Side Bet Bluff Ch. 12

"Good," she giggled.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked her. "Sit and listen attentively yet never say a single word?"

"No, you can do whatever else you want. You don't even have to really pay attention to us. Just be with us, and let us have our talk without pointing out our inconsistencies and things like that."

"I can do that," I told her.

But first things first. I was hungry. I offered to order out but Jaycee said it wasn't necessary.

"No, let me and Susan cook dinner. It'll be good for her to do something productive with her hands. Get her mind off of the particulars of what happened last night."

So I grabbed my laptop, and started reading my way through a list of legal complaints against Atlantic Financial. At the same time, I couldn't help but listen in on Susan and Jaycee's conversation a bit. The whole thing was surreal. Based on things Susan said, I'm sure she believed Jaycee was going to hell. Yet Jaycee was one of her best friends whom she was relying on for advice. And the particular advice Jaycee was trying to give Susan was that Susan was a good person who was not going to hell. Sometimes I found my eyes starting to cross involuntarily as I tried to make sense of their conversation.

That effect became more pronounced when Susan started using a few young Hollywood starlets as her role models for proper Christian virtue. I know I let out an audible guffaw, but tried to cover it by underlining a few sentences of what I was reading, as if I was responding to my reading material instead.

When we sat down to dinner, Susan succeeded in dragging me into the conversation, overcoming Jaycee's resistance.

"Will, why do you think men do such a poor job of controlling themselves when it comes to sex?" Susan asked.

"Suze, I don't think Will has to answer for all men," Jaycee said.

"It's ok, Jaycee," I told her. "Susan, before I answer, I have to first consider your premise, that men are worse than women in controlling their libido."

"Of course they are," Susan said.

"Really? Think back on how you felt last night. By your own admission, you ignored your own rules and lost control of your own actions because ... why exactly?"

Susan blushed. "That's not the same thing," she said. "I was reacting to what James was doing to me."

"No doubt," I agreed. "And I'd venture if he were here now he'd say that he was reacting to what you were doing to him."

"No," Susan urged. "He was the one who pushed things. He's the one who took my clothes off. He's the one who stuck his dick in me. He's the one who finished first."

It may be an unkind thought, but I wondered how much of Susan's anger came from regret over losing her much-cherished virginity, and how much from the sex not living up to her expectations.

"Jaycee, you explain it to him," said Susan. "You've been in my shoes before."

"No, I really haven't," Jaycee answered. "I don't think you should equate the two."

"Fine, I wasn't raped. I admit it. But part of it feels like it."

"You were raped?" I asked Jaycee, alarmed.

"It was a long time ago," Jaycee said. "Don't worry about it."

"Jaycee," I said half-urging her to tell me and half-understanding that she didn't want to.

"But you told me recently that you were finally putting it behind you," said Susan. "Am I going to walk around with these feelings for years?"

"No, Susan, you're not. You had a bad first experience. Join the club. I think ninety-nine percent of the human race have that in common," Jaycee explained.

"You had sex before you wanted to," Jaycee continued, "whether you characterized that as being forced, being pressured, or just making a dumb mistake, again join the club. I think ninety percent of women feel the same way."

"But ..." Susan started, but Jaycee overrode her objection.

"I know that this was a very big deal to you. I'm not trying to belittle it, just trying to put it in a little better perspective. Sex can be a very big deal, even to non-Christian non-virgins. Sometimes it's even wonderful because of it being a very big deal. But just like everything else in life, it is what you make of it."

"But Jaycee, you've been carrying this around with you for ... what? Ten years? How can you tell me ..."

"I'm telling you because I don't want you to be like me. I want you to do a better job of handling it than me. And I think I've done a good job of handling it. I just have some quirks that are now hopefully going away, but I made a conscious effort to do everything in my power to not be defined by what happened to me. And you should too. Now I doubt you would agree to my solution, which is to go have some really good sex right away and then do it again and again."

"Oh Jaycee, you are so bad!" Susan said.

"Think about it. I know what a horny little minx you can be."

Rather than deny it, Susan shot me an embarrassed look. I must admit to being surprised. Though in retrospect, maybe I shouldn't be. There had to be some commonality of interest for why Susan sought Jaycee's advice.

