The Date

While the cop was talking on his radio, Jerry went over to Marcy and wrapped her up in the top sheet that was on the bed. She didn't understand what was going on and had become scared; he could see it in her eyes. He sat next to her on the bed, cradled her in his arms, and laid her head against his chest. "It's okay, honey," he told her while gently rocking back and forth. "Everything's going to be okay. I love you so much." Tears started to well up in his eyes as he realized how lucky he was to find her. Off in the distance, he heard the wailing sound of the ambulance approaching.

Along with the EMTs came several more officers, two were female. Jerry wanted to dress her but the cops said they needed her clothes for evidence. The female officers were very sympathetic and helped the paramedics cover her up and get her ready for transport. Jerry figured they had, had some training. Everything they did, the way they talked and acted, he knew was designed to keep Marcy calm and let her know she was in good hands. For the first time all night, he felt relief.

Jerry had to follow the ambulance in his car. Jim was also going to the hospital, but in the back of a squad car. He pulled up right behind his wife and followed her into the ER.

For the next couple of hours, Jerry stayed at Marcy's side while doctors and nurses paraded in and out of their little cubical. They took blood samples and had him step out while they did a rape kit. After that, they hooked her up to a couple machines. It seemed like hours passed before they saw anyone again. Jerry never left her side or let go of her hand the whole time they waited for someone to tell them what was happening.

Finally a doctor walked in. "Hello," he said with a smile as he shook hands with Jerry. "I'm Doctor Anderson." He walked around the side of the hospital bed and looked down at Marcy who was a little more cognizant but still not really aware of what was going on yet. "Well, young lady, it sounds like you had quite a night." He looked back over at a very concerned Jerry. "We're getting her a room upstairs. There's really not a lot we can do except keep her under observation until the drugs work their way out of her system. We don't have the results back from the lab yet but there's no doubt she was given what they call, a date rape drug. Depending on which one she was given, there could be some complications as she's detoxing," he reported.

"What kind of complications?" Jerry anxiously asked.

"Don't get excited. Complications are rare. Usually it's only when somebody mixed the drugs with alcohol or other drugs. From what I understand, she ingested it with water so I'm not expecting any problems. It's just better to be on the safe side."

"Okay, thanks," said Jerry.

The doctor smiled and left the room. About twenty minutes later a nurse came in and they all moved to a regular room.

"Jerry...Jerry!" Marcy's eyes were wide with fear as she awoke in the strange room. Instinctively she squeezed the hand holding hers.

"It's okay, honey," Jerry assured her. He rose from the chair beside her bed where he had spent the night and looked into her frightened face. "I'm right here. You're okay, babe. You're in the hospital."

"Hospital..." Her eyes darted around the room. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"Don't worry about that right now," he replied. "How do you feel?"

"Ah, I...I'm sore. I...was I in a car accident?" Before he had a chance to reply, she spoke again. "My mouth is dry, honey. Can I have some water?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. His hand shook a little as he poured some water into a paper cup. "Here you go, honey."

After a few minutes, Jerry asked if she remembered what happened. She thought back to the previous night. Her memory was starting to return by way of vague flashbacks but she recalled nothing from the time they reached the house.

About that time a nurse came in and asked her how she felt. For the next couple of hours nurses came and went. They were still a little hesitant to give her solid food so Marcy had to settle for a breakfast of chocolate pudding.

Her attending physician came in and explained the effects of the Rohypnol and the Ecstasy they found in her system. He told her and Jerry, traces of the drugs would be remain in the body for another twelve hours or so, but that she was over any risk of complications so they would release her later in the day.

As the doctor was leaving, Jerry made an excuse to leave the room and caught up with him in the hall. "Doctor, can you tell if she was raped or not?"

"Well, with the drugs it's harder to tell. Usually a rape victim tries to fight. There's usually bruising on the inside of the victim's legs and around the vaginal area from the rapist forcing her legs open, but when the victim is drugged like your wife, they usually don't have to use force. However, we found no presence of semen."

"Thank you, doctor." Since he told his wife he was going for coffee, Jerry decided to grab a cup before going back to the room. When he returned he saw an unfamiliar couple talking to his wife.

