She tried to calm Madge’s frantic gait. Eventually she got her to sit down, but not hold still. At any moment it looked like she would throw herself onto the floor.
"Mom, I wanted to talk to you about dad."
Betty looked for a sign of acknowledgment that her words were received. She tried again, talking slow and loud.
“Mom, I wanted to tell you about Randall from the farm."
Nothing.
Out of remorse and frustration she blurted, "Mom, he's dead!"
Madge stopped cold. The words struck a nerve. Her wide, dark ringed eyes scanned the room like a lighthouse looking for a shipwreck, but met Betty's eyes instead. Her voice startled her daughter.
"He was so sensitive to your pain. No matter how small it was. If you fell off a horse he dusted you off and put you back on. You pricked your finger on a rose bush, he kissed it, took your pain away. He couldn't kiss my pain away. He was always doting on you. He did more for you than he ever did for me. You were my daughter too. He loved you more. He chose you over me, his own wife. If he's dead, he's dead because of you somehow."
That was not what Betty needed to hear. It was too much to take. She thought of her mother as the last connection to her old life, but another part of her childhood died that day. The orderlies came and locked her mom away, and Betty was alone.
Betty returned to Razzles. It was the only home she had left. She sat at the bar in her white nursing uniform. A tiny captive, cyclopean audience of empty shot glasses stared up and waited for a show. In any other place this may have been an odd site, but the crowd ignored her. The intoxicating serum she ingested acted like medicine. She administered it to try and stay ahead of her pain. It hurt too much to think she had killed her father. He was the only man she ever really loved.
She looked around and asked herself. "How did I get here?"
Sometimes the city seemed so small, but then everyone ended up at Razzles sooner or later. It was like the drain to a sewer. She watched the faces in the crowd through the mirror behind the bar. She saw herself in the refection too. "Am I one of these people?"
These people were all the family she had left. She knew most of them. She knew their secrets and desires. She had a story to tell about each and every one of them. But none of them knew her.
Her eyes stopped on an older man in the crowd. She recognized him all too well. His name was Carson and he was the President of the Citadel Bank. He was the man who evicted her family from their farm. He was the man who held the deed to the vacant property. He came to Razzles often, although she never served him. In fact she avoided him. He had power over her in a way that no other man did. He had something she actually wanted. And she wanted it back tonight.
She was ready to step over another line. It was a line she hadn’t crossed before that night. She felt like a traitor to her parents, but now they were both gone. So what did it matter? It wasn’t really a betrayal. It was just business.
She picked herself up from the bar…twice. Removed a hairpin from her nurse’s cap, shook her hair down and approached him. She wasn't the little girl she once was. So she wasn’t surprised that he didn’t recognize her. He was interested in what she was offering that night. She had the manager set up a typical deal.
Shortly, the brokered couple was in a cozy rented room. He was standing near the door wearing only black socks. She was posed on the bed covered only by a red sheet. They sized each other up. Neither spoke. Carson could tell this wasn't going to be the typical intercourse he was accustomed to.
To Carson, life was a series of competitions. To him everyone was an opponent. There had to be a victor and a loser in all matters. Even sex. Sex was a game of control. Each of that night’s contestants knew it. They both enjoyed it, but the game had rules. Betty was going to break them. The number one rule at Razzles was, men were always right.
In the back of Betty’s mind there was a lingering, unanswered question. She wanted the answer that night. She wanted the truth. So she used the bedroom as a lab to perform a private experiment. She wondered who had the most power? Was it the men or women? Of course, she had her own theory, but she had to test it for validation.
His mysterious adversary looked flush and ripe. "You’re very pretty. Now lay back on the bed for me."
She said, "No."
Carson wasn’t familiar with that word. She defied his orders. She sat up at the edge of the bed. He told her to stay on the bed. She got up. He reached to touch her. She pulled away and said, "No. Not till I say so."
She looked serious. He laughed at the absurdity. It was obviously a new game of some sort. Betty tried to take charge. It was cute, but he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't break his winning streak. She began tossing mean words at him through gritted teeth. Something about stealing farms from little girls. He was getting aroused.
It was getting interesting. He wanted to play too, but wasn't sure where to start. "I’m not here to talk about real estate toots. I’m here to screw you."
"Never again." Betty scolded.
Carson asked. "What?"
She glared at him and stood her ground. Her stance was preposterous to him. Did she really think that she could stop him? He laughed and provoked her. "You're little spitfire aren't you?"
"Go to hell!" she seethed.
She was marvelous and unpredictable and Carson loved it! He wanted to fight her.
He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it. He wanted to make a point. He was strong enough to fling her back to bed. She fought back. She was fighting for keeps, but he was just playing. He laughed as they wrestled. To him it was great! He loved how her soft body felt as it banged against him during battle. The harder she struggled the more aroused he became.
He was obviously the stronger of the two and he was going to win. But she didn’t make it easy, so he steamrolled over her on the bed. He crushed her under his bloated form. She couldn't breathe. He playfully mocked, "Say uncle."
His flab smothered her. All she could let out was a muffled scream. He teased musically. "I caaaaan't heeeeeear yooooou."
When the joke wore thin he let her up. He didn’t want it to end too quickly. He gave her a chance to attack again. His erection bounced as they chased each other around the bed. She lunged at him again and again. He easily repelled her. He loved that she was so mad. He grabbed both her wrists and spun her trapping her arms. He wrapped his body around hers and bear hugged her. It crushed her. He giggled as he pressed his erection into her back. "Feel that? Guess where that’s going toots?"
Then he shoved her on the bed and buried her face into a pillow. He folded her arm behind her back, and pulled at her shoulder till the joint hurt. She struggled to escape but couldn't. He had her. He had dominated her. She was utterly helpless. Betty started sobbing. Raw misery poured from her. She couldn’t stop it. To his surprise, her delicious tears, and the sweet music of her mourning made Carson climax.
She realized what happened and yelled out. "What is wrong with you people?"
He giggled. There bodies were pressed close throughout the match, but he never penetrated her. "Man oh man alive. That never happened before. Thank you, doll. That was just what I needed."
He chuckled hardily. "I haven't had that much fun since I was a boy. You truly are the best, kiddo."
He released her supple form and she fell into a wet spot.
Her experiment was an utter failure. She lost control. She didn’t want him to enjoy it. She wanted him to take his semen back. He thought she was joking. She wept uncontrollably. Betty knew she wasn't in her right mind. She could tell she wasn’t making sense, but thought if she kept talking, a message would take form and coerce him. He tried to follow her words but it was too difficult.