Authors: Mortal Fear
LILITH> I wouldn’t allow that. One at a time.
MAXWELL> Was the room dark or light?
LILITH> Dark.
MAXWELL> Did they all have you the same way? Missionary position?
LILITH> A couple tried to turn me over, but I knew better.
MAXWELL> How long did each one last?
LILITH> Why do you want to dwell on this stuff?
MAXWELL> Lilith.
LILITH> Some lasted a few minutes, others fifteen seconds. Most around two minutes, I guess.
MAXWELL> So it was just twenty minutes out of your life. No big deal. That’s what you’re telling me?
LILITH> No! I’m telling you it _was_ a big deal. But not in the way you think. After it happened, I no longer felt that stupid sense of obligation to satisfy whoever happened to want me. A guy has an erection, so what. That’s his problem. When I was younger I didn’t understand that. It may sound naive, but I didn’t.
There is a sudden silence. I wait with my hands gripping the arms of my chair. Where is Lenz getting this stuff? Despite my assertions to the contrary with Miles, I’m having a hard time remembering that “Lilith” is a middle-aged psychiatrist sitting in McLean, Virginia. The “female” voice synthesized by the computer probably contributes to the illusion, but Lenz’s nightmarish story is freighted with the pain of real experience. As I begin to worry that he has somehow blown it, “Maxwell’s” voice and text resume.
MAXWELL> You say you didn’t know any of these men?
LILITH> I knew the first guy. He was the guy who asked me to the party. My date. Hah.
MAXWELL> I think you knew someone else at the party, Lilith.
LILITH> Like who?
MAXWELL> A former lover?
Another caesura, then:
MAXWELL> Lilith?
LILITH> I’m here.
MAXWELL> I think you let these men have sex with you not to liberate yourself but to hurt someone else.
LILITH> You don’t understand anything.
MAXWELL> Be honest. Only truth can free you.
LILITH> You think you’re pretty damned smart, don’t you?
MAXWELL> I see what is. I sense pain.
LILITH> Yes, he was there.
MAXWELL> A former lover?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> He’d thrown you away for someone else?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> Was this someone else at the party too?
LILITH> No.
MAXWELL> Did this young man learn what you were doing upstairs? That you were servicing his friends?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> Did he come upstairs?
The longest silence yet kicks up my pulse rate. But finally “Lilith” responds.
LILITH> Yes. Someone pushed him into the room. They were yelling at him. Telling him to take a turn.
MAXWELL> Did he?
LILITH> No.
MAXWELL> What did he do?
LILITH> He started crying.
MAXWELL> Really.
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> And?
LILITH> I told him if he wanted me, he’d have to wait in line.
MAXWELL> Someone was fucking you while you said this?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> What happened then?
LILITH> He tried to stop it.
MAXWELL> Did it stop?
LILITH> No. They beat him up and threw him out.
MAXWELL> How did you feel after that? After he left?
LILITH> I wanted it to stop then. I wanted to go after him.
MAXWELL> To explain? To tell him how badly he’d hurt you?
LILITH> Yes. And how I’d wanted to hurt him back, so he’d understand what he’d done to me.
MAXWELL> Did it stop?
LILITH> No.
MAXWELL> Why not?
LILITH> I was trapped.
MAXWELL> By your own perversity.
LILITH> I guess. I don’t like to think about that part of it.
MAXWELL> The door to the room was open, wasn’t it?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> People were watching.
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> How many, Lilith?
LILITH> I don’t know.
MAXWELL> How many had you?
LILITH> I don’t KNOW! Some got in line two or three times.
MAXWELL> And what was it like?
LILITH> Horrible.
MAXWELL> What was it _like_, Lilith?
LILITH> Like drowning. Like they were holding my head under water. I couldn’t . . . fight. They were too strong.
MAXWELL> Did you call out for help?
LILITH> Yes.
MAXWELL> To whom? Your mother?
LILITH> No. If my mother had seen me that way I would have killed myself.
MAXWELL> Your father?
LILITH> My father was dead. There was no one.
MAXWELL> The police?
LILITH> I didn’t report it.
MAXWELL> You couldn’t, could you? You’d agreed to have sex with more than one man. At what point did it become rape?
LILITH> I knew that’s how a cop would see it. How men would see it.
MAXWELL> Women too, Lilith. Women are far more cruel judges of female character than men, I assure you.
LILITH> You don’t have to tell me that. But I meant what I said before about how it changed me. At some point during the thing, I just rose above it all. Like I died and rose ten feet above the bed and hovered there, and saw myself being humped by these brainless bastards.
MAXWELL> How did you feel about them?
LILITH> I didn’t feel anything. I saw them like a pack of wolves. Biological jello in the evolutionary chain. Consciously, they were just animals trying to show off to each other. Unconsciously they were trying to spread their genes. I just thank God I didn’t get pregnant from it. I might have killed myself.
MAXWELL> You talk a lot about killing yourself.
LILITH> I used to think about it a lot. Before that night, anyway. Like after a date when I had let a guy screw me, and then he wouldn’t call. That kind of purgatory feeling when all the other girls are out with their boyfriends, and you know they’re holding out for that letter jacket or that pin or that wedding ring, “Oh no, Jimmy, not there, not yet, just on the outside of my panties. I’m so sorry, sweetie. I can help you though, I’ll just use my hand, okay?”
MAXWELL> It sounds like you’ve been there yourself.
LILITH> Guys have told me that stuff.
