The Dog Collar Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

women who’ve had internal hemorrhaging from being fist-fucked. About women who have to eat shit and drink urine. Don’t just talk about power and trust; talk about broken arms and whip marks and burns from hot wax.”
    “S/M is about safety,” Nicky said, two hot stains of red in her cheeks. “And you ought to know—you did it for years!”
    Shock and scandal. The speaker was a well-known lesbian therapist.
    I was still trying to get to Hadley. Over in the corner of the room I could see her familiar silver-blond head and straight nose.
    “That’s why I know about S/M from the inside,” said the therapist bravely. “I know what a lie it is, and how it perpetuates the idea that degradation is acceptable and even good. Some women who’ve been sexually abused get into it as a way of trying to work through old feelings and to conquer them. I know, I was one. But it doesn’t work, it’s never going to work.”
    The room was buzzing. It was strange that Miko seemed to have retreated and was letting Nicky just take over like this. Maybe she was filming it from somewhere.
    “Oh Christ, let’s not be so melodramatic and hypocritical,” said Nicky. “I bet three-quarters of you in this room have had rape fantasies, or fantasies of being tied up or forcing someone against her will. Let’s be honest for once, okay, and not put it all on us. We’re simply the most outspoken, but I bet most of you here have turned yourself on to some kind of S/M fantasies at one time or another.”
    Did she want a show of hands? She wasn’t going to get it in this charged atmosphere. Instead, people seemed to be giving credence to Nicky’s charge of hypocrisy and to be avoiding each other’s eyes and trying to sneak out the door.
    I moved to the back of the room through the gaps, and finally got close to where Hadley was. And Miko. Now it was obvious why Miko hadn’t been participating in the discussion. She was whispering in Hadley’s ear, and her hand was on Hadley’s thigh.

4
    W ELL, MAYBE NOT ACTUALLY her thigh. In fact, afterwards I realized Miko was only tapping Hadley’s leg slightly above the kneecap in order to make a point. But at the time—and in that sexually-charged atmosphere—I found any contact at all between them extremely upsetting, and I bolted from the room without listening to the end of the discussion. Something I also realized in retrospect was that, if I’d stayed, I might have made some connections I couldn’t make until much later.
    I decided to skip lunch, but as I was wandering forlornly around the campus I ran into Elizabeth Ketteridge, who offered me some trail mix. There was something unusual about her I thought; then I abruptly noticed she was pregnant. The weight had settled low on her, so that, with her smallish head and big eyes, she looked a little like a Russian doll.
    “Isn’t this an amazing conference, Pam?” she said as I took another handful of nuts and raisins. “I’m so glad it’s happening. I think it’s a real boost for the movement to have Loie Marsh here talking. After you’ve been in the movement so long you tend to get a little jaded.” She paused a moment and added, “Not at individuals ’ stories, of course, but at the frequency and predictability of violence as a whole.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure that’s true.” I didn’t have to ask, what movement? Elizabeth belonged to a small but determined core of women in Seattle who had started the rape crisis center and who had managed to stick with it year after year.
    “Is this your first?” I changed the subject.
    “Oh no, my third,” she said. “And my lover’s been pregnant twice too. This will be our fifth.”
    “That’s a lot of kids,” I said weakly.
    “We both come from big families—we love them.” She smiled and patted my arm. “Good to see you, Pam,” she said, and moved off.
    I didn’t understand it, this maternal urge. I was having trouble just being an aunt.
    In the afternoon I