by Jade West
***
I saw James out after breakfast, lingering in the doorway while he checked he’d picked up his phone, his keys, his wallet… I got the slightest suspicion that he was dawdling as much as I was, unsure of what to say from here.
“Thanks for staying,” I said. “I enjoyed it.”
“Me too. It wasn’t all that bad for a foray into domesticity.”
“Maybe one day we’ll do it again,” I smiled.
“Stranger things have happened, Lydia Marsh.” He leant down to kiss me, countering the romance by twisting my nipple through my cami. “I know you want more, Cat, more of this.” He tipped his head towards the flat, towards the slice of normality we’d had together. “But please go softly on an old man set in his ways. I propose dinner, next Saturday. I’ll pick you up before Explicit. I’ll give you dinner, in exchange for a little gesture.” His eyes were hooded and glazed, his cock already swollen in his jeans.
I teased him with my palm. “What do you want in exchange?”
He kissed my ear, his breath loud and hot. “I’ll take you out, Cat, if you’ll piss in my mouth next weekend.”
I pulled away in shock, blinking up at him. “Are you serious?!”
“Deadly, and don’t act so surprised. I could have asked for a lot more, and I will. Believe me, Lydia, I’ll ask you for a lot more than that.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it,” I said. “I can’t imagine it.”
“Dinner in exchange for drinks, Cat, that’s my proposition.”
“You actually want to drink my pee, that’s what you’re saying?” I was already burning up, I could feel it.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he smiled. “Will you piss for me, Lydia, yes or no? The clock’s ticking.”
I jittered nervously from one foot to another, stomach in knots.
“I’m sorry, Miss Marsh, but I’m going to have to push you for an answer…”
“Ok, yes,” I said, before I could stop myself. “But I’m not sure I’m going to return the favour and guzzle down any of yours, I’m pretty sure that’s a hard limit of mine.”
He smiled, and it was the smile of the beast, dark and horny and dirty as sin. He backed away, retreating onto the street. “We’ll find out, Lydia,” he growled. “I think you may surprise yourself.”
I hoped he wouldn’t hold his breath. The idea was squicky as hell, nearly squicky enough to stop me jilling myself crazy over it later, but only nearly.
***
Lydia
Even with Salmons eating healthily into our work schedule the week really dragged. It dragged in a way I’d never felt before, not once since I’d been working with James. I guessed it was the contrast, the glimpse of what could be outside of that place, with its corporate mentality and it’s hush-hush agreement.
Work was undeniably different, regardless of how hard we tried. We kept our business-as-normal front on it, but things had definitely changed. There was something more in his eyes than the previous sheen of professional camaraderie, something deeper and darker and much more raw. Maybe he saw it in my eyes, too, I don’t know.
I kept it all firmly to myself, ignoring the temptation to spill some of the emotional beans to Steph. The option presented itself mid-week when she began calling, but I forced myself to avoid and ignore. I told myself she was probably full of more junk about Stu and let it go, having no time for that crap anymore.
Rebecca was my only accomplice, and me hers. We’d talk more than we’d ever talked before, long nights over coffee, laughing about love and life, and weird, dirty sex in public. I loved her for it. My little heart stretched its wings, the tiniest sliver of hope for the happily-ever-after, for the blossoming of romance unlike any other. Maybe white knights did turn up to slap your clitoris, after all? Maybe that’s what true love is all about?
I hoped so.
Most of all I hoped for a chance with him, my man in the mask. A real chance in the real world.
It’s often the small decisions that are the catalysts for the major events, and my life that week was no different. I just didn’t see any of it coming.
***
Rebecca had picked out my dress, all ready for my nice, posh meal and piss-gate beyond. It was a classy red number, fitted satin with a long split at the back.
“Bingo,” she’d laughed. “Multi-functional. This little gem will look cracking in the dining hall, and possibly even better when you piss in the thing.”
I took her word for it.
