Set Me Free

by Jennifer Collin

  ‘I asked you what you thought, Geoff,’ Cassette threw over her shoulder as she dug through her handbag. Charlotte felt Craig stiffen beside her at the sound of the mounting hysteria in her voice. From her handbag, she withdrew what appeared to be a water pistol. Although the dark, viscous substance inside it didn’t look to be water.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what I think,’ Cassette suddenly shrieked. ‘I think it’s too pure and holier-than-thou. I think it needs a bit of colour!' She aimed the water pistol at Shock and began clicking her way back across the floor towards it.

  Once again, everyone moved at once. Geoff bolted for the entrance and disappeared into the night. Charlotte and Craig charged towards Cassette in tandem, only to skid to a sudden halt as she was crash-tackled to the floor by Gareth. ‘No you don’t, you tacky bitch!’ he screamed, slamming the wrist holding the water pistol into the floor repeatedly.

  Cassette screamed in outrage and writhed furiously beneath Gareth as he wrestled the pistol out of her grip.

  Craig took a step back, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth to catch her spluttered laugh. Together they watched Gareth liberate the water pistol, climb off Cassette and scream, ‘Now get the fuck out of my gallery, you crazy bitch!’

  Charlotte raced over to Gareth, threw her arms around him and held on tight. He swung a loose arm around her back to let her know the hug wasn’t unwelcome, but he was panting too hard to reciprocate. Cassette scrambled to her feet, pulling her now torn dress down over her exposed underpants. ‘Arsehole!’ she shrieked at Gareth. And then she turned on Craig.

  ‘What the fuck are you smirking at, Sir Stomp-a-lot? I swear to God you’ve bruised my bloody foot tonight you’ve stood on it so many times.' She grabbed him by the shirt front and attempted to drag him out the door. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she said.

  He didn’t exactly fall in to line. He freed himself from her grip and marched her towards the door.

  Craig shot Charlotte one last regret-laden look over his shoulder. Charlotte felt Gareth’s arm tighten protectively around her as they watched them leave. No sooner had he locked the door behind them, than the silence was broken by hysterical laughter.

  Gareth sent the remaining staff home and poured Charlotte a drink while he did the final clean up. Benches wiped, he joined her, lining up the half empty bottles of red. Charlotte fished her phone out of her handbag to call and check on Emily and Ben, and tried not to envy Cassette, of her lift home.

  Chapter nineteen

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay. We got a cab straight away. I’m going to stay at Ben’s place tonight,’ Emily told Charlotte, glancing across the back seat of the cab at her companion.

  Ben was looking out of the window, watching the city pass by while she spoke with her sister. His right hand pressing firmly against the centre seat was the only thing betraying he was on edge. Wanting to soothe him, she ended her conversation with Charlotte and collected his tense hand in her own. He turned, startled. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

  ‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ she said, slipping her phone back in to her handbag.

  ‘My pleasure.' He grinned. ‘What happened back there?’

  ‘Cassette put on a production as expected, but to a fleeing audience. Geoff ran away, and Craig took her home.’

  Ben leaned his head back against the taxi seat and asked her if she was okay.

  ‘Yeah. A little embarrassed, really. Although relieved that scene didn’t play out until after everyone had left.'

  Loathing and disgust were other emotions she was grappling with. What should have been one of the easiest nights of her life had instead been a strained game of cat and mouse as she skirted around Cassette. It was overwhelming to find the whole room was looking out for her and Cassette certainly hadn’t succeeded in ruining her night, but when her estranged husband decided to make an appearance Emily could have crawled into a hole. It was the final nail in the coffin for her marriage. His disrespect spoke volumes.

  Emily looked at the man across the back seat of the taxi. Ben had been nothing short of a rock over the last couple of months. He’d given her a place to stay, the clothes off his back, loads of coffee and companionship of a kind she’d never known before. The unconditional kind. He gave her all that and asked for nothing in return. No wonder Charlotte adored him.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay to crash at mine?’ he asked her now, interrupting her musings.

