by Amy Cross
Mark
2008
“It's nothing personal,” Meredith says, as she stands in the hallway with her suitcase in one hand and her flip-flops in the other. “I just met Rolf in the bar last night, we got talking and, well, he wants to take me to Majorca. So I'm going!”
Glancing past her, I see this Rolf guy at the other end of the corridor. He's muscle-bound and fit, with dark sunglasses and a shaved head, and for perhaps the first time in my life I actually feel a little intimidated. He's the definition of 'alpha', and I just don't think I could put up a fight for Meredith, even if I was that desperate to keep her around. The truth is, it's easier to just let this wash over me. She's not the one, and I know it.
“Oh, you'll find someone,” she says, leaning closer and kissing me on the cheek. “Don't fret, it's just... A woman always has to reserve the right to trade up to a better guy if she gets the chance. It's one of the unwritten rules, yeah?” She turns to walk away, before glancing back at me. “I did enjoy our time together, though. Thank you for everything. Except the anal, I didn't like that. Shame it was our last time together, but you know, beggars can't be choosers. Keep in touch, honey!”
I watch as she walks away. Rolf puts an arm around her when she reaches him and squeezes her butt, causing her to squeal with delight. I should care, but I don't.
Rolling my eyes, I step back and push the door shut, before looking across the hotel room, which suddenly feels so empty and bare now that there's only my stuff here. I didn't even want to be around Meredith, but somehow that only makes me feel worse about the fact that she dumped me. For all her faults, at least she provided some direction in my life, or rather she dragged me along in her wake. Now I feel as if I'm just going to sink into lethargy for the last few days of the holiday. Heading out onto the balcony, I lean over the edge and look down at the swimming pool below.
After a moment, I realize that a familiar figure is waving up at me.
***
“God, fuck me harder,” Alice gasps, shifting positions under me and lifting her left leg up so I can get a better angle. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
As she places her hands on my buttocks and squeezes tight, I start thrusting into her with more determination. Since we stumbled to my room a short while ago, I've found myself seduced in short order by a woman who's at least a decade older than me. I've never had a thing about mature women, but there's something about Alice that got me hard almost immediately, and she's not afraid to tell me what she wants. She wanted me, she took me, and I'm letting her.
“Thrust in and up,” she whispers, running her hands up to the small of my back, “not in and down. Up, Mark, up!” She gasps as I follow her instructions. “Oh fuck, that's better!”
Realizing that I'm close to cumming, I try to hold back, but it's too late: I finish deep inside her, feeling as if a great knot is being released, and finally I fall down against her chest, exhausted. I take several deep breaths before propping myself up on my elbows and seeing that she's smiling at me. Although she's at least ten years older than me, maybe a little more, I can't shake the feeling that she's youthful at heart, and she has a body to die for. It's also clear that she has a plan, although I have no idea what that might be.
“Pleased with yourself?” she asks with a smile.
“I'm sorry, I -”
“Don't be sorry,” she continues, “not with the force of what you just did. God, it felt like a fucking volcano exploding in my vagina, I think you must have filled me to the brim. You've obviously got a great deal of stamina.”
“I can keep going,” I tell her. “You should cum too.”
She shakes her head.
“You should,” I continue, starting to fuck her again before she puts her hands firmly on my buttocks, as if to stop me.
“That's sweet, but I almost never do, and you'll only make me sore. Long story, but I don't want to get into it now. Still, I like feeling you inside.” She runs her hands across my hips. “Fucking is a game, you know,” she adds finally. “Whether we admit it or not, it's true. There are rules, little transactions, small understandings... It's a dance, and it's immeasurably better if both people are listening to the same tune. Either that, or the man just takes over and fucks the woman senseless, which seems to have been your approach today. I take it you're working out your frustrations after being dumped?”
“I wasn't dumped, we just -”
“Rolf seemed very happy to take Meredith off your hands,” she continues. “He wasn't sure at first, but I told him he'd have fun.”
