Physical Touch (10 page)

The bigger one is now on top of her, pinning down her arms. His fingers pull at the strap of her tank, yanking it down past her shoulder. Her skin crawls. She wants to gauge his eyes out, but she can’t. She struggles, pushing her shoulders off the ground, but he takes her head in his hands and slams her back down. 

It momentarily goes black, the world around her. And then she hears a ripping sound. She blinks, trying to refocus, but her head hurts.  She feels something warm in her eyes. It’s blood.
Oh my God, I’m bleeding
.

The man is breathing hard and his rough, sweaty hand begins to grope at her breast. His touch is rough. Criminal. Sinister. She hears him cackle. She hears the word
No
being repeated over and over again. Is she saying it out loud? His face comes down to her body, his wet slobbering tongue inching over her flesh, tasting her. Groping her.  Ruining her. She feels the man on top of her grind against her, his rigid body rutting hard against her. She hears him groan and then from far off in the distance, she hears shouting.  Someone calling out. 

The second man is whispering in a harsh, nervous tone. “
Fuuuck, man. Let’s get the hell out of here. Just get her fuckin purse.”

Another loud sound, this time closer. A whistle, like the sound a referee makes.  The man on top of her curses and pushes himself off, but not before his tongue darts out and licks her cheek. “Next time, pretty baby. Next time.” 

The two hooded men look around, grab her bag and take off, leaving her momentarily frozen, chills skating down her shaking limbs. She is now surrounded by other voices...helpful voices...covering her naked and bruised body.

Are you okay
?

Someone call an ambulance. 

Her head’s bleeding. 

Sweetie, it’s all right. You’ll be okay. 

But she knows that’s not the case. She will never feel okay again.

Rylie jerks out of bed, the sweat clinging to her, sending hot and cold shivers down her spine. Her entire body is a live wire – humming with electricity, her hands balled in
to fists. She’s shaking uncontrollably and her hair is matted against her forehead, her T-shirt and shorts soaked through. Flipping to her side, she leans over to look at the clock on the nightstand. Four-thirty a.m.
Great.

She had to be up and out of her apartment in three hours and she needed to get back to sleep, but she knew at this point sleep would elude her. Instead, she was drenched in sweat and wide awake – frightened and anxious.
Goddamn it. Those fuckers.

Getting out of bed, she slipped off her shorts and shirt and found a new set in her bureau. She headed into the bathroom where she splashed some cold water on her face and grabbed a washcloth to wet and smooth over her forehead and the back of her neck. Slipping the tank over her head, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, letting out a curse as she gripped the sides of the sink. 

When would this panic ever subside
?

It hadn’t dissipated in over five years. Only four people in the world, aside from herself, knew what occurred that night; her father, her brother, the beat cop who took her statement and Sasha. No one else was the wiser. Rylie made sure of that. There was no way she would ever let anyone look at her with
pity in their eyes or offer up banal platitudes or sympathetic gestures like they did that night in the hospital. She had been mugged, attacked and beaten, left feeling violated and helpless in the heart of the city. It took everything from her, leaving her a withering mess. 

And all she could do was swallow the fear and tamp it down. No use crying over it, because that would just be a travesty. There were few things worse than expressing your feelings in the
Hemmons’ household. And therapy or counseling? Don’t even think about it. Even if her brother wouldn’t have kicked her butt for showing weakness, there was no way Rylie would have subjected herself to having discuss the details of the attack with strangers.

So instead, and by accident, Rylie found a way to lose the victim mentality and take control of her fears. She learned, through a then-boyfriend of Sasha’s who was an instructor, about a form of self-defense and martial art called
Krav Maga, the same self-defense system that the Israeli Military used and trained their soldiers. At the incessant urging of Sasha, she attended Kip’s class one Saturday morning. And as they say, the rest was history. 

