One Wicked Night

by Noelle Mack

  He was very good at making me laugh. "I think I would like to see it."

  "I am going to call it The Apotheosis of Everett Quinn."

  "That is a very grand title."

  "It is time I did something different. I am tired of painting the portraits of rich men's wives, especially when they come after you bent on mayhem. Tell Miss Reynaud to take care of the chickens. Off I go."

  I saw him out and headed home. There was one way to keep Quinn in place: have a buxom woman literally sit on him.

  My friend would be safe enough, perhaps, but then he was a man and well able to defend himself. The thought of Xavi, in­communicado and alone in her splendid gaol with only a maid to talk to, was deeply troubling. Still, emboldened by my ab­sence or her own frustration, she had come out on her own. She might go to the house where we made love and attempt to meet me again. I would leave her a letter there.

  My darling —

  Our last meeting was not enough —there is never enough time to love you as you deserve to be loved.

  When can I see you again? I long to kiss you and... no more need be said until we meet again.

  All my love, Edward

  I went again and again, but there was never a reply.

  Once, just once, I saw Xavi, in Diego's coach. My heart leaped and I ran after it, fool that I was. She shook her head and frowned in a haughty way when I came close enough for her to see me. Her eyes were cold when she opened the window, her words soft with malice. "Get away from me."

  I was too startled to reply and had I not stepped back, would have been dragged under the wheels of the coach. It rumbled away. So she was alive. But something had happened. Her mind had been poisoned against me.

  A week passed and then another. The last time I found the cabinet empty, I vowed to stop. That very night Richard came by and found me brooding. Our conversation was not a cheer­ful one and he soon left me to my own devices. I got up. My ill humor might be dispelled by a walk. The lonely streets were no comfort.

  I made my way to the banks of the river Thames and sat upon the stones of an old wall. The swiftly flowing water re­flected the moonlight but the sight was unromantic.

  A soft cry came from an alley and I turned my head. There was nothing. I supposed it was a cat, fucking or giving birth or dying. Then I heard footsteps, precisely placed, and not very loud. I turned around.

  Kitty had come out of the shadows and stood so close I could touch her. I got up.

  "No need to be a gentleman. It is only me."

  "What do you want?"

  "I saw you sitting alone. I thought I would keep you com­pany."

  Her voice had the curiously unemotional tone of Xavi's, I realized. What was she doing here? Diego must have tired of her.

  She sat when I did, primly adjusting her skirt beneath her narrow buttocks. There were faint circles under her eyes, but they only heightened the strange beauty of her face.

  "Do you want to know why I left Anne's house?"

  Her confiding tone surprised me. "All right."

  The moonlight was bright enough for me to see her face. I might learn something about Diego—and hence, Xaviera. Or I might not.

  "It was because of Don Diego. He asked me to go away with him and I said yes."

  I had thought as much. The heaviness in my heart seemed to swell. Why I felt sorry for her I could not say.

  "I was surprised to see you at the fight, sir. It was a good one.

  Her conversational tone, considering the ugly fate of the boxer, struck me as odd.

  "A man died."

  Kitty only shrugged. "Men die all the time. What of it?"

  "You are young to be so hardened."

  She turned her head to stare at me. "I am not so young as that and I have done all right."

  "I suppose in your terms you have."

  Kitty kicked her boots against the rocks of the wall. "I made a lot of money at Anne's house."

  "Really."

  What else could I say? How perfectly splendid! Huzzah! It would be utterly wrong for me, a rake, to pass judgment upon whores, high and low. I had spent far too much time trying to persuade women to give away what she charged for. I was feel­ing very low and her company was not helping.

  But my mind took up the puzzle of why she had wanted to be with Diego in the first place. It was possible that he had sim­ply needed someone to keep him company when he went slum­ming, as he seemed to like to do. I had no idea of how long he had been with her, and Anne had said only that Kitty had left her house, not when. He must have dallied with her for several weeks, perhaps longer. It was no use asking her. Everything was all the same to Kitty.