"Maybe you should take Will's advice and go pay Aaron a visit," Jaycee said.

"No, I ... oh, I don't know about anything anymore," Susan replied.

I wasn't going to order Jaycee to tell me her story. But Jaycee saw the expression of curious patience on my face and decided to tell me anyway.

"Fine, William, I'll tell you, but let me put away the dinner dishes first."

I decided, for once, to help out. Together the three of us had everything put away in minutes. It took such a short amount of time that we didn't lose the feel of the dinner conversation.

Jaycee and Susan sat down together on the sofa. I sat on my leather recliner closest to Susan, allowing Jaycee to look at both of us while Susan just looked at her friend.

"It happened the end of my freshman year in undergrad. I was a wreck all that summer and into the following fall semester. I wouldn't let my boyfriend even touch me. Looking back, I marvel at how he stuck with me for as long as he did. I mean, six months with me flipping out every time he tried to touch me?" And Jaycee shook her head.

"When I went home for Thanksgiving break I finally decided that I wouldn't live like that anymore. I made a conscious effort to regain the 'care-free' Jaycee from before. And I succeeded for the most part, too. When I got back to school everyone was so relieved and happy to have the outgoing party girl back amongst the living."

"But ..." I said. There was always a 'but' to stories like these.

"Yes, but ... The only remnant was that I had to have strict control over my sex life. To counterbalance that, I became even more free in talking about sex. I don't know, it's weird. It was like talking about it made up for not having sex, or not having fun when having sex. The more I talked about sex, the less guilt I had about my limitations in the bedroom. My boyfriend was great through that whole process, but after a year of control-freak Jaycee in the bedroom he finally gave up and moved on to someone else. I gradually got better, and started enjoying sex again, but there were some holdover things that have stuck around all this time."

"I can certainly understand some things about you better," I told Jaycee. "I'm glad you were able to open up like this to me."

Jaycee nodded her head. "The rape itself," Jaycee started, and Susan immediately gripped Jaycee's hands to offer support. Jaycee stopped to smile at Susan, and I wondered just who was offering support to whom. "He punched me. Smacked me around a bit. I had been flirting with a lot of my boyfriend's frat brothers earlier that night, and this guy pushed me back into the bathroom when I tried to come out, and wanted a quickie. I told him off, and he just backhanded me right across the face, then punched me in the gut. I swear, Will, when Tim hit you earlier just that way I had the strongest flashback to that night." And Jaycee shivered a bit.

"Then he bent me over the side of the sink, ripped my panties off, and started going to town. He clawed at my ass, and started telling me how he was going to jam his prick up there right after he made me cum. When I protested, he hit me again. Probably to keep me quiet but it had the opposite effect. I just started screaming bloody murder, and kept at it no matter how many times he hit me. Pretty soon some of the other guys, including my boyfriend, came in and pulled him off me. My boyfriend wanted to take me to the police right away, but his frat brothers started talking to him about how the frat would lose its license with the university, and how we shouldn't let one jerk ruin things for over a hundred of his closest friends. I told my boyfriend that I'd go along with whatever he decided."

"Why?" I asked. "Why wouldn't you go straight to the police?"

Jaycee shrugged a little. "I trusted my boyfriend — his judgment. And besides, my father doesn't believe in the police."

"Doesn't believe in them? Like they don't exist?" I asked, inappropriately making a joke when Jaycee was pouring out her heart. I immediately chastised myself.

"No, of course not," Jaycee answered, maybe even with a bit of a smile. "He just thinks a man should handle things himself, instead of relying on anyone else. He doesn't believe in insurance, either."

"I'm guessing he doesn't have a good opinion of lawyers," I added.

"No," Jaycee told me. "He'd probably hate you."

Well that's just great.

"So I'm guessing your boyfriend didn't take you to the police, or a hospital," I said to get her back to her story.

"No. They took my rapist out back and beat the crap out of him. Or, at least, they say they did," Jaycee admitted. "I didn't check. You know, sometimes I think that if it had just been the rape, they wouldn't have cared. But I had been worked over pretty good. I went back home for the summer three days later, and my father took one look at me and started grilling me over what had happened. I wouldn't tell him. I knew what he'd do. But later my mom came to me, and she was so sweet, and I just found myself telling her everything. I don't know why. It's not like she was going to keep all of that to herself. I may as well have just been telling my dad. Anyway, Dad disappeared for two days, then showed back up with a cast on his hand. We never asked him a single question about it, though. Nope. Not one word was said. The day after that my brother and sister got back home from their schools, and wanted to know what happened. But they knew my Dad, too. And as soon as he told them to drop it, they did."

