed casually like Eric. Everyone, including the two techies still fiddling with their computers turned to stare at her. Erica came to a stop and tugged at the hem of her bathrobe, wondering if it had ridden up, affording a view of her ass. When no one said anything, she kept on her way to the fridge and her bottle of wine.

Eric moved around the counter and took hold of the refrigerator door. "You should eat some more before you drink any more wine," he warned.

"You should be thankful I'm managing to keep down what I did eat," she said, pulling harder on the door handle. He relented and she refilled her glass.

"I want you to meet a fellow detective of mine," Eric said, gesturing toward the newcomer. Erica sighed and turned. "This is John Henning." Erica nodded at him, pleased that he didn't reach out to shake her hand.

"Detective Henning," she acknowledged.

"John," he insisted. "I'm sorry we've invaded your space tonight."

She shrugged. "I'll live. For now," she added, glaring at Eric.

"Maybe you should try to take a nap," Joann suggested. "There's really not much to do until two and I promise we'll be quiet as mice."

Erica nodded vaguely, but she wandered back into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed, tapping idly on her computer, checking email and Facebook without paying much attention to what she saw. She finished her wine and dozed for a while, but she was awake when Joann came back into the bedroom and settled into a chair opposite Erica. "I'm going to be right here with you. The others will communicate with me through my earpiece. I'm going to write messages for you in this notebook. Just be careful you don't make it obvious that you are reading something or looking at someone other than him on the screen. I'll make anything I write as brief as possible and hold it in different places. Understand?"

Erica nodded. "Anything you want to ask me before the call comes through?" the agent asked her.

"Can I have some more wine?"

"You usually have some when you're talking to him, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I'll get you some. Don't open the window until I get back in place."

When she returned, and settled back in her chair, Erica clicked on the Skype window and made sure she was signed in. "Your bathrobe," Joann reminded her.

Erica shook her head. "I know what I'm doing. The more I let him play into the Dom role, the less attention he'll be paying to any suspicions."

Before Joann could respond, the computer pinged. Erica clicked on answer and his face appeared on the screen. She noted that the background only showed nondescript curtains. She tilted the back of the laptop to give more of headshot for him to look at. "Hi," she said with a smile.

His eyes narrowed. "Have you been eating enough? Your face looks thin." Erica lowered her eyes guiltily. "Is that why you haven't disrobed? You're trying to hide your scrawniness? Take your bathrobe off," he commanded.

Erica ran her fingers through her hair. She ignored whatever message Joann was holding up for her. "Maybe we should talk first, you know, about Paris," she suggested, letting a hint of nervousness play through her voice.

"Take your bathrobe off. Tilt the camera. I want to see you now," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said softly. She pulled the bathrobe off and tossed it aside. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with the stem of the wine glass tucked between calf and thigh. As she slowly tilted the laptop screen to provide more of a view for him, she heard him take in a deep breath.

"Lower," he commanded when she had stopped the tilt. She obliged slowly, as if reluctant. When her face was not in the shot any longer, she glanced at Joann, who was frantically trying to get her attention. She read a new message from the agent - 'Too Soon for Paris' - and shook her head.

"Erica!" She knew he was demanding to see her face again, so she tilted the screen and he had a view of her face and breasts, just like he preferred. "You have lost weight," he accused. "And I see you are drinking wine, on an empty stomach, no doubt. What have I told you about this?"

"Three meals a day, Sir, and only one glass of wine."

"And how many have you had?"

Erica hung her head. "This is my fourth, Sir."

There was silence for a long moment. Erica tentatively raised her eyes to look at the screen. Juan was glowering at her. "I am very angry, Erica. You are fortunate you are not here, right now." She quickly lowered her eyes. "Do you think because I told you I was not coming back as expected that you could do whatever you wanted?" His voice was almost a growl.

"No, Sir, but..."

