An October breeze blew around the house, and Jessie heard the back door banging now and again.In the fall the door frame always swells and has to be jerked shut.This time, they forgot about it.Before they fell in love, she thought, Gerald had to go back and close the door, otherwise the banging would drive her mad.Then she thought how absurd that would be, given the situation, and would be totally emotionally damaging. What emotion? That's a good question.Gerald turned the hollow key shaft in the second keyhole, and she heard a slight click above her left ear, and realized that, at least for her, the emotion wasn't worth it. Keep.Of course, that's why her door wasn't bolted.The sexual excitement of this bondage play did not last long for her.

Gerald, however, was different.At the moment he was wearing only a pair of jockey briefs, and Jessie didn't have to look up in his face to know that his interest was still there. This is silly, she thought.However, stupid does not fully explain the problem.And kind of creepy.She didn't want to admit it, but the fear was there. "Jerrod, why don't we forget this?" He hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly, then walked across the room to the dresser that stood to the left of the bathroom door.As he walked, his expression brightened at the same time.She watched him from the bed.Her arms are held open and raised upwards, making her a bit like the Fay Ray who is chained up waiting for the gorilla in King Kong.Her wrists were handcuffed to the mahogany bedpost with two sets of handcuffs, which gave her six inches of movement in her hands, and that was all.

He put the keys on the dresser—two soft clicks.Her hearing seemed particularly sharp this Wednesday afternoon—and then he turned to her.Above him, the reflection of the sun from the lake flickered on the high white ceiling of the bedroom. "What did you say? You take a lot of the charm out of it for me." But it wasn't all that attractive in the first place, but she didn't say it. He grinned.His hair was as black as a raven's wing, and his narrow forehead had a broad pink face beneath his hairline.She always disliked the way he grinned.She couldn't say exactly what that felt like, but—

Oh, you must be able to tell.It made him look goofy that way, but in fact, you could see that for every inch that mouth opened, his IQ dropped ten points.At its widest grin, your charming husband, the corporate attorney, looks like the janitor of the local mental institution. That's cruel to say, but it's not entirely inaccurate.But how do you tell your husband of nearly twenty years that every time he grins, he looks like he's showing mild symptoms of psychosis?Of course, the answer is simple, you don't have to tell him.His smile is something else entirely.He had a charming smile—that warm, peaceful smile, she thought, that had convinced her to come out with him in the first place.As he sipped his pre-dinner gin tonic, the smile reminded her of the smile on her father's face when he told his family anecdotes.

It wasn't a smile, though, it was a grin—a grin he seemed to reserve only for these occasions.She had an idea that for Gerald, who was in charge of this matter, this lewd smile might be pirate-like.Yet from her perspective, lying there with her arms over her head and naked except for a pair of bikini shorts, she looked silly, not... retarded.He wasn't the carefree adventurer in the men's magazines after all.He used to vent his lonely but exuberant youthful sexuality frantically to those magazines.He was a lawyer, his big pink face stretched across his forehead below a hairline that narrowed relentlessly upward to his bald crown.He's just a lawyer, and his erection distorts the shorts, only slightly.

However, it doesn't matter how hard he gets, it's the grin that matters.That hasn't changed a bit, which means Gerald doesn't take her seriously.She had to fight, it was a game after all. "Jerald? I mean it." The grin widened, and the easy-going lawyer showed a few small teeth again, and his IQ dropped another twenty or thirty points.He still wasn't listening to her. Are you sure that's the case? sure.She couldn't read him the way she could—she thought it had taken her much longer than seventeen years of marriage to learn that.However, she thought, she usually knew exactly what was going on in his head.If she didn't know, something was very wrong.

If that's true, honey, why can't he understand you?How could he not see that this was not a new scene in the old sex drama? Now it was her turn to frown slightly.She always hears voices in her head—everyone, she thinks, though people don’t usually talk about them, any more than they talk about their bowel movements—and they’re mostly old friends , sounds as comfortable as wearing bedroom slippers.But, it's a new voice... not at all comfortable.It was a strong voice, youthful, powerful, and restless.Now it speaks again, it asks and answers itself. It's not that he can't understand you, but sometimes he doesn't want to understand you, baby.

