by Amy Cross
Unfortunately, ten minutes later, there's still no sign of the bus and I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to get home. It's a real effort to keep from looking over at Mark, but I force myself to keep my back to the window. Eventually, however, I hear the sound of a woman shouting nearby. Without thinking, I look around and see that Mark and his date have emerged from the restaurant, and they're arguing. Well, she's arguing and he's looking pissed off.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," she says, turning to him. "What the fuck do you know about the cosmetics industry? It's a hell of an opportunity and you're just gonna let it fly right by, just 'cause you can't take some goddamn fucking advice from someone who lives and breathes this stuff!"
I can't help smiling at the woman's sense of self-importance, not to mention her whiny voice.
Mark looks extremely uncomfortable. "I didn't say that I was going to -"
"You said you'd invest!" she shouts. "Those were your exact words! And now suddenly you've changed your mind? If you don't invest, that means you don't think the business is going to work, which means you don't have any faith in me!" She pauses, staring angrily at him. "What else am I supposed to think, Mark? If you believe in something, you back it properly. Clearly that's not something you're interested in!"
I try to stifle my laughter. This woman is fucking ridiculous, tottering on her six-inch heels.
"I don't want to discuss this right now," Mark says, glancing briefly at me before looking back at the woman. "Let's just go to my place," he continues, "and we can talk about it properly." He glances over at me again, sees that I'm laughing, and breaks into a smile himself.
"What are you laughing at?" the woman shouts, before looking over at me. "You think this is funny?" she shouts.
I turn away, keen not to get dragged into the fuss.
"Let's talk about this in private," Mark says.
"No fucking way!" she says. Alarmed, I realize she's coming closer to me, and I look over just as she leans right in my face. "Are you laughing at me, bitch?" she sneers.
I shake my head, shocked at how aggressive and hyped-up she's being.
"Go fuck yourself!" she screams, looking at me with total disgust. "I've seen the way you looked at him. Well keep on creaming your knickers, slut, 'cause that's as far as you're gonna get!" She narrows her eyes for a moment, before turning and stomping back toward Mark. "Have fun with your new girlfriend!" she shouts at him, before walking away.
I turn and look at the traffic. This is certainly turning into an interesting night, but I kind of want the bus to turn up so I can get home.
"I'm sorry about that," Mark says.
I turn to find that he's walked over to me. "It's fine," I say, smiling. "She seems... nice..."
"It's a complicated situation," he replies. He looks up at the display above the bus stop, which notes that the bus is delayed. "If you've been waiting for a while -" he starts to say.
"Mark!" the woman shouts, having apparently changed her mind and come wandering back in our direction. "What are you doing talking to her?" She stands there, waiting for an answer. "Well forget about these!" she screams suddenly, squeezing her ample bosom together to accentuate her cleavage before turning and storming away again.
"Do you want a lift home?" Mark asks, apparently no longer interested in his companion.
"Won't your girlfriend mind?" I ask.
"She's not my girlfriend," he says. "Well, not anymore." He glances along the pavement. "We should probably get going before she comes back, though. Do you want that lift or not?"
"Sure," I say, and we start walking away from the bus stop. Mark keeps looking over his shoulder, as if he's worried that his date will come running after us at any moment.
"I'm sorry about that," he says eventually.
"It's okay," I say. "It's kind of good to know that even billionaires can have crappy nights."
He smiles. "I'm glad my discomfort was able to bring you a little cheer." We walk on in silence for a moment, as the bustle of the city rushes around us. A few seconds later, a bus flashes past; I guess my timing tonight has either been really good or really bad. "So what have you been doing with your evening?" he asks. "What are the kids up to these days?"
"Kids?" I say.
"Sorry," he replies. "Young ladies."
"I'm twenty-one," I tell him. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four," he admits.
"I went to see a friend's band in a pub," I continue. "It was..." I pause for a moment, trying to sum the experience up. "I can definitely tell why they're still on the pub circuit," I add eventually.
"That good, huh?"
"That good." For a moment, I think back to my encounter with Rob outside the pub, but to be honest it's something I just wanted to forget. It was okay at the time, but I'd much, much rather be talking to Mark.
"So now you're just wandering the streets of London on your way home?" he asks.
"It's complicated," I say.
"Good complicated or bad complicated?" he asks.
"I don't know yet," I reply.
"Oh," he says. "Sounds very complicated." We reach his car and he pulls his keys from his pocket, pressing a button to unlock the doors.
"Explain something to me," I say as he walks around to the driver's side. "You're a billionaire, and yet you're driving yourself around the city instead of having a chauffeur. You're a billionaire, and yet you were just eating in a little restaurant in the middle of Southfields." I pause for a moment. "Shouldn't you be taking helicopter rides to restaurants on the other side of the world, or having your food flown in from Paris?"
"Good idea," he says with a smile. "Why didn't I think of that before?"
Once we're in the car, he starts the engine and eases the car out into the London traffic. I feel kind of over-whelmed, like I'm supposed to say something funny or meaningful, but the words won't come to me. I guess I like the fact that, at this specific moment, I'm enjoying being with Mark, and I'm worried that anything I say might end the spell and bring me back down to earth. It's as if we're in a bubble, and it could pop at any moment. All the stuff with my father's death, and the sordid little encounter with Rob, seems so far away, as if it happened to someone else.
