Authors: Kristina Lloyd
A new thought chilled: Could Den be spying on me now as I walked along the deserted prom?
In that instant, I knew I was in trouble. He’d texted me with the photo. ‘Your head looks great in a cage.’ A new number. I’d thought it was Liam. He was always losing phones. I’d told him I was in Sonny’s Bar. ‘Slut,’ he’d replied. On reflection, that didn’t sound like Liam.
I’d told Den where I was.
I quickened my pace, my breath pumping hard. I should be at home, doors and windows locked. I should have Baxter with me. I should get a taxi. I should start running. Fuck, I should really start running.
My phone beeped. I fished around in my bag, moving at a trot as I passed the crazy golf course. I retrieved the phone.
Fast, soft-soled footsteps approached from my left. I spun around, phone in hand. A figure ran at me, leaping over a tiny picket fence, face taut with anxiety, light glinting on the shaved dome of his head. His body slammed into mine, knocking the breath from me. He clamped a hand to my mouth, stifling my scream, and hooked an arm around my waist. My phone clattered to the ground, rasping along the tarmac.
By my ear, his voice said, ‘Good to see you, Natalie. Didn’t I promise I’d call?’
Frantically, I scanned left and right, my heart banging against my ribcage. The promenade and the black, endless sea spread above the blur of Den’s hand. I wriggled in his grip. Cars passed, headlights zipping through the dark. To the drivers, we’d be nothing but shadowy movement beyond the dinky windmill and plastic castle of the golf course.
‘Keep calm,’ said Den, ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I just want us to talk and have a little fun together. OK?’
I nodded, my breath hot and humid in his cupped hand. We stood as still as statues, getting accustomed to each other in this ludicrous situation. My idiotic weakness for him pulled inside me, a physical sensation as if I were melting into long, indolent throbs.
Den removed his hand and I gulped crisp air, tasting gunpowder and salt. For a tentative moment he was motionless, as if wondering whether I’d scream or skedaddle. But I had no urge to do either. I was startled and angry but now he was beside me, my fear was abating. I turned to him. Streetlight cast an amber tint on the oblique slopes of his scar-stippled face. I’d seen that face on stage as he’d delivered a dry, academic paper. He wasn’t dangerous. Silly even to think that. Besides, he knew I liked to flirt with scenes of dubious consent. If kidnap-play and fake force hadn’t been part of our relationship, I’d have yelled for help, but this wasn’t as serious as it might appear to people passing by. Not that anyone
was
passing by.
I nodded, not knowing what I was agreeing to, but wanting to get to the bottom of him and his behaviour.
‘OK, this way,’ he said, trying to guide me.
‘Wait, I dropped my phone,’ I said.
‘Grab it.’
The back had come off and the battery had fallen out, something that never happens when I actually want it to. My hands were shaking as I bent to retrieve the phone’s three parts, fumbling to slot them back together.
‘Here, do that later. Come on, let’s get warm.’ Den took the broken phone from me and popped the pieces in my bag. He wrapped his arm around my waist as if we were lovers out for a stroll, except his hold on me was possessive, an attempt to propel me in his direction.
I shouldered him away. ‘I’ll walk beside you, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘Where are we going?’ I wanted to bombard him with questions but I knew enough about Den to know I wouldn’t get straight answers. Pacing myself seemed strategic. Slowly, slowly, catchee monkey.
‘Back to the theatre,’ he said, setting off again.
‘Doesn’t sound too warm to me,’ I scoffed. ‘A derelict building in November?’
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something up my sleeve.’
‘I’d class those two statements as contradictory.’
‘Hey, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Just come with me. We have unfinished business, don’t you think? The last couple of times were great but we haven’t really got to know each other yet. Not properly.’
We reached the pedestrian crossing and I jabbed the button even though the road was quiet.
‘I’m no longer sure I want to know you properly,’ I said as we crossed. ‘Your behaviour’s been pretty shitty lately. It’s one thing to try and play mind games with me but when you involve other people, that’s bang out of order. Liam hasn’t consented to any of this. I have.’ My breath streamed in fast, silvery mists. ‘And another thing, you’re making massive
assumptions about me and what I’m prepared to go along with. When I got involved with you, that didn’t give you the right to decide how and when we play together. By agreeing to one thing, it doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to everything. Do you understand that?’