I spent the whole day getting ready, and yet I was still late. James was picking me up at seven, nice and early, in line with the time Rebecca and Cara had scheduled their kiss-and-make-up chat. Their reconciliation was inevitable. They’d hardly been off the phone since the blow up.
I scrubbed myself in Rebecca’s posh oriental body wash, taking an age to shave off every scrap of body hair I possessed, then wrapped myself in a towel in time to do my hair and make-up. Rebecca obliged, layering on lashings and lashings of mascara and eye-shadow while I blow-dried my hair in a frenzy. I was just about done when Cara rang the buzzer, merely taking a final moment to adjust my waves before getting dressed.
Bex buzzed Cara on up and stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Hot to trot, baby, you’ll knock him senseless,” she purred, then laughed as she flicked up my towel. “Look at the state of you, Kitty Cat, you still have fucking tigger-stripes, our James Clarke will be chomping at the bit when he sees those beauties.”
I laughed along with her, turning myself in the mirror to check them out for myself. “He hit me bloody hard,” I said. “It hurt like an absolute bastard.”
“Lydia?! Oh my God! Lyddie?!”
My eyes flicked to the doorway, instinctive horror flooding right through me. Cara stood with her hand over her mouth, eyes screwed shut in mortification, but she was the least of my concerns. At her side was Steph, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, her jaw flapping as she struggled for words.
“Steph? Shit! What are you doing here?”
I struggled to back away from her but she was at my side, her eyes all over my fucking bruises. “What happened to you?!” she screeched. “Who did this to you?”
Rebecca yanked Cara by the elbow, dragging her through to the balcony. Cara mouthed ‘sorry’ and Bex mouthed ‘stupid cow’, I appreciated both sentiments.
“Calm down,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like bloody nothing!” she thundered. “Someone’s beaten the shit out of you! It’s that suit man, isn’t it?!”
“You don’t understand!” I snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. I’m fine, Steph, I’m really fine.”
I wrenched out of her grip, retreating to my bedroom for my dress. I felt so much safer with it on, but still she wouldn’t let it go. “It’s sick, Lyddie, sick! What kind of man would do this to you? What kind of man, Lyds?!”
“He didn’t do anything to me, Steph, I wanted it.”
“This is all fucked up, Lydia Marsh, it’s so fucked up. I knew you being here was a bad thing.” She pointed at the roof terrace with flailing arms, and I saw Rebecca poke her tongue out at Steph’s back. I fought the urge to laugh. “These people are WEIRDOS! They are CRAZY!”
“They aren’t crazy.” I rolled my eyes. “I like it here. I’m happy here.”
“You’re coming home with me right now!” she yelled. “Where these people can’t hurt you again!” She tried to pull me along by my wrist, but I had none of it, twisting away.
“I’m not going anywhere, Steph. This is my home. These are my friends.”
“And what about me?” she snapped. “What am I? What is Stuart?”
Stuart’s name thumped me in the gut. “Stuart is my ex-boyfriend. A nobody. He got someone else pregnant behind my back, I couldn’t give a fuck about him anymore.”
“That’s why I’m here!” she wailed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, if you weren’t too busy with these weirdos to listen to
your fucking messages!”
I folded my arms. “What are you here to tell me?”
“It’s Stu,” she said. “He’s not the father! Carly admitted it the other night, admitted it clean out. The baby isn’t his, Lyds, it was all lies. I doubt he even fucked her in that alleyway, not really. She may have sucked him off, sure, but I don’t think he took it all the way, he was too drunk to remember, and she took advantage. He’s not going to be a dad, Lyddie, he’s not, and he’s so bloody sorry, all he wants is to make it right with you. It’s his second chance, Lyds, he knows how bad he’s messed up.”
“I don’t want Stuart,” I seethed. “Baby or no, it makes no odds. I don’t love him anymore.”
She turned purple, her bottom lip jutting out in rage. “You’d rather a man that beats the crap out of you, would you? You’ve lost the fucking plot, lady, these people have fucked with your mind.”