"Jerrod, really—I don't want to. Get the key back and unlock the lock for me, and we'll do something else. I'll come up if you want. Or you can lay there with your head on your hands, and I'll do it." Fuck you. You know, another way." Are you sure you want to do that?asked the new voice.Are you really convinced that you want to have sex with this person? Jesse closed his eyes, as if that would silence the voice.When she opened her eyes again, Gerald was standing at the foot of the bed, the front of his shorts bulging like the prow of a boat, um, maybe, like some kid's toy boat.His mouth was opened wider, exposing the last teeth - filled with gold - on both sides.She realized that she didn't just hate that goofy grin, she despised it.

"I'll let you come up...if you're very, very good. Jesse, can you be very, very good?" Old fashioned, commented the new voice that wasn't gibberish, completely old fashioned. He stuck his thumbs in his belt like a comical gunslinger, and once the jockey shorts were over his huge cock, they dropped quickly, revealing everything.It wasn't the giant love engine she'd first seen as a teenager in the porn novel Fanny Hill, but a pink, circumcised, docile thing with a five-inch erection that didn't stand out.Two or three years ago, during one of her few trips to Boston, she saw a movie called "The Architect's Belly."She thought, yeah, now I'm looking at a lawyer's dick.She had to bite the muscles in her cheeks to hold back a smile that was inappropriate at the moment.

Then a thought occurred to her, which stopped her urge to laugh.Here it is: he doesn't know she means it, because, to him, Jesse Mechter Burlingame, childless, wife of Gerald, sister of Maddy and sister of Will, Tom and Sally's daughter, really isn't here.When the key clicked coldly in the handcuffs, she ceased to exist.In the bottom drawer of Gerald's desk, the men's adventure magazines he read as a teenager had been replaced by a stack of pornographic magazines.These magazines featured naked women wearing pearl necklaces kneeling on bearskin blankets while men who used sexual devices possessed them from behind.Strictly speaking, it looked like Gerald's cock was less than theirs.On the back of these magazines, between the porn phone ads with nine hundred numbers, were advertisements for inflatable women.These women's bodies should be anatomically accurate—a grotesque notion, if Jessie had ever met such a woman.Now she realized something, and she wondered at the blow-up dolls, at their pink skin, caricatured bodies, and featureless faces.Not fear—not quite, but a bright light flashed inside of her.What was shown was not so much the silly game—or the game they played this time at the summer house by the lake where the summer had long since disappeared—than the scene itself was horrifying.

However, these did not affect her hearing in the slightest.Now she heard the chainsaw, whining incessantly far away in the woods, maybe five miles away.Nearby, on the surface of Lake Cashwickmark, a loon croaked furiously.The bird was late on its annual southward migration, and its song pierced the clear blue October sky.Closer still, somewhere on the northern shore of the lake, a dog was barking.The barking of the dog was harsh and unpleasant, but Jesse felt inexplicably comforted.That means someone else is here, regardless of whether it's the day of the week in October or not.If not, there is only the sound of the door hitting the bulging frame like a broken tooth loose on a rotten gum.She thought she would go crazy if she listened to that sound for too long. Now, Gerald was naked except for his glasses.He knelt on the bed and began to crawl towards her, his eyes still shining.She thought that it was this kind of light that made her play this game even after her initial curiosity had been satisfied.It had been years since she had seen Gerald gaze at her with such intensity.She wasn't ugly—she managed not to gain weight and still maintain a slender figure, but Gerald's interest in her waned anyway.She thinks the alcohol is partly to blame—he drinks a lot