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“Take off my dress,” Elise tells herself, “okay, right.”
But it feels weird to do that here, in the dining room of this woman’s house, and with that other girl, Mule, around. Elise has always been shy about showing herself off and especially in front of strangers.
A large grandfather clock stands in the corner beside the archway to the kitchen beyond. The dining set is something you’d find at a country antique market. The curtains at the window were once white but now yellowed.
She looks out at the driveway where she has spent the morning, walks over to the clock. In truth, this meeting has seemed so abstract until now; a thing that was to happen in the future.
“Take off my dress,” she thinks again. “Okay, deep breath. Onward and forward!”
She takes off her dress. Folds it in thirds and sets it on the table. Pulls up her black, thigh-high stockings tight on her upper thighs, adjusts her bra.
“Have to be stronger than this,” she tells herself as she pulls out the chair and sits. “Have to be strong.”
Another deep breath and she calls out, “Okay, ready.”
No response.
She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m ready!”
The only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock. Have they left her alone in the house? Elise thinks on the dusky-haired girl, remembers…
“Ma’am,” she says aloud, “I am ready.”
The tall woman reappears with an iPad and an envelope she sets on the table. She sits opposite Elise and looks at her with cold, grey eyes. “Before we begin,” she says, “know this will not be easy. Young women can be foolish, flighty, and impatient. I will shape you into a better person. A perfect instrument for the right man or woman. Do you understand?”
Elise wants to defend herself but thinks the better of it. “Yes,” she says. “Ma’am.”
“Say: Yes, Ma’am I want to become a better person and a perfect instrument for the right man or woman.”
Elise, feeling a little silly, repeats the tall woman’s words.
“Good. Now take off your top, fold it in half and put it on top of your dress.”
“Then this is it now,” thinks Elise. “Well, okay.” She reaches back and fumbles with the catch of her bra, unclasps, cups the bra off her breasts. Feels the heat in her face gives a little shrug and smile as she sets the bra aside.
“And put it on the dress,” says the tall woman.
Elise does as she’s told. She knows she has funny-looking, little pink nipples that go erect so easily, always at the wrong bayburt escort time!
Nonetheless, the tall woman seems to approve. Her tone softens. “You’ve reviewed the Agreement? Do you have any questions?”
“My dad,” says Elise. “I want to make sure he gets the care he needs. That the hospital—everything—will be paid for. Like we discussed.”
“Of course. And you can confirm it with your family. Email once a month. Skype every three months.”
Elise shifts in her chair. The fact of what she has agreed to suddenly very real for her. But no turning back now. Onward and forward. Onward and forward.
“You are going to learn a lot about yourself,” continues the tall woman. “Exceed limits. Overcome inhibitions. And I will know you better than anyone ever has. You will have no secrets. You understand this?”
Elise nods. These things have been discussed before. She does not want to think of them in detail now. She feels a little light-headed and there’s a tickling sensation in her stomach that’s strange and discomfiting.
“Hands on the tabletop,” says the tall woman, “Sit straight.”
Elise straightens, clasps her hands in front of her.
“You have small breasts. Good posture will show them to their best advantage.”
Elise does not know quite what to say. When she finally says, “Thank you, Ma’am,” the words come out hoarse, a whisper.
“Now, I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer clearly,” says the tall woman. “Single?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“How long?”
“Six months—no, seven.”
“How many times a day do you masturbate?”
Elise hesitates. Wants to say, “but that’s personal!” Shifts again. “I don’t know. Sometimes twice. But, you know, not every day. Sometimes—”
“Just answer the question.”
“Once, Ma’am.”
The tall woman continues: greatest fear (being smothered), sex in public (no, never), contraceptives (always), favorite sexual position…
“Okay,” says Elise. “Why do you need to know this?”
“Favorite sexual position?”
A moment of silence and the ticking of the grandfather clock.
“Facing him,” says Elise.
“In his lap? Is he lying down?”
“Lap.”
… sex position you hate (doggy), something you like that’s done to your nipples (sucking), something you hate that’s done to your nipples (biting), access you’ll allow…
“Do you mean…?”
“Our default assumption is you will allow oral, vaginal bartın escort and anal penetration.”
Again, Elise hesitates.
“This is not a nunnery we are running here,” says the tall woman. “And we are paying a lot for your father’s care.”