Blown away by the natural and effective techniques that
Krav Maga used, including moves from boxing, Judo, wrestling and Kung Fu, Rylie found herself instantly enjoying the instinctual body movements and simple principles of the martial art. The fluidity of the moves, the concentration required, and the total body workout gave Rylie exactly what she yearned for – the control over her life. Without hesitation, she signed up for classes, fell in love with the sport and within a year, became a certified instructor. 

Now she was teaching other young women every Saturday morning at the Cambridge Rec center, helping those who were like herself onc
e – fragile, ashamed and afrai
d
learn to fight to win their freedom back.

Realizing that sleep at this point would elude her, Rylie reached for her laptop and placed it on her lap, as she got comfy in bed. Might as well do some web surfing – at least that could get her mind off her woes. Checking out the late breaking news for a bit, then moving to look at the Nike Outlet site for the newest running shoe, it only took her ten minutes before she found herself typing Mitch Camden in the Google search engine.  975,000 results.  Hmm…okay. How about Mitch Camden, Boston? The first result that flashed up on the page was Camden Ventures. Clicking the link, she pulled up the Home page for Mitch’s business. 

Doing a quick scan of the contents and the current projects, she clicked the About Us page. It brought up two bios, including one for Mitch and another one for a Jackson Koda, Esq., the same guy that was with Mitch at the bar the other night. Nothing against Jackson, but she was far more interested in the juicy details on Mitch. 

Rylie read through a brief description of his education and accomplishments,
very impressive
, followed by some comments about his philanthropy and charity involvements. For such an asshole, he certainly had a caring side, she thought, scanning the pictures. Clicking the photos page, her breath hitched as she landed on a headshot of Mitch. He was in a charcoal gray suit, white dress shirt and a deep green silk tie, that brought out the emerald flecks in his beautiful hazel eyes. 
Damn, he was gorgeous
.  Flipping through a few more, she saw pictures of him on various project sites, and what looked like a trip to Africa, where he was feeding a group of children. 

In one particular photo, his golden smile lit up his face, his angular jaw transforming and softening his features. His deep hazel-green eyes, hooded by sooty, thick lashes, sparkled like sea glass in the sun. He had his arm around a young boy, who was maybe about five, and another man who was wearing military fatigues. Mitch looked gorgeous, his smile depicting a light she hadn’t seen yet. And the other man he had his arm
around had strikingly similar hazel eyes and a wide, perfectly straight smile. They all looked happy. She could see love and a deep bond between the two men. His brother? He had to be related to him in some way, their facial expressions and likeness too similar not to be.

In the few encounters and short time she’d known him, she’d never seen Mitch this contented. Sexy, yes. Incredibly handsome, absolutely. But she sensed something was missing right now. He didn’t have the same gleam in his eye that he did in that photo. Interesting. She’d have to see if she could pick up on that if she ever saw him again. But that was unlikely, considering what she asked Sasha to do for her.

She must have been staring at his smiling face for five minutes and caught herself sighing as she continued to look at his full lips, upturned into his bright smile. Her body suddenly felt overheated, the memory of their kiss flooding back, spreading straight through to her core. Her finger came up to touch her lips, the memory of his lips skimming down her neck and his hands caressing her breasts. The warm tingly feeling invaded her body and she realized at that very moment that even the thought of Mitch turned her on. 

She hadn’t allowed anyone to touch her like that since before her attack. Five long, painful years of keeping her pain hidden and he was her first. And instead of repulsing her, bringing back horribly vivid flashbacks, Mitch’s touch ignited her. It was pleasure and it was wrong, she knew it. But it felt right. It made her feel
whole. 

Rylie closed the website and sighed again. She didn’t understand why she kept thinking about Mitch or worried about what occurred between the two of them. She shook her head, trying to clear her head and make herself forget. She had to remember that Mitch was just a playboy. She was a game to him. He probably got off on the chase and once he got what he wanted, she’d be erased from his thoughts.

It didn’t matter, anyway, because come Monday, everything would be wiped clean. Mitch would no longer be her client to worry about, she made sure of that. She had beseeched Sasha to find a way to extricate herself from Mitch’s case. She groveled and begged until Sasha granted her request.