more now than he did when they were married—but she knows it's not the whole story.How about that old saying?Parents are disrespectful, familiarity breeds contempt.This statement is not true for men and women in love, at least according to those romantic poets.She read about their work in "English Literature 101."But in the years since she went to college, she has discovered certain truths of life that John Keats and Patsy Shelley never wrote about.Of course, they both died when they were much younger than she and Gerald were now. None of this matters here and now.Maybe, what mattered, she didn't really want to make the game anymore, but still did it because she liked that hot twinkle in Gerald's eyes.It made her feel that she was still young, pretty, and capable.But…… But if you really think he's looking at you when he has that light in his eye, baby, then you've been deluded, or rather, you've deluded yourself.Now, maybe you have to make a decision - a real decision - whether you intend to continue to live with this disgrace.Because, isn't that exactly how you feel?shame? She sighed.Yes, it does. "Jerrod, I do mean it." She spoke a little louder now, and for the first time the light in his eyes flickered a little.Well, he seemed to be able to hear her after all, and maybe, things were still good.Not great, it hasn't been great for a long time, just good.Then there was that light again, and in a split second it was that goofy grin again. "I'll teach you, proud beauty," he said.He actually talked like that, he said the word "beauty" the way the landlady pronounced it in a bad Victorian melodrama. Then let him do it, and it will be over. The voice was much more familiar to her—she was about to follow its advice.She doesn't know if Gloria Stanning, the leader of the modern feminist movement, agrees, and she doesn't care.This suggestion is attractive and totally practical.Let him do it and it will be over.The argument is over.Then his hand—a limp hand with short fingers and flesh the same pink as the head of his penis—reached out and grasped her breast; Something snapped, like an overstretched kin.She jerked her hips and back up and shook his hand away. "Come on, Gerald, undo these stupid handcuffs and let me come up. It wasn't fun when there was still snow on the ground about March last year. I don't have a libido, I think it's ridiculous." This time, he listened to her.She saw it, for the light in his eyes went out suddenly, like a candle caught in a strong wind.She thought, the two words he finally understood were stupid and ridiculous.He had been a fat kid with thick-lens glasses, a boy who hadn't dated until he was eighteen.After the age of eighteen, he went on a strict diet and began to try to curb the excess fat that spread all over his body so that he would not be burdened by it.By his sophomore year, Gerald's life was, as he described it, "more or less under control" (as if life—his life, after all—was a wild horse that had been ordered to tame ).She knew, however, that his high school years had been a horrible bluff, bequeathed to him by a deep contempt for himself and a distrust of others.His success as a corporate lawyer (and his marriage to her, which she believed played a part, perhaps the key), had greatly restored his self-confidence and self-esteem, but she speculated that some of the nightmares were never fully aborted.In the back of his mind, the bullies were still asking Gerald this and that in the study room, still laughing at his incompetence; in gym class, unable to do anything but girly push-ups.And the words—like, stupid, ridiculous—that brought everything back, and middle school seemed like yesterday...or so, she thought.Psychologists can be incredibly stupid, almost on purpose, about many things, and it often seemed to her that was the case.But, she thought, there are some terrible memories that always exist, that's right.Some memories oppress one's nerves like vicious water frogs.Certain words—such as stupid, ridiculous—can instantly bring people back to those anxious and awkward years. She waited for a pang