Free The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Three by Randall Farmer Page A

it.”
    She watched me.  I didn’t move and I didn’t say anything
more.
    “Fine,” she said, after a long wait.  “Go play with your
new toy.  I’ll be watching.”
     
    My task for the rest of the night was looking after Joe
in the gym, while observing him.  He fell asleep about ten.  I couldn’t figure
out if he was too tired for fear to keep him awake, or he had simply passed out
in terror.  He lay on the cold floor by the squat rack and snored.
    I studied him with all my senses, and with my mind.  I
didn’t get much, not with him splayed out on the concrete floor in half-drunken
exhaustion.  Wrinkled suit coat, mussed once elegant hair, drool leaking out of
his mouth around his gag.  This helpless victim, this exemplary example of
humanity, was mine for the next several days, and I was supposed do to what? 
Duplicate my success with Bobby?  Blech.
    I put my hand up to my temple and rubbed.  The low-juice
headache throbbed with a grinding ache and interfered with my thinking.  I
wanted to be out hunting.
    Keaton rattled around in the kitchen, getting herself a late
supper from the supplies I left in the refrigerator.  I wondered if there would
be anything left for me.
    What tack should I use with the toy?  I couldn’t be the
predator.  Keaton would have my ass.  I could try to get him to trust me.  If I
got him to relax and let his defenses down, I would be able to do all sorts of
things with him.
     
    I left the toy to fetch some supplies.  I briefly
touched one knee to the floor as I came near Keaton in the kitchen.  She didn’t
do more than watch me.
    I took my supplies back to Joe and woke him up.  He woke
up with a grunt and tried to speak through his gag and couldn’t.  He came awake
with a start.
    “I have some things for you,” I told him, speaking in a
whisper.
    He made muffled sounds through his gag.
    “Shhh,” I said, my voice still low.  “You need to be
quieter.”
    He stopped trying to talk through his gag and gazed at
me with hope in his eyes.
    “Here,” I said.  “I brought a mat for you to sleep on,
and a blanket.  And a bucket.  I also brought some apple juice.  But I have to
take your gag off for you to drink it, and I can only do that if you promise to
keep quiet.”
    He nodded, cocked his head toward the bucket and grunted.
    I gave him the bucket.  Which left the problem of how to
use it.  With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t manage his pants by
himself.  I ended up having to help him, embarrassing him mightily.  I kept my
smile inside.
    After several minutes of awkward fooling around with his
clothes, I helped him put himself back together again.  I picked up the bottle
of apple juice and held it in front of him.
    “Do you want some?” I asked.
    He nodded.
    “You know you can’t make any noise.  Or cause any
trouble.  If you do, she’ll come back.”  I heard a muffled snort from
Keaton in the kitchen, too quiet for Joe to hear.
    “Do you promise to keep quiet?” I asked.
    He nodded.
    “Okay.”  I put the juice down and untied his gag.
    The first thing he tried to do was talk, the idiot.  He
whispered, thinking Keaton wouldn’t be able to hear his voice.  “What’s going
on here?  What…”
    I put a finger on his lips and stopped him.
    “Nothing,” I said.  “No talking at all.”
    He stopped talking and drank the juice.  When he
finished, he mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.
    I put the gag back on him, put the blanket over him and
left him to sleep.
     
    I was bullshitting the man the entire time, of course.  He
was my toy.  I could have untied his hands, ungagged him, and even talked
with him.  I could have given him more than one mat to sleep on, or a thicker
blanket, or any of a number of other things to make him more comfortable.
    Doing so would have been counter-productive.  I didn’t
want him to be comfortable.  The more frightened and uncomfortable he was, the
more he would appreciate whatever tiny