Page 54

It.

That was me.

I was an it now.

A thing.

An object.

An object to be fucked.

Used.

Steve just laughed.

“Does Carol know?” asked John. The sofa dipped as he sat beside me, forcing my arm over his shoulder. His hand was pressed between my legs.

“Fuck no. She’d pitch a fit. I hide it in the closet whenever I’m finished just in case she ever comes down here.”

Carol, that must be Steve’s wife’s name. Carol. My stomach twisted when I thought of all he had done to me when he had a wife one floor up.

I grimaced as John fondled my left breast. His large hand squeezed me tight while his fingers dug in deep.

“Her tits feel real,” he said, astonished.

Steve just nodded his head.

John continued to grope and grab me. Putting down his beer, he pinched both my nipples between his finger and thumbs and twisted them.

Stop! That hurts!

“Hey! Knock it the fuck off. You want to tear her nipples off?”

Confused, I felt a strange sense of appreciation as Steve came to my rescue.

John shifted over to the other side of the sofa. “What does it feel like to fuck one of these?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve said, “The same, except you don’t have to give a shit if it comes and you can fuck it as hard as you want without it complaining.”

It.

It again.

“And you don’t have to buy it jewelry or dinner afterwards,” offered John, smiling wide at his own joke.

“Or marry the bitch!”

Steve and John high-fived one another.

John tilted his head in my direction. “You going to let me try it out?”

“Let’s get high first. You will almost think she’s real when you’re fucked up.”

Watching as if from afar, Steve took one of the hated mirrors down and dumped some fine white powder onto its surface. As if I were watching some bad 80s movie, I sat there as the two men snorted and coughed the better portion of it up their noses. At one point, Steve smeared some under my own nose. I waited to see if my plastic body would react. I’m not sure if I was grateful or not that it didn’t. Would the small escape f

rom reality the cocaine might have afforded me make what lay ahead any easier?

A sense of dread began to creep over me.