linxy - part VII
"Linx," he says formally, extending a
hand.
"Richie," I reply, making him frown.
You know doctors. They want to be CALLED doctors. Even if they’re just
quacks on retainer for a white slavery ring. He’s wearing some little silver
wire rimmed glasses to appear more professional, but he’s also smoking,
so it’s a tradeoff.
"Did she sustain any damage in the grab?"
He asks, taking notes in a file.
"A bruise from the needle. She’s a squirmy
bitch. I had to throw it into her neck." I shuffle through the foyer to
the bar in the living room to avoid his angry gaze. "What do you want from
me? She was like breaking in a bronco for chrissake." I stare at the bar
in horror. Ladies and gentlemen, the gin is getting low. I pour what’s
left into a lowball and dribble some tonic into it.
"Awake?"
"Sure, let’s go give her a look see.
She’s got a great body," I throw over my shoulder. "Muscular,
tight. Really clear skin. She’s a winner. Too bad Heitel’s not in
the market these days." The doctor laughs and we head into her room.
Amazingly, Olivia is near silent when he examines
her. She lays perfectly still, breathes when he tells her to breathe, doesn’t
flinch when he draws a few vials of blood. He looks at her back and arms, a
scar on the back of her wrist.
"What’s this?"
She speaks when spoken to, and even then, only
in short sentences. "My cat and I were playing. She scratched me."
"How long ago?"
She sighs. "I don’t know. Ten years?"
"Well." He looks at me and raises an
eyebrow. "She’s a keloid former…easy, obvious scarring. Any marks
you leave on her will undoubtedly be permanent." This makes her huff out
another sigh of desperation. He spreads her legs wide and bends them at the
knee while I hold them down by the ankles. "A
virgin?" He asks, seemingly to the air. She doesn’t say anything.
He slaps her hip, hard. "A virgin?"
"No." He sticks two fingers inside her,
explores a little and quickly pulls them out.
"She looks good," he says, "a little
dry." He concludes by patting her a couple of times on the thigh like a
racehorse. She turns her head away and I stare at her intense frown. She closes
her eyes. "When’s your period due?" The doctor asks, packing
up his bag. I turn and face the wall, feeling a little oogy at the subject matter.
I don’t want to buy tampons. She sighs again.
"What day is it? Friday? I would say two weeks,
but it’s not like I can pinpoint it."
"Fuck," Richie returns. "That’s
not a lot of time to get regulated. We’re going to take your period away
completely actually. One of the small perks of slavery. No more cramps."
He gets up and pats me on the shoulder. "I’m going to run the blood
tests this afternoon and then I’ll bring by the contraceptives. Make sure
she eats. And don’t let her get dehydrated."
"I’m all over it," I say, patting
him on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming by."
"Would you like me to call the buyer directly,
or bring the results to you?" He asks, making his way to the door.
"Send them to me. The buyer doesn’t want to be bothered."
I close the door behind him and turn around to
give Olivia a smile. "What a good girl you were!"
She doesn’t even turn her head to me. "You
told me not to complain. So I didn’t."
"On the contrary. I told you to complain all
you wanted, it just wouldn’t make a difference." I undo her hands
and she scoots up to a sitting position.
"I want a bath. I’m just trying to get
one." She won’t look me in the eye. "Plus, I don’t want
you to crack my jaw again."
"Look at me, I’m crying here. You don’t
want me to hit you again, so you keep your mouth shut. See? You’re learning
already. It’ll go in my report."
"Can I have my bath?"
"You think you’ve earned one?" She nods. I sit on the edge of her bed and sigh. "I think that maybe you can have your bath." She sits up.
"I still have to be in the room," I say.
Then I lean in and whisper, "I like to watch." She recoils in horror
and I laugh. "I’ll go start the water."
"Hey Linx," she says quietly. The first
time she’s said my name actually. I guess I never told her not to.
"Yeah?"
She still won’t really look right at me. "I
suppose that eventually you’re going to want more than to watch."
I shrug at her. No need to make her feel like I’m
infatuated. No need to let her know that I’d be fucking her blind right
now if it weren’t for my award winning self control. No need to show her
that she has some sort of power. Don’t they all know that? They’ve
all got a certain amount of power. It’s just that sometimes, we choose
to ignore it.
"Why do you say that?"
Now she shrugs. "It’s like having a migraine
since I’ve been here. All I can think about is when is that door going
to open and you’re not going to have a sandwich." Finally, her eyes
turn up to mine.
I lean against the wall and cross my arms. "I
don’t have a sandwich today."
"You know what I mean."
"Listen, princess. I’m your babysitter.
Be a good girl, don’t give me a hard time and you’ll probably escape
unscathed."
"Probably," she says, and I head into the bathroom alone.