Ask No Questions

by Elyot, Justine

  "Sure."

  "So I did everything he said. I called myself Kizzee. I changed my hair, lost a few pounds, bought some new clothes. I got through to the final ten. I knew I stood a good chance, but there were a couple of kids there who were brilliant singers, so the competition was tough."

  "And Jonathan Webb was still seeing you in secret?"

  "Yeah. Not in that way. Just as, like, mentor and pupil, if you know what I mean."

  "I know what you mean."

  "But then, when it got down to the last three weeks, he started to put pressure on me to sleep with him. It's weird, because I didn't fancy him that much, but he's just so powerful and, you know, a real Svengali. I didn't know how to turn him down."

  "I don't think many people do," said Rhys dryly, holding her tighter, trying to keep his anger way down in his chest. "So…you didn't, then?"

  The corners of Kim's mouth were turned right down as she shook her head. A tear splashed from one eye.

  "I hate myself for it," she said. "I hated myself even more when he voted against Lakota – she was my main rival, a brilliant, brilliant voice – and turned the audience against her too. He was vicious. Said she was going nowhere and should stick to her church choir. She was in floods of tears backstage and I didn't know what to say to her. He'd done it for me."

  "Did you know he was going to do it?"

  "No, I swear, I had no idea. I felt sick. It was horrible. I felt like I didn't deserve the win, when it came."

  "That's understandable. And you kept on sleeping with him?"

  "I didn't know how to stop it. And, after the win, he was pretty much the only person I saw. He was everywhere I went. But we had to keep it secret, because he didn't want his private life in the papers. Or so he said. He said it was to protect me."

  "There's only one important person in Jonathan Webb's life, and that's Jonathan Webb."

  "I found out too late. He was nice at first, you know. Kept the press off me, treated me like a princess. For the first couple of months, when everything was a whirl, I thought it was going to be OK. But I started to get tired and want some time out and then he wasn’t so nice any more."

  Fear joined the burgeoning anger down in the inner core of Rhys. What had that fucker done to his Kim?

  "In what way?"

  "He said he owned me. And he did, if you look at all the contracts he's got me tied into. I can't take a step right or left without his permission. And there was no way he was letting me out of his bed. And the work got crazier and crazier until it felt like I was never in the same city for two nights running. I was trapped on this hellish hamster wheel and there was no way of stopping it."

  "And you didn't want to be with him? But he made you?"

  "Right."

  "He raped you?"

  "I…I don't think I can really say that. When it came down to it, I couldn't say no to him."

  "Because you were scared of him. That's non-consent, Kim. That's rape."

  "But I didn't fight him. I didn't reject him."

  "You didn't dare. I want to fucking kill him. I want to get my gun and…"

  "Rhys! That's not helping."

  "It's helping me."

  "It won't help me if you get done for murder."

  "OK. Look. Let's drink our tea before it gets cold and calm down and think about this."

  They sat in emotionally-drained silence, sipping from the mugs until the last drops of sugary liquid were consumed.

  "How did you get away from him?" asked Rhys, putting his cup down and readjusting Kim in his lap.

  "We were in Cardiff for a gig. He took too much coke at the after-party and passed out. I went out to the car park and climbed into the back of the lorry with all the equipment in. I got out when they parked up in a layby to get a sandwich off a roadside snack bar. I was in the middle of nowhere and I just walked and walked until I found myself in your barn."

  Rhys looked at her, his breath held, his heart full. She had struck him as so confident, so sassy, but she was terribly vulnerable underneath it all. Why had he not seen this?

  "God, I'm glad you came to me," he said. "Jesus, Kim. What are we going to do?"

  "I'm glad I came to you too," she said, clasping her hands around his neck and nuzzling into the side of his face. "Even if I have to go back, I'll always have this memory. It's been the best week of my life."

  "You don't have to go back," he said violently. "Unless it's over my dead body."