Rylie climbed back into bed, placing her hand on her stomach, trying to ease the knot that had slowly begun to build in the pit of her stomach. She knew, without a
doubt, that Mitch would move on, forgetting her existence in a moment. She breathed deeply, trying to reassure herself that this would mean she could resume her normal, everyday life. No entanglements.

But even that thought now depressed her.

By some sheer act of mercy, Rylie’s Saturday morning Krav Maga class went relatively smoothly, even though she was slogging through it with the limited sleep she’d gotten the night before. Her four regular students showed up, as well as two new participants, who all had the same deer in the headlights look. She got excited to see their expressions change over the class hour as the intensity of the workout brought them the same unexpected exhilaration she had felt the first time she practiced it.

Finishing
up at five minutes before the hour, she spent time after class meeting with the newbies, discussing the program dynamics and reviewing the specifics, costs, and their goals. She was always curious to find out what others wanted out of self-defense, as it was a different and unique experience for each individual. She learned that not everyone came out of fear and self-loathing. Damaged beyond repair.

With her bag and gear packed, Rylie walked out the gym door, waving a goodbye to Kip, who was at the front with a client, and headed to her car. She spoke with Sasha the night before and promised to swing by and pick her up before heading to Logan to see Mark off to Africa. As if she knew she was thinking about her, Rylie’s phone chirped with a new text from Sasha. 

Where are you
?

Rylie sat down in her front seat and typed a quick message back. 

BRT…leaving class now
.

Hurry up
.

Rylie chuckled to herself at her friend’s impatience. Sasha was a lot of things – a fashion plate, a doctor, an over-sexed woman. But patient, she was not.

Within fifteen minutes she was out front of Sasha’s Beacon Hill brownstone, watching Sasha fly down the steps, her short, gauzy skirt billowing in the breeze. She was impeccably dressed, day or night, and always a little bit wild. There were times Rylie felt a tinge of jealousy at her obvious talent for accessorizing, wishing she herself could put something together other than T-shirts and jeans. She’d certainly improved over the years, with constant nagging and counsel from Sasha. At least she’d even gotten to the point of rotating the earrings she wore on a daily basis – which was a vast improvement.  She had her limitations, she knew, regardless of Sasha’s constant badgering. 

Jumping in the car, Sasha leaned over and gave Rylie a quick peck on the cheek, slapped on her seatbelt and pulled down the visor to reapply her lipstick in the mirror, all within a matter of seconds. Sasha was efficient, to say the least, if not a bit anal about her lipstick application.

Satisfied with her painted pouty lips, Sasha smacked her lips together and adjusted herself in the seat to turn to Rylie. 

“So…do I need to drag it out of you?” she asked, not beating around the bush with a formal greeting.

Rylie gave her a quick look over her shoulder, pulling into the fairly vacant street traffic.

“Drag what out?”

Sasha’s mouth quirked up in a knowing smile. “Oh gee, let me think. Maybe I’d like to know what the hell happened between you and Mitch Camden that sent you flying over the freaking ledge yesterday? That man is a Greek god and you’re a pussy for not being able to handle it.”  That was Sasha…never one to mince words or filter her thoughts.

Rylie knew to expect the first degree from Sasha, but debated whether to come clean and share every detail. Knowing her friend would eventually figure it out and make her spill everything, she decided s
he’d share most of it and leave out some of the more savory parts.

Rylie loosened and then tightened her grip on the steering wheel before responding, really uncertain of how to explain it to her. “I don’t know, Sash. Maybe I am…or was a bit overwhelmed by his…”

“By his what? His incredible hotness? His virility? His huge cock?”

Rylie couldn’t help but choke out a laugh at her friend’s bold choice of words. Recalling the heated moments she’d spent with Mitch over the last week, she considered what it was that had her fleeing for the hills.

“No – it’s not that,” she said, shaking her head, trying to find the words that made her weak. “It’s his intimidatingly smooth arrogance and self-confidence.”