“You...” I stare at her, still trying to work out what she means. “You know that guy?”
“He's one of the horniest men in the whole of Europe,” she replies. “I hitched a ride here on his yacht. Of course, he only likes the back door, if you know what I mean. I hope Meredith doesn't mind anal.” She smiles, and it's clear that she somehow knows about Meredith's complaints. “And yes, I arranged for him to take her away. By the time they get to Majorca, he'll have had enough of her and I dare say he'll dump her there. I hope she has someone in England she can phone so they'll be able to buy her a ticket, because Rolf really won't bother to make sure that she's okay. Still, what do you care? She's ancient history, especially after the way you treated her.”
“That's kind of manipulative,” I point out.
“Strong words, coming from a man who's still inside me.” She flexes the muscles of her vagina. “You're so much better off without that horrible Meredith. She's the kind of girl who can drag a good man down.”
Slipping my penis out, I roll over onto the other side of the bed. “Why did you do it?” I ask.
“To free you from the bitch,” she continues, reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a cigarette, which she proceeds to light in defiance of the numerous No Smoking signs around the room. “People who know how to play games properly are wonderful. People who don't know how to play and try anyway, are insufferably dull. She was sucking the life out of you, and you know it.” She takes a drag on her cigarette. “I have something very exciting to offer you, Mark. It's an opportunity, and it's one that had been offered to very few people over the years. Twenty-seven before you, to be precise.” She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning to me. “Are you any good at keeping secrets?”
“I guess,” I reply cautiously, “but -”
“You'll have to come to London with me.”
“I will?”
“I can see the potential for greatness in your soul, Mark, but you'll need to be whipped into shape first. That's not entirely a metaphor, either. The role of Mr. Blue requires a degree of training.”
“Mr. Blue?” I reply with a frown. “Role? Alice, I'm not an actor, I don't -”
“You're the best kind of actor,” she continues, interrupting me. “You act in real life. Every single day, you're acting. Don't even deny it, I can tell. I've met people like you before. In your eyes, there's the constant panic of having to work out what role you're supposed to be playing. Even right now.”
“Wait -”
“I can see it,” she says eagerly, rolling toward me and peering closely at my face. “You're trying to work out how to react to the words coming from my mouth. You're not reacting naturally, you're not running on emotion. You're analyzing, you're over-thinking, you're trying to work out what's right, what's wrong -”
“No,” I reply, struggling to understand why she's saying these things. “Listen, I think -”
“React, then,” she says, with a faint smile. “Don't think, just react.”
I stare at her, but I honestly don't understand what she means.”
“React,” she whispers. “Don't you think that's what other people do?”
“What do you want from me?” I ask finally, starting to feel as if this whole situation has a dark undercurrent that I've barely glimpsed yet. I know I'm probably being paranoid, but I can't shake the sensation that everything Alice says is calculated for some specific effe
ct.
“I want you to play a game with me.”
“I'm not big on games.”
“This game is different.” She continues to stare at me for a moment. “This game will take you far. There are rules, but they're there to help you.” Her smile grows. “Do you want to play, Mark?”
I swallow hard. “I'm not sure I do.”
“Liar.”
“I prefer a simple life.”
“You're hot, carefree and in your early twenties,” she continues, “but don't you want to try something with a little more meaning? Floating around the Mediterranean isn't for you. There are plenty of people on the beach here who love nothing more than sunning themselves, but you can't make yourself fit into that lifestyle. You're desperately unhappy, and I'm offering you a way to latch onto something meaningful. Come to London with me.”
“London's the last place I -”
“Come to London with me,” she says again, “and let me show you how it works. Let me bring you into the game and show you what it can do for you. What's wrong? You're not scared, are you?”
