The Curse of the Scots Ch. 02

The woman held the pendant another second and let it go, "Oh how silly. Where did that come from?"

"You recited the whole thing. I bet hardly anybody knows it that well. Who taught it to you?"

I could see she felt awkward, maybe a little silly. She replied in this really soft voice, like she was somebody else, "I don't know. I can't remember. It just came out. I must have seen or heard it on television."

I knew better. Whore she may be, or maybe might have been, but somewhere back there in her past was a girl, a real girl. I tried to lighten the mood, I chuckled, "Oh yeah, sure. You probably heard it and remembered it from some movie."

Caprice laughed too, but it was an awkward and clumsy laugh, "Yeah I got it on television," I watched her change quickly, "Let me show you my Sunday dress."

I wanted to smile but couldn't, the poem she'd read still rang in my ears, "Yeah, show me your Easter dress."

A minute later Caprice was out in a pale yellow one piece dress. It was simple sheath, tight circular collar, short sleeved; it came down to just above her knees. She had on a pair of yellow low heeled shoes, "Will this be all right."

I looked it over. It was a very conservative dress, and probably something a lot less expensive than she might have chosen. For the first time I thought of the heels; both sets of shoes had low heels. If she'd had chosen higher heels she probably would have been taller than me when we stood side by side. That was respect; it confused me a little bit.

I reopened the jewelry bag and got out the garnet earrings and matching necklace, "Here see how these look."

Caprice took the garnets and held them in her hands. In the lowest of whispers she said, "These are nice Cayden."

I tried to make light of the gift, "Just some dumb jewelry from a John. Oh yeah, here's a ring," I handed her the pearl ring.

Caprice looked up. I saw the hurt in her eyes. I knew this time it wasn't faked. She said very softly but firmly, "Until after Easter you're nobody's 'John' Cayden. You're just a guy, a really nice guy."

In spite of everything; in spite of the fact she was a whore, might have been a whore once, in spite of the fact she hadn't been medically checked I wanted more than anything to travel the distance between her and me, crush her in my arms, kiss her lovely lips, carry her into the bedroom and make mad passionate love. I wanted to, but I didn't, "I guess you should put everything away. I'll go get your fastenings so you can get to bed."

Caprice had started for the bedroom, but stopped and turned back around to face me. She held up her hands, palms out, "Cayden would you mind very much if you didn't lock me up tonight."

I stammered, "But I..."

She stopped me, "Not any more, not till after Easter. Come to bed with me tonight. No sex. I know how you feel about...No, just come to bed and we'll sleep together. I want to pretend...that...I mean one time...you can hold me...I bought pajamas."

I stood in the middle of the living room and felt like a fool. The only thing that came to mind was an old Hank Williams song. I was...Kawlija...an old wooden Indian. I gruffly replied, "I'll go brush my teeth and pull on some clean boxers.

It was the strangest fucking evening of my life. Here I was in my bed with a good looking woman, arms wrapped around her, her in cotton pajamas with her hands folded in front as if in prayer, and that's how we slept, or at least pretended to sleep.

++++++++++

A passing glimpse into what a whore was thinking.

All night I lay there. I lay quietly. I was folded in his arms. , and for the first time since I could remember I felt, well, gosh, I felt...safe. I felt like no one expected me to put on a performance. Damn it, now I wanted to put on a performance!

Just before he pretended to go to sleep he asked me, "Caprice, why did you pick the name Fischer?"

I curled back more tightly in his arms. I felt the hardness of his manhood press against me. I didn't feel obligated to offer sex. I didn't feel like I was some zombie. I didn't feel dirty. I answered him the best I could, "I don't know. I guess it just slipped out."

We lay there together in the dark, in the silence, touching, but we hardly touched. His body felt warm against mine

++++++++++

Angie got home just in time to see Cayden pull away. What she saw disturbed her.

I got home in time to see Cayden's big truck pull away. I noticed there was someone in the cab with him. I walked Emily inside, "Emily you run upstairs and play," I looked around and heard my mother back in the kitchen. The air in the house carried my husband's, I mean my ex-husband's unmistakable scent. Cayden had always been an Old Spice man. Sometimes he used some derivative of the spice aroma, but it was always spicy, and I always loved it.