Sasha looked at her as if Rylie had two heads. 

“Really? He was too confident in his masculinity? Most women would wet themselves over a man like Mitch. He’s wealthy, smart, insanely gorgeous, and from what I hear, one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston.”

She grew quiet and contemplative for a moment, looking intently over Rylie’s profile. Rylie felt uncomfortable in her examination, as if she were mentally
sussing out the details. But instead, her tone was laced with apologetic worry.

“Ry, did he try something on you? You know if he did, I will personally kick his ass. I will never allow a client to intimidate my employees, physically or verbally. You know this.”

Rylie could feel Sasha’s eyes boring into her scalp, like little daggers digging to get inside her brain. Sasha was intensely fierce when it came to protecting her friend, especially in light of her history.

Rylie shook her head emphatically. 

“No – God no! At least not in the way you mean,” she said, hesitating slightly, her face heating up like a torch. “Mitch…he…well, I guess, kissed me…” She stopped, taking a quick glance over to Sasha, waiting for the reaction to her admission. “More than once.”

“Oh, holy shit. And did you kiss him back?” 

Rylie shook her head with her admission.

“Oh my God! I’m so proud of you! Please tell me you at least liked it, otherwise there is something seriously wrong with you.”

Rylie knew her friend was only joking, because she had an amused smile on her face. But considering it had been five years since she’d enjoyed a man’s touch, her statement still held a lot of truth. She had worried that maybe the damage done to her had been irreparable. That she’d never feel safe again with a man. Never want to open herself up to the possibility of getting too close. Protecting her heart and her body from the pain and anguish.

“Yes, I liked it. A little too much,” she whispered guiltily. “But I crossed the line, Sasha. My judgment was impaired and I couldn’t do my job effectively. I couldn’t touch him without feeling something and it was unprofessional. That is NOT who
I am. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. My reputation…in fact, your clinic’s reputation is at stake. And the only way I can prevent that irreprehensible behavior from occurring in the future is to stop working with him altogether.” She looked at her friend sheepishly. “I know that’s the coward’s way out…but it was impossible to resist him and do my job effectively.”

Sasha took a breath and blew it out, straightening out her skirt and repositioning herself back toward the front of the car. Her disposition went from enthusiastic to somber.

“Well, Ry, I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have to face your fears. You can’t always get what you want.”

“What does that mean? I thought you were able to work it out so that I could transfer him to Carmen next week?” Rylie could hear the sudden panic rising in her voice, feel it creep up in her throat as it clawed to escape. She felt the walls closing in on her.

“Listen. I did check Carmen’s schedule and she said she could pick up the three days next week and I emailed Mitch to let him know. Then he sent me an email not twenty minutes later informing me he has a business trip out of town and needs a therapist able to travel…” Rylie knew what was coming next.

Sasha played with her skirt, a sign of nervousness that Rylie rarely saw from her.

“Ry, you know Carmen’s a single mom and can’t travel because of her kids. And I certainly can’t leave my patients and upcoming surgical procedures. So it’s up to you....plus, he offered to donate money for the addition to the clinic.”

Rylie had just pulled into the parking ramp at Logan International and sat there in stunned silence. She felt shell-shocked. Anxiety bubbled up from the pit of her stomach and rippled through her body. The telltale signs of a full-blown
panic attack were taking shape, the tightening of her chest, the short, choppy breaths that had Rylie gulping for air. She swallowed thickly and turned to face Sasha.

“He bribed you? Oh my God
- what does that make me, his paid prostitute and you’re my pimp?” Rylie’s face burned red. This could not be happening. All she wanted to do was get away from him and the strange hold he seemed to have over her. Her brain and body warred with her, the mixed feelings having an internal sword fight. She didn’t want to be near him, yet that’s the only place she wanted to be.

Rylie glared at her friend and then took a steadying breath.

“And just where exactly will you be sending me on this business trip of his?”