  After a heartbeat, she answered. ‘I’m pretty confident Geoff is going to end up banging down Charlotte’s door tonight, so if you’re still okay with it, that would be great. Charlotte’s neighbours and I would be most appreciative.' She was still holding his hand. It felt nice. He squeezed it and turned his attention back to the cityscape passing by the window. After a while, he relaxed and rubbed his thumb back and forth across her hand. That felt nice too.

  ‘So what are you going to do with your spoils?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Emily answered. ‘Maybe something sensible, like save it.' Thirty-five thousand dollars was nothing to sneeze at. She’d never made that much money from a single show before.

  ‘Rubbish,’ Ben laughed as their cab pulled up outside his apartment building.

  Once inside, he made hot chocolates and they settled on the couch.

  ‘Maybe I should use the money to get a place of my own and stop couch surfing between you and Charlotte?' Emily suggested, resuming their conversation. ‘I’m pretty sure Charlotte is over having a lodger.’

  ‘You’re always welcome here, you know.’

  ‘I know. You’ve been amazing, Ben. I’m very lucky Charlotte has you.'

  ‘Charlotte has me? What does that mean?’

  ‘You’re her best friend.’

  ‘I thought I was your friend too?’

  ‘You are.' Emily sighed and looked at her friend fondly. He looked gorgeous tonight; it was sweet he’d dressed up for the occasion. She rarely saw him out of jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight he looked dashing. Like the kind of man who would protect a woman from threat. Which is what he’d done, more than once.

  Emily felt safe when she was with Ben. With Geoff, she’d never felt threatened; just on her own. If she needed to deal with something unpleasant, she dealt with it herself, or, more times than not, went to Charlotte. Geoff was always at work.

  But Ben was always there at the right time, and she never needed to ask. He just knew what she needed.

  Feeling affectionate, she reached over to smooth his already smooth hair.

  He tensed, and the look he gave her was uncertain.

  Curious, she traced a finger down his cheek. He caught her hand. ‘Emily…’ he said, and for some reason she leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss. It was long and slow, and it felt nice. It had been ten years since she’d tasted a first kiss. It felt daring and exciting and sensational. Encouraged and inquisitive, she crawled into Ben’s lap with her knees either side of his hips. She leant down slightly to kiss him harder, and he met her pressure. A low moan escaped him and he slid his arms around her, pulling her closer. His tongue gently tasted her lips and she parted them, welcoming him in.

  Her hands were in his hair, holding his lips to hers. She felt him stir beneath her, and his tension became extremely apparent, forcing a moan of her own to escape as she felt the wave of yearning wash over her. His movements became more urgent, and she responded. Keeping one hand on the small of her back to stabilise her, he slipped the other under her kaftan and crept it slowly up over her stomach all the way to her breast, causing them both to strain in anticipation. She slipped her arms around behind her back and unclasped her bra, freeing herself for his touch. His thumb flicked across her nipple, making her need more urgent.

  She reached down and tugged at his shirt, dragging it up and over his head. His bare, hairless chest was sinewy and sculpted. Her hands traced a path from his shoulders to his navel until he pushed them away to drag her dress up and over her head. Tossing it as
ide, he hastily claimed her taut nipple with his lips.

  Emily’s head lolled back as she was driven by a passion she’d never experienced. Geoff was the only man she'd ever slept with, and their sexual relationship began as teenagers. In Ben’s arms, she felt she was making love to a man for the very first time. In Ben’s arms, she was a woman.

  Needing more, she focused on his pants, the belt buckle, button and zip. He lifted her slightly, pivoting his hips to remove them, and she rolled with him compliantly. He kicked his pants off and was completely naked beneath her, his need clear and urgent. She stood momentarily to remove her underpants. Then she lowered herself again and felt his nakedness against hers. Panting, they stilled momentarily, and then commenced another long, slow, kiss. Ben’s fingers found the core of her longing and caressed and explored her, not just readying her, but amplifying her need.

