Pearced

  “Let’s stop this Tharie,” is all he says, running his fingers through his hair looking down at his feet, he sounds tired too.

  “OK” is all I can manage, and grazing past him, he doesn't try to stop me, doesn't say another word, I head for the stairs and the sanctuary of the air outside, it’s dark but mild, I head home.

  I’ll get tea at the station.

  Chapter forty-two, Monday:11thnovember2013 lost

  Flattening down the fabric of my jersey pencil skirt, its hem at my calf, wearing my new cone heel cowboy boots and a peplum top I look at myself in the mirror, the tools of the last week visible although I do still have a slight tan, I am thinner than I should be and tired too. Automaton all morning, work, then I can really get back into my swing. Daniel hasn't called, and neither have I, aren't we supposed to be grown-up? Do we ever really grow-up?

  The boys had noticed it as soon as I stepped out of the car yesterday, and this morning they come wandering over to say hello and ask where have I been? Glad to be home I take another brain cleansing massive lungful of cold clean honest country air, wonder how my life is changing but all the important things are staying the same. Feeling a little better, I decide to be a denim designer and head into town to do some work. Yes, authentic, super soft, super lightweight, poly-twill denim, and I suddenly feel more like myself. It'll take a bit of getting used to, I think, but I can do it I’m sure of that.

  Steffi managed it didn't she? Well...not really. Bloody hell.

  I grab a Vogue alongside Horse&Rider, it's all about authentic denim and hoof-boots apparently, not much has changed there then I surmise. I check my favourite denim blogs, and seeping through the seams my passion for jeans is awakening, returning me to the familiar, and enlivening me.

  Do my job, to be useful, the routine, the ritual, it's comforting.

  I slide into the cold seat of my car, it's too old for heated seats, my breath's vapour fills the air instantly misting up my window. I start my Landrover and it rattles heavily trying to heat up, and putting it into gear I drive, I feel slightly sick to my stomach suddenly, wheezy and short of breath. My head begins to swim, I stop the car because 'safety first', then suddenly I don’t seem to care where I am or what I’m doing, then total velvety nothingness.

  I feel oddly calm, a little chilly, and supremely sedated.

  I open my heavy eyes and it smells clean, sterile, the air tastes artificial, pre cleaned and filtered. I'm cold. Its gleaming white, too bright and I wince. I try my fingers and toes, all working. Have I fallen off a horse? It won’t be the first-time I’ve come around to the sound of fast retreating hoof beats with the bridle in my hand and mud on my jodhpurs. But, not this time.

  I move my head and instantly pay with a clap of steering pain rushing through inside. An injury? No, can't feel anything, my hand lands back down quickly and heavily with a smack, I don't seem to be able to channel any energy where I want it. I can tell my boots aren’t on, not a fall then, what?

  I have an odd tingly pain across my ribs like a rib break but less localized. I can barely lift my head but force it and look down. I'm naked, and though my lenses can't focus yet I can see a dark shadow across my side, a large bruise? My head rushes with blood, and I have to lie back down, my breaths are shallow and raspy.

  Where the fuck am I?

  I hear a soft hissing from above me, a blast of cold vapour reaches my lungs and suddenly I don't care about anything any-more. Not even who’s feeding the horses. But of course I hope someone is.

  I am cold, I shiver, I am awake.

  I have my extremities back in play and can move my arms and legs. I swing carefully off the mattress I’m lying on and my bare feet hit the freezing floor, that helps waken me further. Have I just been left here? And where the hell are my Marc Jacobs boots?

  There's nothing to wrap around me, not even a sheet covers the bare ticking stripe of the mattress. Neural pathways are clearing, like a city of traffic connecting through complex road schemes and calming measures. I've been here before, suddenly I look down at my body, I look thinner, how long? Can't go there, not enough information. Need input, need to know more. A tattoo, its ink up my right side, still not fully focused but it looks like a huge bird and galloping horses, with symbols all worked beautifully around my body. I turn my head quickly to where I know there's a door, remembering, though from this side it just looks like more white tile.

  Think Tharie, try to focus your mind on something.