of shame in herself, thinking dishonestly like this.But it didn't, and she cheered up—relieved perhaps.Maybe I'm tired of pretending.she thinks.This thought led to another: she could have her own sexual agenda, and if she did, this handcuffed game would never be on the agenda.The handcuffs humiliated her.The whole idea made her feel degraded.Well, along with the unsettling arousal that accompanied the first few experiments—the ones with the scarf—she also experienced multiple orgasms on several occasions, a rarity for her.But it still has unpleasant side effects.That humiliating feeling is one of them.Every time she played this early game with Gerald, she would have nightmares herself.When you wake up from a nightmare, you will be sweating profusely and panting, with your hands clenched into fists and deeply inserted at the crotch of your legs.She only remembered one of the dreams, and that memory was distant and vague.She was playing a game of croquet naked, when suddenly the sun disappeared. Never mind that, Jesse, you can think about those things another day.Right now, the only thing that matters is getting him to let you go. Yes.Because it's not their game, it's all his game.She continued the game only Gerald asked her to.And that's not good enough anymore. The loon on the lake uttered its lonely cry again.Gerald's goofy expectant grin had been replaced by a bland displeasure.You ruined my fun, you shrew.That expression said. Jesse found himself remembering, seeing that look the last time.In August, Gerald came to her with a glossy pamphlet and showed her what he wanted.She said yes, if you want a Poscher, of course you can, they can afford it.But she thought he'd be better off buying a membership to the Forest Avenue Health Club, as he'd been threatening to do for the past two years. "You don't have that physique now," she said. She knew it wasn't tactful, but she felt it wasn't the time to be tactful.Besides, he had pissed her off, causing her to ignore his feelings.It's been happening more and more often lately, and she doesn't know what to do about it. "What do you mean by that?" he asked stiffly.She didn't bother to answer.She had learned that when Gerald asked this kind of question it was almost always unanswerable.The important message lies in the simple subtext: You're driving me crazy, Jesse, you're not making games. However, on that occasion—perhaps unconsciously preparing for it—she was willing to ignore the subtext: "Meaning, whether you own a Poscher or not, you'll still be forty-six this winter, Gerald, you're still thirty pounds overweight." Cruel, yes.She could have done better without it.When she looked at the picture of the sports car on the cover of the brochure Gerald had handed her, she could have waved away the flashing image.At that moment, she saw a fat kid with a red face and a hairline between his foreheads, stuck in the inner tube of the wheel he had brought to Play Inlet. Gerald snatched the booklet from her and strode away without a word.After that, Posche never brought up the subject again... But his dissatisfied stare means "we are not happy", and she often sees the shadow of this matter in it. At this moment, she was under that more intense gaze. "You said that sounded interesting. That's exactly what you said originally - 'sounds interesting'." Did she say that?She thought she had.But that was a mistake.Something went wrong, that's all, slipped on a discarded banana peel.Indeed.But how can you tell your husband that when he is grinning like a baby with his lower lip about to lose his temper? she does not know.She looked down...she saw something she didn't like at all.Mr. Happy, Gerald's variant, doesn't flinch at all.Apparently Mr. Pleasure hadn't heard of the change of plan. "Jerrod, I just don't—" "Want to? Well, that's a weird thing, isn't it? I've been out of work all day, and if we're going to live overnight, that means no work in the morning." He thought to himself for a moment, then repeated, "You said Sounds interesting." She started making excuses like a tired old poker player. (I said