"But what? Are you planning on offering me excuses? Have I not made clear to you how I feel about excuses? It is as if I must start your training all over again! What other rules have you broken? Look at the camera, I need to see your eyes."

Erica lifted her eyes, looking at his image on the screen. "The camera," he snapped. She raised her eyes slightly to the tiny lens just above the screen.

"Sir?"

"What other rules have you broken?" he asked very slowly, enunciating each word.

"None, Sir," she answered, her eyes sliding to the side.

He pounced. "You're lying!

She snapped her eyes back to the camera. "No, Sir!"

"So now I must add lying to your list of disobedience. Do you intend to continue this?" He leaned closer to the screen. "You may not survive the punishment if you keep lying to me."

Erica didn't have to fake the shudder that went through her. "Please, Sir."

He straightened suddenly. "Is this about Paris?"

"I can't do it," Erica said, shaking her head miserably. "I can't come to Paris."

He stared at her hard across the ether. "So now you can't even address me properly?"

"Sir," she gasped, brushing at tears.

"And why can't you come to Paris?" he asked coldly.

She looked every which way except at the screen. "I would have to give up my job, I don't have enough money, Sir."

"You're lying again," he said flatly.

"Please, Juan..."

"It's another man, isn't it?" he demanded.

"What? No, Sir." She wiped at her tears to avoid looking at the camera.

"What else would keep you from me? Look at me, damn it!"

"I swear it's the money, Sir." She looked at his image and saw seething anger. She didn't have to fake the panic blooming in her chest.

"I can always tell when you're lying to me, Erica. You do that asinine breathing thing. You're doing it now." He leaned closer to his screen. "Tell me the truth. Did he touch you? Yes or no."

"There's no one but you, Sir."

"Yes or no," he snapped so fiercely, even from the other side of the world, that she jumped.

Erica was hyperventilating, now, her hand over her mouth. "Yes. Or. No," he demanded.

"Yes," she whispered, so softly she wasn't sure the mic would pick it up.

"Did he fuck you?" Juan demanded furiously.

Erica began sobbing between her rapid, racking breaths. She could only nod.

"Get control of yourself and tell me his name," Juan demanded. "I need to finish this!"

Still racked by sobbing, ragged breaths, Erica shook her head, then reached out and slammed the laptop closed, breaking the connection. She lifted the wine glass and drained it, then fell on her side curling into the smallest ball she could achieve, trying desperately to slow her breathing. Joann just stared at her until Eric pushed into the room and grabbed her robe, spreading it over her. He knelt beside the bed. "You did great, Erica, just breath now, nice and slow. You're okay." A moment later, they heard her cell phone ringing in the outer room. It somehow managed to sound like an angry ring to Erica. Eric looked over at Joann. "There's some Tylenol in the bathroom." She cocked an eyebrow at him, but went to fetch it, taking the wine glass to fill with water.

Erica's breathing had slowed, but she was hiccupping. "You need to all get out of here. He'll probably have someone here watching me by morning," she said, between hiccups.

"We're clearing out right now," Eric assured her. "But one of us needs to be here," Eric said. "If you don't want me to stay, then it can be John. We've let Juan think you found someone else; if he sends someone to watch, and they report that a man is with you, then that will just confirm it."

"No!" she exclaimed, and the vehemence cured her hiccups. "The only chance I have of surviving this is if he thinks he's scared me into repentance."

"We have to keep you safe..."

"You can't!" she shouted at him. She noticed Joann standing by the bed with the Tylenol. She sat up without shame and donned the bathrobe before taking the pills.

He was studying her with a furrowed brow. "What have you seen, Erica? What have you seen him do that makes you so sure he will try to kill you?"

She shuddered, but then muttered, "Nothing."

"You may be able to fool Juan with your acting skills over Skype, but you can't fool me right here, right now. You've seen something. Tell me!" he demanded.