  And now she had returned to the streets. I imagined her in his big black coach, driven out to the country-house parties to be viciously used by scoundrels who called themselves gentle­men. He had brought her back out of boredom, or because some other broken girl had caught his attention.

  Unless he was somewhere about. He was the kind of man who fucked one woman in front of another just to see her cry. The devil only knew what games he got up to with Kitty.

  I had the feeling that she had edged imperceptibly closer. My irritable solitude had been pierced and I wanted her to go away.

  "What are you doing here, if I may ask?" Perhaps if I asked her enough bothersome questions, she would leave.

  "Oh, I came to meet a friend."

  "Is it someone I would know?" My polite tone would not have been out of place in a drawing room. Ours was made of rocks and strewn with rubbish. My nostrils filled with the stink of the river. It didn't seem to bother her. Nothing seemed to bother her.

  A man approached, stumbling a little.

  "There he is."

  He was roughly dressed and reeking of drink. I could smell it when he came closer. He looked me over and then looked at Kitty. "Is 'e your pimp?"

  She giggled. "No. He is a friend of mine from—from be­fore."

  "I am yer friend," the man said. "Not 'im." He reached down and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She made no protest at his rough handling, but I picked up a rock and got ready to use it.

  "Naow, naow," he said, backing off. "You put that down."

  I did but I kept a wary eye on him. He approached again, circling like a stray dog. This time he was quicker. With one arm around her waist, he threw her over his shoulders and dis­appeared into a low tunnel.

  I ran after him. It was too dark to see and I felt my way along the curved walls. After several minutes, despairing of finding my way, I came out on the other side in a neighborhood I did not know—and then I saw Kitty, brushing her dress and looking not too much the worse for wear.

  "Thank you," she said. "But we have finished. He only wanted what he came for."

  Being taken for a pimp and failing at an attempt to be a hero—well, at least my response had got me off my arse.

  I nodded and walked with her a little ways. No one paid at­tention to us. She stopped by a brightly lit window and looked at the paste jewels winking on their velvet trays.

  "How pretty. I had a diamond clip once."

  "I seem to remember it."

  We went on our meandering way and soon she stopped in front of another shop that sold cakes and sweet things. She hummed.

  "Would you like one?" I asked. She had just earned a shilling or two, but I thought I would treat her.

  "No, sir."

  I told myself again, now that my spirits had lifted, that she might prove to be a source of useful information about Diego. All it would take was money. There was no telling what he would do next.

  What with one thing and another, I followed her for another hour. She brought me to a slum, a three-story edifice on the verge of toppling over, and stood in front of its ramshackle door. "This is where I live."

  For a fraction of a second I saw something human in her eyes: shame. Again I felt sorry for her—and a foolish urge to play the gentleman to her waif sprang up.

  She opened the door an
d a drunk fell out at her feet. The door had been the only thing holding him up and he might not get up again. I peered up the crazy-tilted stairway. There was enough moonlight coming through a hole in the roof for us to find our way.

  "I will show you to your door."

  "Thank you, sir."

  We went up one flight and then a second. She knocked upon the door and no one answered.

  "Is someone home?"

  "I think so." She looked up at me, her eyes wide and calm. I turned the knob and entered .. . and a man's strong hand took me by my clothes and slammed me to the floor. My head hit something going down and I saw stars.

  And then I saw Diego. He stood in the doorway of the room, his arms folded over a massive chest. His eyes were filled with hate, and I could see his fingers tighten as if he wished to strangle me.

  "It was you. Not Quinn."

  Kitty had fallen with me. Not thinking clearly, I tried to hold her close. He might decide to kill us both and leave no witnesses. She struggled free and I caught the look that passed between them. It lasted for an infinitesimal amount of time, but it shocked me into awareness. She had tricked me into follow­ing her here.

  She stood up under his watchful eye while I gasped for breath—and kicked my head with her booted foot.