  "Maybe it will be," said Kim after a pause. "Jonathan knows some dodgy people."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Mobsters. That kind of thing. He threatened to let them gang-rape me once when I wasn't co-operating with him."

  "For fuck's sake, Kim." Rhys smashed his fist on to the arm of the chair. "How do you expect me not to kill him? How?"

  "I'm so scared I'll bring him to your door," she whispered. "Perhaps I should just go now."

  "No, no, no. Just no. Look, what if you call him and tell him it's all over? You're safe, you're fine, but you just want out? That'll at least put the press and the police off your trail."

  "Do you think he'll accept it? I'm in breach of contract. He'd take a lot of pleasure in ruining me. And if he knew about you, he'd ruin you too."

  "I'm ruined already, love."

  "No you aren't. You've got your farm and your country life and your freedom. He could take all those away from you. That's what he's like – vengeful and obsessive."

  "What if you just stayed here?"

  "He'll find us eventually. I thought at first about faking my death. Going down to a river and leaving some stuff on the banks – like Richey from the Manics, you know?"

  "Ah, the Manics, my favourites," said Rhys.

  "Thought you'd be a fan."

  She grinned and love swept over him like a weakening illness. He loved her. He couldn’t let a single bad thing happen to her ever again.

  "Well, I suppose…maybe you could do that…seems a bit drastic…"

  "Nah. I've got nothing to leave. No vehicle, no ID. I left in too much of a hurry. I'm an idiot, I should have planned it out really. But he'd have known. He'd have found out in the end. You can't hide anything from Jonathan."

  "What if you told the truth about him?"

  "Can you imagine the legal firestorm? He has the best lawyers in the world. Most of the press are in his pocket."

  "There has to be a way. There has to be."

  "It'll come to us. If we sleep on it."

  "It's three o'clock in the ruddy afternoon. I was going to shear some sheep."

  "Well, shear them, then. Perhaps it'll concentrate your mind and you'll come up with a brilliant plan."

  "No, I can't do it today. My head's all over the place."

  "I'm sorry I've brought all this trouble to your door. I'd hate it if you got caught up in my shit."

  "Too late now, love. I'm caught up, good and proper, and I don't think there's anything I can do about it."

  "Oh, babe."

  They held each other close, seeking shelter from the storm around them in each other's bodies. At some point, their lips touched and then brushed and then slipped into a kiss.

  Rhys let his anger and dread dissipate, then mutate into passion. Here she would have a safe haven, here in his arms, for as long as she wanted it.

  "It's weird," she whispered, breaking off for a moment and looking into his eyes. "I never knew what a relationship could be. I thought it had to be angsty and difficult and spiky or it wasn't real. But you've showed me, oh God, you've given me what I've always wanted, without even knowing it. I'd pass up all my fame and all the luxury celebrity lifestyle to live here with you."

  "Being famous isn't up to much then?"

  " You become a star because people want to make you a star. Like you become a saint because people want to make you a saint. You might not want it yourself. But in the end you don't have a choice. If that's what they want, that's what will happen. I sometimes think about the martyrs I learned a
bout at school, sometimes think they might come back to haunt us, to tell us that they hate this publicity and wish we would keep quiet about them. But it's a need in us that they fulfil. What they want is irrelevant."

  Rhys kissed her hair. "You've thought about all this, then."

  "Sorry to go on about it."

  "Don't be sorry."

  "I wish I could stay with you. If that was what you wanted. I don't want to presume…"

  "Oh, shut up."

  He kissed her again, and this time the kiss contained a poignancy and depth that made him want to shiver. Instead, he helped her to her feet and led her, still joined at the lips, to the staircase. They tangled and tumbled up to the bedroom and fell, in each other's arms, on to the bed.

  He undressed between kisses, always falling back on her body, in its rucked up shirt, to take a handful of her breast or thigh or bottom. He wanted to make every part of her body his own, to erase all the traces of Jonathan Webb from it. He had already made sex joyful for her and now he wanted to make it loving and tender too. The thought of Kim giving up her beautiful body to that bastard out of a sense of resignation or defeat made him want to choke with rage.