"Eric! Leave now," Joann ordered. Eric scowled, but left the room. Joann sat on the edge of the bed. "Can't say the man has problems with self-doubt," she muttered. "What if I stay with you?"

"No offense, but I pegged you for FBI to minute I saw you," Erica mumbled, gathering her wine glass and getting up from the bed.

"Are you going to have more?" Joann asked.

"You think I'm going to be able to sleep after all this?" Erica said, waving vaguely about the room.

"Is Eric right? Did you see something that makes you believe Juan will try to kill you?"

"No," she said, heading into the outer room. Eric, John and the FBI agent were conferring at the kitchen counter. Erica ignored them and proceeded to the refrigerator, trailed by Joann.

"Did you hear something?" Joann asked softly.

Erica moaned as she opened the refrigerator and realized all of the wine was gone. She settled for some orange juice instead.

"Erica?" Joann prodded.

"The man has anger management issues, okay?" Erica headed back toward the bedroom. She passed a computer techie rolling up cabling from her laptop. "I thought it was just me, my... phobias. But after Eric told me about the warrant, well, other stuff started to make sense."

"Like what?"

"Supposedly, he has an apartment somewhere in the city, but he never took me there. He always came here or we went elsewhere." She settled cross-legged on the bed as Joann stood in front of her. Eric had returned to lean against the door jamb, listening. Erica wasn't sure if Joann was aware of him or not. She didn't really care. "One time, someone came here looking for him in the middle of the night. I was... tied up at the time so Juan went to the door to deal with it. It sounded like the guy was trying to tell him something important had happened, but Juan just went ballistic. I don't think he ever let the guy finish what he was trying to say. And then... it sounded like Juan might have thrown him down the apartment steps. A few minutes later, I heard him on his cell phone. He was arguing with someone. I heard him say 'finish it' several times. When he came back in the bedroom, he was... particularly cruel. I heard him use the phrase a few times after that. I think it was his euphemism for killing."

"And he said it on the Skype call," Joann commented.

"It was his way of saying he would see to it that the man I was with was killed, and probably me, too." Erica's eyes slid toward Eric and Joann turned to look at him. Then Agent Robbins was there, interrupting.

"There's been an email. You should look at it." Erica didn't even try to hide her annoyance that these people knew about her emails before she did. In fact, the agent was handing her cell phone to Joann, not her. She scowled and wondered if she had any vodka stashed away somewhere that she could add to her orange juice. They even knew her pass code, she noted, as Joann tapped it in to her phone. Eric must have been watching closely one of the times she entered it. Damn. She would have made a dash to the bathroom just to get away from them, but her curiosity about the email was roused. Joann was reading it with a puzzled frown. She finally handed the phone over to Erica.

"Has he ever been this mysterious before?"

Erica read: 'You are to have nothing more to do with that man or any man but me. If you do, I will know. I have purchased a plane ticket for you. Be at the international terminal at 2pm Thursday with your passport and a carryon. I will send someone who will give you your ticket there. You will only have a few minutes to get through security and to the plane. If you are not on that flight, we are finished. Consider carefully if that is a risk you are willing to take.' Eric reached out for the phone to read the message himself. She handed it over and looked at Joann with a shake of her head.

"He likes to sound like a suave Spanish aristocrat; 'my dearest' this and 'my beloved' that; 'I cannot wait until we are together again;' that sort of tone, you know, until we reach the bedroom and he starts doing his sadistic Dom thing. This terseness, and the way he was on Skype tonight, that is the bedroom Juan. And the one I would hear on a few occasions when he was on his phone."

"What sorts of things did you overhear when he was on the phone?" Joann asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing more than the tone of his voice, really. He usually turned it off when he was with me. If he had to be on a call, he would go into a different room, often speak in Spanish. Occasionally something that sounded Eastern European." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't understand. If this ring he was a part of was destroyed, what does he care about me? Why isn't he concentrating on hiding? Why is he sending me a ticket for Paris?"