They glanced in his direction as they heard him enter. "Mr. Dixon?" one of them asked while reaching his hand out, "I'm lieutenant Grayson, this is detective Reese," he said gesturing to the woman standing next to him. "I'd appreciate it if you both could answer some questions for us."

"Certainly," Jerry replied. "I'll help you anyway I can. I'm not sure how much help my wife will be, though; she doesn't remember very much. The doctor said it was a symptom of the drugs that guy gave her."

"We understand. Now, according to the arresting officers, you said she was at a charity auction?"

Jerry went on to explain the event. He watched their faces for the same look of disapproval he saw from the two cops the night before, but there wasn't any.

Between what Marcy remembered and what Jerry told them, the two detectives were able to put together a pretty accurate account of what had transpired.

"So what happens now," asked Jerry at the end of the questioning.

"Well, that's actually up to the prosecutor's office but we have a pretty substantial case against Mr. Shore. We found enough drugs in his house to charge him with intent to distribute. We also found the water bottle you drank from, Mrs. Dixon. It was in his car. It had your prints on it; it also had his. We did a chemical analysis on the water that was left and matched it to the drugs in the house and the drugs found in your system. On top of all that there's the video that Mr. Shore was kind enough to supply us with. Even though you weren't actually raped, it clearly shows intent. Between your toxicology report, the bottle, the video, and the testimony of the two arresting officers, we have more than sufficient cause to charge him with sexual assault and attempted rape in addition to the drug charges.

"You should be hearing from the prosecutor's office within the next week or so. I'm assuming they can count on your testimony?"

"You're damn right," said Jerry.

"Good. Well, that should do it, at least for now. Oh, we also found your purse, Mrs. Dixon. It was in the trunk of his car. Your cell phone and other items are in it. We don't really need that in evidence. You can come down to the station and claim it anytime."

"That's right," Marcy recalled. "I think I was already starting to feel a little woozy when we got into his car. I was going to call you, honey, but he grabbed the phone and said he paid for my full attention. I told him I just wanted to call and tell you when I'd be home but he stuck the phone back into my purse and threw it in the trunk. That's when I started getting scared but I was also starting to feel disoriented. In the car, I couldn't keep track of where we were going. It was like I was trapped in a dream and couldn't get out."

"Well he won't be drugging anymore women for a very long time," said detective Reese, speaking up for the first time.

"I got to ask, lieutenant, what makes a guy think he can get away with something like that? Even when he was caught red handed, he didn't seem to be that concerned," Jerry inquired.

"Mr. Dixon, you'd be surprised how many guys DO get away with it, especially if there're no witnesses. The drug he used, Rohypnol, is a very powerful sedative. In most cases the victim wakes up with no memory of what happened and even if they do remember, it's her word against his.

"In this case, Mr. Shore had a very rich, powerful father who had friends in high places. He used his influence to get junior out trouble when it was necessary. When he died, junior inherited everything; everything except his dad's political connections. He thought the power was in the money. Hell," joked the lieutenant, "he even tried to bribe me. He offered me fifty grand to make the charges go away. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Shore never made the kind of friends his old man had. That's a lesson that will cost him about twenty-five years."

"Well I thank you, lieutenant; you too, detective Reese," Jerry said, shaking hands with both. "We appreciate all your help and you can count of us to do whatever it takes to put that slime-ball behind bars."

As the two detectives left, Jerry had another thought. He pulled out his cell and made a call, but before it started to ring, he handed the phone to his wife.

"What's this?" she inquired. "What..."

Just then she recognized the voice from the other end.

"Hello, Jerry. I'm so glad you called. How is..."

"Hello Emmy," interjected Marcy.

There was an audible sigh from the other end. "I've been so worried," she whispered with relief. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, thanks to you and my hero of a husband," she replied. "I was pretty much in a fog and don't remember a lot, but from what I understand, you guys are the dynamic duo," she chuckled.

"Marcy, I feel so guilty for getting you mixed up in this mess. I'm so sorry."