I reached the kitchen and saw my mom rinsing some cups and dishes. An apple pie was on the table; three slices had obviously been cut, "Mom who was here with Cayden?"

Mrs. Bradford put the last of the cups in the cupboard, folded, and put aside the dish rag, "Cayden's got himself a woman friend."

I unconsciously shivered, the hackles on the back of my neck began to rise, "Really, who?"

"Names Caprice; seems like a nice girl."

Cayden had been home from the army quite a while. In all that time he hadn't even looked at a woman; at least no woman other than me. The whole time he'd been trying to reconnect with me, and I'd done my level best to make his life as difficult as possible.

I enjoyed punishing him for the way he'd left me to join the army, the way he'd abandoned me. Sure I remembered how messed up I'd been before he left, but I'd pretty much straightened myself out by the time he got back. Then when he came back I started feeling angry and uncertain all over again. Before he'd left I'd been sure he'd been running around on me; later, after he left I realized he'd been loyal.

God knows I loved him, I guess still did, but I hated him too. I needed him, but every time he got near me I got crazy. Sometimes when I saw him all I wanted to do was run to him and wrap my arms around him. But I'd hold up; something always came over me, some kind of need to be angry, to stay angry, and I had this indescribable need to get even.

Since he'd come back I'd started to do wrong things, self-destructive things again. I deliberately kept him away from his daughter. I made a point of carousing and drinking every chance I could. I worked hard to make sure he knew everything I did. We weren't married anymore, but I never accepted my father's decision to make me divorce him, and I tried to act like more an estranged wife, not a free spirited single woman, and right up to today, excepting the time Bernard had beat me up, it had worked exactly like I wanted.

It was crazy how my life had changed. All the time Cayden had been away my father had made me stay away from men. When my father died I continued to avoid them; then when Cayden came home I started acting up again. Actually I thought I'd be careful; I only let Bernard do anything. I picked Bernard because I knew how much Cayden hated him; I wished I hadn't now. I just don't know what is wrong with me. Cayden makes me crazy. Sometimes when I'm alone I just start crying. I don't know why I just do. He's always on my mind.

I listened to my mom and got afraid, but I feigned indifference, "What does she look like?"

Mom knew what buttons to push, "She's pretty, light brown hair, green eyes." Mrs. Bradford cast a glance down at her daughter's flat chest, "She's got boobs. I'd say maybe 34bs. Yeah she's a shapely woman. She's mature too."

I was a stick, skinny legs, scrawny neck and arms, almost no boobs, mousy brown hair. Men never gave me a second look unless I was offering something. The only man who'd paid attention to me had been Cayden. At first he'd been wonderful, then he'd turned mean, then he started to get nice again.

After he came back from the army I thought he wanted to treat me the way he did when we'd first met. I'd already pulled myself together. I had Emily; I'd been a good mom, a really good mom. Then he came back. I knew what it was; I wanted to show him up. I started to do bad things again. I didn't really want to; I just wanted him to...I don't know what I wanted him to do. I'm so confused.

I opened my cell phone and called Bernard. He picked his phone up on the other end, "Bernard," he made some comment on his end, "Yeah come get me." I put my phone down, "I'm going out mom. I'll be at the Wagon Wheel."

Mom scowled, "Angie tomorrow's Holy Thursday. Emily has a dance lesson. You need to be home with your girl."

I made a face. Mom was right. I needed to stay close to home with my mom at least till after Easter. I thought I should try to find out a little more about the woman in Cayden's truck. I called Bernard back and cancelled. I told him Thursday night.

++++++++++

The doctor pays Cayden a call.

I was up early Thursday morning, and it was a good thing too. Dr. Silas Deane, general practitioner, the local home town doctor was at my door at 9:00. He knocked on the door and waited.

I opened up and held out my hand, "Good to see you."

Silas answered, "You said you had a patient?"

"Sure do, I responded, "I'll go awaken her."

Caprice was still lying dreamily on her side of the bed. There'd been no sex, but she'd felt Cayden's presence against her all night. It had been an eerie sensation; to lie in bed with a man's warmth pressed against her and not feeling obligated to reach around. She pushed the covers down and stretched. The damage Vince had done with the belt was still keenly felt, but the warm space beside her where Cayden's body had just been made her flush with something she hadn't felt in years. Was it contentment, was it happiness? No, not likely, not for people like her.