Behind us, the green man beeped in the silence. So much for me pacing myself.
‘Well, just say if you want out,’ Den said calmly.
I didn’t reply save for an exasperated huff. Damn, he was infuriating. I wished I could make a snap decision and have done with it. I did and I didn’t want out, but too many strands of my choice were contingent on what might happen with Baxter. Without Baxter, Den might still be worth another chance. I’d be prepared to put the effort in to see if we could make this work. With Baxter, I had no need of him; had no need to risk getting genuinely hurt or humiliated.
We walked past a boarded-up amusement arcade and a lairy pub where music thumped. In a narrow side street was a parked police car with only one headlight working. Jeez, what kind of night was this?
‘I just want us to have a straightforward conversation about what we’re doing,’ I said. ‘We talked a lot in the beginning. Well, we emailed. But it’s different now. I think we’re due a reassessment. We need a clearer idea of limits. We should negotiate and agree on how we play. And you need to stay away from my friends and butt out of my life. It was kinda flattering to start with but now – ’
Den cut me off, jostling me into the dark, scruffy doorway of a sweet shop. I squealed as he pushed me against the wall, leaning into me with his weight.
‘But you don’t like having a clear idea, do you?’ His voice was amused and confident. ‘That’s the buzz for you.’ He
ground his crotch against my hip, his thigh lodged between my legs. ‘That’s how you get off.’ He tried to kiss me. I turned aside, staring at peeling paint on the shop’s pink door. I didn’t protest when he stuck his hand between my thighs and groped me through my jeans, his fingers hard and punishing.
‘The novelty’s wearing thin,’ I said but even as I spoke I was aware of my blood rushing faster, of tiny beats of need flickering in my groin.
‘Yeah?’ he said. ‘How thin?’ He reached under the hem of my fur jacket, his hand latching on to one breast. As if testing me, he fondled with a strong, measured touch. A small groan of desire left my lips. I cursed to myself, wishing I could retract the sound. I looked past Den, my gaze fixed on the side of the shop window with its protective grille and garish display of confectionary. I wanted to feel nothing, but all the while I let him touch me I was liking it.
Den withdrew, giving me a cocky grin. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get comfy and sort you out.’
I didn’t move. Den stood, smirking. ‘Oh, give it a rest, Natalie. It’s me! You don’t need to act reluctant and respectable. I know you want it so quit with the act. I’m not going to judge you for wanting to get fucked like a whore. We’re in this together. We’re the same, you and I. We understand each other. We understand the pull. You have to cherish connections like this. They don’t come along too often in life.’
He held out his hand, a gallant gesture as if I were about to step off a boat.
‘I have one condition,’ I said.
Den raised his brows in exaggerated curiosity. ‘Do tell.’
‘You promise to stay away from other people in my life. From Liam and anyone else. If I want to take another chance
on you, that’s my choice. I’ll handle the fallout. But stay clear of my friends or we’re through.’
‘OK, deal,’ he said lightly. ‘I’ve finished with Lee anyway.’
‘Liam.’
‘And he got a few hundred quid from me so I doubt he’ll complain. Great harness he made. I had him initial it. N.I.L. Natalie India Lovell.’
‘How do you know my middle name?’
Den grinned. ‘I’m an academic. Good at research. Do you like it? N.I.L. Nil, zero, nothing. And nil by mouth when you’re all trussed up in the bridle, your lips stretched wide, that cruel gag hooked inside your cheeks.’ He pressed my shoulders to the wall, catching lengths of hair in his fists so my scalp pinched when I moved my head. He continued to speak, punctuating his words with small, teasing kisses.
‘Nothing but cock and come. That’s your food. Ah, God, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Your head crisscrossed in leather, you on your knees, gazing up at me, ready to serve.’
He released my shoulders and forced his fingers into my mouth, two at either side. He stretched my lips wide, his fingers rough and dry. I pressed back against the wall, rocking my head to escape him and making awkward noises of complaint.
He laughed and removed his fingers.
I coughed and wiped my hand across my mouth. ‘What are you all about?’ I said. ‘Why do you have to make such a song and dance about everything?’
He looked down at me, shadows falling across his slanting face. His eyelashes were so short. I’d never noticed that before. ‘Don’t you like song and dance?’ he said, chirpily sarcastic. ‘The theatrics of fucking?’