"Emmy, don't be ridiculous. It wasn't your fault. I'm just thankful you saw him drug the water and called Jerry. If it hadn't been for you...well, I don't know what would have happened," she said. Marcy made a big sigh of relief and shivered, thinking about the possibilities.

"Are you home?"

"No, not yet; I'm still in the hospital but they're going to release me in a little while. I can't wait to get to the safety of my own home," she told her friend.

They didn't talk too much longer. Marcy's muscles still ached a little from the drugs and Emmy could tell she really didn't want to talk about her experience.

Around noon, they brought her some lunch. Jerry took the opportunity to run back to the house and bring her some clothes.

It was almost four in the afternoon by the time Marcy was headed home. For the rest of the day she rested in her own bed while Jerry comforted her.

***

His first sensation was the feeling of his wife lying half across his chest; her head snuggled between his shoulder and chin, her arm stretched all the way around to the other side. He was surprised to see the bright rays of sunshine streaming in from the window. They were still fully dressed. In fact, they were both so worn out after coming home from the hospital that they fell asleep without even having dinner and slept through the entire night.

As the desolation of sleep slowly gave way to consciousness, he became aware of the almost imperceptible soft sobs. "Honey," he whispered. "Are you crying?"

"Do...do you hate me?" she whimpered.

Even though she barely spoke above a murmur, Jerry could hear the pain in her voice. "Hate you; honey, why would you think such a thing? No, I don't hate you. I love you, very, very much. What brought this on?" he questioned as he pulled her tighter into his body.

"It was my fault...all my fault. If I had listened to you none of this would have happened. That man wouldn't have done those awful things to me," she cried a little louder.

Through the night, Marcy was remembering more of what had happened. It was as if she had dreamed it, or was watching it from outside of her body, but she knew it was no dream. She remembered the shame she suffered as he removed her clothing piece by piece; her terror and revulsion as he touched her skin; the feeling of helplessness as his hands explored her naked body, and the guilt for not finding some way to stop him. She felt dirty, used, and unworthy.

"Honey, none of this was anybody's fault except that bastard, Shore," Jerry declared. "Come on, I'm starving. How about you?" he said trying to change the subject and make her forget. "Look, why don't you take a nice hot shower while I go down stairs and make us some breakfast. It looks like a beautiful day out there, let's go for a ride. We can take some food and find a place for a picnic; we haven't done that in ages."

"Okay," she agreed with a forced smile. The hot shower was relaxing but only to a point. The water felt good and soothed her sore muscles but it did nothing to wash away the memories.

Jerry was just serving the sausage and eggs as she sat down at the table. "Here you go, babe. Get something in your stomach and I'm sure you'll feel better."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jerry watched. Marcy was holding her fork but had yet to take a single bite; she just stared absentmindedly into her plate. Suddenly she dropped her fork, covered her face with her hands, and broke out in loud sobs.

"Honey, honey..." Jerry jumped up from his chair and knelt beside her, wrapping his distraught wife in his arms.

"I feel so dirty," she wept, "I feel so dirty."

Trying to be as comforting as he could, Jerry pulled her in closer and laid her head on his shoulder as tears rained from her eyes. He was rapidly becoming very concerned for his wife's mental health.

They never did get out for their picnic. Instead, Marcy cried on and off and spent most of the day in bed. When he wasn't with her, Jerry started to investigate the emotional effects of sexual assault on women. From what he read, part of her problem could have been from the withdrawal effects of the drugs, but not all of it. The more he read, the more he knew his wife was going to need professional help.

It was weeks before she could make love again. She tried but every time Jerry would touch her, it brought back those feelings of helplessness and shame. It scared her. Even though Jerry was patient and told her it was okay, her guilt was intense. Every morning, her sweet man would make light of awakening with a raging woody.

One morning Marcy woke up, lying on her side and snuggled into his arms. She glanced up toward his closed eyelids to see if he was awake. His face was void of expression, his breathing rhythmic; he appeared to still be asleep. With the back of her fingers, she lightly stroked his cheek. He was a good man, and she loved him so much. He deserved to be shown, not just told how much she loved him.