I looked at the clock, horrified to find just ten minutes to spare. I lost my temper, needing her out and away before my twisted-as-sin chaperone crashed her little monologue.
“I’m happy, Steph. Just leave me the fuck alone, will you? I don’t want Stuart, I’m not coming back to yours, I don’t want your cutesy little life of peaches and cream and evening quiz shows. I want to be here.”
“You don’t mean that,” she screeched. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“FUCK OFF!” I yelled. “Can I make it any more clear to you?”
She slammed her mouth shut, eyes like cinders. “Fine, Lydia, I’ll leave, but this won’t be the end of it, not by a fucking long shot. You’re my friend, and friends don’t abandon each other, friends are always there!”
I marched her to the door. “I appreciate it, Steph, honest I do. We’ll clear this up another day, OK? I’ll call you.”
I slammed the door before she could object, praying she was well clear before James arrived.
***
James watched me across the table. He’d picked well, Italian cuisine over candlelight. His eyes looked darker than ever, sucking in all the light in the room.
“So here we are, Lydia, you and I out for dinner.”
I raised my glass. “So we are.”
“Talk to me, Cat’s eyes. Regale me with conversation, that’s what couples do over dinner, isn’t it? They talk.”
“What do you want to know?” I smiled.
“Besides from how your sweet your piss tastes?” he breathed, so low I could only just hear him.
“Besides from that, yes.”
“Tell me about little Lydia Marsh. What’s new, pussycat?”
I took a breath. “Well, my mum’s met someone,” I said. “He seems ok this time.”
“Really?” he smiled. “Not another loser out for money and free rent, then?”
“Doesn’t seem to be, not from the bit I’ve heard. He’s got a job. A good job. A warehouse manager apparently. Divorced, two adult children, likes hiking and snooker and foreign travel.”
“Ideal step-daddy material.”
“Steady on,” I grinned. “And get this, he’s teetotal. Doesn’t drink a drop.”
“Well, that is good news, surely?”
“I can hope. She seems really happy. He doesn’t want to move in yet or anything, happy in his own place. They met at bingo, when Auntie Syl dragged Mum a few weeks back. He was there with a neighbour, keeping her company. It went from there.”
James raised his glass, leaning forward across the table until it clinked into mine. “Well, that does sound promising. Here’s to Mr Bingo, and all the happiness love can bring.”
“To Mr Bingo,” I smiled. “And to us, James, to our beautiful, screwed-up thing.”
“I note you didn’t use the word relationship.”
“Would you want me to?” I asked, eyes hard on his.
“I’ll let you know when I know.” He winked at me, and it set my stomach into a dither. “Sensible James is ironing a few things out, give him a chance to get his bearings.”
“He can take his time.” I reached across the table for his hand, and he didn’t pull away. “Thing will do just fine for the moment.”
“To our thing, Lydia,” he toasted afresh.
“To our thing, James.”
Except it wasn’t just a thing to me. Not at all.
***
In the shadowy alleyway across from Explicit, James Clarke transformed to Masque. He’d slicked back his hair before we’d left the restaurant, transformation phase one complete, now it was just the mask. I smiled as he fixed it on, heart fluttering at the promise of what lay ahead. Unlike usual, Masque wasn’t dressed in low-slung jeans. Masque was dressed to perfection in a fitted black suit, hugging his frame in all the right places. He took my hand unprompted as we crossed the road.
“I’ve never arrived here with anyone, Cat, not since Rachel.”
I smiled up at him. “Well, then I’m honoured, Masque.”
“Your half of the bargain now,” he whispered as we made our way up to the main floor.
“You really want me to do this?” I shot him an expression full of squick, and he smiled at me.
“It will surprise you, Cat, I promise. You’ll enjoy it.”
The lights on stage started up as we sipped our drinks, but this time Masque didn’t move us. I watched the shadows play out, a woman’s scream cutting loud across the music. I leant into the man at my side, breathing in the hot musk of his neck. “One day I want you to take me up there,” I said. “Like you did, Violet.”