that. But now I have a headache. Said this, but I'm suffering from nasty premenstrual abdominal pain. Yes, but I'm a woman, and I have the right to change my mind. Yes, but here we come out, come The vast inaccessible land, you terrify me, you wicked beautiful whore, you.) These lies either feed his false ideas or his ego (the two are often interchangeable).However, before she could touch a card, any card, the new voice spoke up.It was the first time it had spoken aloud, and Jessie was fascinated to find that the voice sounded exactly the same in the air as it did in her head: firm, decisive, dry but not out of control. The voice sounded familiar and curious. "You're right--I think I'm sure I said that. But it sounds like it'd be really fun to elope with you before your name hits the door with the rest of the A's. I thought, I could play the guitar a little bit, Then sit on the edge of the bed and enjoy the peace. Maybe, play Scrabble after the sun goes down. Is that offensive enough to make you sue, Gerald? What do you think? Tell me, because I really want to know. " "But you said—" For five full minutes, she kept telling him in various ways that she wanted to get out of the goddamn handcuffs.But he still didn't let her go.Her patience ran out of control and turned into anger. "My God, Gerald, when we first started making this game, it wasn't fun anymore. If you weren't a papaya, you'd realize that." "That mouth of yours, that sharp, mean mouth, I hate sometimes—" "Jerald, when your head is really thinking, you can't listen to anything good or bad. Whose fault do you say?" "I don't like you when you're like this, Jesse. I don't like you at all when you're like this." Things got worse and worse and turned scary.The most frightening thing is that it develops so fast.She was suddenly very bored.She remembered a line by old Paul Simon: "I don't want a bit of this crazy love." It's true, Paul, you may not be tall, but you are not stupid. "I know you don't like me and that's okay because now it's about these handcuffs, not when I change my mind about something and say how much you love me or don't love me. I want to get out of the handcuffs. You're listening Did I say?" No, it dawned on her, dismayed, that he wasn't really listening.Gerald still ignored her. "You're so capricious and mean. I love you, Jesse. But I hate your damn mouth, I always have." He wiped his pouty rosebud mouth with the palm of his left hand , and then looked at her sadly.Poor, deluded Gerald, taking responsibility for the woman who let him come to this wild forest, but broke her promise and refused to fulfill her sexual obligations.Poor, deluded Jerrod, who showed no sign of getting the keys to the handcuffs from the dresser by the bathroom door.Her uneasiness turned into other emotions—and now, to some degree, it was mixed with anger and fear, the only time she remembered ever having felt it before.When she was about twelve, at a birthday party, her brother Will poked her in the shame, and all her friends saw it and laughed.Haha, it's ridiculous, ma'am, I think...but not to her. Will laughed the hardest.He smiled and bent over, his hands on his knees, his hair covering his face.At that time, the Beatles, the Stones, the Searchers, and others had only been around for a year or so.Much of Will's hair was dragging down, apparently blocking his view of Jessie, because he didn't know how angry she was... In normal circumstances, he knew Jessie's mood and temper well.He kept laughing, filling her with the desire to vent, and she knew she had to do something, or just have a fit.She made a small fist, and when her beloved brother finally looked up to see her, she hit him on the mouth, knocking him down like a log.He began to howl.Afterwards, she tried to convince herself that he was crying out of surprise rather than pain.However, even at the age of twelve, she knew that the situation was not so simple.She hurt him, badly.He had a cut on his lower lip and two cuts on his upper lip, she hit too hard.But why?Just because he did something stupid?But he was only nine--he was