MAXWELL> And you never held out for anything?
LILITH> Not back then. I dropped my panties for any good-looking guy with a hard-on.
MAXWELL> And now?
LILITH> I still don’t “hold out.” Because someone who holds out is on the defensive. I’m not on the defensive anymore.
MAXWELL> No?
LILITH> No. I fight for what I want, and I get it. I’ll bet I make more money than any of those idiot jocks who raped me.
MAXWELL> I wouldn’t be surprised, Lilith. There’s just one thing I want to know.
LILITH> My address, right? Or what color is my pubic hair? Christ, you’re all alike.
MAXWELL> Not at all. I would like to know what you’re doing on EROS.
I am praying Lenz will reply quickly, but the next voice that speaks is not his.
MAXWELL> It doesn’t seem to me that someone who has experienced what you say you have, and grown spiritually from it, would be spending time on a sexual on-line service. N’est-ce pas?
LILITH> I’m not a sexual being anymore? Is that your point? Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe you’ll see me again here. Maybe you won’t.
MAXWELL> I’m sure I will.
LILITH> I have a question for you, Max.
MAXWELL> Yes?
LILITH> How long is your cock?
MAXWELL> I shall not dignify that.
LILITH> I mean it. I like them thick at the bottom. Think you can follow fifteen guys in one night?
MAXWELL> Not to my taste, thank you. I’m a fastidious man.
LILITH> You’re a liar. I’ll bet you’re playing with yourself right now.
MAXWELL> You’re a hostile person, Lilith. Where did all that rage begin?
LILITH> You’ll never know.
MAXWELL> Someday I shall. Tell me, did you climax at any time during this forced bacchanal?
LILITH> I’ve never had a climax with a man in my life.
MAXWELL> What about masturbation?
LILITH> When I was very young. Not later.
MAXWELL> But you experienced some heightened state on that night.
LILITH> That night? I told you. It was . . . an elevated awareness. Like the more animalistic the situation got, the less individual I was, the less guilt I had, the less I had to worry about anything. Beyond some point, I knew nothing was my fault. And the men seemed almost in some kind of trance state. Like a frenzy. Something about their madness—it was a sexual madness, I think—passed into me somehow, like I was just a vessel for their anger and their fear.
MAXWELL> Why do you say fear?
LILITH> That’s what I felt, I guess. That underneath all their thrusting and heaving was some kind of awful terror, something they were running away from, something . . . worse than anything in the world.
MAXWELL> Death?
LILITH> Worse than that. And the harder they tried to come, the closer that thing was getting to them. It was insane, really. I’m not sure I could live through it again.
MAXWELL> What do you mean?
LILITH> I think my heart might stop. Or just explode. I would probably kill one of them or die myself.
MAXWELL> That was the next natural step wasn’t it, Lilith? Death? From this sexual frenzy to death?
LILITH> I suppose it was. Violence was all over that room.
MAXWELL> Did you ever feel, while it was going on, that the young men might kill you?
LILITH> I don’t know. I was scared. Scared enough to help them finish. I mean, I didn’t just lie there. I figured the faster I moved, the faster they’d finish and the safer I’d be.
MAXWELL> You were frightened that they’d hurt you?
LILITH> They _were_ hurting me. You asked if I was scared they’d kill me.
MAXWELL> And?
LILITH> No. They weren’t . . . at that level, you know? They were like, these suburban white guys. There were moments when they’d all . . . like realize what they were doing, that it was a crime or whatever. I think it was only the fact that they were all together that gave them the guts to keep going. Individually, they’d never really crossed the line.
MAXWELL> What line?
LILITH> You know. I’ve dated guys who’ve really been to the edge. Guys who could have killed every kid in that room and never given it another thought.
MAXWELL> You exaggerate, Lilith.
LILITH> No. There are men like that. I like men like that.
MAXWELL> Men who have killed?
LILITH> Not necessarily. But men who
could
kill, and damned quickly, if they had to.
MAXWELL> All men can kill, Lilith, if pushed far enough.
LILITH> I disagree. Physically, yes. But spiritually? No. Just as every man with a penis could technically have raped me that night, but mentally and spiritually some could not have. People are different.
MAXWELL> You are an interesting person.
LILITH> What would you have done if you’d walked into that room that night?
MAXWELL> I would have stopped it.
LILITH> You couldn’t have. My old boyfriend was there and he couldn’t. They beat him to a pulp.
MAXWELL> I am not your old boyfriend.
LILITH> How would you have stopped it?
MAXWELL> By deciding to. I am like John Galt. I can stop the motor of the world if I so choose.
LILITH> Who is John Galt?
Lenz must be reveling in the delicious irony of typing those words, that question, as though he had never heard of that literary character.
MAXWELL> A fictional hero in a magnificent but ultimately silly novel by Ayn Rand. The allusion seemed appropriate ten seconds ago.
LILITH> What are you really like, Maxwell? I want to know more about you. I’m curious.
MAXWELL> Curiosity kills cats.
“Here we go,” I say softly. “Here it comes.”
LILITH> Are you threatening me?
MAXWELL> Do you respond to threats?
LILITH> Not well. Why shouldn’t I be curious? You’ve been interrogating me as you please.
MAXWELL> What do you wish to know?
LILITH> How old are you?
MAXWELL> Forty-seven.
“Holy shit.” I glance right to make sure the printer is still recording every word. Is Brahma telling the truth? Turning toward the bed, I call, “Miles, wake up!” Then I turn up the voices.