The Amazing Adventures
of Sara Corel
A novel by Toomey
was starting up the stairs to turn in when he heard the front door open again. He turned
around and called out, "Sara?"
It was Dinah. She was completely covered
with a very melodramatic and unseasonable trench coat. She was even wearing a hat, looking
like something from a very bad spy movie. He stared at her for what seemed like minutes
while she carefully locked the door behind her and planted herself in the middle of the
living room, confronting him.
He tried to placate her. "I'm
really sorry about what I said. I don't know why I got off on that subject."
"I don't give a damn about
that," she said, her voice as low as she could make it.
Alex couldn't decide if she was
trying to sound menacing or sultry. Either way, he was decidedly uncomfortable. "Do
you want to sit down?"
She ignored him. "Why did you decide
to go out with me?"
Uh-oh, he thought. "You asked me to
call you, that night at Birraporetti's."
"Did you find me amusing?"
He really didn't like this line of
questioning, but he felt trapped. Jeez, if she's flipped out or something, he sure
hoped Sara was paying attention. "I don't think there's a good answer to a
question like that."
"Did you find me attractive?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Did you feel sorry for me?"
"No! Look, I called you because I
thought maybe you wanted to see me and I wouldn't mind seeing you. I was intrigued.
And, frankly, I wasn't getting a lot of offers. Hey, I'm a dirt-poor musician,
living in a rat hole, who works Saturday nights, reads for fun and everybody calls
'Brainiac'. I took a chance. That's how people get together. Anyway,
you seemed to be pretty interesting and… Certainly
different…" He ran out of things to
"And built like a brick shithouse?"
"Uh… I wouldn't put it that
way. But… I guess you could…" he stammered on, sweating now.
"Like a great big brick shithouse.
Yeah, if you
happened to like enormous amazons who worked out fanatically.
Her size and obvious strength made her frightfully intimidating
and she knew it. Lacking the conventional feminine charms, she
used her physical power and outrageous proportions like a weapon
in her professional capacity — and had nothing else to fall
back on as a person.
he told her, wondering if he should be worried.
he mumbled, "OK?"
"Tell me you noticed."
"Sure, I noticed." Oh, he'd
"What did you notice?"
He was beginning to feel like he was the subject of one of her
"I… I couldn't
help but notice the way you dressed
sometimes. You… The way you … It was — very exciting." He
was feeling a little short of breath.
"Did you like that?"
"Yes." It was a whisper.
"Tell me what you liked."
"I liked it when you'd turn
suddenly and your… You brushed against my arm." Deliberately,
it would seem. He'd never dared to follow up. Maybe he should
have — but it always felt awkward.
"What did you want to do when I did
He could only stand there. Breathing
heavily. Trying not to show it.
"Tell me," she demanded.
"I wanted to…"
"Why didn't you?"
"I didn't know
if it would be alright."
"So you controlled
yourself," she said contemptuously.
Sure. Jeez, I can't read your mind, and you… I mean,
"And when I went home
— did you control
This was becoming so…
was like being stripped naked in his mind. What did she want?
"Tell me," she ground on
"No." His face
"No, you didn't control
"I… What do
you think? I guess you could put it that way."
God, this was
embarrassing. "I can't..."
it," she demanded.
"I... I lost control."
"Did you think about me when you lost
"You thought about my body?"
"Was it good?"
"It was..." His eyes were
riveted on her, breath flying in and out of his open mouth.
"You selfish bastard," she
"What…?" He felt like
he'd been kicked somehow.
"I went home, and you
"But… I didn't
"You selfish bastard," she
"I thought there was no chance for
us. That you'd be going back to New York. You only told me tonight that you'd be
staying in Houston."
"You want forever?"
"Well, yeah, I
guess. I'm not into
affairs. Because I can't stand the way they end."
"So why did you go out with me?"
"I liked you. I thought we could be
friends. I thought we were friends."
"So your friends make you lose control?"
"No. I mean… I don't
"Do you use all of your friends like
"Maybe I should use
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want me to use you?"
She was hammering him again. "I
"I think you do."
"What are you going to do?"
"Tell me you want me to do."
Alex's will was crumbling under her
onslaught. Was this her idea of seduction? Is this how a lawyer
commits rape? Did he have a choice? Did he want to have a
"OK," he croaked.
"Tell me," she snapped.
you…" he whispered.
me to do what?"
"I want you to use me."
Not wanting to break the spell, he slowly
turned, facing the stairs.
"Up," she ordered.
"Upstairs?" he asked.
"Now," she barked, pushing him
roughly in the back.
He stumbled, catching himself at the foot
of the stairs, and clambered up, Dinah closing in behind. She grabbed his arm at the top
and flung him into the master bedroom.
"Stand here," she motioned him
to the foot of the four-poster bed.
She grabbed his left arm, pinned it to a
post, reached beneath her overcoat and brought out a piece of golden rope, wrapping the
end around his wrist and the post. With the other end of the rope, she secured his right
wrist to the opposite post.
He was trapped. He didn't care. With
great ferocity, she tore his clothes into shreds, flinging the tattered pieces into the
corners. Then she stood before him, scanning every inch of his exposed body. She took her
time. It took forever.
Finally, seemingly satisfied at his
condition, she flipped the hat away from her head, shaking out her hair. In the dim light
seeping through the bedroom curtains from the garish blue streetlight outside,
it fell in
inky rivulets, curling tightly across her shoulders. There was some glinting, metallic
headband in her hair, with a crowning point.
Each button of the trenchcoat slowly gave
way until every one was undone. In one single, fluid motion, she whipped it off, twirling
like a matador's cape, to fall in a heap on the floor behind her.
"I'll show you a
real superhero," she growled.
She was wearing
high-heeled boots, coming up nearly to her knees. Wide, plain bracelets on her wrists. A satiny,
star-spangled tight outfit, like a one-piece bathing suit, with a golden emblem across
her chest. The costume emphasized her monumental proportions in a way that made
Alex's head swim deliriously, from the four-inch heels to the straining
material buttressing her mighty top.
She began to pose in well-rehearsed moves,
the harsh light adding relief to every contour. She showed him things he'd
never dared imagine, until his ragged panting seemed about to burst his lungs. She swung around from
one position to another, setting off cascades of ponderous ripples and waves in places he
ached to caress.
Then she crowded close to him, coming so close but
touching, now considering him from one side, now from the other, now crouching low before
him. Finally, she stretched out to her full, augmented height, bringing
herself so tantalizingly close to his face.
"Tell me what you see."
"I see your
"Do you like it?"
"I love it."
"Do you want it?"
"More than life."
"Do you need it?"
She reached behind her and meticulously
undid the zipper, one ratcheting tooth at a time, the front of her costume giving way
until only friction kept it from slipping down. She gave a marvelous shake, and
it fell away with a slight rustle.
She bent down until her
lips were level
with his, then slowly brought them together in the dark shadow of her hair. There, she teased him,
lightly caressing, not yet plunging into the release of total surrender.
finally ended, in another, distant part of the small
universe they now shared, they came together as lovers. She began their journey together
with slow, small, tremulous steps, bringing them along in a cascade of ever-mounting
In this manner she used him. He was in
every way hers to control. She had what she wanted and, in having, possessed his will, his
body, his mind, his soul. In the end, she surrendered, giving up every shred of her
control and his as well.
And so they passed unto the
© Patrick Hill, 2000