"You're suddenly very quiet," Mark says, glancing over at me. "Is something wrong?"
"No," I say. "I'm just..." I pause, realizing I can't tell him the truth.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he continues. "If there's a problem -"
"There's not," I say firmly. "It's just that I did something stupid tonight, and I guess it's gonna take me a while to work out how I feel about it."
"Oh," he says. "Something stupid but reversible, or something stupid and permanent?"
"Both," I reply, shuddering at the memory of Rob's penis inside my body What the hell was I thinking? There's no way I should have let any of that happen. I swear, I can still taste him. Thinking about it now, my skin is crawling.
"Whatever happened," Mark says, "I'm sure you'll find a way to get past it."
I smile.
"You don't believe me?"
"It's not..." I pause, as I realize that talking to Mark is actually kind of easy. He makes me feel comfortable, but buzzed at the same time. "Life's a game," I say eventually. "Right?"
"Right," he replies.
"So you have to learn the rules," I continue, "and no-one's written them down, so I guess it's natural to make a few mistakes."
"You did something tonight that you regret?"
I open my mouth to tell him the truth, but I decide at the last moment that I really need to keep that to myself. I feel as if Mark actually likes me, and the last thing I want to do is make him think I'm some trampy little slut who shags random guys outside pubs. To be honest, even I'm shocked by my behavior tonight. I wanted to prove that I could do stuff like that, but now that the original thrill is over, I just feel dirty and cheap. At least I didn't let it go any further.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
"Nothing," I reply.
"Go on. I want to know."
"Just that it's a big coincidence that I ran into you."
He smiles. "Coincidences happen."
"Totally."
"You know -" Mark starts to say, but at that moment his phone starts to ring. He reaches out and presses a button on the dashboard. "Mark Douglas," he says as he slips a small device over his ear. "No, I'm not," he says after a moment. "Is it important?" He pauses. "Okay, I'll be there. It's bad timing, though. Call Mr. White. If I'm coming, he has to be there too." With that, the call seems to be over and he pauses for a moment, seemingly a little annoyed. "I'm afraid I have to go somewhere," he explains, "so if it's okay with you, I'll drop you at Southfields station. You can get a taxi home. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all," I reply, secretly a little disappointed. I'd been kind of looking forward to sitting in the car outside my mother's house, saying goodnight to Mark and maybe - just maybe - seeing if he might try to kiss me. As stupid as it sounds, I was starting to think there might be a possibility. Instead, I see Southfields station ahead, and I realize I'm going to be traipsing home alone as planned. Damn it, why did I allow myself to hope that something else might happen with Mark? How deluded and stupid can I be?
"I'm really very sorry," Mark says as he pulls up at the side of the road. "Unfortunately, certain other matters demand my full attention. I'd love to make it up to you -"
"No need," I say. "Thanks anyway."
"Wait," he says, leaning over and putting his hand on mine as I reach for the handle. There's an awkward pause, and then he leans closer and kisses me delicately. As soon as our lips touch, I feel a shiver run through my body. "I'm sorry," he says finally, pulling away just as I'm about to put my hand on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have..." His voice trails off.
I stare at him, still feeling the lingering sensation of his lips against mine.
"You should get home," he says. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I say, my whole body tingling in anticipation of what might happen next. I know it's bad, and I know I should have more self control, but I want him. I'm getting wet, and I want him. Maybe I'm a slut and a whore, but right now, I'll give him anything he wants, even if it's only for one night.
"Forget it," he says, opening the door and getting out of the car.
"Forget it?" I say, getting out and watching as Mark walks over to a taxi driver. Suddenly it seems like he can't get rid of me soon enough.
"I shouldn't have done it," Mark continues once he's given the driver some money and come back over to me. "Please put it out of your mind, and rest assured that I will never, ever make any further advances." He pauses. "I've paid this gentleman to take you home."
"You didn't have to do that," I say. "I can get a train."
"It's the least I can do," he replies.
"Maybe you..." I pause for a moment. "You can do it again if you want."
"No," he replies firmly. It's almost as if he's suddenly become a completely different person. "It would be a mistake. I'm not... You need someone different. I'd only cause problems for you."
I stare at him. I want to argue, but at the same time I don't want to seem desperate. I'm not going to beg him for anything. I've already been down on my knees once tonight.
"It's just how things go with me," he replies. "I wouldn't be good for you. I'd mess you up. You have no idea how complicated my life can be, and I'd hate to drag you into it." He pauses. "Trust me; you can't even begin to understand what happens to people around me."
I open my mouth to argue with him, but then I remind myself that there's no point. I guess maybe the kiss wasn't very good for him. I turn and start walking toward the station.
"Elly!" he calls after me. "The taxi's waiting for you! Elly!"