“You want me to gape your cunt in front of an audience? You really are coming along, Cat, I’m impressed.”
“I want you to cane me up there,” I said. “I’m not sure about the gape thing.”
“Last week didn’t put you off all that much, then?” he grinned. “I am glad. The cane’s a favourite of mine.”
“You took your mask off for me,” I whispered. “I won’t forget that.” I slid my hand along the hard ridge of his thigh.
“I won’t be making a habit of it.”
“Even so, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Cat.” He tipped my wine glass as I was drinking, forcing me to glug it all right down.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“Trying to fill your bladder.”
He called the barman for another bottle.
***
The scene was still raging onstage as the urge to pee reached boiling point. I held off mentioning it at first, nerves getting the best of me, but eventually Masque called me out.
“You must need a piss now, Cat. You’ll be going like a racehorse at this rate.”
“Sorry, maybe I should go first? Take the edge of it?”
“No fucking way,” he growled. “I’ve worked up quite a thirst.”
“I do need to go,” I admitted. “I’ll have to try not to piss myself the moment I get off this stool.”
He smiled and took my hand. “Perfect timing, everyone’s on the main floor, which can mean only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s an empty wet room with our name on it.”
The room was empty, just like he anticipated. It was stark and plain, all white tiles and fluorescent lighting. It reminded me of a public swimming pool shower room, with a load of detachable showerheads jutting from the walls at regular intervals. One large drain sat ominous in the middle of the floor. Masque hung his jacket up on a coat hook by the entrance, un-cuffing his shirt and draping it along with it. He took my bag and placed it on a bench, and held his hand out for my shoes. I handed them over.
The room was cold, every noise echoing all about us, metallic and clinical. I caught the faint whiff of pine disinfectant. It made me feel even dirtier.
“Are you going to piss in that dress, or out of it?” Masque quizzed. “Your call.”
I opted to preserve the gown, despite what Rebecca had intended, and wriggled out of it, tossing it to him for safe keeping. He groaned on sight of my bruises, and I blo
omed with a confidence that was still new to me.
I watched him undress. Every movement was calculated, every breath considered. His cock rose huge, allaying any doubt that the man really wanted this. He pinned me to the tiles in a heartbeat, tongue fierce in my mouth as his fingers found my clit.
“Trust me,” he breathed. “You’re going to feel so good, Lydia, so fucking good. Tell me when you can’t fight it anymore, I’ll be ready.”
The pressure built up, exasperated by the throbbing of my clit, but I kept quiet, forcing it back. He moved his head lower, sucking my tits into his mouth one by one. He slurped his way between them, wet and slick, teasing my nipples to life.
“I love your titties, Cat,” he hissed. “They’re so fucking ripe for me.”
I rested my head back against the wall, looking down on him through glazed eyes. I yelped as he bit down hard.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please, Masque, make it hurt.” He clamped his teeth with added force, savaging my flesh until I whimpered.
“One day soon your tits will know real pain, Cat. So much beautiful pain, so much pain all for you.”
He ground his thigh between mine, pressing so hard I tried to move from under him. “Not there,” I begged. “I won’t be able to hold it.”
“That’s the fucking point,” he growled. “I want to drink from you, Lydia, I want to spread your sweet little cunt and lap at your slit like you’re the fountain of fucking life itself.”
Nerves jangled as the need to piss threatened to consume me. I focused on the ache between my thighs, on clenching every muscle as tight as it would go.
“I don’t know if I can do this. It’s so dirty, Masque.”
“If I can do this, Lydia Marsh.” He slipped the mask up from his face, tossing it over to the bench. “Then you can give me what I need. No boundaries, no barriers, no mask, Lydia, just you and me. I want to know every part of you, every secret of your body. Every secret.” His face was so close to mine, so close I could taste the scotch on his breath. “Trust me, Lydia, please.”