  Clasping his erection, she led him to her, slightly tilting her hips and then bearing down slowly, catching him, guiding him and enclosing him within her. Emily gasped, overcome by the sensation. He reclaimed her nipple with his mouth, causing her to arch her back, begging him for more. He obliged readily, teasing her with his lips and his tongue, tugging at her gently, and all the while, savouring her. A gentle, steady rhythm found them and they moved together in a dance that was instinctual and utterly overwhelming.

  Emily felt her climax building and held on for dear life as Ben found her mouth with his and took her over the edge. Her gasp was loud and guttural, spurring on his own climax. He shuddered uncontrollably as he came, and for a moment she thought he would weep. Instead, he pulled her to him as the waves of passion subsided, kissing her neck and gently cupping her breast with one hand while burying the other in her hair.

  When their hearts slowed, and their breathing returned to normal, he nibbled playfully on her ear lobe.

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  Emily froze, as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on her. Ben, feeling her reaction, stilled himself, then pulled back to look at her. His expression concealed nothing. He was terrified.

  ‘Ben…,’ Emily began, climbing off him, searching for her dress. She threw it on quickly, covering her still throbbing womanhood and swollen breasts.

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Ben. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.' He began his own frantic search for his clothes and finding them within arm’s reach, madly pulled them back on.

  ‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ Emily blustered. She needed to get out. Before she’d felt protected, and now she felt… she didn’t know how she felt. Confused? Surprised? Completely and utterly sated? She couldn’t deny that.

  But it was all wrong. He was her friend, and she’d crossed the line. And by doing so, she’d betrayed him, because if he did love her, it was not reciprocated. She was a soon-to-be divorcee who had no business having men fall in love with her. She carried far too much baggage for that.

  Did he really mean what he said or was it just the afterglow? Whichever it was, she wasn’t sticking around to analyse it.

  Now dressed, Ben quickly clued on to her intentions. ‘Emily, we should talk about this.’

  ‘Uh huh. Yes, we should,’ she replied, gathering her things and backing away from him towards the door. ‘But not right now. I’m sorry, Ben. I can’t.' And she turned and fled before she even knew where she would go. Halfway down the stairs, she realised she wasn’t wearing any underpants.

  Chapter twenty

  Nervous, Charlotte made her way down the dark street to the taxi rank Gareth promised was only half a block away.

  Their bonding session had come to an end when Gareth took a phone call from his irate partner, and got caught up in an argument. She couldn’t politely stay any longer. Gareth paused his spat for long enough to assure her there would be taxis at the end of the street, before switching his attention back to defending himself against the accusations of a lonely, jealous lover.

  Hesitantly, because she was in an unfamiliar part of town and because walking home alone had somehow become an issue, Charlotte headed off. Teetering in her heels after all the wine, she discerned Gareth had failed to mention the dark alleyways along the way, the perfect hiding place for someone wanting to jump out and mug her. Or worse.

  Walk with confidence, she told herself. If only she wasn’t so wobbly.

  She wouldn't think of the injustice of Cassette getting an escort home.

  Tip-toeing, trying not to draw any attention with the click-clack of her heels, she eventually spotted the orange nose of a cab. Not far to go now.

  A deep gravelly voice from the alleyway ahead stopped her in her tracks.

  Paralysed, she eventually discerned a second voice, also masculine. After some more heart-stopping time, it was apparent the two were conversing, and not planning to jump her at all. She edged closer, hoping to slip past unnoticed until she heard the phrase ‘Boundary Street development’ and she stilled to listen more intently.

  ‘What, you don’t trust me by now? Still got to count it?'

  Hang on a minute. Charlotte knew that voice. Who was that? Her hackles were rising. Whoever it was, it was not someone she was fond of.

  ‘Force of habit, mate.’

  ‘It’s all there. 500K. A price I am quite willing to pay for the pleasure of pissing off those bloody West End commies.'

  Oh my God! It was Keith Morgan, Craig’s boss. Who was he talking to?

  ‘Very good,’ the unknown man chuckled. ‘Always a pleasure to do business with you, my friend. How are the wife and kids?’

