They drove through wooded country. They passed the odd two-tone house. A trailer or two. She didn't see any people, not until a pickup truck came the other way. She tried to make eye contact with the driver of the truck. She tried to say help me with her silent lips. But the man in the truck didn't see her.
Selena tried to return to her breathing. It was one of the only things she had left. One of the only things she could control. She still didn't recognize where they were. There was an apple orchard off to the left. There was a sign that said Blanchard's Apples that had a hand-painted picture of a loaded apple tree on it.
She looked into a dark farm house window as they drove by, feeling alone.
They drove for a long time. She started to see more houses, which gave her a small dose of hope. If someone could see what was happening....
The trick would be getting someone's attention without letting her kidnapper know what she was doing.
“This is where the fun part happens,” said the man. “I'm taking you to my house. You know, I think you're a keeper. You're the kind of toy I can keep in the basement. I can have fun with you for a long time.”He clicked his tongue as a kind of auditory punctuation and smiled at her. She saw yellow stains on his teeth, from either coffee or cigarettes or some combination thereof.
Don't panic now, she thought. Think about a way out.
“I'm thirsty,” said Selena. “Do you have water?”
“Shit – water? I didn't think to bring no water.”
“Please. My throat. I haven't had anything to drink all day.”
“You gonna die on me?” He laughed. “That's not up to you, missy.”
“No, I'm not going to die, but it hurts. I'm so thirsty. Please.” Her plea was part truth, part exaggeration to get him to pull over somewhere. A stalling tactic.
He sighed. “I'll get you water. But only if you suck this first.” He pointed between his legs. “Deal?” He grinned, exposing more yellow stains in his mouth.
The urge to vomit came up, but she swallowed the lump of nausea and forced it back down. If she didn't agree to his idea of a deal, he might beat her. He might change his mind about her and shoot her on the spot. He looked crazy enough to do either of those things.
“Okay,” she said. “I'll do it if you pull over. Just please get me some water.”
The man drove a little further. They passed more houses, then more trees that blurred past the windows of the car. He slowed down just before a cemetery. He turned into it and pulled in far enough that any passerby wouldn't be able to see into the car.
He parked it and turned off the engine, which made clicking noises as the radiator cooled down. There were tall pine trees overhead. There was no grass between the gravestones, only moss and pine needles.
The man looked at her. He unzipped his pants and exposed himself. He put his hand on his cock, which was already hard and stank of old come and urine, and wagged it at her. He said, “Do your magic, woman.”
For an instant, she thought about trying to bite his penis off, just swallowing as much as she could and then biting into it hard like she was eating a piece of undercooked steak on the fourth of July. She could do that, and while it would be disfiguring, it wouldn't kill the bastard. He'd have time to shoot her or grab her neck and choke her to death. Both those realizations made her see that she'd run out of options at this particularly awful moment; she'd have to give him what he wanted.
She reluctantly moved her face toward his lap and parted her lips.