I want to tell her to go to hell, but the truth is, I've been traveling around Europe aimlessly for so long, and I'm starting to run low on money. This strange, passionate woman has dropped into my life from out of nowhere, and I have to admit that I'm intrigued. Even if she turns out to be bat-shit insane, I might as well give her a chance.
“What's wrong?” she asks, putting a hand on my bare waist. “You look sad. Why so blue?”
Elly
Today
“I didn't really feel anything,” my mother continues as she finishes loading the dishwasher. “Barely a tingle.”
“Whatever,” Bob says with a smile.
“I didn't!” she protests. “That weed brownie didn't affect me one little bit! I've never been so disappointed in all my life. I don't know what people like Bob Marley and Snoop Dogg have been making such a fuss about! Maybe I just have a natural tolerance?”
“So you just didn't feel like walking in a straight line back to the hotel?” Bob asks. “You wanted to lean on me the whole way and giggle every few steps?”
“Nonsense!”
He turns to me. “Your mother, Elly, is something of a lightweight.”
“I am not!”
“You were high,” he continues, clearly enjoying the chance to rile her a little. “You just won't admit it, or you didn't even realize, but it's true. Elly, seriously, your mother was up there with the clouds after three bites of a brownie. It was kind of cute, really.”
“Huh,” I mutter, trying to focus on the news page I'm reading. In the hours since Dunn's death was announced, the media has been quick to play down suggestions of foul play. According to multiple sources, Dunn was accidentally allowed to keep his belt when he was placed in a prison cell, and he managed to hang himself from the bars without anyone spotting him in time. He was eventually cut down and resuscitation attempts were made, but he was declared dead shortly after paramedics arrived.
It all sounds very plausible.
It can't be true.
There's no way that man killed himself. After everything he did, after everything he put himself and others through, I refuse to believe that he'd suddenly allow the situation to fall apart. Eighteen months ago, when I ran away from my role as Lady Red, Mr. White was the only other senior figure left in the game, which means that in my absence he was completely in charge. Thomas Pope might still be around, of course, but he's far too old to put any plans into motion, which means that either Mr. White drafted in new players to the game, or some external force knew everything and decided to intervene. Either way, if I'm still Lady Red, that means someone is going to come after me, and if I'm not still Lady Red, the new holder of that title is going to want to get me out of the way.
“Did anyone call for me?” I ask, turning to my mother.
“When?”
“Any time since I left.”
“Well, it's been a while,” she points out, before glancing at Bob. “Did anyone call for Elly?”
“Not that I remember.”
“So there's been nothing suspicious?” I ask. “Nothing at all? No strangers knocking on the door, no phone calls that go dead as soon as you answer?”
“What are you talking about?” my mother replies, putting powder into the dishwasher and then switching it on. “Elly, I can honestly say, hand on heart, that not one soul has called or come to the door or sent a carrier pigeon, asking how you are or what you're up to.” She grabs the basket of washing and heads through to the laundry room.
“She's worried about you, you know,” Bob says after a moment.
“There's no need,” I mutter, already looking over at the back door, half-expecting armed men to burst through at any moment.
“You're not going to tell us what's really going on, are you?” he continues. “I know I'm not...” He pauses. “I know we don't know each other very well, and I know I probably seem like a bit of a cuckoo now I've moved in with your mother, but maybe that's a good thing if you need someone to talk to. I'm a good listener.”
“So nothing weird's happened at all?” I ask, turning to him. “In the past eighteen months, no-one has called for me?”
“Nope,” he replies, looking back down at his newspaper. “Well, apart from your friend Jess.”
***
“I just...” Looking down at her gin and tonic, Jess seems almost too embarrassed to make eye contact with me. “I'm sorry, Elly, but after that night...”
“Don't worry about it,” I tell her, as we sit in a booth at a Wetherspoons near my mother's house. “I was just worried about you. You disappeared without leaving any kind of forwarding information, I was starting to think something might have happened.”