  Stomach clenching, Charlotte frantically tried to decipher what they were doing. There was something very unsavoury unfolding in that dark alley.

  The men’s voices grew louder as they wrapped up their conversation and began to move on.

  Shaking her troubled mind clear, Charlotte knew she had to get out of sight. She very strongly suspected she didn’t want to be starting a ‘fancy running into you here,’ kind of conversation with Keith Morgan right then. She needed to hide.

  The only place to go was the enormous, slightly unkempt hedge in the garden to her right. Charlotte dived in, hoping her beautiful dress would survive, just before the men emerged, shook hands, and headed off in opposite directions. She peered through the foliage to see Keith Morgan stride away in the direction she’d just come. The other man crossed over to an Audi on the other side of the road. He looked around before he climbed in, and Charlotte caught a glimpse of him under the dull street light. Councillor Wally Carter.

  Charlotte was still too terrified to move. She needed to throw up but couldn’t. After some time her legs started to cramp, and the twig digging into her back began to hurt. Confident Keith wouldn't return, she climbed out of the hedge, more cautious with her frock this time, and then ran blindly to the end of the street. Miraculously, the cab she’d seen earlier was still there. Thank God this was not part of the nightclub district, and there wasn’t a queue fifty people deep.

  At home, Charlotte carefully peeled off her dress and distractedly inspected it for damage while trying to make sense of what she’d overheard. She was pretty confident she’d just witnessed the payment of a bribe, that Morgan Carmichael had paid Councillor Wally Carter to ensure the approval for the development that was going to demolish her gallery.

  She sat on the edge of her bed and unconsciously toyed with the undamaged gown. With trepidation, her thoughts turned to Craig. What did he know about this? If he hadn’t known about the eviction letter, it was possible, no, probable, that he didn’t know about this either.

  God how she wished she had someone to talk to. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to call Ben.

  Charlotte withdrew her phone from her clutch. She had a missed call from an unfamiliar number. She dialled her answering service.

  It was Craig. How did he get her mobile number? He sounded rushed and regretful. Charlotte’s stomach contracted, pulling the knots of anxiety tighter.

  ‘Hi, Charlotte. This is Craig. Um, look I
’m sorry about tonight. For so much of tonight.' He paused and then took a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to see me but…I just…fuck it. I just want to talk to you. Can I? Will you call me?’

  The message ended abruptly. Charlotte stared at her phone.

  He’d called her.

  And oh God, the sound of his voice was like balm. Memories of his arms around her, holding her while she wept, holding her while she slept, surfaced. His hand on the back of her neck, propping her up. She didn’t need someone to talk to. She needed Craig.

  She tapped his number with her finger and held the phone to her ear. Too late, she wondered if she'd wake him.

  Apparently not.

  ‘Charlotte.' There was relief in his tone. She struggled to hold back the tears.

  ‘Sorry. It’s probably too late to call,’ she mumbled.

  ‘No, it’s not. Are you okay?’

  ‘Honestly, no. I’m not.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t know where to begin apologising, Charlotte.’

  ‘It’s okay. You already did. And you don’t need to apologise for Cassette. You’re not her keeper.’

  ‘Still,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry my friend tried to ruin your sister’s show.’

  Charlotte was too twisted up inside to appreciate the sentiment.

  ‘Craig, I need to ask you something’

  ‘Sure, what is it?' Oh God, he sounded hopeful. ‘Hey, just a second.' Charlotte waited while he had a quick muffled conversation with someone. She was beyond caring who he was with.

  He came back on the line. ‘Sorry about that. What is it, Charlotte? You sound worried.’

  She got straight to the point. ‘The development approval for Boundary Street. Was it all above board?’

  He hesitated. Then said, ‘Get off me, Cassie.'

  Charlotte heard Cassette ask, ‘Who’s on the phone, Craig?’

  And suddenly Cassette was in command of the device. ‘Is that you, Charlotte? Strange time for you to be ringing Craig. Is there something going on between you two?’