“Okay, yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. Everything but anal. Ma’am.”
“You are saving yourself for someone?”
Elise reddens. “Do I really have to explain this!?”
“Exceed my expectations,” says the tall woman.
Again, the silence and the ticking of the clock. Elise imagines her father in his bed, the oxygen tanks, his labored breathing. She manages to nod.
“Good,” says the tall woman. “Now, who will have access?”
Elise does her best to answer the questions that follow, tells herself this is just like answering a doctor’s questions. But a new anxiety rises in her for each answer brings her closer to that leap of faith that will be required—the courage to sign away for two years the person of Elise. Maybe sign it away forever.
… favorite part of your body (legs), part you like least (breasts, um, nipples), most sexual partners you’ve had at one time (one), ever kissed a woman (no), ever been put in a cage (no), would it scare you (not sure), handcuffed (never), pain tolerance (average).
And just like that the questioning is over. The tall woman swipes at her iPad and turns it toward Elise, pushes it across the tabletop. The simple contract has been updated with Elise’s responses and includes a statement of terms and conditions, the signature line.
Elise reads it all carefully as much to ensure it is accurate as to delay the inevitable. The grandfather clock strikes 4. The time has come. With a breath, she signs and slides the iPad back. Then sits back in her chair, crosses her arms, feels her heart racing.
The tall woman flips the cover of the iPad closed.
“Up,” she says, “Get undressed. Fold the clothes on top of your bra. Jewelry goes in this envelope (she slides a manilla envelope across). Begin.”
“If I could, I just need to call my sist—” starts Elise.
“Begin.”
“But—”
“Now!”
Elise stands at the violence of the command. She takes down her undies, steps out of them, sets them on top of her bra. Rolls down first her left stocking, then her right. Unclips her faux pearl earrings, takes off her bracelet and then the silver ring that was a sort of good luck charm. Slides these into ığdır escort the envelope. Stands, naked now, red-faced, nipples embarrassingly erect. But still with the table between her and the tall woman.
“You’ll get these things back at the end,” says the tall woman as she takes up the envelope. “But you will not need them. They will belong to Elise and you will not be Elise any more. Now, step over here.”
Elise steps out from behind the table, heads to the spot where the tall woman has directed her, just inside the doorway.
“Stand straight. Breasts out. Hands behind you. Good.”
“Ma’am. I promised my sister I would—”
The tall woman continues as if Elise has said nothing at all: “From this point on, you will speak only when spoken to. You will do exactly as I tell you. And you will do it promptly. Is that clear?”
Elise swallows. The hurt of not being able to say goodbye, at her sudden loss of freedom, nearly chokes her. But what can be done about it? “Yes, Ma’am,” she says softly.
“Mule tells me you couldn’t sit still this morning.” The tall woman stands and steps to Elise, brushes Elise’s nipples with her fingers as Elise flinches slightly. “Stand still!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The tall woman circles Elise, runs her finger from Elise’s breasts, round her bare back. “Impatience is a weakness. So, you are going to learn Patience to start.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” says Elise trying to stand as still as she can as the tall woman returns to stand before her, brushes a wisp of hair from Elise’s forehead.
“You will start out in the cornfield. As a scarecrow. And from now on, your name will be Scarecrow. Clear?”
Elise only hears some of what the tall woman says—guard the cornfield, scarecrow—and wonders how this will teach her anything, and like this? Outside naked like this!?
Mule returns. The dusky-haired girl eyes Elise up and down and her gaze settles on Elise’s little, pink and very erect nipples. Elise looks away in shame.
“Mule, take Scarecrow to the field.”
The field. Somehow Elise makes herself move, guided by Mule’s surprisingly gentle touch at her shoulder. Through the kitchen—a blur—into a short hallway, then mud room, and the door to the rear of the cottage. Unable to stop her legs from trembling suddenly, she tries to steady herself, to be strong.
Mule opens the door. There are three concrete steps down to what was once some kind of patio but is now overgrown with weeds, and beyond that a dilapidated barn, and then the long, sown field where the corn will grow.
But Elise sees no more than that, shoved rudely and hard from behind, tumbles forward down stairs and concrete, skin scraping, down to her hands and knees on the overgrown patio, momentarily stunned.
Mule on the top step looks down. “Get moving, you snobby bitch,” she says.
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