"You ever try to find out what happened?" I asked her.

Jaycee violently shook her head. "No. Though I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I know my dad didn't kill him. That would be letting the asshole off easy. My dad probably just put him in the hospital for a week. And probably with permanent damage to his genitals. I wouldn't expect anything less, actually."

"Well, I'm glad the statute of limitations has expired on this, so I won't feel guilty for not reporting it."

"Sorry, Will," Jaycee said.

"Why are you apologizing to me? You're the one who's had to carry this around with you all this time."

"Jaycee," started Susan. "What I don't understand is how you're ok with Will doing these very same things to you."

What?

"Like earlier today, you told me how Will bent you over and took you from behind. And how he's tied you up, and beat you with his hand and a paddle, and how he's going to force you to have butt sex with him."

Before Jaycee could answer I interjected. "Jaycee, have I ever forced you to do anything?"

"No, sir," Jaycee immediately answered. Susan looked confused.

"But you're telling her what to do and she's doing it," she explained.

"Am I forcing her?" I asked her.

"Maybe through force of will," she answered. I had to laugh. "What?" Susan asked, then got the unintended pun. "Oh!"

"Force of 'Will', indeed," Jaycee said.

"See if you can explain it to her, Jaycee," I ordered. I wanted to hear how Jaycee's mind worked on this, too.

Jaycee turned to face Susan directly, and re-took both her hands. "Susan, I trust Will. I trust him more than I've ever trusted anyone else. The few times I've doubted his judgment this week ended up with me feeling very stupid afterwards. He is deserving of that trust. As far as I'm concerned, anything he wants to do to me, he can. Because I trust him. And everything he's done to me so far has been amazing. This has been the best week of my life. Honest."

"But ..." Susan tried to interrupt.

"No, let me get this out," Jaycee insisted. She took a big breath and exhaled. "Have I been scared sometimes? Sure. Especially when Will unknowingly put me in a similar position to when I was attacked. He didn't know what was going through my head. But I knew that he wasn't my attacker, and that everything he did was to make me feel good. Not him. Ok, I'm sure it felt good to him, too. But I was actually the higher priority for him. When we started this week, he said that his wants were going to take priority over mine. But it hasn't been true. I can feel him holding back, making sure that my pleasure comes first. And sometimes cums second, and cums third," she laughed.

"Really?" asked Susan in confusion.

"Yes, really," insisted Jaycee. "And because of that, because of the trust that he's earned, I can completely surrender myself to him. Even if he orders me to do something mundane or even unpleasant, I know there's a higher purpose behind it because I know that Will always thinks through everything before he takes a single act. It may be that doing this mundane chore frees him up to get something else done so that we'll be able to spend more time together later. Or it may be for some other reason that I couldn't fathom. But I'll do it willingly anyway."

"But what about him hitting you? That can't be for your own pleasure. Can it?" said a less certain Susan.

"Ever since my rape, I've insisted on complete control over how I have sex," Jaycee started. "I was able to let go outside of the bedroom, and be happy and fun, and even flirty. But once I was with a guy behind closed doors, I struggled with all the fears from that night."

Jaycee took another big breath and let it out.

"One thing I never let guys do was touch my butt. Never. If any guy did, it was like that creep was touching me, and I would just flip out. I hated that about me. Hated it. Will didn't know why I had this fear, or phobia, or whatever you want to call it. But he knew of it. And so he introduced ... an incentive for me."

"Spanking you is an incentive?" Susan asked.

"No, or Yes," Jaycee sighed. "Not wanting to be spanked again was the incentive. And he would touch my butt." Jaycee smiled. "A lot! And this whole week started with my promising he could take my ass. That was part of the negotiations."

Susan turned to me. "You insisted on that?"

"Actually," I answered. "Jaycee offered it freely. She's the one who brought it up."

"Really?" Susan asked Jaycee.

