Lovers in Their Fashion

by S F Hopkins

  At last it was finished. The guests were gone, the favoured among them to prepare for the party that was still two hours away. Alice, David and Marco sat in the Board Room with a bottle of Krug.

  ‘A success?’ asked Marco.

  Alice looked at David. He in turn looked down at the paper before him, though in truth he had no need to check. The figures were burned into his consciousness. ‘Immediate firm orders on the day, eight hundred thousand,’ he said.

  Marco let out a low whistle and even Alice looked stunned. ‘That’s almost double the best we’ve ever done,’ she said. ‘We owe it to your brilliant designs, Marco.’

  ‘Yes,’ Marco said. ‘To my brilliant designs. But also to your equally brilliant presentation, cara. What a team we make!’

  ‘More again in statements of intent,’ said David. ‘We’ll hit two million before the week is out.’

  Marco began to laugh. David joined in. Before she knew it, Alice was laughing too. Marissa’s head appeared around the door. ‘It’s good news?’ she asked, though she knew the answer.

  ‘Marissa,’ said Alice. ‘Bring a glass and join us. It’s your success, too. Marco. I have a dinner invitation for tonight. I know my hostess would be happy to have you join us?’

  ‘Carissima, I would love to but I must make my eight o’clock flight to Roma. If I am not in Italy in the morning, there will be cross faces.’

  If Alice was disappointed that she would not have Marco there to shield her from her blind date, it did not show.

  And then it was time to move on. David would stay behind and oversee the clearing away. Alice’s plan now was: taxi home; shower; dress; another cab to the party. After that, dinner with Merrill, Tony and Tony’s friend. And after that there was the weekend and…well, she didn’t need to think about that right now and she wasn’t going to.

  But how could she not? Whatever she was doing or thinking about, that black cloud was still there. It was getting closer. A week ago it had been merely a feeling of dread. Now it was physical, a hand clawing at her. She felt as though she might be sick at any moment. And yet, she carried on. Whatever was going on inside, to the people she came in contact with she was still the person she always was.

  She got out of the taxi, smiled at Ben and took the elevator to the penthouse. Stepping out of her shoes at the door, she walked across the room to the phone and called Merrill.

  ‘Fabulous show,’ said Merrill. ‘Are you home?’

  ‘I’m home. Where are we going for dinner?’

  ‘Here. My place.’

  ‘You’re giving us dinner in your apartment? I can come home from the party and not have to go out again? Oh, Merrill, I love you.’

  ‘Makes sense for me, too, honey. When we push you and your new love out of here, Tony and I can fall straight into bed.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s going to be my new love, Merrill.’

  ‘Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I didn’t think Tony was going to be anything long term and look at me now.’

  ‘Well…I hear what you say. What’s his name, anyway?’

  ‘Tony. I just told you.’

  ‘Not Tony’s name. Tony’s friend’s name.’

  ‘Oh. You know what? I don’t know. John, I think. Does it matter?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. You want to ride to the party with me?’

  ‘Tony and his friend are coming here first. Can we all ride together?’

  ‘Together? Well. I guess so. Sure. Why not?’

  Why not, indeed?

  The cab was booked for seven – crazily early for a party, but Alice was the hostess and wanted to be there to greet the earliest arrivals. She was waiting in the lobby when the elevator doors opened and out walked Merrill and Tony.

  And Tony’s friend.

  ‘Alice!’ cried Merrill. ‘You look spectacular! Is that one of today’s frocks?’ She caught the look on her best friend’s face. ‘Alice? Honey? Are you okay?’ She turned back towards her companions. Tony merely looked puzzled, but John was caught in the same pose as Alice—stopped dead in his tracks. Mouth open. Staring. Merrill looked from the unspeaking Alice to the silent John; and from John to Alice; and from Alice to John. The words of Sherlock Holmes returned to her, almost causing her to giggle. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth.”

  ‘John,’ she said. ‘What’s your last name?’