  Sitting trot to H, long rein along the side and canter a ten metre circle.

  I stand, unsteady but I know if I don't force myself to do it another mist of sedative will send me away again and I’ll be useless. Escape, is now a firm plan.

  George and Harry, I suddenly hope they're OK, cats look after themselves, how long have I been in here? A sudden wave of claustrophobia hits me, the room isn’t small but I can’t see sky or breathe natural air, so I’m trapped, and it's not making my brain happy at all. What day is it? Bloody hell, I've missed Dr Who.

  I am standing, my head is a chaotic mess if noise and a rush of blood makes me swoon a little too, but the cell is bare and there's nothing but my own legs to keep me upright.

  I stumble to the wall and bang my fist on it with what strength I can muster, it rattles, since it’s designed as an illusion not to be impenetrable, no subject would have known there is a door here, unless they'd been here before. I shudder at the memory. I bang my fist in sequence along where I remember the seam must be, and as my head clears I notice a slightly wider grout line in the tile so that's confirmed. One tile depresses slightly as a hiss of vaporous poison escapes from a vent high above, so I hurry, and the door slides sideways, and I stagger once more through Daniels wardrobe into the room beyond. Smelling his clothes as I pass, nice.

  A tattoo has successfully embellished most of my right side from the jut of my hipbone to just under my breast and around to below my shoulder blade, don't think about that right now I chastise myself, get the fuck out of here. I look desperately around for my clothes, what’s happened to them? My gorgeous boots, last season's but still, can’t get another pair, bloody hell. Is that what’s important? No!! I will miss those boots though, soft buttery leather, beautiful little fringe along the back seam...stop it, focus.

  Collected canter through the centre to X, stop and salute.

  I dress in Daniels black t-shirt and skinny black jeans, they're too big but I like the low crotch style so I rock the look, I add a studded belt to keep the jeans from falling down and socks and DM's, too big but what choice do I have?

  I pour myself a drink, and the soothing burn if the dark gold bourbon flows through me a medicine to beat the drug in my system. Daniel has added JD to the cabinet for me, when did that happen? The remotes are on the coffee table as before and I sit on the sofa to gain some strength. I'm beginning to achieve some level of clarity as the chemicals clear my system, and switch on the computer. I log in as me into the RANDom server, here I can check my mails and my text messages, I have missed calls and texts from Daniel a couple from my Mum, some from Pete too. I double check my dates and I have been off the grid for two days!

  The horses!

  I send a quick message to my Mum and Pete confirming I’m OK. Another to Jinni to check and feed the horses, she replies she has already been there, she’d passed and noticed them looking sorrowfully into empty hay bars. Love that girl. I don’t want to alarm them so I lie and tell them my phone was stolen and I had to stay in town for a few nights.

  I call Daniel not sure if he’d take my call, “Tharie! Where are you?” I tell him. “Don’t move, I’m in the office.” I hear him sigh loudly at the phone, “god Tharie” he hangs up.

  He is order, and I am chaos.

  Daniel helps me into the car and Stan drives me home.

  TC: “Thank you for the rescue” throw a line.

  DP: “That’s OK” reel it in.

  TC: “I thought all this was over?”

  DP: �
�It is” are we speaking about the same thing?

  TC: “Miss you” did I catch anything?

  Silence, no.

  Chapter forty-three, Tuesday:12thnovember2013 gig

  “Honey, just go to Barbara’s black tie event, you promised, maybe you'll get some answers there?” She sips her drink looking at me over the brim of her heavy glass. “But you have to look incredible just in case he turns up with her.” Her inflection is suitably venomous, so I approve, though she shocks me with these words, it hadn’t occurred to me she might be there, of course she'd go, Barbara and Graham would invite her, and she wouldn’t turn down that opportunity would she? She's a woman with something other people covet, of course she'd show.

  “I don’t want to confront Daniel like that Pete,” I am sick at the thought. “I sent him a text and he hasn’t answered, I take that as a bad sign.” I tell her, I am tired, tired of thinking about Daniel, talking about Daniel and feeling punched and sore.

