Page 86 of Has-Been
He moved, and by the time he returned, I was breathing a little easier, because the nausea was fading. I gargled and spat out some water before I sipped a few mouthfuls, while Has kept reaching out, like he wanted to steady my trembling hand before I ended up wearing the water.
“He… had some kind of tattoo…”
Has looked stunned, reaching out again as the glass in my hand twitched with another shudder.
“But you said you didn’t… oh Jesus… his dick was tattooed? That’s what you’re struggling to say, right? His fucking cock.”
He looked like he wanted to throw up too, but he also looked like he wanted to hit something, or more likely, someone.
“Has-”
“Sorry, I know this is really hard for you. You don’t need to deal with my shit too. So what was the uh… what was the tattoo, could you tell? Did you see it well? Oh fuck… I don’t wanna ask… did he...”
“He didn’t rape me, no. He didn’t even force me to suck it, thank god, although he really wanted to.”
Has released a sigh of relief, but then he was frowning again. He took the glass from me and set it on the tiled floor, then he took a deep breath, and grabbed at one of my hands.
“Babe… I hate to ask this, but… if he wanted to, and he had his dick out, and we know he got off… what stopped him from uh… from forcing…”
Oh god. Of course! How could I forget that?
“Oh god… he had a phone call! He forced me face down so I couldn’t look at him, when he removed the helmet to answer it. Has… oh my god…it sounded like the call was from Reacher.”
Has-Been
Ofallthethingsshe might have said right then, that was the last thing I expected to hear. Reacher? That meant the guy was definitely one of us, and more importantly, we might be able to find out who really fucking easily. How many guys could Reacher have even phoned today, or was it yesterday… hell, it’d still narrow it down, right?
“Babe, I’m so proud of you. You’re gonna help us catch this fucker. How did you know it was Reacher? Did he have him on speaker?”
“No… but he called him Pres, like you guys do. I mean… unless it was a guy called Pres, but that’d be too weird a coincidence, wouldn’t it?”
I helped my girl out of the bathroom, after she’d freshened up, and I put her back to bed. With her permission, I called Reacher, unfortunately waking the fucker up.
“Pres, I need you in our room asap. Bring Stitch too. Elise remembered something important.”
Grumbly and grouchy, Reacher was the Club President we all knew him to be, when he just responded to say he was on his way, and then ended the call.
Less than ten minutes later, I let Reacher and Stitch into our room, leaving Elise in the bed, and carefully covered up.
“She okay?” Stitch went to push past me and I stopped him.
“She remembered some stuff, and I think it’s important, but she wants me to tell you. Look, the main thing is he didn’t rape her. He didn’t force her into anything, aside from fucking jerking off over her face.”
Stitch groaned and dragged a hand down his tired face.
“Thank god, even though he’s gonna pay for degrading her like that.”
“Damn straight he will. Look… she’s been very upset, and it made her physically ill to talk about it, so I’m not pushing her to go through it again.”
Stitch nodded, dare I say, even looked like he respected me for it. I gestured to the sofa and they both sat down.
“You’re only gonna be here a few minutes, because Elise needs me, but look.” I sat down on the low coffee table, casting a quick glance across the room to check on my girl. She was curled up on her side, and I think she was finally asleep.
“When he did what he did, she could see some kind of tattoo on his dick. She couldn’t describe it, because of course she didn’t want to see it at all, but there was definite ink.”
“Okay, that’s really fucking useful, because I think at most we have about four guys in the club with ink down there.”
“That’s sick, who the fuck lets a tattoo gun near their dick?”