nine that day, and at that age all children would be silly.No, it's not that he's stupid, it's that she's worried—that if she doesn't do something about that nasty anger and embarrassment that's going to be... (Turns out the sun.) The truth of what happened to her the first time that day was this: she had a well inside her, and the water in the well was poisonous, and when Will poked her, he dropped a bucket into the well, and the bucket lifted It came up full of filth and wriggling worms, and she hated him for it.She thought, it was this hatred that made her attack, made her attack.Something in her heart terrified her.Now, all these years later, she finds that it still scares her...and angers her. You won't put out the sun, she thought.She hadn't the slightest idea what the words meant.You'd be damned if you did. "I don't want to argue about little things, Gerald. Go get the damn key and unlock it for me." Then he said something that shocked her so much that she didn't understand it at first: "What if I don't unlock it for you?" The first thing she noticed was the change in his tone.He usually speaks in a bravado, gruff but earnest voice - here I take care of everything, which is pretty lucky for us all, isn't it?But now, it was a low tone she was not familiar with.The gleam came back to his eyes—that hot little spot that had turned her on like a set of floodlights before.She couldn't see very well—his eyes were squinted down behind gold-rimmed glasses and became dilated slits—but the light was there, there it was. And there's that weird Mr. Happy, who doesn't flinch at all.In fact, it looked longer and larger than any time she could remember...though maybe that was just her imagination. Do you think so, baby?I don't think so. She went through all of this information before returning to his last sentence—the startling question: What if I don't unlock it for you? This time, she went beyond intonation and considered meaning.She felt her anger and fear intensify as she began to grasp the meaning of the words.Somewhere inside her the bucket was down the well again, scooping up sewage filth—a bucket full of bacteria, almost as poisonous as a copperhead in a swamp. The kitchen door was banging on the doorjamb, and the dog was barking in the woods again, and it sounded closer now, a shrill, hopeless bark that would surely throw you off if you listened to it long enough. Headache. "Listen, Gerald," she heard herself speaking in a new, strong voice.She realized that the voice could have chosen a better time to break the silence.After all, handcuffed to a bedpost, wearing nothing but a pair of revealing nylon shorts, on the north shore of the seldom-traveled Bushwick Mark Lake—and yet she found herself admiring herself. "Are you listening to me? I know these days, when I talk, you don't pay attention. But this time, it's really important that you listen to me. So...are you listening?" He was kneeling on the bed looking at her as if she were a previously undiscovered insect.The red capillaries in his cheeks squirmed in an intricate network (she took them to be Gerald's drinking sign), and his face was almost purple.His forehead was also flushed purple.It was so dark in color and so clear in shape that it looked like a birthmark. "Yes," he said, and he said it in his new low voice, and it was—yes. "I'm listening to you, Jesse, I'm sure I am." "Okay. So, you go over to the dresser and get the keys. You unlock this." She clacked her right wrist against the headboard, "and then unlock this." She unlocked her left wrist in the same way. clatter. "If you do that right away, we can have some normal, pain-free sex with mutual orgasms and go back to living a normal, pain-free life." Pointless.she thinks.You left out that word.A normal, pain-free, meaningless life in Portland.Maybe that's the case, maybe a little too dramatic.She found that being handcuffed to a bed made that happen.But, anyway, it might as well omit that word.It showed that the new, not-so-bad voice wasn't so brash after all.Then, as if to contradict that thought, she heard the