  “Then turn up, look stunning, be you, behave impeccably and leave.” She puts down her glass triumphantly as if the plan is now set. And she is right. My friend has set my brain in motion, I’m going back to being me, what would I do? Pete will be there of course with James.

  At that moment clarity hits me like a freight train. I would sort this thing out like I would a missing shoe, I’d get it put back on. My mind loves horse-related metaphors. I am back, resolved, I order another triple straight up to celebrate. It works.

  Daniel is late, I check my Dads watch like a nervous tick ever few seconds. I stand in the foyer of the club and the support band is finishing. My brain says thank goodness, Depeche Mode they are certainly not! Daniel has agreed to honour a long standing date with me at this gig, but we are not together. I am clear in my head about that, and rinse and repeat my own words back at me hoping, one time, I could feel it is true. Maybe, fiftieth time really is a charm?

  I decide to text him:

  TC: “It's me”

  DP: “Hi”

  TC: Monosyllabic, “where are you?”

  DP: “Working” what else?

  TC: “Can you meet me here?” Are you even coming now?

  DP: “I’ll try” infuriating

  TC: “That's all I’m asking Daniel” don’t do me any favours.

  DP: “I might be late” of course you might.

  Can’t be mad, we’re not together.

  Wearing a jersey mini dress and twenty four-hole DM's, an oversized leather biker jacket and a McQueen skull scarf, a new one from James, I wait. It's draughty standing here, but it’s where we agreed to meet. I can’t miss the show, I’m cross but I decide to enjoy my evening regardless, how did I allow myself to base my happiness on another person, I am used to being by myself, get a grip.

  EC: “And I’m watching Kerrang is that right Catharine?” Bloody hell.

  TC: “Yes Kerrang channel, he's starting now, switch it on” there won't be any Barbara Streisand on that channel you know.

  EC: “Thanks Ex” god.

  TC: “Got it?” Please say yes.

  EC: “It’s terribly loud Catharine” bloody hell.

  TC: “It's supposed to be Mum, you want to hear it as Henry intended it don't you?” Help me someone.

  EC: “Do they play Streisand on this channel too?” Bloody hell no!!!!

  Phone on vibrate and stowed in my clutch I head into the venue, three sections of dark red carpeted stairs heading down, it's dark and sticky and smells of stale beer, just how I like it. The clientèle are grown-up 'Goths' and punks, old biker jackets, vintage band t's, and tattoos everywhere. The atmosphere smells of a heady mixture of petuli oil, weed and snakebite, our beverage of choice.

  The band are on stage in a spooky set, dark strobes flick and cross over the stage and in the swirling cover of a dry ice cloud my Brother is at the mic, guitar in hand and the crowd is silent for a moment, then he jabs his fist in the air, fireworks clap behind him sending a rain of glowing orange sparks into the air, and a roaring cheer erupts and the whole floor beneath me vibrates with feet stomping. The set is brilliant, I only check my phone once imagining I feel it vibrate, but it must be the heavy bass blasting through the great Marshall speakers that I’m standing close to in the VIP enclosure. I dance and sing all through it, my throat hoarse and dry form exertion, for forty minutes I forget Daniel and that he should be here.

  TC: “Good luck Henry” I hadn’t expected him to answer, he'd be pacing up and down getting nervous about forgetting the words to the new single.

  HC: “Thought I wouldn’t answer? Enjoy the show Sis Hx” phew.

  That was then, and I am enjoying his show.

  I stand in the dark, leaning over the rail that separates me from the crowd, I look down at the hive of dancers and the heaving whirlwind of the ‘mosh’ and remember when that used to be me down there, something has changed in me, and I’m learning to enjoy it.

  I feel someone behind me, this restricted area is for friends and family of the band so chances are I wouldn’t know them since the band change their alliances more often than politicians. I choose to watch the show. Suddenly the man is close behind me, pushing his hard body into mine, a delicious smell. Daniel.

  All the old feelings come rushing back to me, and the warm soft face against mine, kissing my neck, my body responds and I push my behind into him hoping to feel him, I have missed him and suddenly everything that has passed between us seems silly, he’s here with me isn’t he?

  Exit at A at extended trot.

