“The final nail in her coffin was hammered in when a college student named Sylvia Baum came forth to state that she saw Taylor drive off alone on the night you were accused of assaulting her. Armed with this information, the police questioned Marsha more aggressively and she finally admitted that she had falsely accused you because you refused to give her a passing grade..”
Carlson asked, “How did she get the bruises on her body?”
“Self-inflicted. She even shoved a broom handle into her vagina and rectum. She must have really hated you to abuse herself that much. Anyway, you’re off the hook. The charges have been dropped.”
Carlson felt immense relief. Then he asked, “And Taylor? I assume she will be charged with false arrest and will wind up in jail.”
Wallace smiled cynically. “Don’t assume. She got a plea bargain from the D.A. – and it’s a real bargain for her. Five hundred hours of community service, raking leaves or whatever. No jail time.”
Carlson was livid. “Why does she get off with a slap on the wrist after what she did to me?”
Wallace was philosophical. “Chalk it up to politics. This is an embarrassment for the D.A. and the police – swallowing the girl’s story when they should have done their homework sooner. Now they want this whole thing to go away quietly.”
Carlson’s original feeling of relief had turned to bitterness. “And I’m supposed to go away quietly, too. What about the damages to me? The ten thousand I paid for my bail bond?”
“That belongs to the bondsman. And my fee belongs to me. It’s tough for you. You didn’t screw the girl, but she sure screwed you.”
That’s right, thought Carlson. I didn’t screw the girl.
He was reinstated at the college, but it didn’t surprise him that he was now being treated differently than before the rape charge. People congratulated him on his vindication but they were still reserved, as if they suspected that “where there’s smoke there must be fire.” Carlson became more and more furious that so much had been taken from him by this vindictive girl. It kept going through his brain.
I got punished for screwing the girl.
Without the pleasure of screwing her.
What can I do about that?
* * *
Marsha was paying a price for her bad conduct. Her parents, now thoroughly disgusted, had disowned her and she was stuck without money in a town where she had to perform five hundred hours of community service without pay. She managed to get a job as a waitress in an all-night restaurant, working from 6 p.m. to 2 a.m. What with her daily six hours of picking up trash in the county parks, she was pretty exhausted by the time her restaurant shift was over. Too tired to pay attention, one night, to a familiar van as she started to walk past it on the way to her car.
“Good evening, Miss Taylor.”
“Oh. Dr. Carlson.”
“Yes. Dr. Carlson. You look tired, Miss Taylor. Allow me to give you a lift.”
His tone was polite – edged with sarcasm. Marsha did not like it. “That’s all right – I have my car.”
“Oh, but I insist.” With that, Carlson pressed his remote, the van’s side door slid open, and with surprising strength he threw the girl into the van, face down, and the door slid closed. She took a deep breath to scream, but his hands went to her throat, cutting off her breath. She struggled, but he was lying on top of her and she could not move.
“Do you want to breathe?” he asked. She nodded vigorously. “Then keep quiet.” He removed his hands. Her chest heaved as she took in life-giving air. “One sound and you’ll stop breathing again. Perhaps forever.”
He got off her. “Now, put your hands behind your back.” The terrified girl obeyed. She felt a cord wrapped tightly around her wrists and then another around her ankles. Thus trussed up, she was turned over and a piece of tape was placed over her mouth. She was completely helpless.
Carlson threw a blanket over her, went up front, and drove for a short time. Then he came back, turned on the overhead light and removed the blanket. As he surveyed the bound girl, he spoke to her in a reasonable, almost friendly tone.
“You might not recognize your surroundings, but we’re in Riverton Park. Remember Riverton Park? That’s where I drove you to rape you – or so you said to the police. It’s very quiet here at this hour and I have learned that the patrol car won’t come by for another four hours, so we’ll have plenty of time.”
Marsha was making muffled sounds through the tape that covered her mouth. “I can’t understand you,” Carlson said, stating the obvious. “But I imagine you’re wondering, ‘plenty of time for what?’ The answer is this: Your account of the various things I supposedly did to you was so intriguing, so exciting, really, that I decided to experience them for myself.
“Also, that evening when you left my office, you called me a dried-up little jerk and went on to say – I believe I’m quoting you correctly – ‘I bet you haven’t gotten it up in years.’ I’m going to take you up on that bet and I’ll demonstrate to you that I can, indeed, get it up. With your help, of course.”
By this time Marsha had a pretty good idea what Carlson planned to do to her and she thrashed wildly on the floor of the van. Carlson sat calmly beside her until she appeared completely exhausted. Then he reached into the pocket of his jacket and said, “I brought along the transcript of your testimony so I could re-enact the crime without forgetting any of the interesting parts.
“Of course, there was no crime – it was a pack of lies you told to cause me considerable grief,” he added, anger momentarily overcoming his calm, detached manner. Then he regained control over his emotions.
“Regardless, I will now give you the opportunity of telling the same story again, and this time it will be completely true. Only, of course, you will have a little problem. Remember the tale of the boy who cried ‘wolf’? This time, nobody will believe you. All right – let’s get started.”
Carlson placed himself astride the girl, pinning her to the floor of the van. He pulled her top over her head and down her arms behind her. Her bra had a front clasp, which made it easy for him to expose her breasts. He grabbed them and squeezed them, not at all gently. The girl writhed helplessly, totally at his mercy. He sucked her nipples vigorously but was careful not to cause any injury that she could not have inflicted on herself.
After he had satisfied himself with her breasts, he undid her slacks at the waist and pulled them, along with her panties, down to her tied ankles. When Marsha tried to kick him he raised her ankles with one hand, exposing her buttocks and pussy, which he proceeded to molest with his other hand. Marsha kept straining against his invading fingers, but she could not prevent him from exploring wherever he wanted to.
Next, he untied the cord around her ankles and pulled her slacks and panties completely off. With a mock show of thoroughness Carlson referred to the transcript, saying, “Let’s see, what did I do next? Oh, yes, I put on a condom, so as not to leave any evidence of semen, and I fucked you. Yes, I believe I can do that. Look, Miss Taylor.”