  If he didn't end up killing Jonathan Webb, he would at least make him pay.

  But first, there was rolling around and embracing to do, tongues to push into mouths, arses to be grabbed and squeezed. Everything else could wait.

  "We'll find a way out of this," he said, gazing seriously down at her as he unbuttoned her shirt. "I promise you."

  She put a hand on his cheek. "You're so amazing," she said. "I'm scared to let myself feel too much for you, in case it can't last."

  He kissed her troubled face.

  "Don't be scared," he whispered.

  It was a long, slow journey into the sex this time, with so many staging posts on the way. One to nibble at her neck, one to tongue her nipples, one to turn her over and massage her back and bottom, one to stroke her inner thighs. He crept incrementally towards his goal, patient and gentle, building up the steam between them, sensing her slowly increasing need. The room was full of sighs and moans, heat and arousal, but Rhys was determined to savour each moment to its fullest extent before relieving the itch of desire.

  When she arched her back, he pushed her back down. When she wrapped her fingers around his hard cock, he removed them. When she spread her legs wide and tried to push her wet pussy into his pelvis, he knelt up and shook his head.

  "You'll get it, don't worry," he told her. "But first I want to taste you."

  He held her legs up by the undersides of her thighs and crouched over her spread lips, breathing on her clit, keeping tight control of his exhalations. She was ready for it, judging by her luscious juices and the straining fatness of that central bud.

  Her sweet little whimpers were like a musical accompaniment. He held out until she began to flex her leg muscles, kicking and pleading, then he commenced the infinitely slow and careful licking of her.

  "Rhys, Rhys," she called out in a pre-orgasmic panic.

  He hadn't even reached her clit yet and she was so close to coming. But she would have to wait for it. She was going to come with him inside her.

  It was a shame to abandon the feast so soon, he thought. He could eat her pussy for hours on end, given the chance. But the time had come to join with her and show her that they were truly together, a couple, one flesh.

  He pulled her on to her side and entered her like that, her thigh over his hip, face to face. He held her by her bottom and pushed into her with one sweeping thrust, making her cry out and cling on to him round his neck.

  "You and I," he said, moving forwards and back inside her while she tightened her muscles around him, "should stay together. I'm going to make sure you never want another man. Nobody's going to fuck you like this, Kim. Nobody, ever."

  "I know," she gasped.

  He kissed her, a deep mining of her mouth with his tongue, keeping the pressure up while he fucked harder.

  "You've got the sweetest…tightest…wettest…I can't give it up. I've got to keep it. If I have to keep you naked, tied to the bed. You're going nowhere, love."

  "I want you to…oh, I want you to…"

  One of his hands slipped between her bum cheeks, a finger screwing up against her tight rosette while, with his other hand, he reached down to rub her clit. All of these different kinds of stimulation seemed to join with the rhythmic friction in her cunt until she reached a point of extremity and began to thrash around and wail like a banshee.

  Oh yes, she was feeling it, right at the core of her. No part of her body was missing out on this one intense, amazing climax and he kept on thrusting, in and in and in, until her eyes had rolled right back and tears were leaking from their corners.

  She had to know that this was where she belonged, didn't she? Right here, with her pussy full of his cock and her body alive with the sensations he made her feel.

  The sight of her, completely undone, was enough to drive him into his own orgasm, his lips fastened to her neck as the powerful wave tossed him forward, emptying him into her.

  He held her while she wept out the intensity of it, kissing and stroking her hair until she stopped shaking.

  "I tried not to fall for you," she said sadly. "I tried really hard. But you're just perfect. I didn't stand a chance."

  "I'm not perfect," he said. "Far from it."

  "You're kind, funny, hardworking, grown-up, gorgeous and just the best, best, best in bed. And you can drive a tractor. And you can cook. And…oh shit. What the fuck am I going to do?"