voice—it was her voice, after all—beginning visibly to pick up pace and grow angry. "But you keep hanging around and laughing at me, and I'm going to go straight to my sister's house from here, find out who gave her a divorce, and I'm going to call her. I'm not kidding." I don't want to make this game. Then something truly unbelievable happened, something she hadn't expected: his grin came back, like a submarine, after a long and dangerous voyage, finally reaching Safe waters, surfaced.However, that's not really unbelievable.What's really incredible is that that grin no longer makes Jerrod look like a harmless retard, but makes him look like a dangerous lunatic.His hand came again, and he stroked her left breast, then squeezed it, causing her pain.He pinches her nipples, it's really annoying.He had never pinched her like this before. Yo, Gerald, it hurts! He nodded gravely and appreciatively.This look, paired with that frightening grin, looked very eerie. "Fine, Jessie, I mean the whole thing. You could be an actress, or a call girl, for a lot of money." He hesitated, then went on, "That's supposed to be a compliment. gone." "My God, what the hell are you talking about?" But, she was sure she knew what he was talking about.Now she is really scared.Something terrible was happening in the bedroom, spinning like a black top. And yet, she's still pissed off - just as pissed off the day Will poked her. Gerald was actually laughing. "What am I talking about? For a little while, you made me believe what I said, and that's what I said." His hand rested on her left thigh, and when he spoke again, his voice Cheerful, quirky, and no-nonsense. "Okay—do you want to split your thighs for me? Or do I do it myself? That's part of the game too?" "Let me come up!" "Okay... finally you come up." His other hand stretched out.This time, he pinched her right nipple.He pinched her so hard that it stimulated her nerves, and small golden stars appeared one after another, running along the left side of the body to the buttocks. "Now, part your beautiful legs, my proud beauty!" She took a good look at him and saw a terrible thing: he knew, he knew she didn't want to continue playing this game for fun.He knows, but would rather not know what he knows.How can a person do that? The voice that was not talking nonsense said: If you are an experienced litigator in the largest law firm in South Boston and North Montreal, I think you can know what you want to know.If you don't want to know, you don't have to know.I think you're in big trouble here, baby.This trouble can end a marriage.Better to grit your teeth and close your eyes.Because, I thought, that annoying pox-style sex was coming. That grin, that ugly, vulgar grin.Pretend not to know.Fake it like hell, and he'll pass a lie detector test on the subject later.I thought that was part of the game.He'd say that with wide-eyed eyes, deeply hurt.I really thought so.If she insisted on attacking him with her rage, he'd end up relying on this ancient defense...and slipping into it like a lizard into a rock: you like the game.You know what you like, why don't you admit it? Pretend not to know.Know it but still intend to do it.He handcuffed her to the bedpost, and that was done with her own cooperation.Now, uh, crap, don't overdo it.He was going to rape her, really going to rape her.Meanwhile, doors were banging, dogs were barking, chainsaws were hissing, and loons were croaking on the lake with changing sounds.He really intends to do it.Yes, sir, boys, hey, hey, hey, you ain't got a woman if you don't flop around like a hen on a hot skillet.If she did go to Maddy after the humiliation was over, he would go on to insist that rape was not on his mind at all. He put his pink hands on her thighs and began to part her legs.She didn't fight much because, at least at this moment, what was happening was too frightening and shocking for her to fight back. This is exactly the right attitude.The familiar voice in her heart sounded.Just lie there quietly and let him vent.Bi Jing, how can the situation be?He's done this at least a thousand