Jaycee nodded. "Really. I'd been thinking of how I could finally get over this fear. To let it go once and for all. And I so desperately wanted to. And when the situation presented itself, I just knew that Will would be the one who could do it. I doubt anyone else could have. But he has."

"So you've had butt sex?" Susan timidly asked.

"The proper term is 'anal'" Jaycee smiled. "And no, not yet. Though hopefully tonight."

Oh?

"Tonight? While I'm here? Oh God!" Susan looked like she was going to faint.

"Well, maybe not. Not while you're here. I don't know though. It's not up to me. I'll do whatever Will wants me to do."

"Goodness," Susan said. "I don't think I could ever trust someone else that much."

I'm not sure I liked the romantic mysticism that was implied by this conversation.

"Jaycee," Susan began, "do you love Will?"

Jaycee was surprised by the question, and cast a nervous look in my direction. I'm not sure I wanted Jaycee thinking in those terms. Or, at least, not as an answer to a third party's question.

"I think," I rushed in to save Jaycee, "that trust and love are not the same thing here. Sure there may be overlap. But I think it's possible to love someone, yet not trust them this much. And it's possible to trust someone without actually being in love with him, or her."

Susan didn't agree. "I'd think you'd just have to be in love if you trusted someone that much," she pushed. I don't know why this was so important to her.

"It could vary based on a number of factors," I tried to explain. "For instance, Jaycee's desire to overcome her fear may make her place more trust in me than she otherwise would. That has more to do with her own personal motives than anything that I've done or earned. So Jaycee may trust me but not love me."

"It also depends on what definition of love you're using," I continued. "And that's a big problem these days. We're all supposed to know what that word means, when usually we have no clue. One of my favorite authors defined love as that circumstance when someone else's happiness is more important to you than your own happiness. Or perhaps, your happiness is dependent on that other person's happiness."

"If that's the case," followed Susan, "then you love Jaycee. She said that you place her happiness as more important than your own."

Jaycee was staring at me very intently.

"By that definition, you're right," I agreed. "But at the same time, that can also be very situational. Maybe, based on that, I love Jaycee in the bedroom but not outside of the bedroom. Or maybe I love Jaycee when I'm with her but not when she's away. Or maybe I love her when she's being a 'good girl' and not when she's being a 'bad girl.' And that is also using just that one definition of love. I'm sure you could come up with many other ways of describing love, and how I feel towards Jaycee would fall within some of those definitions and not others. That's the problem with trying to jam everything under the umbrella of that one all-purpose word. Two people could both be using that one word to express their feelings for each other, and yet mean completely different things."

"Then how are we supposed to express our feelings for each other?" Susan asked.

"By using lots of words — lots and lots and lots. Or even better, actions. You know the phrase 'actions speak louder than words'? It's true. Take Jaycee's explanation just a minute ago. I'll cherish Jaycee's expression of trust in me far more than if she'd just generically used the word 'love'. What she said tells me so much more about how she feels about me. Likewise, she was telling us how she interprets the emotion expressed by my actions. That, too, is more important, and more descriptive, than merely using that one word 'love.'"

"So you'll never say that you love someone?" Susan asked.

"No, I'm not saying that. But I place a greater importance on those other expressions of emotion. Using the word 'love' is lazy. Sometimes that's fine, as a shortcut to say that the way we better described how we felt about a person a few days ago is still in effect. But I think people should avoid falling into the trap of using only that one word. So I try not to use it. If I care for someone, I should be able to come up with a more creative or expressive way of showing it."

Susan gave Jaycee a look of wonder.

"Being with Will is hard," Jaycee told her. "Think of the pressure that puts on me. Even if I decide to tell Will that I love him, he won't believe it. I have to show him what he means to me."

"Jaycee, you show how you feel about me every time you follow one of my orders," I told her.

"In that case, that's an even better reason to do what you tell me to do." And she smiled at me.

The conversation soon turned back to Susan and her moral crisis, though I was still perplexed why she was seeking advice from the two of us in the first place. Perhaps she needed to know that morality could exist independent from the confined teachings with which she was raised. I wanted to help Susan for Jaycee's sake. But in my opinion, Susan was beyond our help and would have to muddle her way through this on her own.