Donna knew that something was coming, that she was not about to be untied just yet.Ms. Brendan was dressed in a black evening dress with shawl, black medium heeled shoes, her hair loose, freshly cut. Her face was made up with red lipstick as its only accent. She wore bits of jewelry that showed off her wealth.But even how simply cut her designer clothing was, her harsh character, her dominance, showed through.The woman with Ms. Brendan had a different presence. A black and white evening dress, dark blond hair, face neatly made up, beautiful shoes. She had a friendly smile and eyes, as she observed Donna.Both of them were of a similar age, Donna guessed. She had expected to see her torturers in extravagant fetish clothing, all whips and leather. Yet the two women standing in front of her looked as if they were attending one more perfectly lovely and entirely ordinary tea party, just as how everything had looked from the outside when Donna first drove by the house.Only when she looked. “Can I come in?” I asked.She was in the middle of the bed, legs drawn up, with her chin on her knees.She looked at me and nodded.I walked over and sat in the armchair by the window.“Your Mum wants me to take you home,” I said.She looked at me with horror written on her face.“No,” she yelled, “David, no, please. I can’t go back there.”“I told her no,” I said.“Oh,” she sighed, “thank you.”“I didn’t do it for you, Cal,” I replied, “I don’t particularly want to go to jail. I did it for me.”“You don’t love me any more do you?” she asked.I didn’t answer.“Cal,” I said after a few moments of silence between us, “one day I’ll have a job, maybe I’ll be a computer programmer, maybe a big time actor, but it will be a job, I’ll go out to work, and then hopefully, I’ll come home to my wife and children. My family. Never, ever, whatever job I do will that be more important to me than that family. If ever the job starts interfering with that, I’ll change jobs. I’ll just walk away. I don’t see you.
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