  When I came to, I was stripped naked. There was a bitter taste on my lips as if some foul liquid had been spread over them. It coated my tongue as well. I tried to spit but the stuff in my mouth was too thick. A fog had entered my brain. Its stealthy enchantment made my cock achingly stiff, even though I understood that I was now in mortal danger.

  Diego's eyes moved over my body, assessing my strength. If it came to that, I would fight for my life. At that moment a greater awareness dawned upon me without one word of expla­nation from him: he had found the letter or been given it. How else would he know that 1 was his wife's lover?

  Our meeting in the gaming hell had come to an unexpected conclusion that had allowed me to escape, but in here he was in control. Diego unfolded his arms to put his hands on his hips and for the first time I saw the dagger in his belt.

  So that was to be my fate. If he won, I would not be the first dead body in the mud of the Thames when the sun rose. From whores who defied their pimps to thieves who stole from each other, anyone who ran afoul of a criminal sense of justice might be found there when the tide receded, along with the occasional suicide. In his eyes, I was a criminal for bedding the wife he rarely saw and treated so badly. I could not argue the point. With my face bashed to a pulp, my hair torn out, without clothes to identify my remains, my body would be thrown into the paupers' pit and there would be no one to mourn me.

  My devoted servants were too used to my comings and go­ings, and too discreet to send anyone hunting for me at once. The thought of Decimus, the butler, patiently awaiting my re­turn and counseling the housekeeper, Mrs. Mayhew, and the servants under her to do likewise, floated through my mind and out again. There was no one who could help me but myself.

  He dragged me to my feet and I summoned up the strength to face Diego squarely. His gaze dropped to my cock.

  "Does danger excite you?" His voice was level but filled with menace. His eyes rose to meet mine again and we stared boldly, male animals sizing each other up before a fight, if not a fair one.

  The question required no answer, but my body betrayed me. My cock would not go down—I would not die with my tail be­tween my legs, for what it was worth.

  Diego took a step forward but I stood my ground. He grabbed my cock at exactly the moment Kitty pulled my arm behind me, nearly wrenching it from its socket. I howled with pain. The two of them got the better of me, and before I knew it, I was trussed and held prisoner, with Kitty standing guard at my side should I endeavor to slip free. My hands were bound together behind my back, and a tether held me to one of the posts. My feet were bound to each other, far enough apart to enable me to stand upright, but not kick.

  Diego brought his face to mine, the better to intimidate me. He grasped my cock again, watching to see if my expression changed, as if he thought I might enjoy his caress. I did not— and still my cock stayed up. Whatever had been rubbed upon my lips was also a potent aphrodisiac.

  "So you are my Xavi's lover. She likes big cocks." He stroked mine for several more seconds, then let go to unbutton his breeches. The front flap came down to reveal his own, jut­ting out from the dark, sweaty thatch of hair covering his groin.

  His arousal was undeniable. He rolled down his foreskin and the dark head of his cock came forth, a drop of liquid at the small hole in it. He touched it to the head of mine—the drop felt scalding hot and I struggled to get away.

  He would not let me. Luxuriously and slowly, he rubbed his hard rod against my own, but spared me his kiss. That he gave to Kitty, who stood on tiptoe to receive it, the vicious little bitch. He broke it off to talk to me.

  "I have had you stalked for some time. I know who you are. I know that you fuck my worthless wife. Dear Xavi," he said mockingly. "She is not so innocent as you think."

  I kept silent. Now I knew who had found my last letter to her. My precautions had kept Diego's spies from finding the others.

  "When you walked through Soho with Anne, my men were right at your heels. You never saw them, eh?"

  I had not.

  "And then Fotheringay distracted you. On purpose. Paid by me. I was lying in wait for you."

  He studied my face. I daresay my expression did not please him, because he slapped me viciously across the face, so hard that I saw stars again.

  "And here we are," he went on calmly. "The cuckolded hus­band and the lover who put the horns on his head. We shall see who is stronger, eh? Two men, both angry. An even match. I too shall be naked."

  Kitty stood again on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

  "Yes," he replied. "Go get it."