  "Stay there. I'm going to the bathroom."

  He stared into the mirror, braced over the sink, and took a series of deep breaths.

  He was going to have to tell her.

  And perhaps she would leave. He wouldn't blame her if she did. But, Christ, how could he bear it if she did? All the colour had come back into his life in this one week, all of the hope and all of the joy, everything that had been missing for so long.

  All the same, she deserved his truth, now she had told him hers.

  "Be a man, Rhys Williams," he muttered to himself. "Face her."

  He splashed himself with cold water and marched back into the bedroom, climbing under the sheets beside her.

  "This is better than shearing sheep, isn't it?" yawned Kim, cuddling into his side.

  "Just a bit," he said with an effortful smile. "I'm going to tell you about myself now."

  "Oh! At last." She looked up at him eagerly.

  "Yeah, you might wish I hadn't. But I have to tell you now. Now or never, I suppose. Don't sing." He held up a finger, because Kim seemed to be about to launch into the Elvis song.

  "Sorry. I know this is serious. I'm just nervous."

  "So am I, love, so am I. OK. It's like this. You know I lived in London. I was an account manager at an advertising agency."

  "Yeah."

  "And that was where I met my wife."

  "Oh!"

  "Hannah. She was in my team, and she was a bit of a flirt and I was quite stunned because she seemed so far out of my league. She was from a privileged background, went to a private school, her father was a banker. And she was stunning – in a sophisticated, expensive sort of way. Polo matches and designer labels and all that."

  "She doesn't sound like your type," said Kim in a very small voice.

  "Well, that's it. She wasn't, really. But, a little bit like you and Jonathan Webb, I was incredibly flattered to be noticed by her in that way. I was a pushover, really. She played it cool as soon as she realised I was serious, but I chased her around town for about a year and eventually she just gave up and we got together."

  "Were you madly in love with her?"

  He sighed. "I certainly thought so."

  "But she wasn't madly in love with you?"

  "No. I don't think she ever was. She enjoyed the novelty of having a down-to-earth Welshman on her arm for a while, but when I proposed to her, she turned me down flat."

&
nbsp; "Oh. But you said she was your wife?"

  "Yeah, well, not long after that she found out she was pregnant. And she didn't want to have an abortion, so I guess she thought she had to marry me."

  "You're a dad?"

  He swallowed hard. "Hold your horses. I haven't finished. We got married, dead quick, dead cheap, and found out at the scan that the baby was a girl. We decided to call her Romilly."

  "That's nice."

  "Yeah." He had to stop and look away.

  "Oh God," said Kim, touching his arm, obviously understanding something of what he was about to say. "Oh God, is she OK? She's OK, isn't she?"

  He shook his head and the tears came.

  It was a moment or two before he could drive them back and speak again.

  "It was four weeks before the due date when I found out Hannah was seeing someone else. A family friend, somebody she had much more in common with."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "I was…I didn't react very well. I found out through a mutual friend and, well, I didn't believe it at first. Then I followed her out one day. She was meeting him. I saw them kissing in the park and he reached out and touched her bump and I thought, oh God, I thought 'she isn't mine, is she? She's his.'"

  "Why would she have married you like that if ―"

  "I know, I know, I wasn't thinking. So I confronted them and made a bit of a scene. Hannah went back to the car – said she was going to his house and staying there. I'd never see my child if she had anything to do with it. I don't suppose she meant it, it was the heat of the moment, but…"

  Kim was pale and aghast, waiting for the hammer blow to fall.

  "I ran back to my car and followed her. I just couldn't let her go, couldn't let it happen. When she saw I was following behind, her driving got a bit erratic, and then she jumped a red light and…"

  He shook his head again, rapidly, his throat closing up as the nightmare repeated itself, as if it were taking place in front of him again.

  Kim clung to his arm and laid her head on his shoulder.