She looked up lazily as I walked in.

"Caprice the doctor's here."

She sat up, "I'll go wash."

"No," I responded, "we don't have time. Dr. Deane's presence is a personal favor, a special favor."

She slid her legs to the side allowing her feet to land on the cool hardwood floor. Bare feet on bare wood; it must have felt good because I saw her smile. She covered her mouth and yawned, "Let me at least comb my hair and brush my teeth."

I looked Caprice over as she sat up in the bed. Her hair was shorter thanks to yesterday's cut. A full night's sleep had helped put some real color in her cheeks. Her eyes looked bright and cheery. Somehow the crow's feet I'd noted around her green eyes the other night made her look pleasant and inviting in the bright yellow of the morning sun. I liked the way the sun coming in the window haloed her face; for a moment I forgot she was a whore.

"I'll tell him you'll be right out," I turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Caprice went to the bathroom; brushed her teeth and ran her fingers through her much shorter hair. The new dye job and the somewhat shortened coif made her feel younger. She tore off the pajamas and slipped into the blouse and skirt she'd had on the day before. There were bras and panties, but she let them stay in the bureau. She got up, left the bathroom, smoothed the blouse and stepped into the living room.

She walked over to where I was standing and put a hand on my shoulder. She self-consciously whispered, "Do I look all right?" Even as she said it I could tell she started to feel awkward. I guessed she was thinking, 'Who was she but a well- used worn out old whore? Why would anyone care how she looked? Why should she?'

I angled my head and gave her a second once over. I whispered back, "You're gorgeous."

Caprice knew she was a whore, a common piece of trash, but for some reason I think my compliment was more than just heartening; I think it made her feel like she had worth. She blushed at my whispered remark. It was only an offhand comment, but to her I thought she responded like it was some kind an endearment. At least that's what I hoped.

"Doc this is Caprice. She's had a run of bad luck. Could you give her a quick check, just to make sure there's nothing seriously infected or out of whack?"

Dr. Deane looked at the woman and studiously replied, "Normally we'd need another woman, preferably a nurse present for a checkup like this, but Cayden has told me a little about your history. If you don't mind Miss uh..."

"Fischer, Ms. Fischer."

"Well Ms. Fischer if you'd remove your blouse and skirt I'd like to examine you."

Caprice unbuttoned her blouse and placed it on the back of a nearby chair. She unzipped the side of the skirt, lowered it, and stepped forward so that it might join the blouse. Standing in front of the doctor didn't seem to bother her, but the sight of me watching her undress seemed to make her feel strangely disquieted. At least that was what I thought; it sure looked like it. I bet she couldn't have given a number to how many times she'd stood in front of men with nothing on, but being naked like this in my presence I sort of could tell made her feel uncomfortable. She didn't want to be like this in front of me and in front of another man. She unconsciously tried to cover herself; she placed one hand over her vagina and she used the other to cover her breasts.

Realizing what she was doing she put her hands down, but only for a second. She self-consciously lifted her hands again, and again she found she was trying to hide her nakedness from my eyes. She looked at me in a funny way.

I watched Caprice's attempts to manage her situation with bemusement. I had a sense this wasn't a whore's ploy; this was real embarrassment. I tried to reassure her, "It's only for a moment Caprice."

She gifted me with a silly smile.

Dr. Deane circled the youngish woman. He barely touched her, but he did gain an impression of the severity of her cuts and bruises. Dr. Deane was an older man; he'd seen his share of injured and abused women, "This is bad. Somebody did a real number on you girl," he looked at me, "I'll have to file a report."

Caprice panicked, "A report? They'll investigate!"

"Normally they would, but with a statement from Cayden, and with my recommendation, unless you wish to file a complaint, it shouldn't go too far."

Caprice breathed more easily, "No complaint here."

Silas stepped behind her, "Would you bend over and put your hands down toward the floor. Cayden asked if I would look at your rectum. Would that be all right Ms. Fischer?"

She hesitated, then she turned so I wouldn't see her rear end; she nodded at Dr. Deane and leaned forward.

Dr. Deane slipped on a pair of rubber gloves; he leaned forward, and carefully spread her cheeks. He took his right index finger and touched the outermost portions of her anus. He stepped back, pulled off the gloves, and walked to the table, "Do we have any sterile paper or a clean towel?"