“It's just that...” She pauses again, before finally glancing at me with a nervous smile. “That night, I never meant it to go that far, I guess I just got carried away. I've never, I mean, I'm not... I'm not into weird stuff. I know it might sound weird, but I think I'm actually quite traditional.”
“Evidently,” I reply, glancing at the ring on her finger. “I can't believe you're married!”
“It all happened so suddenly,” she continues. “One minute I'm not sure what to do, the next I met Gary and we had this sort of whirlwind romance. It's like my entire life changed overnight. I guess...” Another pause. “Then again, it didn't last long. We're separated now, and the divorce...” She pauses, before forcing a faint smile as she slips the ring off. “I should stop wearing it.”
“You never know,” I reply, “maybe... I don't know, maybe you'll get back together?”
“I know this is probably gonna sound silly,” she continues, “but that night with you and Mark made me rethink a few things. I mean, Christ, we almost had a threesome!” She blushes, clearly embarrassed by the mere mention of the word. “Can you imagine that? I mean, don't imagine it, just... I know we'd had a bit to drink, but if I hadn't left when I did...” Another pause. “How are you and Mark, anyway? You're still together, right?”
“Mark's...” Now it's my turn to pause, as I realize that sooner or later I'm going to have to face the fact that Mark is probably gone. The last time I saw him, he was in a hospital bed after being shot, and the last time I heard about him he was being 'looked after' by Lady Red and Mr. White. There's no-one I can ask about him. He's just gone. “Mark's not around,” I say finally, hoping to avoid talking about the situation differently. “Things are complicated.”
“You seemed like you were in love.”
“We were.”
“And he was hot,” she adds. “And rich. Wait, why aren't you with him anymore?”
“He -” Before I can finish, my mind seems to skip a groove and I'm flooded with the memory of that terrible night eighteen months ago:
I kneel next to him and immediately see that there's a wound to one side of his neck, with blood pouring out. I know I should try to staunch the flow, but I don't know where to begin. I lean over t
o the writing desk and fumble with the lamp, until finally I manage to flick the switch. Turning back to Mark, I see the true extent of his injuries: part of the left side of his neck has been completely destroyed, with mangled pieces of flesh and meat trailing down, and there's a huge patch of blood already soaking into the carpet.
“He's, um...” I pause again. “Away. On business.”
“You should be happy,” she continues. “You deserve it. We both do, but you especially. Remember that party, the night before you headed home for your Dad's funeral? It was the night you found out that he was dead.”
I nod.
“It seems like so long ago, doesn't it?” she adds. “I feel like we were just... I mean, we weren't kids, we were both in our twenties, but still, it's almost like it was a lifetime ago. You got so wasted, and I was pretty drunk too, but I managed to get you to the station and onto that goddamn train. And then...” She pauses. “And then something changed in you. I don't know what happened, Elly, but I know that after that party, you were never the same again. I can't explain it, there was just a different look in your eyes, and something different in your voice when we talked on the phone.”
“She's onto you,” my father's voice whispers suddenly.
I flinch slightly, having never expected to hear him again.
“Tell her,” he continues. “She was your best friend at university. Tell her everything, tell her about Mark and about the game and about how you're Lady Red now. She'll be impressed. I mean, everyone's into all that crazy sex stuff these days. You lived some intense days, Elly, you might as well spill the beans. People will think you're cool.”
“Did you see the news?” I ask cautiously. “All that stuff about John Sebastian Dunn -”
“Fucking perve,” she mutters, taking another sip from her glass. “Him and all his friends should just be shot. You know what? When I saw earlier that he'd been found dead in his cell, I actually fucking cheered, right there in my kitchen. I used to think the death penalty was barbaric, but for people like that...” She shakes her head, as if she can barely even believe that it's true. “Did you hear about some of the sick things he was supposed to have been up to? They reckon he was running some kind of sex club, like a game, and that he and some other people were trying to find women to be, like, messed with and used for their own amusement. I mean, it's sick.”