Noises approached and I tensed. Three skimpily dressed young women tottered by, arms linked, laughing and yelling conversation at each other. They didn’t notice us. Right then, I hated Den, hated his gloating, arrogant coolness and inability to engage. ‘“One chance, one meeting,”’ I said. ‘What was that all about? What’s the grand plan?’
His confidence slipped from his face, his smile emptying. ‘My paper?’ he said. ‘Are you seriously asking me about my research?’
‘The thing you said to me when … at The Hippodrome. At the end. You said, “One chance, one meeting.” What did you mean?’
He shook his head, genuinely baffled. ‘I said that to you?’
‘Yes. And then you fucked off.’
‘I don’t remember. Does it bother you? I was probably working on my paper and the phrase was on my mind. Don’t read anything into it. Come on.’
‘That’s it?’
He shrugged. ‘What were you expecting?’
I shook my head, wishing it would clear. Even though I was learning more about him, he still made no sense.
‘Any more questions?’ he asked airily.
I sighed, frustrated by his evasiveness.
‘Come on, let’s give the bridle a whirl.’ He held out a chivalrous hand again. ‘I’ve been itching to see how it looks on you. And now I’m gagging – ha, forgive the pun – I’m gagging to clasp your head and ram my cock into your throat. I want to see the tears pouring down your face. Want to see how much you’re prepared to suffer in order to satisfy me.’
I was silent for a short moment. At my core, I was wet, red and pliant. I felt such shame for still wanting him, for allowing lust to make an idiot of me. My cunt drummed with
need but my motivation surpassed mere arousal. Drawing me to him was the longing to submit and surrender, to abase myself before his cruel, mean dominance.
So with mock-ladylike delicacy, I placed my fingertips in his outstretched hand. ‘You know how to twist a girl’s arm,’ I said.
I’d vowed never to go near The Hippodrome again after my encounter with the security guard. But when I’d made that decision, I hadn’t anticipated being invited back by Den and entering the building via legitimate, albeit slightly dodgy, means.
I enjoyed picking my way along dilapidated, torch-lit corridors, believing this time that Den and I were on a more equal footing. I had a sense of what lay ahead: some kinky sex involving a gorgeous piece of bondage gear made according to Den’s specifications. I’d take that for now. Maybe afterwards we could talk, if the mood was right. Perhaps I could start by mentioning my need for him to offer aftercare as he had done the time I’d unmasked him.
I told myself Liam wouldn’t mind us using the harness if I didn’t. Yes, Den had conned him into making the object to fit me but now the piece existed, a waste to reject it simply because the process of creation had been comprised by deception. Desire drove me as did a longing to fly away from the drama of Baxter’s reappearance. Too many thoughts clogged my mind, too many emotions swelled my heart. I craved escape.
The prospect of dark, dangerous sex with Den had the irresistible lure of drugs and alcohol. For a couple of hours, I could forget everything. I could put on hold all the problems that needed fixing. I would be like those swan pedalos under their tarpaulin, taking some time out. I’d put aside questions and fears, indulging instead in sensations of the flesh and temporary obliteration as Den ran the show, making me do things I longed to do. Tomorrow I would think.
Besides, tomorrow would be better. Whatever happened with Den tonight would help clarify my feelings for him.
When we re-entered The Hippodrome’s auditorium, I caught my breath – the crepuscular ruins igniting vivid memories of the strange, sexy time we’d shared. The mere sight of the theatre was enough to send a send a slow, swollen pulse to my groin. As we walked forward, a small feather fluttered down from the glass chandelier. The concrete floor was bigger than I recalled, a brutal contrast to the chipped gilt curlicues, fallen velvet and sweep of balconies in crimson, gold and green.
But the details were peripheral, my attention grabbed by the sight of a fire burning merrily within a ragged ring of red brick and masonry chunks. Its existence was so preposterous I laughed. Yellow-amber flames leaped and spat, shadows trembling on surrounding surfaces. Was that sensible? Then again, health and safety regs wouldn’t count for much here. The long-forgotten theatre was virtually outdoors, birds, buddleia and ivy encroaching on its interior; broken windows and rotten woodwork welcoming in the night’s crisp chill. I shivered with excitement, inhaling deeply. The place was so cold you could practically taste the starlight, and I swear, on my tongue the taste was of pewter and diamonds.