I don't reply. I don't even give him the satisfaction of looking back. Instead, I walk away and head into the station, quickly buying a ticket from the machine before walking down to the platform. In some strange, crazy way, I feel more humiliated by the way Mark brushed me off, than by all the stuff that happened with Rob. After being mostly ignored by guys for the past few years, suddenly I've been busier than a town whore when the fleet comes in, and I don't feel very good about myself. I thought I'd be happy once I'd lost my virginity, but it's as if I've just allowed everything to run out of control. Still, at least it's done now. It was slightly sore, slightly painful, and totally grungy, but it's out of the way. The next time, whoever it's with, will hopefully be better. Sitting on a bench while I wait for the train to arrive, I take a deep breath and decide the best thing to do is just go home, go to sleep and hope I can forget all about this nightmare of an evening.
I feel like I'm losing my mind.
Edward Lockhart
1895
"You seem distracted," Elizabeth says as she presses her naked body against mine and runs her hand across my bare chest. "I do not wish to seem inopportune, but perhaps it would ease your burden to discuss the matter?"
I turn to her. Does she seriously believe that I would seek her counsel on a matter of great importance? "No," I say. "There is nothing, really." In truth, though, I feel as if I am paralyzed with fear. It has been two days since Mr. Marchant came to my home, and we have now passed the deadline by which he demanded to have his daughter returned to him. Whatever his intentions, I fear he will have set in motion of chain of events that I will struggle to manage. The world is finally closing in on me, and yet I remain here, unable to turn and run. I am like an animal, caught in the spotlight and panicked to such an extent that I know not whether to run or fight. It is as if, whatever I choose, I will surely end up hanged.
"Perhaps I can distract you?" Elizabeth says, reaching down and taking my flaccid penis in her hand. She starts to gently rub her finger against the tip, and I feel myself starting to get harder. "I hate to see you with such a pained expression on your face, Edward," she whispers, continuing to stroke me. "Surely a man in your position need not have so many worries?" After a moment, her hand slips down to cup my testicles, and then Elizabeth moves down under the bed-sheets and takes the tip of my penis in her mouth. I stare at the ceiling, trying to enjoy the sensation but unable to stop thinking about the situation with Mr. Marchant. I feel completely helpless, as if the world is closing in on me and I am powerless to act.
Despite Elizabeth's efforts to wrap her tongue around my erection, I cannot stop thinking of Lady Red. She is surely very pleased with herself right now, having apparently maneuvered me into an impossible situation. I have no idea how she has managed to insulate the rest of the game from my downfall, but I'm sure she will have made sure that even as I am led to the gallows, she and Mr. White will be engaged in the process of picking the next Mr. Blue. I cannot help but wonder if this is how the previous Mr. Blue felt as his role in the game came to an end. Is it true? Does she really mean to push me out of the game?
"My darling," Elizabeth says, moving back up the bed, "you must tell me what is causing you such difficulty."
Looking down under the covers, I see that my penis has become flaccid once again. I was so distracted by my thoughts, I quite forgot that Elizabeth was performing a service with her mouth.
"Do I not excite you?" she continues, pressing her ample bosom against my chest.
"Perhaps tonight should draw to a close," I say, feeling as if I need to do something in order to scratch this feeling of helplessness. Getting out of bed, I walk to my dresser. "I must go out," I say, glancing at the clock and seeing that it is close to midnight. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but something has come up that requires my immediate attention."
"Did I do something wrong?" she asks.
"Of course not," I say. "We will resume our time together tomorrow, but for now I really must insist that you get dressed and go home."
"But Edward -"
"Go home!" I shout, turning to her. I pause, seeing the shocked look on her face, and I realize that my anger is mis-directed. "I apologize," I mutter as I star
t to get dressed, and Elizabeth climbs out of bed and walks over to where her own clothes are scattered on the floor. She is a truly beautiful woman, and in any other circumstances I would have ravished her all night. However, it is clear that I cannot take my mind off my other problems, and I must come up with some kind of plan. I have spent many days just sitting and waiting to see what other people will do; now, finally, I must come up with some kind of idea of my own. I shall either fight back and escape the noose, or I shall ensure that I take Lady Red down with me.
"When will I see you again?" Elizabeth asks, standing half-dressed by the mirror. I turn to her, and for a moment I feel compelled to drag her back to the bed and make love to her one final time. Fortunately, I am able to overcome that base urge.
"Tomorrow," I say, even though I doubt that I will be free, or even alive, by the time the sun comes up again. "We shall reconvene here," I tell her, walking over and looking at her marvelous, firm breasts. I run my hands over her nipples, and I cannot help but wonder whether these will be the last breasts I shall ever touch. "The things I shall do to you," I say quietly, looking into Elizabeth's eyes. "In that bed, we shall experience true pleasure."
"Do you promise?" she asks, unable to stop smiling.
"I promise," I lie, before turning and walking to the door. "Martin will show you out," I say as I leave the room and walk along the cold, dark corridor that leads to the top of the stairs. Once I have put on my coat and hat, I step out into the night and hurry through the shadows. I do not really know where I am going, except that I feel I must do something in order to destroy my tormentors. Somewhere in this city, Lady Red is probably relaxing with a glass of wine, and laughing as she contemplates my downfall, but I am determined to ensure that she is crushed. If I am to hang for my role in the game, and for the deaths of all those girls, then she will hang next to me.