It was the devotion she felt for her man that finally overpowered her fear. She lowered her hand until her fingers surrounding her husband's, rock hard, penis.

For the first time in a long time, she felt no shame, only love. Gently she slid her hand up and down, feeling his flesh glad through her loose grip. As she felt him stir, her grip tightened just slightly.

Jerry moaned with pleasure as he opened his eyes.

"Good morning," Marcy cooed in his ear.

His body started to writhe under her deft manipulations. "Ohhhhh yeaaaaa," he sighed, taking in a deep breath.

Marcy swung her leg over his hips and slowly impaled herself. It was like old times as she leaned forward, planting the palms of her hands on her man's heaving chest. Tightly she hugged his hard on with her vagina as she rode him to a long-awaited, heavenly euphoria.

Both came hard, informing the neighbors with screams of ecstasy.

Over the next several months, life wasn't easy for either of them. Marcy was seeing a psychologist who specialized in victims of sexual assault. On top of that, every so often the prosecutor's office would call them in for another deposition or to confer on something that pertained to the upcoming trial of James Shore. Having to keep going over the events of that night certainly wasn't speeding Marcy's recovery.

Through it all, Jerry never wavered. He held his wife's head to his chest when she needed to cry and understood when she wanted to be alone. There were days when he wondered how he could go on, but then he'd look into the loving eyes of his wife and it would give him strength. He was her rock and she loved him with all her heart. For him, that love was his beacon in the night; it gave him direction and purpose.

As time passed, a new Marcy was emerging; a stronger, more confident woman than she'd previously been. When it came time to testify at the trial, she took the stand and looked her attacker straight in the eye. If she thought she could have reached him she'd have spit in his face. James Shore was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. It was over, they could finally put the whole ugly episode behind them. Time to celebrate, but there were also fences to mend.

One of the things that suffered over those difficult months were friendships. Jerry's best friend, Bob, never got over the fact that his wife's cousin dropped the ball and put Marcy in jeopardy. He carried tremendous guilt. As a result, he found it hard to look Jerry in the eye.

Guilt was also the primary factor behind the deteriorating relationship between Marcy and Emmy. No matter how many times Marcy told her it wasn't her fault, Emmy just couldn't forgive herself for talking her into participating that night.

Another thing that suffered was the charity auction. The newspapers picked up the story of Marcy's abduction and followed it through to the end of the trial. The number of women volunteers to be auctioned the following year, dropped down to zero.

That led to a young investigative reporter looking into the auction's finances. He discovered only a small portion of the money raised actually made it to Cancer research; almost seventy-five percent of the proceeds were used to line the pockets of its three primary officers. They were now being investigated by the D.A.'s office to see if fraud charges were warranted.

One of the lessons Marcy had learned through it all, was that there was a lot of truth to the adage, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." She was stronger, much stronger; in her convictions, her will, and most of all, the love for her husband.

He had made her a promise to find some way to raise money for Cancer research and she was going to hold him to it. They put their heads together and came up with a plan, but they were going to need help.

***

Monday morning, Jerry asked his secretary to tell Bob he needed to see him, first thing. A few minutes later Bob wandered into Jerry's office and was asked to take a seat.

"Bob, Marcy and I would like to take you and Susie out for dinner Saturday night." He could see the hesitation in his friend's face.

"Ah, I'll have to check, Jerry. I think Susie..."

"Whatever Susie has going on, you tell her to cancel." He wasn't about to let Bob say no.

"Well..."

"Well nothing, damn it. You've got the whole week to postpone whatever you have going. I won't take no for an answer. There's going to be another couple there as well. You don't know them, they're friends of Marcy's; really nice people. I'm sure you'll like them."

"Okay, Jerry," Bob relented. "Where and when?"

While Jerry was explaining the particulars, a similar conversation was going on between Marcy and Emmy. Just like her husband, Marcy didn't take no for an answer either.

Jerry made reservations at Plato's Place, a great little upscale restaurant on the near north side of Chicago where the food was excellent and the prices were in the moderate range. A lovely, young hostess showed everyone to a quiet table with a view of the city.