  As to what "it" might be, I could guess: A whip or some­thing else with which to punish my flesh to his satisfaction. She left the room and returned with a flask of wine, which puzzled me. I vowed not to swallow it. I would rather choke to death should they force it down my throat than be manhandled by Diego.

  Again my body betrayed me. It wished to live, whatever hu­miliation I must suffer to do so. When Diego forced my head back and my mouth open, Kitty stood on the bed and tipped the flask over my mouth. Only a few drops came out, moisten­ing my tongue. I did not spit them out, for there was nothing to spit—my mouth had gone dry. But the drugged wine must have been stronger than the liquid smeared on my mouth, for the drops had an immediate effect.

  She upended the flask and filled my mouth completely. The wine spilled over my lips. I could not gag or I would have choked. Instead I swallowed with frantic haste. Diego ran his hand over the muscles in my neck, soothing me with Spanish words that I could not comprehend. The potion made a power­ful sensation of warmth and erotic arousal spread through my entire body.

  Consumed though I was with loathing and fear for him, I was more intoxicated than ever and his touch was ... comfort­ing. His hand moved from my neck to my shoulders and chest, caressing me with skill—there was no other word for it. And it was nothing like a woman's touch, but strong and warm. A part of my mind fought against surrendering, to no avail.

  He smiled slightly and let Kitty help him undress. My eyes rolled back in my head and I closed my eyelids. I did not want to watch. I had no desire to see the rest of him. Dazed, I still possessed a tiny fraction of resolve and began to explore the knots behind my back with one of my thumbs. If I could loosen one—

  A mouth fastened itself over my treacherous cock, sucking and tonguing it to fresh stiffness. I prayed it was Kitty. The softness of the face that brushed against my groin told me that it was, and I opened my eyes. Diego was watching her as she bent over to fellate me.

  Without saying anything, he observed the pleasure I was forced to take, noticing my shudders as I neared the release I did not want. A hallucination of writhing women on the very bed to which
I was now bound assailed me.

  "Stop," he commanded her.

  Kitty straightened at once, my dripping cock coming out of her mouth hard as ever.

  Diego went to where his clothes had been put, and withdrew his dagger. I steeled myself to endure a bloody revenge, hoping against hope to survive his controlled fury—and worked harder on the knot around my wrists.

  He stepped in back of me and I stopped, surprised to feel him cut the tie to the post with the dagger. He threw it at the bed and it pierced through a pillow that was well out of my reach.

  "Get down, you cur." He pushed me onto the bed, where I landed on all fours. I kept my ankles far apart, straining at the bonds that held them. One good kick backwards might do the trick—but I wanted to scream when Kitty grabbed my balls and held them tightly, just on the edge of inflicting pain.

  As it was, I felt a compelling weakness seize my groin. With my balls trapped in her hand, I was vulnerable indeed. Yet the drugged wine made me register a sensation of pleasure once more.

  "Kitty, take hold of his cock too. If you—" he brought his lips close to my ear, "if you do not like the touch of a man, she will do." His tone conveyed his malicious enjoyment.

  I was no longer bound to the bed, but controlled all the same. Kitty oiled my cock and pumped it vigorously. Her hand tightened with every stroke. I knew that I would be made to spray cum for him—the sensations of an impending orgasm were building deep within my body—and that he would watch the spurting jets with pleasure, savoring my humiliation.

  The drug in the wine gained fresh power over my mind and body, and Kitty's hands upon my cock were too skilled to resist much longer. I began to rock and moan, as if I too were enjoy­ing my bondage and rough treatment, hoping to distract Diego while I surreptitiously worked on the knot around my wrists. Her grip upon my balls eased as the stimulation I received made them tighten and draw up to the base of my cock.

  It was her skill that undid me. With a cry of mingled rage and animal lust, I reached climax.

  The pulsing release felt extraordinary, and my body surged with new strength. The rush of blood through my veins helped to clear the poisonous fog at last. Somehow I loosened the knot around my wrists but I kept them together, waiting for my chance to seize his dagger and cut the longer tie that bound my ankles.