Private Scandals

her grip until he squeezed her breasts painfully. “I need to be wanted, Dan. I need to know people want me. I can’t survive without that.”
    “They do. I do.” He was used to her outbursts, accustomed to her neediness. And he knew how to use both to his advantage. “When I see you on the set, so cool, so controlled, you dazzle me.” He slipped his hand between her thighs, patiently stroking until she was damp, until she quivered. Until he did. “And I can hardly wait until I can get you alone, like this.”
    Her breath grew shallow, but her vision was clear, focused hard on the glass as his busy hands worked over her. The flavor of champagne was still on her tongue, making her yearn for more. Crave more. She swallowed it and concentrated on what she saw in the glass.
    “You’d do anything for me.”
    “Anything.”
    “And to me.”
    He laughed. He knew where the power was. The more she needed, the more she plotted, the more she placed in his hands. And the truth was, sex with Angela was like a dark, violent ride into an irresistible hell.
    “What do you want me to do, Angela?”
    “Take me here, right here, so I can watch.”
    He laughed again. She was quivering like a bitch in heat, her eyes riveted on her own body. Her vanity, the pathetic insecurity of it, was one more hold he had on her. But when he started to shift, she shoved him back.
    “No.” She could barely breathe now. Her full white breasts still carried the angry red marks from his hands. She wanted them there, wanted them as proof that she was desired. “From behind. Like an animal.”
    His mouth watered at the image. His erection ached like a wound. Desperate to take, he shoved her roughly to her knees. Eyes feral, teeth bared, she watched him crouch over her. He jerked her head back by the hair, hissing when she growled low in her throat.
    “I won’t stop. Even if you beg.”
    “Fuck me.” Her smile glinted like a sword already bloodied. “And when you’re done, we’re going to find a new way to make her pay.”
    “Watch.” He held her head still with one hand. “I want you to watch.”
    He drove himself into her viciously, the blood all but bursting in his veins when she cried out in pain and shock and greedy pleasure. His fingers dug hard into her hips while he rammed inside her again and again until the sweat ran off both of them like rain, and his vision dimmed.
    But hers stayed clear. She saw the blood on her lip where her teeth had dug in, the sheen of sweat and tears on her face. And as the horrible, loveless orgasm slammed through the agony and need, Dan’s face dissolved into Finn’s. And she smiled as he cried out her name and shuddered, shuddered, shuddered.
    She was wanted. She was desired. She was the best.
     
    “Deanna, are you sure you want to do this?” Fran nibbled on her thumbnail, a habit she’d broken years before, as she stood beside Deanna’s desk.
    “Absolutely sure.” She continued to sign the outgoing mail. Her signature was quick and neat and automatic. “It’s a show I want to do. How many carts did we get back?”
    Fran frowned down at the forms in her hand, the carts they passed to the audience after each program. These had been typed simply: Do you know of anyone who has experienced date rape? Is this a topic you would be willing to discuss on Deanna’s Hour?
    There was room for comments, for names and phone numbers. Out of the two hundred carts Fran had surveyed, she had chosen only two.
    “These are the ones I thought you should see.” Reluctantly, Fran laid them on the desk. “It’s going to be painful for you, Deanna.”
    “I can handle it.”
    She skimmed the first cart, then went back and read each word again.
    He said I asked for it. I didn’t. He said it was my own fault. I’m not sure. I’d like to try to talk about it, but I don’t know if I can.
    Setting the cart aside, she reached for the second.
    It was my first date after my divorce. It was three years ago, and I haven’t been with a man since. I’m still afraid, but I trust you.
    “Two women,” Deanna murmured. Yes, it was painful. There was a tight, angry fist lodged in her chest. “Right out of the studio audience. How many more, Fran? How many more are out there wondering if it was their fault? How many more are afraid?”
    “I can’t stand to see you hurt this way. You know if you do this, you’re going to have to bring up Jamie Thomas.”
    “I know that. I’ve already run it by