  John found the cab ride to the party excruciating. Merrill spoke with a brightness she clearly did not feel. Tony tried to support her. Alice looked utterly stricken. For himself, he could not speak. How recently he would have been delighted to find that Alice was to be his party hostess! How he would have sought ways to rekindle her love! The efforts he would have made to overcome whatever silly thing it was that had prevented her from being his!

  But now he knew what that thing had been, and that it had been far from silly. Now he knew that Alice had never loved him, had only pretended to do so, had in fact loved Martin Planer. Alice had betrayed him.

  And Alice? What was she thinking? Why, that here was the only man she had ever loved, in the cab with her, coming to a party with her. Here was the second chance she did not deserve. She had to take it. If Fate had brought the two of them together again after all this time, Fate meant it to be. She would not refuse her destiny a second time.

  And from here, perhaps, would come the strength to deny Martin Planer. How quickly hope comes, and dreams form! If John was in her life again, she would confess all. He could confront Planer with her. She would still go to Honfleur, but with a lover and not a predator. It would be John with whom she would eat the delectable l’Absinthe dinner, and John who would undress her afterwards. Their love-making would be tender and bittersweet instead of—let the dreadful word come out—rape. They would consummate their love in the place that had been so dear to them both.

  When they spilled out of the cab, John pulled his wallet from his pocket to pay the fare. It was what he always did. Alice placed her hand on his arm. ‘It’s on account, John.’

  He pulled brusquely free and put the wallet away. ‘Don’t go,’ he said to the driver. Alice’s face went white.

  John turned to Tony. ‘I have something to say to Alice,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long, but it’s private.’

  Tony nodded. Without a word he took Merrill by the hand and led her away.

  John turned to Alice. He stepped back a single pace. ‘I’ll leave you here,’ he said.

  ‘But…oh, John. Please. No. Come in with me.’

  ‘No, Alice. I won’t do that.’

  ‘Oh, John, John. I was such a fool all those years ago. I wanted you so much. I should have told you the truth and trusted you to love me still. It’s not too late, is it? Not now I’ve found you again. It can’t be too late. Don’t smile at me like that, John. It’s not a nice smile at all.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is, Alice. Too late, I mean. Too late for you to tell me your little secret of ten years ago.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘It’s too late because I already know.’

  ‘Know? How?’

  ‘How you must have laughed. You and Planer. He was the one you loved, wasn’t he? You pretended it was me so you could steal what he wanted.’

  Alice’s hand went to her mouth. ‘No. No, John. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘I’ve never slapped a woman,’ John said. ‘I’ve always felt contempt for men who would slap women. I could make an exception for you. But you’re not worth it.’ He opened the cab door, slipped into a seat and closed the door firmly. Whatever he said to the driver, Alice didn’t hear. The cab drove off.

  Alice stood on the curb and watched it go.

  Hesitantly, Merrill approached her. ‘Alice? Honey? Oh, honey!’

  Alice’s voice was tiny. ‘Get David for me, Merrill, will you?’

  ‘Honey, why don’t you come…’

  ‘Please, Merrill. Get David for me.’

  Merri
ll backed away, spoke to Tony, then came back to her distraught friend. ‘Tony’s gone in to look for him.’

  ‘Thanks, Merrill.’ She opened her bag and fished through it. ‘I don’t have any tickets with me. But David will take care of you.’

  ‘You’re not coming in?’

  ‘I can’t face it. Oh. David. There you are. I’m sorry, petal, I’ve been taken ill. You’ll have to make my excuses to our guests. I can’t face…I just can’t. I’m sorry.’

  David put his hand on her arm. ‘Hey. Boss. If you’re ill, you’re ill. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Can you get me a cab? Quickly? To take me home? And will you look after Merrill and Tony? Make sure they have a good time?’

  ‘Of course I…’

  ‘Alice,’ said Merrill. The point of being here for me wasn’t to meet a bunch of fashionistas. It was to spend the evening with you. If you can’t stay, we don’t want to.’