times before, and you've never lost your temper.Maybe forget, it's been years since you stopped being a blushing virgin. If she neither listened nor followed the voice's advice, what choice did she have?As if answering her, a picture of fear appeared in her mind.She saw herself testifying in divorce court.She didn't know if there was such a thing as a divorce law in Maine.However, this by no means obscures the vivid picture.She saw herself in the conservative Madam Callan's suit, with a pink silk blouse underneath.She was sitting upright, with a white strapless bag on her lap.She saw herself speaking to a judge who looked like the late television announcer Harry Renerson.Yes, indeed, she had volunteered to accompany Gerald to this summer house.Yes, she had allowed him to tie her to the bedpost with two sets of Craig handcuffs, and she had done so willingly.是的，事实上，他们以前曾做过这种游戏，尽管从来没在湖边这个地方做过。 是的，法官，是的。 杰罗德继续在分她的腿，杰西听见自己在告诉那个像哈里·瑞纳森的法官，他们怎样以丝巾开始，她怎样听任这个游戏继续下去，从用丝巾发展到绳索，最后到用手铐。尽管她很快就厌倦了整个事情。她对这个游戏变得厌恶了。因为厌恶，她才允许杰罗德在十月的工作日里，开车行驶八十三英里路，将她从波特兰带到卡什威克马克湖边来。因为反感，却又导致她再次由着他将她像狗一样锁起来。正是对整件事情的厌倦，以致她就这样只穿一条尼龙短裤。透过那若隐若现的短裤，你可以看清纽约时报的分类内容。法官会洞察秋毫，对她深表同情。当然他会的。谁不会呢？她能看到她自己站在证人席上说话，“我就在那儿，被手铐锁在床柱上，身上一丝不挂，只穿着维多利亚式神秘的内裤，脸上挂着笑。但是，在最后一刻我改变主意了。杰罗德知道这一点的，所以这就是强奸。” 是的，先生，那确实对她有利，包管没错。 她从这可怖的幻觉中回到现实，发现杰罗德在扯她的裤子。他跪在她的两腿间，脸上的神情如此专注，你很相信，他是打算参加法律考试，而不是干他并非情愿的妻子。 在他肥厚的下唇中部有一条白色的唾液线顺着下巴往下淌。 让他干吧，杰西。让他发泄掉吧。就是他精囊里的那玩意儿使他作怪，你懂的。那玩意儿使男人们都作怪。当他发泄完了，你就能和他打交道了。因此，别大惊小怪了。就躺在那儿，等着他把那玩意儿排出体外。 这个建议不错。她想，要不是她内心产生了新的想法，她就会照此行事了。这个无名的新来者显然认为，杰西通常得到的建议来源——这些年来她渐渐把它认做伯林格姆太太——是一种最高指令。杰西本可以听任事情自然发展的，但是，两件事情同时发生了。首先她意识到，虽然她的手腕给铐在床柱上，她的腿脚却是自由的。她意识到这一点的同时，杰罗德的那条水线从他的下巴滴落了。它悬挂了一会儿，拉长了，然后滴落在她的上腹部，就在肚脐上方。她产生了某种熟悉的感觉，心头掠过一种似曾经历过的、强烈的、可怕的感觉。她身边的屋子似乎暗了下来，仿佛窗户和天窗已经被熏黑了的玻璃所代替。 这是他的精液。她想，尽管她清楚地知道并不是的。是他那该死的精液。 她的反应与其说是针对杰罗德，倒不如说是针对她脑海深处涌来的憎恶情绪。从真正的意义来说，她的行为丝毫没加考虑，而只是本能地对某种令人惊恐的记忆猛然作出反应，就像一个女人意识到卡在她的头发里拍动翅膀的东西竟然是一只蝙蝠。 她缩回腿，抬起的右膝差点击中他的下巴颏，然后她又将她的光脚像机器活塞一般伸了出去。她的右脚板和脚背深深地击中了他肚子的四处，她的左脚跟猛地踢到了他那坚挺的阴茎，挂在其下的睾丸就像软软的熟透了的水果。他失去了平衡，向后倒去，屁股落在他肥胖无毛的腿肚子上。他的头斜斜地仰对着天窗和反射着日影的白色天花板，他喘着气高声叫了起来。at this time.湖面上的那只潜鸟也再次啼叫起来，形成可怕的陪衬。在杰西听来，就像是一个男人向另一个男人表示同情。 现在，杰罗德的眼睛不再眯缝着了，也没有闪光了。它们大睁着，颜色就像今天完美的晴空一样碧蓝（杰罗德在办公室打电话给她，说已经把公务向后延了，问她是否愿意去那消夏别墅至少待上一天，也许过一夜。她想去看看那寂寥秋日的湖面上的晴空。这想法便是她来这的决定因素）。他大睁的双眼露出痛苦的表情，她几乎不忍心去看。他的脖子两侧梗起了条条粗筋。 他的叫声变得微弱了，仿佛有个人用一种特殊的杰罗德遥控器调低了音频。当然，情况并非如此。他已经叫了相当长的时间，也许有三十秒长。他只是喘不过来气了。我肯定把他伤得厉害，她想。他面颊上的红点及额头上的红块现在转成紫色了。 你干的好事！伯林格姆太太沮丧的声音叫道。的的确确是你干的！ 是的，该死的狠狠一脚，是不是？那新的声音自言自语。 你踢了你丈夫的睾丸！伯林格姆太太叫道。看在上帝的份上，谁给了你权力做那样的事？谁给了你权力以至于开那样的玩笑？ 她知道问题的答案，或者说她以为她知道：她那样做是因为她丈夫有意强奸她，过后以欺骗手段处理此事，说是一对特别和谐的婚姻伴侣总做些无伤大雅的性游戏，这次事件是由于忽略了对方发出的信号。是性游戏的过错。他会耸耸肩膀这样说。游戏的错，不是我的错。杰西，如果你不想做这游戏的话，我们就不再做了。当然，他知道，他所能提议的任何事情都不再会使她束腕待缚了。不会了，这是最后一次她为这一切付出代价。杰罗德知道这一点，他有意充分利用它。 她意识到的存在于屋内的那个黑色东西已经失去控制了，正如她所担心的那样。杰罗德看上去仍然在叫着，虽然现在他噘起的痛苦万状的嘴巴根本发不出声音了——至少她什么也听不见。他的脸上血色充胀，以至于有些地方看上去完全是发紫了。她能看见他的颈静脉——也许是颈动脉，如果在这样时刻这一点很重要的话——在他仔细刮过的喉管皮肤下面剧烈地起伏着。不管是静脉还是动脉，看上去就要爆裂了。一阵令人作呕的恐怖袭击着杰西。 “杰罗德？”她的声音听起来细微、游移不定。这是一个在朋友的生日晚会上打碎了贵重东西的小女孩的声音。“杰罗德，你没事吧？”这话问得愚蠢，令人难以置信的愚蠢，可是，这个问题要比她脑中真正存在的问题要令人质疑得多：杰罗德，伤得狠吗？杰罗德，你想你会死吗？ 当然，他没打算死。伯林格姆太太紧张不安地说。你伤害了他，你确实已经伤害了他。你应该感到难过。可是他不会死的，这里没有谁会死的。 杰罗德噘起的嘴巴仍然在无声地颤动着，可是他没有回答她的问题。刚才他一只手放在肚子上，另一只手捂着受伤的睾丸。现在，他的双手慢慢移上来，落在了他左边的乳头上，那双手落在那儿，就像是一对丰满的粉红色鸟儿，太疲倦了，再也飞不动了。杰西能看见她的光脚的形状——她的光脚——凸现在她丈夫圆圆的肚子上，为他粉红的肉色所映衬，那鲜红，仿佛是责难她的印迹。 他在呼气，或者说试图呼气，他抑郁地呼出一种像烂洋葱气味似的雾气。 那是潮气流，她想。我们肺部的百分之十是作此功用的。难道老师们在高中生物课上不是那样教我们的吗？是的，我想是这样的。潮呼气——溺水者和窒息者最后微弱的喘气，你一旦排出那种气，要么昏厥，要么…… “杰罗德！”她责备地尖声叫道，“杰罗德，呼吸呀！” 他的眼睛从眼窝里鼓出了，就像粘在一块弹子盘里的蓝色弹子。他确实勉强吸进了一小口空气，并说出了最后两个字。 “……心脏……” 再没言语了。 “杰罗德！”现在她的声音既充满震惊，也含有责备，听起来像是个老处女教师，逮着了向男孩们调情，撩起裙子向他们展示内裤上的松鼠图案的二年级女学生。“杰罗德，别闲荡了，呼吸呀！真该死！” 杰罗德没有呼吸，他的眼球却在眼窝里翻了上去，显露出泛黄的眼白。他的舌头伸了出来，发出了放屁的声音。从他软缩下去的阴茎里成弧状射出浑浊的橘黄色尿液。她的双膝和臀部为温热的尿液所浸湿。杰西发出了长时间的尖叫。这一次，她没有意识到她在拽着手铐，借助它们来拖开自己，尽可能远离他。她一边这样做，一边很尴尬地将双腿盘了起来。 “别这样，杰罗德！请别这样，你马上要掉下床——” too late.即便他仍在听她说——她理性的头脑怀疑这一点，也太晚了。他弯着的背向床沿外躬出了上半身，地心引力便接手了。杰西有一次与杰罗德·格林伯姆在床上吃东西，他就是这样脚朝上头朝下地向后倒去，就像一个笨手笨脚的孩子，在年轻基督徒协会的游泳池里做自由泳时，试图用这样的举动来给他的朋友们留下深刻印象。他的头颅撞在硬木地板上发出的声音又让她尖叫起来。那声音听起来就像是某种巨蛋磕响在一只石碗边沿。她宁愿放弃一切也不愿听到那样的声音。 接着便是沉寂，只有远处链锯的嘶呜声打破这沉寂。杰西圆睁着的双眼前绽开了一朵巨型的灰色玫瑰，花瓣张开着，张开着，它们就像庞大的无色飞蛾的粉状翅膀，将她团团围住，挡住了她的视线，有一会儿她什么也看不见了。这时，她惟一清晰的感觉便是一种感激之情。