Sasha gestured a ‘Ta-Da’ with her hands, bestowing a congratulatory smile at her friend. With her voice two-octaves higher than normal, she exclaimed, “Miami!”

****

Rylie put on a good face as they met up with Mark and his family inside the terminal. Sasha had started gushing tears the moment she saw him, as they all hugged and said their goodbyes. Before he went into the security line, Mark pulled Rylie aside to hug her and speak with her privately. 

“Hey sweetie, it’s only going to be a year. I promise I’ll Skype you weekly,” Mark said, pulling her close in a bear-hug. “You can keep me updated and fill me in on all the outlandish details of Sasha’s love life – that slut!”

Rylie laughed, but a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, making her way down her cheek. She would miss him immensely and was worried for his safety being so far from civilization. 

“And the offer holds – you can come visit me anytime you want. I may look all brave and manly on the outside, but between you and me, I’m scared shitless.”

Rylie hugged him tighter. She was so proud of Mark, accomplishing what he set out to do. He was pursuing his dream by joining Doctors-Without-Borders and would be in Ghana for the next twelve months. He was so brave and confident, despite his admission to the contrary. She wished she could be more like him, to prove with actions that she could be strong and courageous. To recapture the fire that had been stolen from her.

“Then don’t go,” she choked out. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Ah, sweets. It’ll be okay. You’re in good hands here. And from the sounds of it, you may have someone to keep you entertained during my absence.” 

Rylie pulled back from his grip and looked up into his caring face, giving him an inquisitive look. Mark shrugged his shoulders and gestured innocently.

“What? You think I haven’t heard about the sparks flying already between you and Mitch Camden?” Damn that Sasha. Could never keep her mouth shut.

Mark chuckled and ruffled Rylie’s hair. She turned to where Sasha stood and gave her an evil look.

“No, Ry, it wasn’t Sash. I made that call the other night at the bar. Mitch was asking me a lot of questions about who you were, what you did, etcetera, etcetera. And it became pretty obvious when I saw you talking with him, even though you may not admit it to yourself, that there was something brewing there. You two looked rather chummy.” He pulled away from her and stepped back, his hand coming up underneath her chin. His eyes held her stare, as she blinked back tears. “Just promise me one thing.”

Rylie cocked her head. “What? I’ve already promised to Skype your ugly face every week.” 

“Ha! So true,” he laughed, but his smile quickly faded. 

“Just promise me to be careful. I’ve known Mitch practically my whole life. He’s an awesome guy and comes from a great family. But with women, well, he’s a notorious heartbreaker. He’s not looking to settle down. He’s good for a fling, I’m sure. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

Rylie grabbed hold of his shoulders and he brought his head down to touch her forehead. “First off,” she started indignantly. “I’m not involved with, nor will I be involved with
, Mitch Camden. He’s a client, for God’s sake. And second, I think he’s an arrogant ass.”

Mark laughed harder as he leaned in. “My dear sweet Rylie, you just keep telling yourself that.” He pushed himself off, patted her head and then turned to rejoin the rest of the group, who were now huddled around Sasha, the constant center of attention.

Waving their farewells, Sasha looped her arm around Rylie’s as they exited the main concourse. They walked in silence, arm in arm, until they reached the car in the lot.  Standing outside, Rylie looked out over the rooftop to her friend, who she could tell was trying ardently to mask her sorrow with an overly bright smile. 

Sasha and Mark had been best friends since their freshman year in college and were thick as thieves. They shared a small apartment all through med school and had been each other’s confidants through countless hook-ups and break-ups over the years.  For some of their longer-term significant others, their friendship was more than cause for jealousy, even though neither Mark or Sasha had ever expressed a love more than
friendship for one another. They were just connected, with a deep and true, unromantic love for one another. 

Sasha let out a sigh.
“I guess it’ll just be the two Amigas from now on,” she said, throwing her hands up on the roof of the car with a
thunk
. “Which means you’re going to have to up your rowdiness factor, Rylie Hemmons. Starting right now. We need to go to O’Leary’s and get shitfaced!”