  He groans, I can’t hear it but I feel the vibration it makes through my body as he wraps his strong arms around my waist and pulls me into him. His cock hard and waiting, and his hot lips trailing my neck and nibbling my jaw. I make a move to turn into him, desperate to kiss him, he says no, and holds me facing the throng of the crowd.

  His hands move up my back under my jacket, caressing my spine and waist, my insides ignite with pleasure and my needy sex is wet for him. His hands are around my arse, involuntarily I grind my body into him, reaching behind me I trace my hand along the hard shape of his penis, he moans in my ear, and I massage it through the denim. His hands are under the fall of the curve of my arse, so sensitive, even over my dress, Daniel pulls up its hem, I gasp, there’s all these people here, I look around and everyone watching the show, they’re not looking at us.

  I love this song.

  His fingertips are stroking inside my thigh, my sex becomes desperate for him to touch me there, I move into his hand, I like that yes, tracing the trail between my legs, setting me alight and wanting, he gently teases me as his fingers move under my knickers, and they are out again.

  His hands move over my stomach pulling up my dress more, and pressing himself into my hand and I work to unzip his jeans. His hand slides down the front inside my panties and heads to the throbbing tingling area that’s my wet and trembling sex.

  The vibration of the amp thumps through our bodies. Quickly rubbing his thumb over my little mound, my nerves are building rhythm, and gaining momentum, I quiver and he continues his genius at playing my clit like an instrument. Around the folds and cleft of my labium, slick with my juice, he hums appreciatively in my ear. A finger slides inside me, I shut my eyes, its excruciatingly erotic standing here amongst thousands of people, getting away with this, this exquisite feeling building in me, I have released Daniels hard thick hot cock from his jeans, and he wriggles closer to me so his flesh is touching my naked arse. Warm, nice.

  He slides a second and third finger in, slowly moving in and out of me in time to the drumbeats, massaging the front wall of my opening, it’s delicious and I start to climb.

  My fingers are stroking his balls, I love the way they feel in my hand and behind me he groans and moans. I feel from close behind me as I move to grab the base of his cock strongly, then with the gentler grip begin a slow pumping. I find the bulb of his tip, a tiny drop of pre-cum beads at the end and I slide my fingers into it give me easier slippery movement. I love masturba
ting Daniel, it so hot, the look in his face I am recalling it, it turns me on more, I am so wet for him.

  His fingers are in and out harder now and faster, we are in time with each other, I am getting hotter, and losing my breath, I wriggle under his expert handling of my body, trying to get a purchase to get off, to finish. I love how he makes me feel, such pleasure, I am in sweet agony with wanting him.

  Daniel bands me around my waist and pulls my bottom hard into him so I tip my body forward which is exactly what he wants. To be inside me from behind. Grabbing the rail with both hands my eyes open and watching the crowd, he slides his huge slippery dick slowly inside me, filling me completely up. Coming close to me he moves in and out with shallow thrusts, in time to the music then and the song gets to its conclusion. The drums are louder, he pumps into me hard, fast, spilling himself into me in a hot jet of seamen, as he rolls my clit in his fingers and I cum and a cascade of tingly hot feelings crash over me, I feel wanten, naughty, happy, slippery.

  We straighten ourselves out and clap furiously at the end of the song but our claps are for each other. He has fucked me every time he's wanted to, no question, no argument, I am excited, and enchanted too, as he gently kisses me from behind, tilting my face up and back to meet his lips. “I have to go.” That’s all, and as my body begins its recovery of just being fucked, he leaves me, standing there alone again.

  An intense emptiness overwhelms me suddenly from ecstasy to exile in thirty seconds. Is this how it's going to be? I am alone, in more ways than one, wet, and achy, I can still feel inside where his cock pushed into me, now empty. Three more songs play and the last is my favourite 'curry night', and determined to come back to reality and enjoy my Brothers set I sing at the top of my voice, yes, my brain tells me, you're happy about all this. He turned up, screwed you to the railing and left, it was awesome. I feel filthy, but I love it, I have healed quickly, it’s not conventional, but I’m hardly regular am I?