"How about some paper towels," I asked?

"They'll do. Just place them here on the edge of the table. The doctor pointed to the end of the dining room table.

Once I had the paper towels on the table Dr. Deane placed a finger on the edge of table and pointed, "Jump up here please Ms. Fischer. I'd like to examine your vagina."

Caprice walked to the table. Surprisingly she looked at me and gestured with her left hand that I should turn around so I wouldn't see.

I turned my back.

I heard her as she jumped so that she was on the paper towels.

"Lean back please," the doctor instructed.

Caprice must have leaned back on the table.

"All the way please."

I guess Caprice must have laid back so that her back was pressed against the table top and her rear end was hanging slightly over the edge.

I realized I could get a glimpse of everything if I looked at the porch door windows. Even with my back turned I got a bird's eye view. The doctor put on a second pair of rubber gloves and proceeded to examine her vagina. He carefully pulled her labia outward and then back. He briefly touched her clitoris. He took two fingers and penetrated her vaginal walls slightly, spreading them as he did.

He stepped back, "OK, you can get dressed."

While Caprice slipped her blouse and skirt back on I turned back around.

Dr. Deane spoke to me, "Her back looks pretty good considering. The Neosporin seems to be doing the trick. I'm going to give you another prescription you can also use as a topical just in case. Her rectum has been severely damaged. That's a big part of the incontinence you say she has. Her vagina has been exposed to some extensive abuse as well. There are simple procedures for each. Of course, the surgical procedure for the rectum is commonplace. For her vagina there's a newer procedure called vaginal rejuvenation. It's newer, but women have started to treat it as though it were cosmetic surgery. It's not dangerous, but there is some discomfort. Neither procedure is prohibitively expensive, though I don't think the vaginal procedure is covered by any insurance companies yet."

He looked at Caprice, "How old are you; twenty-nine, thirty?"

She replied, "Thirty."

"Ms. Fischer I don't want to alarm you, but judging from the condition of your anatomy the life you've been leading has been pretty destructive. I can't tell you what you should do, but I can tell you it would be in your best interest to find another way to make money," he paused then went on, "One last thing, I'd like to draw some blood and take a couple samples from your mouth. "I'll have the results from the samples sometime next week."

Caprice asked, "What do you need a saliva sample for?"

The doctor dissembled, "Well along with the blood I can check for STDs, but I can also check for other secondary infections, and one or two other things.

"What other things," asked Caprice?

"Well your age places you at the extreme limit of some scientific activity, but there's a remote possibility, if your parents had a DNA sampling done on you when say you started school, we might be able to glean some more of you medical history."

Caprice immediately backed off, "No, no DNA. I don't want that."

I stepped forward and took her shoulders in my hands, "That's OK, no DNA. We'll just get a little blood to check for, you know, the other things."

Caprice had panicked, had she been thinking she would have known once they had the blood her DNA would come up easily. Unwittingly she replied, "Just some blood, just for the STDs."

The doctor took his sample, smiled, and said, "I'm on my way. I'll get the results back to you in a few days. I'll fill out a report, and someone will probably bring it over later for signatures. I expect someone from the state police might be by as well."

I showed the doctor to the door, came back, and sat down beside Caprice on the sofa, "Do you want to take a shower so I can rub in some more Neosporin. Then maybe, if you want, you could lie back down a while."

She gave me a forlorn look that quickly morphed into one of suspicion, "What do you intend to do with me?"

I reached out and touched her neck, she flinched back, I didn't follow up, "We're going to finish fixing your cuts and bruises. I'm taking you out this afternoon, and I'm taking you to church tonight."

She interrupted, "You know what I mean."

"Oh that; well, a dentist will be fixing your teeth. We'll find a doctor and set up times to repair your vagina and your rectum, and I already bought a tattoo removal kit. Maybe we'll throw in a manicure and pedicure. I don't know maybe just a good massage.

"Not all that; you know what I really mean?

"No I don't."

You know; when are you going to put me back out?"

"Back out?"

"You know, back to work."

I finally caught on but decided to play the dumb farmer. She'd been drifting away from her whore persona, but something had triggered a return. I needed to deflect this, "It's a big farm. I don't know what you'd be good at yet. There are the horses; I have roadside stands..."