  Alice turned to look at her, as if from a long way away, just as David’s hand went up to hail a passing black cab. ‘I’m sorry, Merrill,’ she said.

  ‘Please, honey. Don’t say you’re sorry.’ The cab made a U-turn and pulled up in front of them. ‘We’re coming back with you. I’m going to deliver you to your own door. I’m going to help you get out of your glad rags and into something you can sleep in.’

  ‘Thanks, Merrill.’

  ‘There’s just one condition.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘When I get you on your own, you have to tell me what happened between you and John.’

  What John had said to the cabbie was that he wanted to be dropped at London Bridge station. With any luck, in less than an hour he would be home.

  And luck he had. A train for Brighton pulled in less than five minutes after he arrived on the platform. He pulled out his cell phone and called Fran Nolan. She was clearly delighted to hear from him.

  ‘Are you doing anything this evening?’ he asked.

  ‘I am now.’

  ‘I’m just getting on the train from London. I’ll be at Queens Road station in fifty-five minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be there to meet you.’

  Leaving Tony to make his own way to her apartment, Merrill accompanied Alice to the penthouse.

  ‘Please don’t fuss, Merrill,’ said Alice.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Sit down. I’m going to run you a bath.’

  ‘Tony needs you.’

  ‘I said, don’t be ridiculous.’

  Merrill found a jar of bath salts, never opened, and scooped a large handful into the running water. She read the label and then added more, stirring the water with her hand. The most delightful fragrance filled the air. When the bath was filled to luxury level, she went into the sitting room, gathered Alice into her arms and led her into the bathroom. Alice stood while Merrill undressed her.

  ‘You’re shaking,’ said Merrill.

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  ‘There. Get in, please.’

  Alice sank gratefully into the water. ‘Okay, mother.’

  ‘I’d think she’s the last person you’d want to think about.’ She picked up the jar of salts. ‘What is this stuff?’

  ‘That? Oh. A present from a supplier. I’ve never used it.’

  ‘No, I can see that.’ She read from the label. ‘Dead sea salts, which include vital oils, help to ease tension in the body, leaving it soothed and relaxed. This contains special roses that grow in the holy land and symbolize honesty, purity and holiness.’

  ‘Honesty! Purity! My God! Tell that to John.’

  ‘So. John. You ready to tell me about it?’

  Alice began to cry. ‘He knows, Merrill.’

  ‘Knows?’

  ‘What I did to him. He knows. I was going to tell him, but he already knew.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was going to tell him.’

  ‘You said that.’

  ‘I thought we could…I thought…when I saw that Tony’s friend was John…I thought…it was Fate.’

  ‘Fate can be cruel.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Fate can be cruel.’

  ‘Don’t tease me, Merrill. I can’t take teasing right now.’

  ‘Sorry. So. What are you going to do?’

  ‘There’s nothing I can do. He thinks I never loved him at all.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘He thinks I was in love with Martin. He thinks I only took up with him so I could spy. He thinks everything I said when I said I loved him was a lie.’

  ‘Men! Obtuse or what?’

  Queens Road runs from the Brighton railway station down towards the sea, briefly becoming West Street before joining King’s Road which runs along the front in both directions. Fran took John’s hand as they passed under the ornate clock and emerged from the airy nineteenth century glass and ironwork concourse into the workaday canopy and onto the paved sidewalk. This had been a building site on and off for the past four years. The latest plans involved a “One World” green development with the World Wildlife Fund. Very exciting; but John and Fran weren’t thinking about sustainable ecological footprints and environmentally friendly housing. They weren’t saying much, but the looks they gave each other were frankly carnal.

  ‘Where do you want to eat?’ asked Fran. Receiving no answer, she looked at John. She stopped dead on the sidewalk. ‘What?’

  He kissed her on the throat, his hands holding firmly on to the lapels of her coat.

  Fran said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a lascivious look on anyone’s face. All I asked was, where do you want to eat?’

