you?"
"Resented her so much you stalked her, stabbed her, and after you killed her, you attacked the part of her that mocked you the most, that mocked your manhood."
Gale jumped up. "What're you talking about? What part of her? Jesus!"
"The part you couldn't satisfy. The part that made you feel inadequate."
"I don't understand." He paused. "You mean, my cock? Is that what you're talking about?"
Janek smiled. "Not your lousy little cock, asshole. A part of her. Jess. "
Gale was still confused. "What part of her?"
" You tell me."
"Are you saying she wasâthat someone did something to her? God! I didn't know! It wasn't in the papers. Jesus!"
Gale sat back down, then began to sob. At first Janek was certain he was faking. But as the sobbing turned to gagging and then to heaving, he began to believe it was for real.
He helped Gale into the bathroom, then stood beside him as he fell to his knees and retched into the toilet.
" It's okay, son," he said. " Don't hold back. Let it out, let it out."
When finally Gale was finished and turned to him with a grateful smile, Janek knew he had broken through. The bond was forged. The interrogator had become the friend. And now the truth would emerge.
"I was crazy about her, Janek. I swear to you."
They were back in the living room in the university chairs, but Janek sat farther away this time. No need to sit close and apply more stress. All he had to do now was listen with sympathy as Gale, impelled to talk, regaled him with his story.
". . . you got it right, I recruited her. Just like I recruited the others. And it was always a kind of victory for me, too. I'd pick a girl out, walking across the quadrangle, or sitting alone in a lecture hail, or jogging, or laughing, or coming out of one of the dorms. I'd pick her because she looked good, had a great body, moved a certain way, had a well-packaged butt, her lips were sexy, or there was something, you know, about the way she laughed, her mouth, her tits, whatever. Then it became a game. Get her name. Get a date with her. Kiss her. Get her into the sack. After that it was usually pretty easy to lead them to the point where, you know, they thought it was their idea. Then came the victory part: putting the blindfold on them, leading them into the room, telling them to strip while everybody watched. We never told anyone who they were going to do it with. That was the game. Everyone liked it. Everyone wore the blindfold. The guys, too. Including me. That was the fun of it, to wear the blindfold, to strip and stand there until the selected person came forward, stood before you till you could hardly stand it anymore, then slowly reached forward and made contact. Fear and anticipation and the idea you were on display. Wondering who the person was, trying to guess, but preferring not to know because it was easier to let yourself go if you didn't. Plenty of time later to find out who and laugh about who you thought it was. To perform like that, be the object of so much attentionâI loved it. Everybody did. Jess, too. You gotta believe me when I say this, Janek. She found it incredibly exciting.
" But, see, there was the problem, because when I watched her play with the others, a funny thing started to happen. It bothered me. I didn't like it. And I'd never felt like that before. So I said to her: âLet's not do this anymore. Let's just go out as a couple.' She laughed, called me jealous, made fun of me 'cause I couldn't take it. 'You got me into this, Greggy,' she said. 'You created a monster. Now you'll have to live with it.'
" Over the summer we went separate ways. I had a half-ass job at my father's brokerage firm and was out in the Hamptons most weekends. Jess was with her folks up on Martha's Vineyard, so we didn't see each other at all. I called her a lot. She never called me. The few times I managed to catch her home she told me she didn't feel like talking. Then in August she went to Italy to some special fencing
"Resented her so much you stalked her, stabbed her, and after you killed her, you attacked the part of her that mocked you the most, that mocked your manhood."
Gale jumped up. "What're you talking about? What part of her? Jesus!"
"The part you couldn't satisfy. The part that made you feel inadequate."
"I don't understand." He paused. "You mean, my cock? Is that what you're talking about?"
Janek smiled. "Not your lousy little cock, asshole. A part of her. Jess. "
Gale was still confused. "What part of her?"
" You tell me."
"Are you saying she wasâthat someone did something to her? God! I didn't know! It wasn't in the papers. Jesus!"
Gale sat back down, then began to sob. At first Janek was certain he was faking. But as the sobbing turned to gagging and then to heaving, he began to believe it was for real.
He helped Gale into the bathroom, then stood beside him as he fell to his knees and retched into the toilet.
" It's okay, son," he said. " Don't hold back. Let it out, let it out."
When finally Gale was finished and turned to him with a grateful smile, Janek knew he had broken through. The bond was forged. The interrogator had become the friend. And now the truth would emerge.
"I was crazy about her, Janek. I swear to you."
They were back in the living room in the university chairs, but Janek sat farther away this time. No need to sit close and apply more stress. All he had to do now was listen with sympathy as Gale, impelled to talk, regaled him with his story.
". . . you got it right, I recruited her. Just like I recruited the others. And it was always a kind of victory for me, too. I'd pick a girl out, walking across the quadrangle, or sitting alone in a lecture hail, or jogging, or laughing, or coming out of one of the dorms. I'd pick her because she looked good, had a great body, moved a certain way, had a well-packaged butt, her lips were sexy, or there was something, you know, about the way she laughed, her mouth, her tits, whatever. Then it became a game. Get her name. Get a date with her. Kiss her. Get her into the sack. After that it was usually pretty easy to lead them to the point where, you know, they thought it was their idea. Then came the victory part: putting the blindfold on them, leading them into the room, telling them to strip while everybody watched. We never told anyone who they were going to do it with. That was the game. Everyone liked it. Everyone wore the blindfold. The guys, too. Including me. That was the fun of it, to wear the blindfold, to strip and stand there until the selected person came forward, stood before you till you could hardly stand it anymore, then slowly reached forward and made contact. Fear and anticipation and the idea you were on display. Wondering who the person was, trying to guess, but preferring not to know because it was easier to let yourself go if you didn't. Plenty of time later to find out who and laugh about who you thought it was. To perform like that, be the object of so much attentionâI loved it. Everybody did. Jess, too. You gotta believe me when I say this, Janek. She found it incredibly exciting.
" But, see, there was the problem, because when I watched her play with the others, a funny thing started to happen. It bothered me. I didn't like it. And I'd never felt like that before. So I said to her: âLet's not do this anymore. Let's just go out as a couple.' She laughed, called me jealous, made fun of me 'cause I couldn't take it. 'You got me into this, Greggy,' she said. 'You created a monster. Now you'll have to live with it.'
" Over the summer we went separate ways. I had a half-ass job at my father's brokerage firm and was out in the Hamptons most weekends. Jess was with her folks up on Martha's Vineyard, so we didn't see each other at all. I called her a lot. She never called me. The few times I managed to catch her home she told me she didn't feel like talking. Then in August she went to Italy to some special fencing
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