  He kissed her on the cheek. ‘You should have said, “What do you want to eat?”,’ he murmured. He kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘What? Oh!’ She started to giggle.

  He kissed her on the lips.

  ‘We could go back to mine first?’ she said between kisses. ‘Get a carry out after? Or I could make something? It’ll have to be something simple; I don’t have much in.’

  ‘I want to push my tongue deep inside your furry little mott,’ he whispered, his hands still holding her close by the lapels.

  Fran was laughing now.

  ‘I want to stick my thumb up your bum and wash your beautiful cunt clean with my hot and shameless tongue.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ She held up an arm. ‘Taxi!’

  ‘Taxi?’

  ‘We haven’t got time to walk, John.’

  Martin Planer’s hand moved gently down the girl’s cheek, like a lover’s. The girl wasn’t fooled. In her short life in Bulgaria she had known what it was to be loved, if only by her family. This wasn’t love. She knew what this was. Since the Russians had brought her to England, she had seen a lot of this.

  The Russians. They’d told her parents they could get her a job as a waitress. Good money, they’d said. Soon she’d be sending some of it back home. And they’d fallen for it. Scraped together five thousand Lev they couldn’t afford to pay her fare and give her a start.

  A start in this. The Russians had her passport. They never let her out of the house, except to move her by car to the next house in the next town, so the men they found could experience something fresh. And they certainly didn’t give her any money.

  Her blouse was thin and she wore nothing beneath it. Her breasts weren’t big enough to need support and, anyway, the Russians liked her this way. Defenseless. Vulnerable. It was what their customers paid for. When Planer pinched her nipple beneath the skimpy cotton, she whimpered.

  At first, she had tried to squash the whimpers, hide the fact that she was hurt, because she thought it would only make the customers angrier. She knew better now. Beata had explained it to her. The Russians offered something special. They sought out customers who wanted to know they’d hurt the girl they were with. That’s what they came for.

  It didn’t help to pretend you’d been hurt, though. That didn’t work with the kind of men who came here. They wanted real pain, no
t pretend, and they knew the difference. Beata had explained that to her, too.

  She hadn’t seen Beata for a while. She’d asked Ivan about that, Ivan the Russian who seemed to be the nicest of the bunch, if nice was a word you could use about any of them. He’d slapped her, told her to mind her own goddamned business.

  Beata had thought she was pregnant, the girl knew that. Maybe the Russians had taken her somewhere she could give birth in safety. Maybe they’d even sent her home to have it.

  Maybe.

  Planer was pushing her down, onto her knees. She knew what came now. As she worked his zipper down she licked her lips, trying to force moisture into a dry mouth. You had to give yourself what comfort you could.

  There were no windows in this room. As the girl worked on his cock, Planer stared at the wall, covered in travel posters for some Balkan paradise that existed only in the minds of the tourist authority that commissioned them. Why was he here, when he was going to be knocking the hoity-toity Alice Springer off her self-allocated pedestal the very next evening? He knew why. He lasted longer when he was drained. Even a few days of celibacy made his time to orgasm shorter. And, when he got his hands on Alice, he was going to make sure he lasted as long as possible. Alice was going to suffer like no girl before her had ever suffered. And, with her mouth stuffed full of those nice little panties he’d sent her and told her to wear, and her hands hobbled with the restraints he was taking in his bag, no-one would hear her screams. No-one would know what she went through.

  Until they saw her face the next morning.

  As they came through the door, Fran was rippling open the buttons of her coat. She shrugged out of it and tossed it onto a hook. Moving into the sitting room she stepped away from John, turned to look at him and stared into his eyes. ‘Stand there,’ she commanded. She unhooked her long skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her hands moved more slowly now as she unbuttoned her blouse, her eyes on his, putting on a show, knowing she had his full attention. The blouse went on the floor with the skirt.

  John stood as if spellbound.

  ‘You like this?’ she murmured.